#and edited it up to 11k now?

[branches-of-time]

The House That Built Me

“Figured you’d either still be at the tavern, or were already home wondering where I was.”

He smiles at you, soft, before looking away. “I was at the tavern most of the day, like I planned this morning. But… something didn’t feel right. I wasn’t really… giving it my all, and I think the patrons could tell.”

You frown. “What didn’t feel right? Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Windblume. I’m just fine.”

You aren’t convinced. “Then, uh… do you feel like sharing what isn’t fine?”

His gaze drops to the dark sea below. “I think you know what it is, actually.”

Cryptic as ever, you take a moment to ponder what he might mean. He takes the silence as an opportunity to elaborate. “I never really wonder where you are, you know?"

~~~~~~~

Inazuma, all raging storms and war-torn, is calling your name. Shamefully, you find yourself running north instead, searching for something, anything to fill this home-shaped void in your heart.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll come to find that home is a person, more than a place.

Pairing: Venti x Reader - Established Relationship, GN!Reader

Word Count: 11,033

Contains: [angst (with a happy ending)] [crying] [cuddling] [emotional hurt/comfort] [lack of communication] [loneliness] [memories] [not canon compliant] [pet death] [Reader & Venti are both adults] [Reader is not Traveler but they essentially take their place in the game's plot] [self-deprecating reader] [separation anxiety] [set prior to Version 2.0] [songfic]

A/Ns: This is a songfic! Title and verses written throughout the fic are from the song- "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert.

Lastly, some context- Reader is a Riftwolf-Human hybrid, can manipulate all seven elements but has an affinity for Geo.

I know they say you can't go home again.

Sand, warmed by the afternoon sun, swells between your spread fingers as you press your hands down into the ground at your sides. Summoning a modicum of Geo elemental energy, your hands meet no resistance as they sink into the compacted grains like a hot knife through butter. You drop your raised shoulders and let your hands bury several inches into the beach until the sand surrounding them is cool, untouched by the heat of the day.

Dismissing the energy you’d been using to repel it, you allow the ground to resist you again. You note the weight of the sand as it presses down on the backs of your hands, and the firm bed of grains packed beneath your palms. You shut your eyes and flex your fingers slightly, focusing on the soft grit of Falcon Coast as it surrounds your hands in its weighted embrace.

Breathing a heavy sigh, you reopen your eyes, dropping your head and cursing the earth beneath you. This attempt at grounding yourself is doing little to ease the knot in your stomach, nor the tightness in your chest. Looking up and out across the expanse of ocean before you, the sight of Musk Reef looming in the distance doesn’t help either. You refuse to allow your gaze to drift any further south.

You begin to ask yourself what you’re even doing here, and why you thought this was a good idea. You’re no stranger to fleeing to Mondstadt whenever the world overwhelms you, but this specific beach perhaps wasn’t the wisest choice. Certainly not when the very thing you’re running from is the sea.

You hadn’t put much thought into where to go, you just knew you wanted to go home. Materializing at the waypoint east of Windrise was simply instinctual. Though, when you arrived, you didn’t turn and head north like you had so many times before. No, you took a running jump off the cliff below, gliding south and landing on the coast.

Sitting here now though, hands buried in the same sand you first washed up on after clawing your way out of the abyss… it’s not as comforting of a spot as you thought it might be. You don’t feel grounded at all, caught up between memories of the past and fears of the future.

Tugging your hands out of the sand with a frustrated huff, you turn your head to glance behind you at the cliff to the north.

…Maybe you should’ve gone that way instead. Maybe you should go home.

 I just had to come back one last time.

Materializing at the earlier waypoint once again, you pause to collect yourself for a moment. Making frequent use of the waypoints, especially in your current state, isn’t very wise. Then again, you aren’t in a very wise state. Taking a deep breath to dispel the dizziness, you let the warm breeze caress your cheeks. Looking around from your current vantage point, you find yourself grateful for the lack of people in the area. Even Chloris is currently nowhere to be found.

Well, at least you can think in peace. Jumping down from the crumbling ruin, you steady yourself against an archway, narrowly avoiding crushing a small patch of lamp grass. …Perhaps you should’ve taken another moment to collect yourself. Perhaps you shouldn’t be wandering through the wilds all on your own, in such a state.

You scoff at the latter thought. This is Mondstadt, and you’re… you. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pushing aside the thought that more alone time may not be what you need right now, you think yourself through your predicament once again as you set off on a walk.

-

You’d been reluctant to leave Mondstadt and set out for Liyue, despite knowing that you’d get no further answers to your myriad of questions here. Not to mention the nagging, relentless tug of fate, pulling you away from the nation you’d come to call home. You knew full and well that you’d have to leave. You’d find no peace in an attempt to ignore the call, and settle here indefinitely.

Still, that didn’t stop you from milking your time here as much as possible. You’d gotten to a first name basis with nearly every soul in the city by the time you ran out of tasks to busy yourself with. Gained quite the notable reputation for yourself in the process too, although that hadn’t been your goal. You truly just didn’t want to leave.

You’d trekked over every hill, passed through every valley, climbed to every peak and turned over every stone and leaf along your way. You explored the nation’s ruins, deciphered inscriptions half faded into their stone, and felled every field till- …ruin guard that stood in your way. You’d braved the frozen peaks of Dragonspine, and gained a newfound appreciation for the Pyro element in the process.

You stood atop the celestial nail, looking out through the blizzard and over the expanse of land to the southwest.

The vast, foreign land that laid before you scared you more than the journey to the top of the nail had.

After all, you didn’t fear falling. The wind at your back would surely catch you, you had no doubt.

Flecks of Cryo stung, colliding with the flushed, exposed skin of your face. You closed your eyes, balance wavering slightly as a result. A small arm was quick to wrap itself around your waist.

No, you didn’t fear falling. You feared leaving.

You leaned into the safety of your Archon’s hold, their concerned voice perfectly audible in spite of the blizzard winds surrounding you. “Are you alright? Do you need to get down?”

You feared leaving him.

-

Leaves from the end of a tree branch brush against your perked ears, pulling you back into the present. Shaking your head and drawing your ears down on instinct, you look around and realize your muscle memory has carried you the rest of the way home. Tucked away against a small cliff south of the Thousand Winds Temple, stands an even smaller cottage, forgotten to time. An Anemo Samachurl paces in circles in the yard, and its Geo counterpart sits on the old stone stairs leading into the home.

Ma'am, I know you don't know me from Adam.

The Geo Samachurl turns to look at you, and you give it a small wave in acknowledgement. Its attention lingers on you for only a moment longer, before turning back to continue watching its Anemo companion instead. A smile plays on your lips, tight and bittersweet.

You make no move to continue approaching, instead opting to back up a few paces and lean against a nearby tree, observing.

They can sense enough of your shared origins, or- maybe it’s the lingering abyssal energy on you… regardless, they can sense something on you that they recognize. Nothing specific, but something familiar enough that they feel no need to take up arms upon the mere sight of you. In all honesty, you feel the same. Their presence here doesn’t pose any genuine threat, so you’re content to leave them be.

In the many months that have passed since Venti and you moved out of this place, it’s become a haven for others. Whether it be traveling adventurers seeking shelter for a night, wildlife seeking refuge from a passing storm beneath the awning, or even your old Khaenri’ahn kin seeking a place to camp, the cottage has served many.

The both of you have kept a distant eye on the place since your departure. Though, Venti has found himself remaining more distant than you since these Samachurls have set up camp. While your presence doesn’t ring any alarm bells for them, the same cannot be said for Venti. While he holds no ill intent toward them either, something about the aura he emits sets them instinctively on edge.

You can hardly blame them. You’d raised your hackles and bared your teeth at the bard, defensive upon your first encounter as well. Looking back, he was hardly posing any threat then either, but at the time, you viewed everyone and everything as a potential enemy. After all, you’d just escaped the abyss and been tossed to the shore of Falcon Coast by the waves, your weaker control over Cryo failing you halfway across your attempt at an ice bridge. Waking up on hot sand to find a humanoid being with an unsettling gaze emanating a suspiciously divine aura above you was more than enough to kick your fight or flight into gear.

You attempted both, in that order. You immediately dug your hands into the sand and threw fistfuls of it at the stranger, successfully disorienting them and giving you an opening to flee. With nothing but ocean to the east, you bolted west, and then north, headed for higher ground intent on gaining an advantage.

Looking back now, you know nothing could’ve stopped Venti if he’d truly wanted to catch you. At the time, though, you felt pretty confident in having outrun him. By the time you felt like you’d lost him, you found yourself also lost amidst trees, the uneven terrain obscuring your sense of direction. So- tired, thirsty, hungry, scared, and confused- you dropped from a run to a walk. Pressing forward in the direction you’d run in, you kept your ears at attention to catch any threat before it could catch you.

-

The Anemo Samachurl breaks from its quiet chanting and pacing, its sudden cry pulling your focus from the past. From the way it points and takes off in a run, and the way its Geo counterpart rises to follow behind, you assume it must have seen something in the woods that caught its attention. You see nor sense nothing of note, and dismiss the likely false alarm. Probably just wildlife, or perhaps a Dendro slime looking to play. As the two little shamans run off into the trees, you take advantage of the vacancy they leave behind.

But these handprints on the front steps are mine.

You figure you’ve got enough time for a quick visit before they return. Besides, the worst that’ll happen if they do catch you in their “camp” will be a few disgruntled spells cast toward you as you hightail it out of there. It’ll be fine.

Approaching the trio of old stone steps that lead to the front door, your gaze catches on two handprints engraved into the highest stair. Memories begin to surface.

-

Sitting on the stairs with your back pressed to the door, you found yourself growing frustrated with the green-clad individual in your yard. Well, perched in one of the trees in your yard, to be precise.

You’d taken up residence in this old run-down cottage once it seemed that no one else had been occupying it. The first few days had been blessedly peaceful, it seemed the area was rather devoid of other life. Well, threatening life, at least. There were plenty of plants and animals, plus a little pond close by, providing far more sustenance than you’d grown used to surviving on. You figured it was as good of a place as any to try and sort out your next move. You hadn’t put much thought into what you’d do once you escaped, after all. You found yourself feeling… lost. After charging ahead with your focus locked on a single goal for so damn long… you didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you’d achieved it.

You weren’t lost for long though. The nosy stranger that found you on the beach proved to be the next target of your focus. Your peaceful existence in this cottage overlooking the sea didn’t last long before you found yourself in their unwanted company once again. They might’ve thought they were subtle, hiding amongst the treetops and watching you quietly.

They weren't. You could sense them. Hell, even if it weren’t for the strange aura they emanated, you could smell them. They carried a strong scent of fermentation with them, and you could easily pick up on the pungent smell in the wind.

On the third day of your silent standoff, you grew fed up with this stranger’s odd behavior. You only knew one way of settling things, and that was face-to-face, not through some weird game of observation. You cleared your throat, preparing your underused voice and searching for your words. Tilting your head back to look at the trespasser, you snarl at their relaxed stance, laid back across a branch like they’re asleep.

“Come down.” You bark the command up into the trees.

The stranger doesn’t comply, but they do acknowledge you, opening their eyes and turning their head to look down at you. “So you can speak!”

You’re in no mood to entertain their conversation, certainly not before making sense of their intentions. “Come. Down.” You repeat, voice flat and serious.

“Are you gonna throw sand in my eyes again?” Light and playful, they question you.

You huff. “No.” Not without good reason, at least, you think to yourself but fail to vocalize.

They hum in thought for a moment before going quiet again. You let the seconds pass, growing more irritable with each one. Just as you’re about to call them down once again, they roll to the side, willingly falling from the branch they’d been laying on. Your muscles twitch and lock for a moment as you stop yourself from… from… from what? What were you going to do, run and try to catch them? Why would you do that? They’ve done nothing for you.

Your lack of action proves itself inconsequential as the stranger falls at a remarkably slow speed. It’s less of a fall and more of a… decent, you suppose, seeming to effortlessly defy gravity. Righting themself midair to land on their feet, they pull their cape forward on their shoulders, beginning to approach you.

You plant your hands firmly on the stone at your sides, readying yourself for anything.

“While that wasn’t the most convincing answer, I suppose I can extend a bit of trust to you. I sure hope you don’t make me regret it though!” They come far closer to you than anyone with a sense of self-preservation ought to. They hold a hand out between you, and you stare at it, waiting for something to happen. “I’m Venti, a bard from the city.”

Finally getting your first proper look at them up close, you’re struck with the strangest sense of recognition. You couldn’t pinpoint it to save your life, but… something about this person feels… familiar. Distant, hazy, and inexplicable, but it’s there nonetheless.

You don’t like it.

When you make no move to do… whatever they seem to want you to do with their hand, they drop it, and you flinch at the sudden motion. Frowning, they question you. “Might I ask for your name in exchange, my dear trespasser? We can hardly get to know one another without exchanging some basic information.”

Your brows pinch in frustration at the stranger's many words. They say a lot, and they say it fast. It’s been… you can’t recall how long it’s been since you last held such conversation. One word stands out to you, though. “Trespasser? Me?”

He nods. “Well, technically, yes! I don’t know much about you yet but I do know that this isn’t your house.”

“How?” You question, eyes narrowing, watching as they stupidly step even closer.

“How do I know that this isn’t yours?” They question you in return.

You nod, claws sharpening, palms itching with pent-up Geo energy crackling beneath your skin.

“Because it’s mine, silly!” They laugh, reaching out toward you.

Your instincts take over as the stranger moves to grab you, and you force your hands into the stone beneath you. Releasing the Geo energy you’d been holding onto, you use the repelling force to launch yourself up off the stairs and at the fool standing before you.

You don’t make contact with them though, stumbling forward into what suddenly becomes thin air and tripping over nothing, sending yourself straight to the ground. Righting yourself before you can even register the impact, your claws tear through the dirt and grass as you turn back to face your opponent on all fours.

You freeze at the sight of them, casually propped against the railing of the stairs, clearly not poised to fight. With no weapon in their hands, and refusing to take on any sort of combative stance, you find yourself locked in a one-sided stand-off.

Not taking their eyes off you, the stranger pats the banister they’re leaning against. “I wasn’t reaching out for you, friend.” As you process their words and the seconds turn into a minute, they make no move to attack you, so you slowly let your guard down. Just slightly. Bending at the knees, you settle in a deep squat on the ground.

When the stranger seems confident enough that you aren’t about to throw yourself at them again, they allow their attention to leave you and fall to the step where you’d just sat. Following their gaze, you notice two handprints now carved into the stone, the very edge of the stair chipped away in places where your claws had caught on it.

You ready yourself for an attack, as this stranger surely won’t take kindly to destruction of, apparently, their property. But they make no move to do any such thing. They simply look back up at you with a knowing smile.

“You take after Morax, I see.”

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom, is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.

Smiling and shaking your head at the memory, you make your way into the small home. It’s rather bare, even more so than it had been when you first found the place. The two of you had taken all of your personal possessions with you into the teapot, leaving nothing but the basic furniture behind. After all, you had far better options awaiting you through Tubby’s sub-space creation.

Seeing the cottage in its original state, it once again becomes clear to you just how little Venti had customized the place prior to you moving in. He didn’t, and still doesn’t have much to his name, truly living the life of the wandering bard he identifies as. Most of what he does have he keeps on his person, whether that be in the physical sense, or dematerialized and stored away.

The cottage turned into a bit less of a shelter and more of a home over the many months you spent there with him. You stocked the little kitchen with far more than just his assortment of fruits, and an array of objects you collected from your outings lined the shelves. Looking back now, with a bit more insight on your own mental and emotional states, you venture a guess as to your behavior. You were likely hoarding whatever you found as a means of making up for how long you spent having nothing.

Venti never shamed you for it, even though he likely understood the behavior from the beginning. He was incredibly empathetic, and kinder than you felt you deserved, even once parts of your past became known to him. It took some time, given your struggle to keep up with his words, and the bigger struggle of finding your own. You managed to get it across to him eventually though, and he’d been benevolent enough to take you in.

-

You come to a stop in the bedroom doorway, surveying the place through the lens of the past.

You remember countless hours spent at the small desk in the corner, hunched over paper with text on it that you couldn’t decipher. Venti stood beside you, one hand on your shoulder, patiently teaching you how to make sense of the symbols you saw.

You remember less stressful hours spent sitting on the floor, curiously plucking at the strings of the bard’s various instruments with your claws. He’d sit on the bed watching you, naming the notes and teaching you how to turn your discordant noise into beautiful music. You were never as good as he was though, and you really didn’t mind. You preferred to listen to him playing, anyway. The bard possessed a beautiful voice, and the soft songs he’d sing to you in the dark of night never failed to put your tormented mind at ease.

Staring at your designated spot on the floor, you laugh at the memory of countless nights spent refusing his invitations. He’d offered his bed to you from the beginning, insisting that you deserved it more than he did. Besides, he said, he was used to sleeping in trees and fields, on barstools and street corners. He claimed he wouldn’t miss the bed at all.

You wouldn’t hear of it. Vehemently denying any offers, you stubbornly slept- atop as many blankets and pillows as you’d allow him to give you- on the floor by his bed like the dog you were. He wasn’t the only one used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, and you weren’t about to lose your edge by getting too comfortable too soon.

You think of the way you woke up this morning, wrapped in soft, warm blankets on a wide, plush mattress, face nuzzled into his neck, arms around his waist.

You’ve both come a long way.

You hear the familiar sound of distant hilichurlian chanting, and make your move to leave, bidding your old bedroom a quiet farewell once again.

Slipping out of the cottage and rounding the side of the building in a few long strides, you narrowly manage to evade their notice. Peeking around the corner, you watch them return to their prior posts. The Anemo Samachurl diligently paces between the trees, its Geo companion keeping watch from the stairs.

You smile, and turn to make your silent departure.

-

Checking in on your old home had been a successful distraction from the thoughts you’re trying to avoid, but you couldn’t linger there forever. Still, feeling unprepared to return to the teapot and try to put on a brave face for Venti, you find yourself wandering. With no particular destination in mind, you let your feet take you where they may.

You try to think of nothing at all for a while, failing over and over again as your mind searches for something to latch onto. Apparently counting your steps wasn’t entertaining enough for it.

After a while of failing to meditate on your walk, you find yourself leaving grass and stepping onto a dirt path. Looking up and around, you realize you’ve made your way to the road leading to the Thousand Winds Temple.

Turning and looking south, you can see the massive tree at Windrise, off in the distance. Far, far, beyond that, bringing your eyes to the horizon, you can see the snowy peaks of Dragonspine beyond the tall cliff of Galesong Hill. You sigh.

And I bet you didn't know, under that live oak, my favorite dog is buried in the yard.

A few months after arriving in Mondstadt and settling in with Venti, you found yourself exploring the icy riverbank that borders Dragonspine. The stubborn bard, wrapped in the thickest cloak he owned, trudged along behind you.

You’d told him he didn’t have to join you that day, but the thought of you exploring unfamiliar territory without him apparently just didn’t sit right. So, in spite of his occasional grumbles over the increasing cold, he never left your side.

The area was predictably desolate, save for a few Cryo Hilichurl archers lounging on the icy banks like they were on summer vacation. You weren’t looking for a fight that day though, just to explore, so you avoided drawing their attention given the divine company you were in.

Later on, as you were focusing hard on what Pyro energy you could summon in an attempt to melt the ice encasing a chest, you found something far more valuable. Venti saw it first, having been eyeing the surroundings while you were focused on the task at hand. Calling your name, he summoned your attention with ease.

Turning to look at him, your gaze followed his pointed finger and landed on a dog, slowly making its way toward you.

The animal was fairly large, but certainly far from threatening given the state it was in. As it drew closer, Venti lowered himself to his knees in the cold wet grass, suddenly forgoing his prior reluctance to endure the elements. You smiled. It seemed like he’d learned a thing or two from you about dealing with fearful dogs.

You followed suit, crouching down beside him and getting on the dog's level. The shivering animal hesitated, coming to a stop about fifteen feet away. Materializing some fresh meat you’d caught on the journey there, you quietly held it out toward the dog.

It sniffed the air, but refused to move.

Tearing a chunk off, you gently tossed it in the dog’s direction, and it landed a few feet in front of it. Sniffing harder, the animal carefully approached the offering, sticking its head out as far as it could to reach the food and avoid coming closer.

The two of you spent the better part of an hour luring the dog toward you, slowly but surely winning it over with continued offerings of fresh meat.

Upon closer inspection, you were honestly shocked that it was still standing. Skin stretched tight across its ribcage, hip bones two sharp peaks, spine a long mountain range down its back… the thing was clearly starving. You weren’t sure if it was the stress of a difficult life, a sign of old age, or both, but what you assumed had once been black fur was almost white from graying, particularly in its face. It trembled incessantly, and as soon as it came close enough and didn’t seem apt to bolt, Venti untied his cape and wrapped it around the dog, who shockingly didn’t fight it.

Maybe Venti had been serious when he claimed he could talk to animals.

You fed it more bites of meat as the two of you quietly discussed the best way to get it home. Blessedly, once the dog realized that neither of you held malicious intentions, it switched gears surprisingly fast. More than just tolerating your presence, the dog actually began to cling to you, frantically whining when you both stood up, fearful that you’d be leaving it behind.

Abandoning your half-melted treasure, you knew it was time to leave. You were quite a ways from home and you weren’t about to try teleporting the dog in its current state. So instead, you carefully picked her up, frowning at how little she weighed. Venti took the remaining meat and distracted the nervous dog with more offerings of food as you began your long, slow journey home.

“Don’t- don’t feed her too fast. I know she’s hungry but I don’t want to make her sick.”

Venti nodded, tearing off smaller bites. “I remember.” He cryptically confirmed.

You adjusted the dog in your hold, pulling Venti’s cape up around her neck. “…Remember what?”

He suppressed a shiver, but you still noticed. “You ate yourself sick on fruit and raw meat the first night you spent here.”

Your head turned quickly, staring down at him. “You were watching? Even then?”

He nodded, expression solemn. “I followed you home, you know? It just took a few days for you to notice that I was there.”

You walked in thoughtful silence for a while after that, wondering if your scattered senses had failed you, or if he was actually better at hiding his aura than you thought.

-

The dog lived with the both of you in your little cottage for a few good months. She gradually put on weight, and some life returned to her alongside it. She still moved slowly, though, and you feared she was in pain.

By that point, you’d befriended a timid alchemist with mint-green hair, and sought her assistance. She’d kindly offered you a medicine of her own creation, advising that the dog seemed rather old, and likely suffered from joint pain. You offered her payment in Mora, which she politely refused. You eventually got her to accept a small assortment of bones you’d gathered in exchange, correctly surmising that the offer would be too tempting for her to refuse.

Sucrose’s medicine seemed to help, because the dog moved with noticeably more ease once you began giving it to her. She was far from spry, but she seemed comfortable, so you were content. She was also content, in the precious, innocent way that only a dog can be. Just happy to be alive, happy to be fed, happy to be safe. Happy to be near someone that loves them, and happy to be near someone they love.

“Adagio.” Venti had once said, gently raking his nails through her fur on a warm, sleepy afternoon.

“What’s that?’ It was far from the first time he’d said a word you didn’t know.

“In musical terms, it means played slowly… I think it would be a nice name for her.”

You considered it for a moment, and found it rather fitting, nodding in agreement with a smile. “I like that.”

Adagio spent her days laying in the shade near the cliff’s edge, watching the waves lap at the small shore below. Looking back, you can thank her for teaching Venti that you can survive a half a day on your own. She could hardly chase you all over Mondstadt, or weave her way after Venti through the busy city streets, so when one of you needed to go out for something, the other would stay home with her. One of the two of you were always there, and she never knew the pain of being alone again.

She spent her nights curled between the two of you. She couldn’t make the jump up onto the bed, and you were still stubbornly sleeping on the floor, so Venti made the executive decision to heave the mattress onto the floor as well. As silly of a sight as it may have been to an outsider, the three of you were comfortable, curled together amidst blankets and pillows on the too-small mattress, bed frame abandoned on the other side of the room.

Nothing lasts forever though, and it seemed to you that the best of things were always the quickest to go.

As months passed, her movements went from slow to slower, and she started struggling with more things. She could no longer steady herself to make it up and down the three stairs to your home, so one of you carried her every time. She slept more and moved less, and her love of food began to wane.

This wasn’t your first experience with something like this. Though it had been an awfully long time since you lived through it last, you still knew what was coming.

That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Not at all.

Both of you sat awake with her through the final night, keeping her comfortable and telling her how much you loved her. You’d never hoped harder that Venti’s communicative abilities held true.

You kept it together until she released her final breath, and when you knew she was gone, you allowed yourself to fall apart.

Up until then, your walls had been an impenetrable fortress. No emotion escaped unless you allowed it. Venti had never seen you cry.

So when your pain escaped you this time, falling in heavy golden tears and landing in her gray fur, he could only stare. He knew this wasn’t his moment to intrude on, so he didn’t. He didn’t rush to wrap you in an embrace, nor did he try to offer any hollow words of comfort. This was pain. This was loss. He was intimately familiar with it, and he knew it had to be felt.

There isn’t a single detail of that night that you don’t recall, and the teal tears that fell next to your golden ones are no exception.

That was the first time you saw him cry, too.

-

The evening breeze cools the hot golden tracks running down your cheeks. You watch tears fall onto the dirt path beneath you, and then you close your eyes.

-

You both sat there with what remained of her until the morning sun slipped in through the window. You were surprised when Venti broke the silence, offering to bury Adagio beneath the Windrise tree.

You spoke through a voice thick and strained from your cries. “That’s… that’s a really special place.”

He nodded. “She was a really special dog.”

You wiped the fresh tears from your eyes before they could fall, turning to face him.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He put his hand out, laying it next to Adagio on the mattress. “Unless you’d prefer elsewhere?”

You knew what to do this time. Reaching out and laying your hand in his, you shook your head slowly. “No. I think Windrise would be perfect.”

-

Opening your eyes, you raise your head to glance once more at the massive tree across the sprawling field. Bidding Adagio another quiet goodbye, you pull in a shaky breath, and turn, heading north.

Walking in silence for a while, you try to let your emotions settle. The tears you just shed seemed to help a little, but the knot in your stomach won’t leave you.

You follow the road a little while longer, but when you find yourself nearing the temple, you take a detour and head west, off the beaten path. You aren’t keen on running into whatever random explorers might be camping there this evening. Besides, the scent of cecilias is on the breeze, and you’d rather follow that instead.

Making your way up the uneven terrain that comprises the base of Starsnatch Cliff, your mind returns to its ruminations over what brought you here today in the first place.

You leave home, you move on, and you do the best you can.

The reason for your reluctance to leave Mondstadt became abundantly clear on the day you finally set out for the neighboring nation. As you left Dawn Winery behind and crossed the border, headed for Stone Gate, it sank in quickly.

Venti wasn’t beside you.

Up until that point, he’d been the literal wind at your back every step of the way. Every commission you completed, every request you fulfilled, every inch of land you explored, he was right behind you. Or beside you, or above you, or in front of you…

Regardless, he was there. Answering your questions, telling you stories, helping you make sense of the unfamiliar. Whether it be words you couldn’t yet read, customs you didn’t yet understand, or emotions you couldn’t yet identify, he was your guide through it all. The Stormterror crisis came and went, as did the… incident with Signora, and the two of you grew ever closer as a result of it all. You could fill a book with the stories of what you two went through in the mere year you spent in this nation. But, as you sat together beneath the Windrise tree one evening discussing it all, it slowly grew clear that it was coming time to move on. As if the notion alone wasn’t stressful enough already, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding that it was a journey you must undertake alone.

So, you did. You’d packed your things, said your temporary goodbyes, and set off on your own without so much as once giving in to the urge to ask him to come along. The goodbyes were, after all, only temporary. You hoped. If you made it through whatever awaited you in Liyue alive, you always planned on returning home.

And you did. Many times.

You, scared as you’d been, made it through the lively adventure that was your initial trip to Liyue, and you’d come out much stronger for it. You found a confidence that you’d forgotten you possessed, forced to show itself once there was no travel companion for you to rely on.

Quite early in your journey, you gathered that you weren’t completely alone anyhow. Sure, in your day-to-day there was no talkative bard trailing behind you, and the nights proved themselves awfully lonely indeed. But Venti’s parting words, “may the wind protect you”, proved themselves surprisingly literal as you took note of one particular Yaksha. After a few nights at Wangshu Inn, and a few bowls of almond tofu shared in relative silence, the man had made himself into your shadow shockingly fast. He never seemed to be around when your gaze searched for him in a crowd, but was always conveniently there the moment you ran into trouble.

Still, in spite of his protection, not to mention your growing, innate connection with the God of your favored element, you longed for home. You longed for your home. You longed for your God.

I got lost in this whole world, and forgot who I am.

So, once the dust, or, well, waves had settled and Rex Lapis had been “officially” laid to rest, you found yourself headed northeast.

In spite of how proud you’d been for making it on your own, all of that crumbled the evening you first crossed back into Mondstadt. You could've used any of the waypoints you’d resonated with, could’ve gone right back home to the cliff overlooking Falcon Coast. But something about that just didn’t feel right. Not for your first return.

Walking the path back toward Dawn Winery, you tried to keep your composure. You tried to not get irrationally emotional over the familiar sight of Anemo crystalflies fluttering over the grape vines. You ignored the warmth in your chest at the sight of soft yellow candlelight illuminating the cottage windows along your path.

Your weakening grip on your emotions completely failed though when you caught sight of a small, green-clad bard, legs dangling from the edge of a rooftop, plucking at his lyre.

You burst into tears on the spot, folding in on yourself and crumpling to the dirt beneath you.

He dropped the nonchalant act instantly, dematerializing from his perch on the rooftop and reappearing beside you in a small, warm burst of Anemo energy that you didn’t see through your tears, but definitely felt. He’d questioned you frantically, worried you were hurt, not understanding what was wrong. Eventually, largely thanks to his embrace, the sobs wracking your form eased enough to assure him that you were fine.

You’d just missed him, was all.

The array of conflicting emotions that flashed in his eyes at the admission would've intrigued you, had you not been so absorbed in your own at the time.

In spite of how badly you craved his company, you’d already proved to yourself that you could travel on your own. So, you continued to. After an extended stay in Mondstadt to recover from your first eventful excursion, you began traveling between the two nations more regularly. Having resonated with most of the waypoints and Statues of the Seven in Liyue as well, it was easy to hop over for the day and still come home to Venti at night.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing.

Such was your routine until Madam Ping had introduced you to her Teapots. Adeptal magic was quite the wonder, capable of impressive feats, and the new home offered to you was no exception. When you learned that not only could you live in it, but you could invite others in as well, you were over the moon. You were, of course, reluctant to bid a more permanent farewell to the little house overlooking the sea that you’d grown so familiar with. But when faced with something as convenient and extravagant as the teapot, you could hardly turn it down.

Venti had been more than interested in your offer when you brought the thing home and showed it to him. After bestowing a permanent invitation upon him, he took a liking to the space quite quickly, happy to help make yourselves a new home. Having already been informed of your penchant for Mondstadt, Tubby had crafted a world for you that resembled the land of freedom’s sprawling hills, cliffs, and beaches to an impressive degree. Your new home was far grander than your old one, but with a little time and personalization with what you both brought from the cottage, it really did start to feel like home.

It was… nice, having a safe place to return to every night, regardless of where you were or what you may be caught up in. It was even nicer that Venti seemed to quite enjoy spending time there as well. There’d scarcely been an evening where both of you hadn’t wound up in the teapot together, sharing stories of your respective days over dinner.

Things carried on like that for the remainder of your time in Liyue. You spent more and more time in the land of contracts, and less and less in Mondstadt as a result. Sometimes you’d have reason to return, and somehow you’d almost always run into Venti while you were there. Time spent with him in the teapot was no less real, but it always felt… special, when the two of you were together in Mondstadt again.

Out here, it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself.

Still, just as it had been with Mondstadt, you couldn’t linger in Liyue forever. You’d built a reputation for yourself there to match your standing in Mondstadt, making a slew of new connections, exploring, finding answers and more questions alike. It was time to move on. Inazuma loomed far, far off on the southern horizon, and it was up to you to make the first step to reach it.

You didn’t want to.

You stood on the docks, looking out at Guyun Stone Forest, and at Beidou’s ship anchored nearby.

You found yourself feeling something you hadn’t felt in a long while. You felt the same as you had when standing atop the celestial nail, only this time it was somehow worse. It scared you. Yes, the prospect of setting off effectively alone to yet another unfamiliar nation, but more than that. It scared you because you thought you’d grown past this. You thought you could handle this. You thought… you thought you’d outgrown this immature sense of homesickness.

You were wrong.

If I could walk around, I swear I'll leave.

That’s how you found yourself here, ambling through the wilds of Mondstadt. You really, really don’t want to leave. But you know that you have to.

You think of the stories you’ve heard in Liyue, of the terrible war raging in the island nation to the south.

You release a shaky breath into the cooling air.

You pray that you’ll make it back alive.

Won't take nothin' but a memory, from the house that built me.

Following the cecilias as their trail grows thicker, you weave your way up to the peak of the massive cliff.

You’re only slightly surprised to see a small figure, dressed in a very familiar shade of green, sitting with their back to you at the very edge.

Tension you didn’t notice you were holding melts from your shoulders at the sight of him.

You do your best to push aside the emotional storm you’ve been caught up in, and you call out to him, playful. “Fancy seeing you here!”

He twists at the waist to face you, following your movement as you approach. “I could say the same, love. What brings you here?”

You laugh softly as you come to a halt beside him. “Well, I could ask the same of you.” You carefully lower yourself to the ground, letting your legs dangle off the cliff beside his. “Figured you’d either still be at the tavern, or were already home wondering where I was.”

He smiles at you, soft, before looking away. “I was at the tavern most of the day, like I planned this morning. But… something didn’t feel right. I wasn’t really… giving it my all, and I think the patrons could tell.”

You frown. “What didn’t feel right? Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Windblume. I’m just fine.”

You aren’t convinced. “Then, uh… do you feel like sharing what isn’t fine?”

His gaze drops to the dark sea below. “I think you know what it is, actually.”

Cryptic as ever, you take a moment to ponder what he might mean. He takes the silence as an opportunity to elaborate. “I never really wonder where you are, you know?”

You glance at him, bemused for a moment before growing serious. “Oh, what, were you- like- watching me today? How… Wait, how long have you been up here, actually?”

He doesn’t look at you, but he shakes his head. “I don’t have to be watching you to know where you are, dear.” The wind tousles your hair. “I’m already everywhere. All the time. If the wind can reach you, I’m there.”

“...Oh. Right.” You let your own gaze fall to the sea. “Maybe I let myself forget sometimes, just how… literal that is.”

You remember the warm sea breeze from this afternoon, the brief gust that cooled your tear-stained cheeks early this evening, and the wind that brought the scent of cecilias down toward you.

“...So you could tell that I was here today.”

“Yeah.” He confirms quietly. “There was something… discordant, blowing in from Falcon Coast this afternoon. It didn’t take long for me to identify you.”

Guilt blooms within you. “Is that when you left the tavern?”

“No, I didn’t head out immediately. I mean- I can hardly turn off my omniscience, but I do still try to give you privacy in spite of it. I figured if you needed me, or… wanted me, you would call out.”

The way he says “wanted” makes your frown deepen.

“But, when the tone of the air only continued to sour as time passed, I did eventually give in to my concern.”

You pluck at the grass beneath you to busy your hands. “I’m sorry for distracting you. I really didn’t mean to, I just…”

He turns to you, cutting you off. “Please don’t say that. I couldn’t care less about losing out on a few mora at the tavern. I care about the fact that you’re out here, crying to yourself, all alone.”

A familiar tension makes itself at home again in your throat. “I…”

You trail off, lost for words. Venti makes up for it though, seeming to suddenly have quite a bit to get off of his own chest. “I can sense the difference between someone who wants to cry on their own, and someone who’s crying because they’re on their own.” His pained voice nearly cracks. “I never thought I’d feel the latter coming from you. But I’ve felt it more than once now, and… I don’t know what to do.”

At his confession, honesty slips out of you, and you can’t hold back the tears that come with it. “I miss you.” You turn to face him, and then look past, gesturing weakly out to the sprawling land of freedom behind you. “I miss this! I miss home! I miss you!” Voice breaking, you choke on your tears and lean into him, crumpling pathetically down onto his lap and curling yourself around him like the needy animal that you are.

His hands settle on you, one on your back and another reaching for your legs, pulling you against him so you don’t slip off the edge. His winds would cradle you if you fell, but he’d rather prevent the problem before it can happen. His own voice is tight with emotion when he speaks. “You have me, love. You- you hold me every night, I bid you goodbye every morning, you can visit Mondstadt whenever you please!”

You shake your head vehemently in his lap, crying harder.

“I’m sorry, love- I- I really don’t understand. In what way do you not have me?”

You practically shout your answer into the fabric of your sleeves, turning your head just enough to pointlessly attempt to wipe your face. “When I leave! I have to leave! I have to leave, and leave you behind, and you aren’t with me, and I’m alone again every time I go!”

One of his hands comes up to carefully comb the damp hair from your face, the black tips now wet with shimmering gold. “When you leave Mondstadt? Like… like when you go to Liyue?”

You nod, almost hyperventilating as your fears spill from you. “I should've never gone there alone! I wanted to ask you, I wanted you to come with me so badly but something told me that I shouldn't ask, that I should go alone, and so I went and I was so fucking scared but- but- but I was fine- I was fine- I made it back alive and so what if I cried every night because I missed you? I had a fucking nation to save it’s not like I could come home crying to you about it! And- and I mean Xiao was there but I- I- I can fight I can hold my own I don’t need protection I need a friend! I need company! I need you! I- I knew I’d be fine but fuck I felt so alone and I missed you, I missed you, I missed Venti, I missed Barbatos, I missed you SO MUCH-” You suddenly heave for air in the middle of your spiel, breathing in too hard and choking on your own spit. Feeling about as vulnerable and pathetic as you’ve ever been, you give in to the misery, grasping for purchase at any part of him you can reach. Your claws dig into the thin fabric of his tights in a way you know you’ll be frantically apologizing for later, but in this moment you can’t bring yourself to stop. You can't bring yourself to do anything but cry, and cry, and cry.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, the only sound he makes instead being a quiet, gentle hush, over and over, focused on calming you down. The cool hand that finds its way beneath your hair and settles on the back of your hot neck feels like heaven, and for a moment you cry harder at the relief. His other hand pets across the broad expanse of your back in slow, rhythmic, sweeping motions.

When your cries have quieted enough for you to focus on his words, he says something that surprises you.

“I’d have gone, if you’d have asked me.”

You hiccup a question. “Wh-what?”

“To Liyue. I would have been more than happy to go with you, if you’d have only asked.” His lithe fingers gently massage at the tension in your neck.

You twist in his hold just enough to look up at him. “Seriously?”

He gives you a weak smile, but it’s more sad than anything. “Of course. The only reason I didn’t invite myself along was because I wanted you to have the freedom to choose. I figured… if I offered to go with you, you might feel obligated to bring me with you.”

You laugh, but there's no humor in it. “This whole time… this whole time I really thought that you didn’t want to go.”

He’s visibly pained by the thought. “Why in the world wouldn’t I?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know… I just figured you had your reasons. It is another nation after all, and I’m still… not too sure how Archons feel about crossing into one another’s territory.” You clear your throat and scrub at your eyes and cheeks with a fist. “Figured maybe you didn’t want to run into Morax or something…”

He laughs, and there’s a bit of life in it this time. “Even the prospect of running into that old block-head wouldn’t be enough to stop me from accompanying you.” He takes your hand in his, stopping your aggressive assault on your messy face. “And while certain Archons might be… less than enthralled to see me again, just because I’m with you doesn’t mean I have to be recognized.”

Your brow furrows. “Venti and Barbatos don’t look all that different…”

He smiles down at you good-naturedly. “True. But I could take another form if it came down to it. Something unrecognizable to even them. If there’s anything I know how to do, it’s how to hide in plain sight and not be found.”

In spite of the tears still staining your cheeks, you give a small smile to your absentee God. “You’d really go to such lengths? For me?”

He gives you a confident nod. “For you and you only, love.”

His hand continues its gentle ministrations across your back, and your muscles gradually relax. You run a hand along the fabric of his tights, waiting for your breaths to come steady. As your senses slowly return to you, your fingertips brush across a few small tears in the material, and you cringe. Venti notices as much, and reassures you. “Hey- It’s alright. Don’t worry about that.”

His words are too late to stop you from raising your head enough to observe the damage, your hand gently cupping his thigh. “I didn’t scratch you… did I?”

“Nope! Just caught the fabric is all.” You aren’t inclined to believe him, given that with his abilities he could’ve healed any minor wounds before you even knew they were there.

You huff, dropping your head to his lap once more. “I’m still very sorry. I’ll buy you-”

“That won’t be necessary-” He tries to cut you off, but your insistence overpowers his own.

“I am buying you a new pair.”

He sighs in reluctant acceptance, knowing better than to challenge you. “Alright, alright. If you insist.”

You lay there for a moment, idly kneading at his thigh and letting the soft sounds of the evening wildlife fill the silence. Still, you struggle to wrap your head around the recent revelation. “You’d really be willing to leave this place?”

He laughs beneath his breath at your disbelief. “I mean, not permanently. If you’ve hatched some plan to move to Snezhnaya that I don’t know about, then I might have to disappoint you…”

You relax further at the familiar, playful edge that returns to his voice. “Nah, nah, nothing like that… just- on my journey away and back. Not- not even every time! Just… sometimes. It… really would’ve been nice to have you by my side the first time, actually, but I know it’s too late for that now. I just… wouldn't have felt so lost.”

His smile fades a bit at the confirmation of a long-held suspicion. You had been missing him as badly as he’d missed you.

You catch the shift in his demeanor, no matter how slight. “...I’m making you sad…”

One of his hands finds yours. “Only at the realization of how oblivious I’ve been.” He laughs, humorless. “All those nights I couldn’t sense you in the wind, all the time I spent wondering if you were okay… you weren’t. You were holed up somewhere, crying, alone, afraid…”

His eyes pinch closed and you squeeze his hand. “It’s not on you. I should’ve been more honest with you before I left.”

He huffs, and then he’s quiet for a moment, thinking. It’s times like these in which you wish you could read him as well as he can read you. “...I could say the same.”

You stare up at him for a moment in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He holds your gaze for a moment and opens his mouth to speak, but seems to think better of whatever he had to say. His focus shifts from you and out to the sea. “...Like I said, I would’ve been happy to follow you. I never should’ve let you grow to believe otherwise.”

You pout just slightly at the less-than-complete sounding answer, but another question overrides your focus. “Is Liyue… the limit?”

The hesitation in your voice gives him pause. “What do you mean?”

“Is Liyue, like, as far as you’re willing to go.”

His eyes brighten in understanding, and you’d collapse from relief at the shake of his head if you weren’t already on the ground.

“Oh! No, not at all. I really meant it when I said I’d risk running into the other Archons for you.”

You release his hand and reach up to pinch the fat of your cheeks between your claws. He pouts, reaching down to stop you. ���What’s that for?”

“I’m afraid I’m dreaming or something…”

He laughs properly, a beautiful sound. You crane your neck up to glance southward. The wall of storms barricading Inazuma are still there, an awful sight. You drop your head back to his lap with a heavy sigh.

He pats you gently on the cheek. “You’re wide awake, I assure you.”

Reaching up, you gently bat at the braids that hang at the sides of his face, chewing on your lower lip. He reads you like a book. “I think we’ve learned something this evening, dear.”

“What’s that?”

He catches your hand mid-air, splaying his fingers out and lacing them between yours. “It’s that when we have something to ask of one another, we should do it.”

The corner of your mouth turns up, and you meet his gaze. “Is that your fancy way of telling me to spit it out?”

He giggles. “Maybe.”

You sigh, letting your gaze drift away from him and up to the stars far, far above. “Would you be so kind… as to accompany this scared old dog all the way to Inazuma?”

You close your eyes, waiting for a “no.”

It never comes. Instead, he squeezes your hand in his, and you’re shocked to hear relief in his tone when he answers you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Your eyes flicker open, unsure. “Is… is that a yes?”

He nods vehemently. “It is.”

The tears that spring to your eyes catch you by surprise. He wipes them away with his thumb as they fall. Sniffling, you question him again. “There’s- There’s a whole war going on over there right now, you know?”

The blue in his braids brightens, and in the dark of the early night, you notice the same turquoise light begin to shine from his chest, beneath the thin fabric of his white shirt. “I’m no stranger to war.”

You reach up, tracing a gentle finger across where you know one of his Archon marks to be. “...That you aren’t.”

His thumb swipes across the black star at the base of your neck, half hidden by your collar. “...Guess that makes two of us, huh.”

It’s a rhetorical question, but you hum in confirmation nonetheless. Rising from your spot on his lap, you wiggle your way around until you’re seated beside him properly again. Reaching an arm out, you wrap it around his shoulders, and he leans into you. Both of you stare out across the sea, watching the lightning flash in the storm to the south.

“I don’t even know what I’m gonna be able to do to help.” You sigh. “But I know I have to go.”

One of his hands finds yours again. “Whatever may come, I consider it an honor to fight alongside you.”

You bark a laugh, shaking your head at the notion. “Hey now, I just asked you to come with me, I never said anything about putting you in the line of fire.”

He smiles. “I know, I know, but still… if it comes down to it-”

“If it comes down to that, I’m hauling you over my shoulder and taking us both home.” You cut him off in a no-nonsense tone.

Your seriousness doesn’t cause his mirth to falter. “I fear I’m gonna be the one dragging you home if we run into Signora while we’re there.”

A low growl reverberates from your chest at the mere mention of her. “We’ve still got a score to settle.”

He pats you on the thigh placatingly, humor in his words. “Darling, how many times must I reassure you? I let her take it from me.”

“Still, she didn’t have to be so fucking rough about it. I’m not after the gnosis. She made this personal.” You snarl.

His soft laughter subsides as he shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue.

The two of you watch the lightning show for a short while, before you grow tired of the dreadful sight and opt to focus on something better. Unwrapping your arm from the God at your side, you stifle a laugh as he voices his sudden startled displeasure. You apologize as you reposition yourselves, moving away from the edge a bit and turning the both of you around. “Sorry about that, didn’t realize you’d almost fallen asleep on me.”

He pouts. “Can you blame me? You’re warm, and it’s been a stressful day… and speaking of-”

You nod. “I know. We should be getting home soon. But- look.” You point at the beautiful sight of Mondstadt City, lit up for the night, a beacon of hope and freedom standing strong in the distance. “Isn’t that a sight worth sticking around a little longer for?”

He sighs in content as you pull him against you once more. You can’t feel the swell of pride in his chest at the sight, but you can hear it in his voice. “It sure is.”

Lifting his hat from his head and placing it in his lap, you comb your fingers through his hair, finding your own satisfaction in the way he melts against you. The two of you admire the city for a long few minutes, and a thought occurs. “As much as I want you beside me… I feel bad taking you from your people.”

He shakes his head and the motion tickles as his hair brushes against your chin. “They don’t need me, love. At least, not in the day-to-day sense.” He huffs. “Honestly, I think the most prominent place that my presence will be missed is the tavern, and that’s of little consequence in the grand scheme.”

You know he’s right, but the guilt still nags at you. “I guess…”

He leans away just enough to turn and look you in the eye. “You are one of my people too, you know?”

You hold his gaze, considering it. Have you really been here long enough, or made a big enough impact on the region to be bestowed with such an honorary title? “...I suppose I do.”

He reaches up and cups your cheek, eyes pleading. “Then let me be there for you.”

You breathe a sigh of acceptance. “...Okay.” You turn your head and plant a quick kiss against his palm before he can pull away.

He lets his hand drop, but doesn’t turn away. “I’m really sorry that you’ve been carrying all of this pain with you for so long. I should have questioned you on it sooner.”

You pick his hand up from his lap, taking it in yours. “It’s not your fault. At least, certainly not anymore than it is mine. I should've just asked you to come, the worst thing you could’ve said was no.”

“I still hate that you even thought I might’ve said no. I… should have made my willingness clearer.”

“Nah, I mean, after a year of following me around Mondstadt I think you were quite clear. I’m just… dense.” You summon a few tiny Geo shards in your palm before allowing them to crumble into a shimmering pile of dust. “Comes with the territory, I suppose.”

Venti scoffs. “Well if you’re dense, then I’m diffuse.” A tiny gust of Anemo swoops in and lifts the dust from your outstretched palm, scattering it to the wind.

You watch your two energies mix and dissolve into the night air. “I guess they do say that opposites attract.”

He hums. “That they do, love.”

You expect him to turn back toward the city, and he almost does, but then he hesitates, and calls you by name. “I want you to remember something.”

Your interest piques, brows raising above tired, lidded eyes. “And what’s that?”

His tone is serious. “You are not alone. Ever. Not if you don’t want to be. I don’t want you hesitating to call on me ever again. If you need me, if you want me, I’m there. No exceptions.” Maybe it’s the day’s exhaustion catching up with you, but the light in his eyes feels like a beacon, guiding you home. “You don’t ever have to be alone again. Remember this, please.”

Something warm blooms in your chest, and it’s in this moment that you realize the knot in your stomach has loosened. It isn’t gone, but it’s hardly noticeable anymore, and you finally breathe easy. You hold his gaze for a moment before nodding, serious. “I will.”

He brings his hand up, holding his pinky out toward you. “Promise?”

You smile, reaching out and wrapping yours around his. “Promise.”

He exhales, satisfied. “You wanna stay out here a bit longer?”

You open your arms in invitation. “I’d love to.”

Shuffling around once more, you help situate him between your legs, pulling him back against your chest.

“Alright, but don’t hold it against me if I fall asleep out here. You make for quite the comfortable bed, you know.”

You smile, nuzzling into his hair and breathing him in. The heavy scent of fermentation he once carried is now nothing but a faint whisper. “I won’t mind.” Lifting your gaze from the distant city lights, you quietly admire the stars above. “Not at all.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! You can find my commentary on this fic in the notes right here on Ao3. For more info on my OC Saoirse (aka this fic's "Reader"), along with links to various relevant playlists and moodboards, you can find it all here, in the notes of my fic series "This Is Unconditional." This is fic 4 of 16 that I'm doing based on combining prompts from this list! [Day 6 (Singing) & Day 21 (Memory)] Header Image Source: Me, for once! It's an in-game screenshot that I took myself.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

It's such a great feeling when in the process of working on a piece of writing, I find a way of making a connection that makes everything feel more unified and make more sense. And I've had that happen for both my thesis and my fanfic recently.

[thevioletcaptain]

Toes in the Sand

11k | Explicit | DeanCas

Almost three weeks ago, Jack brought a newly-human Cas back from the Empty. Dean's been trying to get him alone ever since. Or;

A post-15.19 fix-it fic featuring human!Cas, kid!Jack, a whole lot of Dadstiel, and two doofuses continuing to take their sweet time even after Cas’ love confession.

The beach is buzzing with scantily-clad summer travelers, the sand golden-warm as the Gulf of Mexico stretches out forever under a bright blue sky, but Dean is barely aware of any of it. It could be storming for all he knows. There could be an escaped rhinoceros sprinting across the sand. He wouldn't notice, because every last fraction of his focus is trained on the middle-aged former angel sprawled out on a threadbare beach towel a couple dozen feet away.

He's gone a little gray at the temples. He's wearing gas-station sunglasses and a pair of candy-pink swim trunks printed with bananas. In Dean's humble opinion, he's the hottest thing that's ever been on this beach.

[keep reading on Ao3]

[ghirahimbo]

ooooh a comment!

...okay, a comment 🙄

[ID: the images consist of two screenshots. The first shows an email comment notification from Archive of Our Own that reads "AO3 Comment on Blind, But Now."

The second screenshot is of the comment itself, left by a user named "The Fool," which reads, "Chapters: 18/19. Updated: 2021-12-10," followed by a gif from Star Wars captioned, "We were on the verge of greatness. We were this close." End ID.]

[direwombat]

FRAGILE CREATURES CHAPTER 4 IS LIVE

word count: 11,377

summary: rook nearly gets shot by a paranoid teenager, pratt’s day goes from bad to  worse, and jacob makes a promise to john.

bonus meme-y out of context spoiler under the cut

[itostea]

my first & last love (gojo x reader)

satoru realizes he's in love with you after you suggest he set you up with suguru

tags: fem! reader, Gojo praises you like A LOT! slight miscommunications, childhood friends to lovers, reader gets drunk & satoru helps, he's a lovesick idiot & dramatic, both yours & his pov, gojo’s implied to be taller than reader, slightly suggestive bc it’s gojo, slight angst

word count: 11k

The first time Gojo Satoru learned true, unadulterated jealousy was on a Friday night out in his sports car–the crickets chirping to the melody of a random song. 

It was real jealousy—not just simple, petty envy. Not like the envy he felt when someone got to taste the limited edition cupcakes at the bakery before he did or the envy of studying hard and getting a lower score than someone who didn’t (which is a lie because Gojo was that very person who was effortlessly good at everything he did). 

Either way, he’s never felt the bite of jealousy, breaking the flesh as blood drips slowly, lingering as if it could never be washed away from his skin. Never felt it smother his throat with needles and leave him with a metallic taste in his mouth. That is, until today.

It was colder than usual but he still insisted on grabbing some ice-cream from the local convenience store, declaring it was his your reward for putting up with the party Sukuna hosted–the same party that ended in your dress being soaked in vomit. The atmosphere was perfect for sentiment, for talking–for confessing. 

You’re humming to the beat of the song, licking your lips clean of the ice cream you just ate. “Satoru,” you murmur his name softly, staring at him through your lashes. 

“Yeah?” His eyes drink in the sight of you: your droopy eyes from sleep, the faded lip tint on your lips, the hoodie he let you borrow that’s obviously a few sizes too big on you. There’s hardly any light coming in but he can still feel your eyes on him, the tension so thick he thinks he might suffocate from it. 

For a moment, he’s scared, fearful of what you were going to say because he knows this silence. This is the very silence that happens before someone confesses to him, the same suspense that he has to mentally prepare himself for since he knew he was going to break another heart. And he’s terrified that he might have to do it to you–his friend, his neighbor, someone who he’s known for a very long time. 

“I need to tell you something,” you start and he winces, shifting uncomfortably on the driver’s seat. 

“You do?” He mutters. You’re nervous. He can tell because he’s known you long enough to understand what you’re feeling–long enough to know that your eyes are darting from place to place, a habit of yours.

His chest squeezes when you take a deep breath just as he exhales, already making his mind to grant you a swift rejection. He hopes you can forgive him after this.

“--I like Getou and I need your help.”

“Listen, I’m sorry but I just don’t see you that way–”

He blinks, wondering if he heard you right or if he was drunk (he didn’t drink at the party because he was your ride home). “Wait what?”

It was your turn to blink now. “I like Getou and I–”

“I heard you the first time,” he cuts you off hastily, clearing his throat to play it cool. He runs a hand through his hair, grazing the side of his undercut. “Okay wow.”

Gojo mentally curses himself for not knowing what else to say other than humming pensively, busying himself by mixing the ice-cream in the tiny container. He still needs time to process, to mentally upload your words to his brain. You like Getou and not him? He pauses, repeating that thought again. 

You like Getou and not him. Part of him tells himself that this is exactly what he wanted since your friendship wouldn’t go to ruin. You managed not to catch feelings for him–managed not to fall for him like many others. Yet, he’s confused when another part of him doesn’t respond too well once he realizes that this was you he was dealing with.

“That’s not weird right?” You question, bringing your knees up to your chest and propping your chin atop of them to watch his reaction–reminding him to keep it cool. 

“Nah it’s not weird at all,” he said, not thinking straight when his next words escaped his lips. “So why Suguru?” And not me? Though, he keeps that last part to himself. 

“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s tall, handsome, and has a good personality.”

Am I not that? He asks himself, not bothered by how stuck up he may seem. “That’s not very specific from someone who likes him.”

You huff and he can tell you’re narrowing your eyes at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear me yap about the specifics, Satoru.”

“I do.” He says quickly.

You make a noise of surprise, looking interested in his sudden intrigue. “Well okay… Suguru’s very caring and attentive. Being around him makes me feel warm inside you know? I’m not sure when I started liking him but I just know that I just really want to be closer to him. And it doesn’t help that he’s just so smart and nice. And his looks are just a bonus.”

“Oh,” he utters, not even bothering to curse himself for his lack of response. He tries a weak smile. “You must really like him.”

Gojo can’t help but furrow his brows at the semi-embarrassed expression you wear—as if you were flustered at the mere thought of having a crush. “Oh, was I that obvious?” You ask, not even bothering to deny the fact that you were undoubtedly head over heels for his best friend.

Oh god, he thinks he might be sick and he doesn’t know why. 

“Are you going to help me?” Your voice cuts him out of his reverie and he’s cut back into reality–the reality being the anticipation in your eyes. Did you always look this pretty? 

Gojo nearly flinches at the thoughts that cross his mind, blaming the unprocessed shock for being the cause of these obscure ideas. He coughs. “Hold on. So you don’t like me right?”

“What? No I–” your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh so that’s what that was all about. You thought the person I liked was you! How cocky can you be to think everyone’s in love with you?”

“It’s not cocky if it’s true. I’m just really lovable y’know?”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “That can’t be true since I’m not everyone.”

I know, he thinks to himself, staying silent as he watches you shuffle in your seat. He didn’t just dislike this idea you proposed, he hated it.  It wasn’t hard to just decline and keep it like that–let you figure your feelings on your own. 

Yet, something about the near-pleading look in your eyes made him reconsider and it filled him with an urge to smooth the wrinkles on your expression. He sighs loudly, rubbing the invisible crease in between his brows. “Well I guess you came to the right person because I’m an expert at this. 5 star ratings and all that. But what makes you think I’m going to do this for free?”

“Uh the goodness of your heart?”

“Cute,” he laughs. “But no. I want a coffee from the place everyday for a month.”

“What?! Are you insane? That means I’d have to wake up early everyday to get in line!” 

He shakes his head, waving his finger around with a disappointed expression. “A small price for love.”

“I don’t understand why you even need me for that. You can buy the whole shop yourself, ass,” you whisper the last part behind your palm, making his eyes light up in amusement.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Actually you know what? Fine,” you huff. “You’re right. It is a small price for love. But I’m not walking back and forth around campus to deliver your coffee.” 

“I got that covered,” he grins, already coming up with a plan in his head. He likes this, the banter you two typically enjoyed. It made your duo, a duo. In a normal situation, he’d relax and continue bothering you. Still, the feeling of dread gnaws at his throat and he tries to swallow it–tries to ignore it by pretending to be the same, goofy Gojo you’re used to. And he’s starting to think it’s hard to do that when you look up at him with such genuine gratitude. 

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you, I mean it.”

Gojo feels that emotion again, that visceral feeling where he might go sick and vomit all over the car. “Yeah.”

He thinks he would’ve preferred if you confessed to him instead. 

Gojo wonders if stress (if you can call that) is enough to make someone wake up with a hangover the next day. He didn’t drink last night but he thinks he might have–considering the headache that was interrupting his morning. 

He’s in the middle of downing a glass of water when his phone buzzes, your name popping up as a notification. 

(Name): i’m gonna get ur coffee pls come 

Him: come ??? cum

(Name): it’s too early to be doing this 

He sees the bubbles appear before they disappear for a while, only popping up again when he’s in the middle of cracking an egg over the pan 

(Name): SATORU 

(Name): OHMYGOD SATORY SOI SOS 

Him: WHAT 

Him: HELLO??? 

(Name): GETOUS HERE OMG IM GONNA 

(Name): HE SAID HI TO ME 

(Name): WHAT DO I DO?

Gojo grips his phone a bit tighter, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He sighs.

Him: say hi back 

Him: and then go PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

(Name): no wtf and i meant what do i after this silly 

(Name): i don’t know what to do im literally an npc rn

(Name): jk he just said bye :(

Him: should’ve done what i told u to do

Another name pops up from the top and his eyes scan the name, his brows raising in curiosity. He huffs at the message, feeling a wave of nausea cross him.

Suguru: You’re close friends with (Name) right?

Him: yeah why 

Suguru: Nothing

It’s silent for a few seconds and Gojo’s back to eating his eggs, tempted to pop a Tylenol to ease the growing headache. Contrary to popular belief, he was against the reliance of pain-relieving meds, opting to let his body figure things out on its own. Luckily for him, having food in his stomach was enough to relieve the headache.

His mind wanders back to the night in the car where you told him to help you with your crush on his best friend–not fully coming to terms with the fact that he wished you liked him instead. Since when did he start feeling this way and why did he need another man to make him realize he liked or even loved you? The thought of anyone having you for themselves was like hearing the sound of nails against a chalkboard and he was jealous. He finally admitted it. 

Gojo Satoru wasn’t an idiot when it came to his feelings and he’d be a fool if he kept denying his undeniable irritation that came with your crush for Suguru. He places the unwashed dish atop some other bowls and utensils, reminding himself to get to that later since his priority was not to keep you waiting at the coffee shop. 

Another buzz and Satoru nearly trips over his feet at the dread he gets from seeing his best friend’s message. Are you kidding me? He thinks to himself as he reads the message again. 

Suguru: She’s cute

Yeah, he thinks he might be sick again.

Music’s playing in the background to substitute the sound of chatter that’d usually fill the room if Shoko were here. It wasn’t rare for Shoko to not flake on parties and it was even rarer for you to leave your comfort zone and go to one–especially the last one hosted by Sukuna; but this one was different. Suguru was the host and you’d be an idiot to miss it. 

You flinch at the feeling of your mascara poking the inside of your eye, cursing quietly as you take a q-tip to fix the mistake. 

The buzz of your phone makes you freeze.

Gojo: omw to ur house 

Gojo: ill be there in 10 

You: wait satoru don’t get mad but what do i wear 

Gojo: …

Gojo: YOU DIDNT LIKE THINK ABOUT THAT AN HR AGO?

You: I WANNA STAND OUT TO ATTRACT THE LOML OKAY? 

You: so i need ur opinion 

Gojo: dude

Gojo: ok

Gojo: just wear whatever u want it’ll be fine 

You: yeah but what specifically?

Gojo: not smth that makes you look like a grandma 

Gojo: like that dress u wore to the last party 

Gojo: no offense

You: but i liked that dress :(((( 

You: was it that bad?? I mean i had to throw it out bc of the vomit anyways

Gojo: it made u look like a grandma but in a good way 

You: wow okay thanks

Gojo: you looked nice 

Gojo: ANYWAYS  

Gojo: a pair of jeans 

Gojo: and that light blue long sleeve that shows ur shoulders 

You: really? 

Gojo: yeah and i’m leaving my apartment now so hurry up 

You like the message, tapping your lips to even out the lip tint before you rush to put on the shirt and jeans. Doing a quick double-take in the mirror, you spin once and prop your hands on your hips, snapping a few selfies to commemorate this day. 

You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear excessive honking outside, the sound of your phone buzzing as you see Gojo’s caller id. It’s enough to make your eyes roll as you grab your bag–leaving the door locked and the lights off. 

Gojo’s grin is boyish and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom. “Oh look at you,” he coos. “You’re actually wearing what I told you to wear.”

“Well I felt like listening today,” you murmur, feeling a small ripple of embarrassment pass you. 

“Atta girl.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, feeling a grin form when you hear him chuckle. He puts his car into reverse mode, propping his arm on the top of your seat. Up close, you can get a stronger whiff of his cologne–its musk and earthiness slowing your heartbeat, calming you. Your eyes scan his outfit: a black pullover layered atop white t-shirt, paired with a pair of pants that were on the edge of being joggers and trousers.

On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t have done them good like it did with Gojo. To your displeasure and awe, he looked effortlessly classy. And if he noticed your lingering gaze, he didn’t mention it. 

“What’s your game plan?” His voice draws you back to reality and you watch as he sets the car back into drive mode. 

“Game plan?”

“That’s right,” he glances at you, his shades sliding lower on his nose bridge. “Your plan to seduce the love of your life.”

“I’m not going to seduce him!” You gape, narrowing your eyes at his widening smile. His hand reaches down to turn the volume of the song a bit louder, stopping at the upcoming red light. 

“I’m just joking with you,” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before that smile returns to his face, not quite meeting his eyes like it usually does. He sighs before breaking into a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “I’d pay to see that though.”

At the party, you’d imagine yourself “mingling” with the crowd and letting loose–being the life of the party. Unfortunately for you, your feet are still stuck on the kitchen floor and you’re glued to Gojo’s side. You’d like to blame it on the vomit incident from Sukuna’s party and you’re fortunate enough to not be known as the “girl that someone threw up on.” 

Either way, you weren’t especially fond of the fact that you were keeping Gojo from having fun somewhere else. Like in one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs or in the living room playing some drinking games. It’s enough to make you feel somewhat guilty and suddenly regretful that you even came to this party. 

You tap his shoulder in the kitchen, offering him a reassuring smile. “Satoru. You don’t have to stay with me. I can manage myself!” 

“That’s what you said last time,” he chuckles, rummaging through Getou’s fridge to search for something sweet, frowning when he sees traditional Japanese snacks that his grandparents would eat. “What the hell?” He murmurs to himself.

“I mean it,” you say, taking a few steps back. “You have some fun. I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“You’re not–”

“Satoru. (Name),” a velvety voice greets, all too familiar. A warmth spreads over you. “You made it.”

“Getou,” you murmured to yourself, glancing at Gojo who was already staring at you. 

For a second, you see a subtle tick in his jaw, a sight you blame on the lighting since he’s back to normal the moment he turns to face Getou. He grins that teasing smile of his. “Suguru.”

“You looking through my fridge again, Satoru?” The brunette huffs, kicking the fridge’s door shut lightly–exchanging the grin with his friend. Your heart squeezes as he casts a lingering look at you, his smile polite. “Hey (Name). Good seeing you here.”

“Huh?” You perk up. “Oh you too?”

You inwardly curse at yourself for how awkward you were, giving Gojo a scathing look as he hides his laughter behind his palm. Luckily for you, Getou’s sweet and he was also good at redirecting topics. “You want something to drink?” 

“Oh sure,” you blink, offering a thankful smile. “Thank you Getou–”

“Suguru.” 

You pause, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sorry?” 

“Call me Suguru,” he hands you a red, plastic cup–his smile pretty enough to make your breath hitch. “We’ve known each other long enough.”

You feel your heart race as he looks at you expectantly, as if you knew what he wanted you to do next. You fidget, suddenly more bashful at the attention he was giving you. “Thank you Suguru.”

“No problem,” he smiles and you like how he looks satisfied with you. He hands another red cup to Satoru who stood beside you, the sarcastic grin of his returning. You take a tentative sip of the booze, watching curiously as Satoru and Suguru talked amongst themselves–reconnecting despite seeing each other only a day ago. 

You observe the two of them, mapping the details of Suguru’s face before your eyes land on Satoru–suddenly aware of the fact that the boy you spent most of your youth with grew up. Sure, you know that his face attracts attention from everyone but that was a token from childhood. It just didn’t hit you that he matured, grew up to be the man most would dream of dating. The realization is to make you wonder if Gojo ever registered the fact that you were growing too.

Slowly, you take another sip of your drink, blinking slowly as the alcohol settles in your system. Gojo’s the first to notice when you stumble, how your skin seems to heat up. “Hey hey,” he holds you by the shoulders, his voice soft. And if you paid closer attention, you would’ve seen the way Getou’s brows raised at how gentle his friend was acting towards you. “You okay?” 

Amidst your drunken state, you realize that Gojo didn’t bother drinking any of the liquor in his cup during his conversation with Suguru. And Suguru. Sweet Suguru who puts the pieces together and confirms that you’re a lightweight, the guilt evident in his expression. “Oh shit. I forgot how strong this liquor is.” 

“I’m okay,” you mumble and step forward, ready to excuse yourself to the restroom. Gojo looks like he’s about to say something until a group of unfamiliar faces barge into the kitchen, their faces bright as they greet Getou and Gojo with intentions to keep them occupied. Among the chatter and crowd, you find it easy to slip away–rushing to find a restroom. 

The first one you went in was already used by a couple that you remembered mumbling apologies to. The others were either locked or used. At some point, your gut told you to go upstairs and you staggered into an unoccupied bathroom where you splashed cold water on your face–sighing at how nice it felt against your skin.

The music’s only a fraction of its noise from up here and you’re surprised that there’s not much of a group upstairs. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach as you crouch slightly, mentally cursing yourself for downing the whole cup so quickly, ruining your chances to talk with Suguru–coherently at least. Part of you wants to sulk over your spoiled opportunities but another part of you just wants to crash on the tiled floor and sleep–rest your eyes for a bit. 

You’re thankful your mind was still conscious enough to rationalize the unsanitary conditions of the bathroom floor, opting to curl up in one of the hallways instead–shivering at the feeling of cold marble beneath you. Your eyes droop, a yawn escaping you. And you’re almost certain you would’ve fallen asleep if not for the gentle shaking of your shoulders. 

“Stop,” you whine softly, your vision blurry as you catch a glimpse of hair the color of snow and a pair of worried filled blue eyes. Your protests turn quickly to bemusement. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

You think he smiles as he kneels down on one knee to be eye level with you. “How about I get you off the ground first?” 

“I don’t wanna. Let me sleep here,” you shake your head, ignoring how your body felt warm at how softly he treated you. 

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “The ground’s dirty. Let's get you to a bed at least.”

In your drunken state, your mind still decides it favors a soft comforter over cold marble and you see his eyes soften when you go limp in his arms–letting him lift you from the ground. “Good girl.”

Your mind goes fuzzy at the sound of that and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else that makes your temperature rise. In that simple moment, you let his arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest as he makes his way downstairs. All your thoughts stop as your eyes close, drowning the sound of the party out as you permit sleep to take over. His hands give your thighs an occasional squeeze, the gesture oddly intimate yet you don’t bother questioning it or objecting to it. 

Even with the veil of sleep dropping on your form, you still recognize Suguru’s voice as he tells Satoru to take care of you, his tone apologetic–having been the one to give you the liquor. They talk for a bit and once more, you feel the bounce of each step as he carries you out the house.

You’re barely awake when Gojo puts you in the passenger seat and you feel disappointment wash over you when he stops holding you. You’re not sure when you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, your eyes half-lidded as you peered up at him. “Don’t go.”

A noise of protest escapes your lips when he removes your cold hand from his shirt gently, rather taking it in between his warmer ones. “I won’t.”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I like when you compliment me.”

“Oh yeah?” He says, laughing a bit. “It’s hard not to.”

The music and cheers in Suguru’s house are still audible even in Gojo’s car, your vision getting darker and darker with each blink. Still, you can still feel Gojo’s hand gripping yours–his thumb rubbing circles on the skin as you invite sleep back in, taking deep breaths as you breathe in his cologne. 

And as sleep came to life, you allowed the dreams to live as well. 

Was there such a thing as a relationship between dreams and memories? In moments of delirium, you can’t single out what’s real and what’s not–was it a dream or did it actually happen?

But now that days have passed and you’ve given yourself more time, you’re certain that Gojo was the one who carried you out of the house and spent his night caring for you. So you ruled out the possibility that the night was a dream, rather a memory that made you feel soft inside–grateful yet unsure. And if you wanted to ponder harder, you would’ve done so if not for the hell you were experiencing this week. 

Forgetting the content during a quiz. Getting yelled at by your boss. Having stepped in bird shit. Waking up late nearly every day because you’d forget to put your alarm on. 

If that wasn’t enough, you got in an argument with your parents over the phone. It was about something stupid and you were so frustrated that you ended up walking to some 7/11–buying yourself an ice-cream to cheer yourself up. The argument was so dumb and you weren’t even sure what you guys were even arguing about. All you knew that you should probably call them later to talk it out; you also knew that this week couldn’t get any worse.

What was Satoru doing right now? You think to yourself, pulling out your phone to check your messages–frowning when you saw none from him. Your eyes land on a message from Suguru, seeing the link he sent you to some video he found funny or intriguing. After the party, you were shocked to see an unknown number texting you, claiming it was Suguru and that Satoru gave your number to him. The day that happened, you texted him using exclamation marks and thanked him–smiling at your phone as you two exchanged witty messages with one another. 

You sighed, unlocking your phone and clicking Satoru’s contact and phoning him. You almost hang up after several rings but you hear his voice after the nth ring. “Hello?”

“Satoru?” You say, your voice cracking the second your lips part to speak. You weren’t expecting to cry and neither did Satoru–though you can hear the concern laced in his voice as he questions your whereabouts. 

“Where are you sweetheart?” You hear rustling in the background amidst his voice and your sniffles. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” you wipe your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. 

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You think you might cry harder with how sweet his voice was. 

Satoru thinks he might be the only one who notices the rift between you and him. And he’s not sure if he’s the one causing it or if it’s you. But after that night with you (in his car again), he’s been thinking about how soft you were in his arms; how he liked the way your head drooped against his chest. Or maybe he likes you but he’s not going to think about that unless he wants another headache. 

Regardless, he finds himself looking at his phone sporadically, subconsciously eager to see your name pop up unexpectedly–eager for things to go back to normal. Even though you two still speak, he’s almost sure that he’s not imagining the awkward tension in the air. 

Was he too intrusive when he carried you out to his car? Were you mad at him because he didn’t leave Suguru and you alone in the kitchen? It was a selfish thing to do, he admits. His original idea was to leave you alone with Suguru so you’d get to chat with him–get to know him like you intended to do at the party; but seeing Suguru give you that sly smile of his was enough to make Gojo ditch his plans of playing Cupid. 

If Gojo was a good man, he’d feel happy that you were getting what you wanted since he knew you weren’t the only one interested. Like with the message Suguru sent to Satoru and how he eyed you at the party; how he called Satoru over for a bit and told him that he understood why people liked you or found you attractive; how he commented on how the shirt you wore suited you. 

No shit, I picked it, he thought to himself as he recalled that night. Satoru always knew you were beautiful and he hated that everyone else knew too. You weren’t even his yet but he didn’t want to share you–to let anyone else hold you or have you. Seeing you blush and smile shyly at his best friend made him want to puke—made him want to claw his eyes out. That should be him and god he wishes it was.

He was selfish yet he never promised to be good. Yet, this was for you. He wanted you to be happy, is what he told himself whenever he saw you and Suguru talking. 

His phone buzzes and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he snatches it, the anticipation in his eyes fading when he sees that it’s Suguru messaging him about the party today. Satoru sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows as he leans on the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded that he planned a party at his place today. It was an impulsive decision to forget about the tension between you two and Satoru’s kinda wishing he took the time to talk it out with you rather than planning something else. 

He invited a good amount of people and was going to invite you as well to give him a reason to call you. But lucky for him, you made things easier for him by calling him. Satoru thinks it’s not healthy for his blood temperature to rise just at the sight of your name on his phone and he’s already grinning when he picks up. “Hello?”

“Satoru?” 

Oh. He pauses, his brows furrowing at how your voice cracked as you tried to hide your sniffles. His first thought was to wonder who made you sad and he thinks it’s scary how hearing you cry was enough to send his emotions in a frenzy. But you needed him and he didn’t want you to be alone. “Where are you sweetheart?” He asks, the nickname flowing off his tongue before he can stop. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” You mumbled back and his heart nearly snapped in two with how dejected you sounded. He frowns, grabbing his jacket and his keys–rushing to slip on his sneakers. 

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You make a sound of understanding and he hangs up, his finger tapping to click on Suguru’s contact. Satoru hears other familiar voices in the background but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. 

“What’s up Satoru–?”

“Party’s off.”

“What? Wait what are you–”

“Sorry something came up. I’ll tell you later,” he says, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He knows he should feel bad for flaking out last minute but his list of priorities had you at the top of it. And he really didn’t care if anyone else would understand. 

You’re regretting the choice of shorts in the chilly night air and the ice-cream you ate wasn’t helping you shiver any less. 

The way Satoru sounded made that warm, fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach again. He sounded like he would drop whatever he was doing just to get to you and it made you feel special. You think back to the sound of “sweetheart” from his lips, shaking your head when you feel your blood get warm.

“(Name)?” Satoru’s voice startles you from your thoughts and you think the sound of it could erase all your troubles. “You alright?” He asks, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and draping them over your legs, kneeling down to see your face.

You only nod. “I want to go home.”

“Yeah I can take you back–”

“No,” you shake your head. “Back to your place.”

For a moment, you’ve stunned him but that surprise left as fast as it arrived. He sighs, tapping your knee with his finger. “Usually dinner comes first–”

“Not like that you idiot,” you kick him lightly, a grin forming on your lips. “Your methods of comforting are weird.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, the sound blending with the wind. “Well maybe I’m not trying to comfort you,” he eyes you with a teasing glint in his eyes and flashes a lopsided grin. He looked almost sweet as he did sly, the blend making your heart pick up in pace. 

You squirm, mustering a tone of nonchalance. “I changed my mind. I’m going back to my place.”

This time he chuckles, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Nuh uh. It’s my job to wipe that frown off your face,” he says, the corny phrase making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’ll be good to you.”

You pretend to think, ignoring the attentive expression he wore. “Fine. I guess I’ll let you take me home.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, standing up to his full height. You beam at him, matching his steps as you two reach his door. By the time the two of you were settled at his place, you already spoke to your parents in private–clearing up the misunderstandings like Satoru reminded you to do. You were glad you had him and even more glad that things were falling back to place. 

Your eyes scan your surroundings, noticing how he must’ve tidied things up. “Did you clean your place?”

“Hm?” He grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh yeah. I was going to have a party here.”

“Today?”

“That’s right,” he drawls, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go.”

“Really?” That was a shock to you. “Are you still gonna have one today?”

“Nah. Canceled it last minute.”

You pause, raising your brows as you try not to jump to conclusions. “Why’d you cancel it?”

“Had better things to do. I'd rather hang out with you anyways,” he says casually, smiling when he finds the packets of hot cocoa. “Found it!”

Did he cancel the party for me? You think to yourself, a bit surprised that you came to that conclusion; but if you were right and he did, you wouldn’t know what to feel other than appreciation and maybe something else. Whether that was true or not, you know that you should be feeling guilt and not giddiness from having him prioritize you. Was it normal to feel this way for Satoru? You’re about to let your thoughts fill your head but you feel your breath hitch at how he seems to lean closer to you. 

His hands move you by the hips, the touch barely lasting five seconds. “Sorry I gotta get the spoons,” he murmurs, paying no mind to how you hold your breath. Your eyes fall to his biceps, swallowing a gasp as you see how the black material of his shirt moved with every movement he makes. There was no way he was human when he looked like that.

Oh my god, you think to yourself, suddenly mortified at the fact that you were checking him out. What was wrong with you right now? You always knew Gojo was attractive but you didn’t think he was this attractive. And if he had any idea of your internal conflict he didn’t pay it any mind. 

“Can you go get the movie ready for me?”

“Uh huh,” you nod immediately, quickening your pace as you try to distract yourself. By the time he sits next to you, the blankets and snacks are already placed neatly on the living room table. You smile and mutter a thank you when he hands you the mug of hot cocoa. 

“Feel better?” He asks, propping an arm on the head of the couch once you’re halfway through the movie: a random romcom you picked to cheer you up. Even as someone who claims he’d rather watch a movie with more action, you think the drama that comes with romcoms intrigues him–much more than he’d like to admit. 

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting to him. “Much better.”

“I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes glancing at the way your knees touched. The scene panels to a teary confession the female lead does, the music dramatic with strings in the background. You watch intently, observing the expressions both characters make on screen.

“Y’know, I never understood how they can always come up with a speech like that on the spot,” Satoru comments, plopping a few gummy bears in his mouth. “Isn’t that unrealistic?”

“It’s a movie,” you point out, watching as the male lead hung onto every word the female lead had to say. “It’s not supposed to be realistic.”

“I guess you’re right. But that stuff apparently happens in real life right?”

“Wouldn’t you know? You have people confessing to you all the time.”

“I don’t give them much time to continue speaking,” he shrugs. 

You don’t like how uneasy you feel after he says that. “Well, maybe it’s love that makes this kind of stuff happen.”

This earns you an amused snicker. “Of course you’d say that. You gonna do that with Suguru? Confess to him from the bottom of your heart?”

You roll your eyes. “To do that, I’d have to be in love with him.”

“Are you?”

“No,” you give him an incredulous look. “I hardly know the guy. I just really like him.”

He makes a sound of understanding but you feel as if you’re deluding yourself when you see the look of relief cross his face. You turn to him, the movie forgotten all of a sudden. “Would you do that?”

“What? Confess to Suguru with the bottom of my heart?” 

“Yeah sure. That’s what I meant.” you huff, seeing his teasing grin form. You sigh. “No like…confess to someone you love.”

He’s quiet, the faraway look in his eyes confirming that he’s deep in thought. You’re not sure why a pang of irritation hits you when you realize that there might be someone Satoru’s in love with. And you’re not sure if it’s because he’s not telling you or because you want to be that someone. You go with the former because you’re supposed to like Suguru. 

His eyes wander to meet yours and the tick in his jaw makes you nervous–makes your palms sweaty because he’s never looked at you like that. You’re not even sure words could describe what emotion he had on his face. He smiles–not the smile that’s crooked and boyish. It’s the smile that’s sharp and makes his eyes narrow. “I might.”

“You might?” You ask, hating how breathless your voice sounded to your ears–something that he notices with the way amusement practically glimmers in his eyes. You swallow a gasp when his gaze falls to your lips, quickly flying back to your eyes. 

“Maybe,” he whispers and you can’t help but wet your lips, feeling faint when the bright blue of his eyes darkens to black. You don’t flinch when his head tilts, his arm coming to the side to trap you between the couch. His cologne overwhelms you, makes you drunk on him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath hit your face. 

“Satoru–” 

The sound of your phone buzzing crushes the tension quickly and you let him lean back–looking as if he had more to say. You feel a smidge of disappointment as you grab your phone. “It’s Suguru,” you say and you’re not sure why your inner voice begs Satoru to tell you to ignore the phone call–to act like he cares more. 

“Shouldn’t you answer it?” He questions and you hate that sinking feeling in your stomach when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you–as if acting like he wasn’t about to kiss you seconds ago. You can only frown, nodding as you watch him stand up–still not offering you one single look. “I’ll clean up.”

As you glance at your phone, at the name of Suguru appearing on your screen, you hope for the slightest bit of joy–that lovesick feeling you get whenever you’d see him. Yet, it felt wrong. This felt wrong. And apparently, Suguru could tell from your voice that there was something bugging you. 

“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.”

Your eyes linger on Satoru’s figure moving to the kitchen. You think Suguru mentions something about a date but you don’t pay much attention, not feeling all that bad as you drown out his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can–”

“Sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your body lurches at your response–as if it didn’t want this. “Sure. I’ll see you at 7.”

You don’t catch what he says when he hangs up, only thinking of how Satoru looked at you when he was leaning closer. The thought doesn’t horrify you as much as it should but you think that if he had kissed you, you probably would’ve kissed him back. 

If someone told you a month ago that you were going on a date with Suguru, you would’ve cried tears of joy and celebrated. But now, you’re almost undeniably feeling a wave of indifference hit you and it feels awful. Suguru’s perfect–his sharp features and his charming smile that’d send anyone into a frenzied mess. Or maybe most tend to fixate on how suave he is with his words–mixing the subtlest of flirtations with simple compliments.

He’s everything you could’ve asked for. Yet, you find yourself missing the ruthless beauty you saw in Satoru–the striking blue of his eyes and the rare color of his hair. You find yourself missing the rasp of his voice, how it’d soften that night when he comforted you; you find yourself missing his warm and strong embrace as he took care of you in your inebriated state; you find yourself missing how close he was that night on his couch and how he looked at you. 

At some point, you found yourself replaying that scene over and over again. The first few times, you were giddy with hormones as you imagined him leaning closer and kissing you. After a while, you wanted the image gone because it didn’t happen. He pulled away. He let you pick up the call from Suguru. He acted like nothing happened when in reality, a lot did happen. You two were finally breaching the line of friends and he knew that. 

So why? That question plagued your mind for days after and every time you think you forgot about it, the memory of him would remind you all over again. And when he only congratulated you when you told him about your date with Suguru you felt betrayed. Why don’t you care? You almost blurted out but technically he did care. After all, he was the one who was trying to set you guys up so why did you suddenly want to change your mind?

You think you might hate him a little for being so good at acting like everything’s normal and you think you might hate more for making your heart beat so fast. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to imagine your best friend kissing you breathless or taking you on a date. 

Everything’s going to fall into place, you tell yourself. You’ve already dolled up and were in the middle of spraying your perfume when Getou messaged you that he was already here. He’s relaxed in the car as you enter the car. This scene feels the same, you think to yourself, recalling the way Gojo greeted you the last time he picked you up.

“You’re wearing the shirt you wore to the party,” Getou points out and you look down at your shirt, gaping at the revelation that you’re wearing the same top Gojo told you to wear. Even with the company of another man, your subconscious still wishes he was here. 

“I didn’t even notice,” you mumble, smiling at the brown-haired male as he drives. The small talk is all natural as you two make your way to the restaurant and you’re grateful that Suguru’s such an easy person to talk with. He’s nice. Really nice and you feel almost guilty for not being as enthusiastic as you wanted to be. 

It’s only when you’re midway through the meal that he mentions it. “You’re not here.”

“What?”

“Here,” he shrugs, glancing at you with an empty smile. “You’re thinking about something else aren’t you?”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t worry I’m not mad,” he says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I’m curious. What are you thinking about?”

This makes you squirm in discomfort, a bit uneasy at how perfectly he read you. Satoru’s always made comments about Getou’s intuitive feeling for emotions and you’re starting to think he wasn’t exaggerating. “What if I don’t wanna tell you?” You joke.

“Then you’d leave me to assume,” he answers easily, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I’m not an idiot (Name). I know when a lady’s thinking about someone else in my presence.”

When you try to protest, he only smiles. “Is it Satoru?”

Your silence is enough said. You want to deny him–want to shake your head and utter a firm “no.” But something about the question makes you lose your sense of thought and Suguru understands that too. “Are you in love with him?”

This catches your attention. “No. I like you not him.”

“Aren’t we well past the point of lying now?” He gives a good-natured chuckle. “If you liked me then you wouldn’t have looked at your phone so many times as if you were expecting a call.”

You widen your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

“Nah I’m really not mad,” he sighs. “But I’m interested in why you didn’t decline my offer for a date.”

You’re silent for a while, musing over his words. “When you called me, Satoru and I were about to kiss. Or well–at least I think we were about to kiss.

“So why’d you pick it up? I know Satoru enough to know that a call from me isn’t enough to make him stop with whatever he’s doing,” he raises a brow and you catch a roll of his eyes as he remembers something. 

“It’s because he was the one who was setting us up together.”

Suguru makes a sound of confusion, nodding at you to continue. You take a big breath. “I asked Satoru to help me get with you.”

Getou makes a “o’ with his mouth, nodding in consideration as he processes your words. His pity makes you feel small and you’re finally experiencing the impact tenfold. “Oh (Name).”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “So now I’m pretty sure I messed up the friendship because I was stupid and he’s never gonna like me back–”

“That’s not true,” he stops you, taking a sip from his wine. “Satoru’s different around you.”

“Well that’s because I’ve known him for a while now.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t go out of his way to help people like he does with you. Even an idiot could notice that.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me back–”

“You don’t know that yet,” he retorts, that smile of his returning again. “Just like I didn’t know you were in love with my best friend the entire time.”

You wince, swallowing as you peer up at him. You know he didn’t intend for the comment to burn but a small part of you thinks he did it on purpose. The sight of you sulking brings a wider grin to play on his face. “Relax. I’m only playing with you,” he pauses. “I’m a bit jealous that Satoru's got such a cute girl in love with him though.” 

His teasing makes you laugh. “What if he doesn’t love her back?”

“Then he’d be an idiot,” he says, giving you a look as he asks for the bill. “If he breaks your heart you know who to go to. I’d be happy to have you for myself.”

You roll your eyes, smiling softly when he coyly smiles. Suguru was kind enough to offer to drop you off at your place but you told him you wanted to see Satoru—bringing a surprised look on the brown-haired male’s face. You’re not sure how apparent it was, but you reeked of anxiety and Suguru was quick to point it out.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says nonchalantly, shooing you with his hand once you stare at him in bewilderment. “Go. Just do me a favor and message me when you guys are gonna get uh intimate.”

“We’re not—“ you click your tongue at his grin. You thank him, rushing to Satoru’s flat—the sound of your heels clicking against the floor. 

If you were in a movie, there would be dramatic music playing in the background—perhaps orchestra or a sappy love song. The scene was so cliche but you’re understanding why the protagonists always ran: it was love. You were in love with Gojo Satoru. 

You ring his doorbell, fixing your hair as you ready yourself to see him—mentally preparing the script of your confession. Please be home, please be home, please—

The door opens and a plethora of blue looks back at you, the surprise evident in them. You visibly brighten, smiling as you see him. “Satoru I—“

“Satoru?” another voice says from behind him—the voice evidently female. You freeze, feeling as if this image was in slow motion as you see a glimpse of a girl behind Satoru. Your eyes flit to both of them, the speech you prepared in your head drying up like a sore. “Who’s this?”

You hate that you can only watch. “It’s just a friend. Why don’t you go back inside for a bit, yeah?”

She’s so pretty, it hurts. There wasn’t a speck of imperfection on her and the need to curl up in a ball never felt stronger. The girl nods at Satoru, glancing at you in curiosity as she leaves you two alone. 

You think you might hate a little bit for looking at you in concern. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? If something—“

“No. Nothing’s wrong I’m just—“ you say, wishing your voice was louder at this moment. You avoid his eyes, fearing that you’d end up crying in front of him if you continued to stare at him. “I need to go.” 

“What? But you just got here—“

“I don’t know why I came here. This was a mistake and I—“ you sigh shakily, turning on your heel to leave. 

Satoru grabs you by the wrist, his gaze soft as he shakes his head when he sees you try to pry his hand off of you. “Just tell me what I can do—“

“Suguru’s waiting for me,” you say quickly, ignoring the way his face drops. “He’s outside right now.” 

You hold your breath the moment his hand slowly slips off your wrist, taking a few steps back as you make your way outside. Not once do you turn back as you try your best to hold the tears in—ultimately failing as they fall as quickly as they appear. 

By the time you reach Suguru’s car, your make-up is already ruined. At first, he snaps his head back at you with a smile, the curve of lips quickly disappearing as he sees your lip trembling. “No?”

“No,” you confirm, sitting back into the car and wiping your tears with a tissue he hands you. There’s no words spoken between you two as he starts the car, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Ironically, you listen to the soundtrack of “The Other Woman” playing in his car and he’s quick to change the song. He clears his throat.

“I didn’t think he was that stupid,” he says after some time, signaling right as he reaches the stop light. 

“He wasn’t,” you murmur. “I was the stupid one for thinking that we could be more than friends.”

After the ordeal a couple nights ago, you’re not even ashamed that you’re blatantly avoiding Gojo like the plague. You even turned off your read receipts for him which you would’ve found so petty if you didn’t feel so frantic at the sound of his name. Originally, you thought he’d put up more of a fight and be more persistent in getting your attention–only you were proven wrong when you didn’t see any of his attempts increasing. 

Disappointed, you were caught in a dilemma. You wanted this distance but craved his presence. At some point, your thoughts ran dry and you were in a slump. Were you always this bad at making up your mind?  

No. You weren’t. You didn’t think excessively hard when you decided you liked Getou and when you stopped liking him. Nor did you think super hard about your other crushes. Gojo made your brain hurt and if this was love, you’re not sure you really liked it; but it felt so nice to think about how it would feel to be loved by him–to have him kiss you. 

Which is why you thought it was a great idea to avoid him because surely time makes the feelings fade. And you hope they fade fast–especially after you saw him with that girl. You bite back your jealousy at the thought of what they did together. Today was supposed to be a mental health day. It was if fate allowed you to have little to nothing to do and you were going to take advantage of it. 

The coffee house was ambient with the occasional loud laughter from groups of friends. You were halfway through your book, taking a sip from your drink as you flipped the pages. This was what you were meant for: reading novels in a cafe, keeping a low profile, and protecting your peace. 

You’re about midway through the big plot twist until you hear the sound of a chair scraping and your heart freezes in your chest when you see Gojo stare back at you. Only this time, he looks serious and even annoyed. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” he begins, tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. You don’t miss the way a few people take a few double-takes when they walk past him. So much for keeping a low profile. 

“Gojo,” you acknowledge him awkwardly, fidgeting with the pages of your book.

Your stomach does a flip when his jaw twitches and his eyes cross your face. He sighs, leaning back and adjusting his seating position. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You literally just called me Gojo,” he said and if you were more rational, you would’ve laughed at how childish he sounded over you not using his first name. 

“A lot of people call you Gojo,” you point out, still not meeting his eyes. 

“You’re not just ‘a lot of people.’ And you always call me Satoru,” he murmurs. 

You tense up. There he goes again: treating you like you’re special. It makes you confused and makes your heartbeat skip. You clear your throat. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He says, a bit loudly at that. It was unlike Gojo to attract attention to personal matters in public and the guilt hits you. You were so caught up in your own feelings that you completely ignored how he would’ve felt. Even if he only thought of you as a friend, anyone would’ve felt mad if put in the situation you put Gojo in. 

You glance at the curious gazes in the cafe, grabbing him by the hand as you pull him outside to a secluded area. You quickly drop his hand, a bit surprised that he let you even hold it. “What are you talking about?” You ask, not sure why you’re playing dumb. 

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, staring down at you. Sometimes, you forget how tall Satoru really is and how his gaze can make anyone feel small. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

You think back to him and the girl. “No you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what the hell is it?” He says, sounding more mad than you initially thought. His eyes scan over your face–observing your pursed lips and aversion from his eyes. He clicks his tongue. “Is this about the other night?”

You really wish you didn’t snap your head so fast to meet his eyes. The other night could’ve meant many things but you knew he was referring to a specific one. “No,” you say and you already know he doesn’t believe you. 

“(Name),” he says softly. “Were you jealous?” Hearing him saying it out loud makes you cringe. You shake your head adamantly, trying to muster up the courage to not break eye-contact with him. You wonder if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me,” he voices in that tone that tells you that he’s already figured it out. For all the years you’ve known Gojo, you’ve become well-acquainted with his habits and his mannerisms. And you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop with the questions until you told him the truth. 

He always did this. Always made sure to pummel the truth out of you and it didn’t matter how dirty he played. “Then why did you go to me in the first place? Didn’t you have Suguru outside waiting for you?”

“I–”

“What was so important about what you wanted to tell me that you left Suguru waiting for you? What was it and why are you so scared that you’re avoiding me?”

“It’s because I like you!” You finally say, knowing that he bested you in this game of his. The regret hits you so hard you feel like running away again. Only this, he doesn’t let you when he pulls you by the shoulder. 

“What?” He says breathlessly, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s over, you think to yourself. He’s going to hate you after this because you ruined the friendship. 

“I avoided you because I like you,” you admit quietly. “And because I saw you with that girl the other night.”

“(Name)...” 

“Stop,” you murmur, feeling the tears form. “Stop. I already know what you’re gonna say, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

You shrug him off, wiping your tears with your sleeve. The plans for “protecting your peace” almost seemed silly now because you couldn’t rewind time and undo all of this. You don’t bother saying goodbye to Gojo as you take your chances in leaving. And you desperately wonder how you were going to move on from this. 

Gojo thinks he’s in a fever dream. Your confession stunned him into oblivion and if it weren’t for your tears, he thinks he might’ve stayed in one spot for hours on end. The night you came over, Gojo already had enough on his mind. Seeing you in the flesh made him lose the logical side of his brain and his mind just replayed that night you two nearly kissed. 

He remembered being able to taste how nervous you were–how you found purchase on his shoulders as he tried his hardest not to pin you to the couch and kiss you stupid. He remembered how soft you were and how that thought would torture him for days on. 

Gojo knew what he did after was an asshole move but he thought the phone call from Suguru served as a reminder that he couldn’t have you. You two were best friends and to ruin that because he wanted you was selfish of him. He was already selfish enough to want to keep you for himself but you wanted Suguru. 

That’s why when you came to his place, he was confused. Gojo did something stupid and didn’t want the thoughts of you to keep popping up. He recalled dialing the number of some girl he stopped talking to ages ago just to not have you occupy his mind. 

When he saw your brows furrow at the sight of her, he was surprised to say the least. He ruled out the possibility of jealousy early on and just kept it as that. But now, on this chilly afternoon and in some secluded corner, you were confessing to him. 

You like him. You like him back. Sure, you didn’t love him like he loves you (or at least he thinks so) but that's besides the point. He collects himself the moment he sees the tears forming in your eyes, panic coursing through him. 

Did his silence make you misunderstand? Did you know that he was ready to scream and tell the whole world that he finally got the girl of his dreams? How he was prepared to pull you into a crushing hug and hold you like he had heaven in his arms? 

He forgot you weren’t a mind reader and it dawned on him that he caused your tears. He doesn’t want to be the guy who lets misunderstandings marinate nor does he want to be the cause of your fallout. He was going to fix this. 

If you thought he was going to let you go that easily then you severely underestimate him. Because Gojo Satoru was willing to fight for your love.

You think you’re in some sappy k-drama when he grabs you by the wrist the second time. If you weren’t crying your eyes out, you would’ve laughed at him and he would’ve laughed with you. But there’s only a wave of frustration when he doesn’t let go. “Satoru let me go–”

“No,” he says with a deadpan and you almost think he sounds desperate. You’re about to say something but he only steps closer. “You can’t run away like you did before. That’s the easy way out–”

“I’m not–”

“You are,” he interrupts. “And I’m not gonna let you because you’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”

You’re almost reluctant to stay silent but you give in when he squeezes your wrist–as if begging you to stay. You sigh. “Fine.”

“Good,” he whispers, racking his brain for what to say. He takes a deep breath. “A while back, I said I didn’t understand how the characters from romance movies always knew what to say in moments like these. You know those super long speeches? It seemed unrealistic to me but I think I understand now.”

You let him continue, clinging onto every word that falls from his lips. “It’s so easy to say stuff like this. When you’re in love with someone, you notice the little things about them. I noticed you and you were the only thing on my mind. You still are the only thing on my mind. Do you get what I mean?”

You watch in awe as he continues, stuttering over some of his words which was so rare for him. “The night you told me you liked Suguru I was so annoyed. I’ve never gotten jealous of Suguru or anyone but I wanted to be the one that you liked. I wanted to be the one that you dressed up for and the one you smiled at. It drove me insane when you went on a date with him and I hate that I didn’t just say fuck it and steal you away sooner.”

He takes a chance to catch his breath, ruffling his hair as he finally flashes you a crooked grin–a mix of embarrassed and boyish. “That girl you saw me with…I never did anything with her,” he admits and you think you might fall over from shock. “I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you and I wanted you on my mind all the time. I didn’t want to think about anyone else and didn’t want anyone to take your place–”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he finally says. “I already said that earlier but I want to say it again. I think I’ve always loved you–even when we were kids. I think little kid me always wanted your attention. I just never knew what I felt until I realized that you weren’t mine–not mine to love. And I don’t think there’s nothing in the world that I want more than you.”

At this point, your mouth is already ready to catch flies as you listen to his ramblings about his affections. You think you might cry. Gojo’s usually not good with words but you can tell how genuine he is–how much he meant this. “Then all those times you helped me with Suguru?”

“I hated doing that,” he huffs. “I swear I was about to punch Suguru every time he called you cute.”

You laugh, feeling jittery all over. “Would you?”

“I’m a bit worried that you like that idea a bit too much.”

You grin, shrugging. “Maybe a little. I guess I should tell you that I really wanted you to kiss me when we were on the couch.”

“You did?” He practically beams, cupping your face with his hand. You feel your stomach do twists when his thumb grazes the skin of your cheek softly, as if this was always normal. 

“And I should probably tell you that I love you too,” you say firmly, gaining a rush of confidence. “And you should probably kiss me right now.”

The smile on his face might just be the prettiest thing you’ve seen in the world. He leans in, cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. The way he holds you makes you feel safe and you think you might love him a little more when he moves his hand to your neck. 

You break the kiss. “Does this mean we’re dating now?”

He laughs. “Do I need to kiss you again for you to say yes?” 

When you nod, he pulls you in again and again. And if this was his way of asking, you’d say yes each time. 

[miabebe]

Reverse Trope Series - Too Many Beds (Teaser)

You shared 25 years of your life with Seunghceol, what was another 4 nights right?

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x reader

Word Count - 488 for the teaser ( The full fic is around 11k, give or take? It was supposed to be below 2K, I fucked up)

Genre - Enemies to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots and I love making them pine hehe

Warnings - none for the teaser, maybe an reference to Seungcheol's dick

Estimated posting date - 6th July, 5pm KST (I don't have a taglist but I am happy to tag if anyone wants? Just drop comment or send an ask/message :)

Edit - It's out! Read here :)

“Absolutely not.” 

“No way in hell.” 

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“I’m not sharing a room with him.” 

“I don’t wish to even breathe in her vicinity.” 

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.” 

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you sweetheart.” 

“That was a fact darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her confused eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So the two of you are dating?” 

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back. 

“No!” 

“No!” 

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday that date her-” 

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. How about I give you something to better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that puny thing-” 

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.” 

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.” 

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking aback all three of its inhabitants. From the corner of your eye you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder.

Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out.

Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in one hand each, leading the way to your despair of the night. 

[etherealising]

a buried and a burning flame

part two out now!

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: constantly arguing with your student’s father wasn’t on your bucket list for this school year, but how can you stop when he just makes it so easy to get under his skin? based on this request.

warning(s): implied age-gap | misogyny | angst | make out session | heavy petting | dry humping | borderline exhibitionism | minimal editing |

wc: 11k

A wide forced smile graced your lips as you looked at the very obviously out-of-place man sitting in the small classroom chair that was usually occupied by the small bodies of your second graders. Your foot tapped impatiently as you waited for the line to connect, the last call went straight to voicemail and you were begging the universe for it not to happen this time as you felt the heat of the man's scowl sear into you.

“Hello, this is Tiffany Gattina speaking.”

You perked up as soon as you heard a greeting, “Ms. Gattina?” You listened as she repeated your name, relief flooding through you that you’d finally gotten ahold of the woman.

“Yes, hi it’s me.” You cringed at the immediate panic running through the woman’s voice. “No, no Eva’s perfectly fine, but there is an uh…Mr. Jerimovich here claiming to be her father.” You looked up, the man’s loud scoff sent a wave of irritation through you, the urge to roll your eyes growing the longer the two of you stared at each other.

Your attention was pulled back to the phone as you listened to the woman you were used to seeing during pickups explain their familial situation to you. “Thank you for clarifying, but seeing as he isn’t listed on her yellow card, legally I’m not allowed to let him take her off of school premises.”

The sound of Mr. Jerimovich releasing a disbelieving laugh caused you to grit your teeth, your body swiveling around so he was forced to glare at your back.

“Shit, okay I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You listened through the phone as Ms. Gattina shuffled around, her keys jangled as the line went dead before you’d even got the chance to say goodbye.

It was immature but you stood against the wall with the phone to your ear for a few minutes more, quiet hums leaving your lips to give the illusion you were still speaking with someone so you wouldn’t have to be subjected to spending too much time alone with the irate older man. The cold tiny fingers patting your elbow made you jump, eyes finding Eva’s small figure looking up at you as she waited for you to hang up the phone. A feeling of guilt raced through you as your eyes darted to her childlike smile, while you were here trying to avoid her father you were also avoiding Eva.

You felt ridiculous saying goodbye to a dial tone before moving to place the phone back on the receiver mounted to the wall, “What can I do for you, Miss Eva?” You smiled as her nose scrunched up watching as she waved for you to bend down so she could whisper in your ear.

“Is it okay if I go to the reading corner?” You let out a quiet laugh at her question as you stood up nodding your head and watching as her face lit up in excitement.

“Just remember to put the books back where they go.” You watched as she skipped over to the decorated corner, a smile lining your lips at all the work you put into making your classroom as inviting and comfortable to your kids as ever, but the thought slowly dwindled as you remembered why exactly she was here after hours.

A small sigh escaped you at the loud noise leaving the intruder’s phone followed by his equally as loud commentary, the sounds bouncing off the once quiet walls of your classroom made you want to scream. You walked to your desk opening a drawer and shuffling through the files in hopes that you’d find an extra yellow card. The universe was on your side as you pulled a blank yellow card out, smoothing the crease out in one of the corners. If this man was gonna take up space in your classroom, the least he could do was fill the card out so the two of you didn’t have to repeat this interaction.

You had to steel your nerves before standing up, reaching to pull a pen out of the cup on your desk before approaching the boisterous man with all the false confidence you could muster. You stopped in front of him clearing your throat to gain his attention and forcing yourself not to snap as he leisurely looked up at you before his gaze returned to his phone, you had to stop your mouth from dropping open at the blatant disrespect before composing yourself as he locked his phone and placed it face down on the table.

“Mr. Jerimovich-,” Your words were interrupted by the screeching of the chair legs against the linoleum eyes watching as the man raised to his full height and impeded on your space.

“Listen, sweetheart,” you raised your brows at the nickname eyes locked on his. “I’m just here to get my little girl alright. And there was no need for you to go snitchin’ to her mom and shit.”

Your eyebrows rose further up your face, eyes darting to Eva to ensure she wasn’t privy to this dispute, tuning out her father as he kept running his mouth. Your head snapped back in his direction as you caught the last of his tirade, his words implied that you were unqualified to even be a teacher.

“Listen Mr. Jerimovich.” You paused, sending him your most condescending smile. “Let me paint you a little picture, let's say I don’t know, corner store Joe comes up to the school during dismissal tomorrow points at that sweet little girl over there, and spins some story about being her uncle. Have I lost you yet?”

There was venom in your words as you watched him roll his eyes before nodding for you to continue. “I would be a shit teacher to send that precious girl off with the first person who tried to claim her. So maybe you are her father. I'm not taking that away from you, but until Ms. Gattina walks through that door and confirms your identity, I am not letting Eva out of my sight. Understand me?”

His eyes hadn’t left yours through your whole spiel, darting between them as he let your words sink into him, you watched on as he reluctantly nodded a feeling of triumph raced through you.

“Great, now you’re gonna sit back down and you’re going to spend the rest of the time you're here feeling out this information card, okay?” You pressed the yellow card and pen into his chest, your eyes falling to the “Original Berf” logo before looking back at him once more.

The cold metal on his hand brushed against yours as he grabbed the materials from you, the gold wedding band on his finger drew your attention, the sight of it intriguing you. You watched him in curiosity as he sat down grumbling words under his breath you couldn’t even begin to understand, your staring was interrupted as he shot you an annoyed look, eyes looking you up and down trying to figure out why you were hovering.

Irritation radiated off of him as he waited for you to take your leave, the glare in his eyes loud and clear that your presence was no longer welcome. You sent him one last forced smile before turning on your heels to utilize however long you were stuck with him to grade and go over lesson plans.

You stopped in your tracks as something occurred to you, the noise of your shoes hit the linoleum as you made your way back to him, “One more thing Mr. Jerimovich, don’t ever cuss in my classroom again.” Your words were punctuated by a saccharine smile, his lips rolling in as he repressed himself from saying something he might regret.

Teaching children right from wrong would always fill you with a sense of purpose, but having to deal with their asshole parents made you question your career choice more times than you’d like to admit.

The last thing you wanted to spend the end of your Friday doing was trying to play mediator between two grown men who couldn’t accept the faults of their children. As soon as you sat them down and began to explain the situation, you became the bad guy, and when they weren’t jumping down your throat, they were having a screaming match with each other, you only hoped Mrs. Monroe across the hall was having an easier time occupying the two children she’d agreed to keep company for the time being.

A lull in the screaming match allowed you to speak up. “I understand the urge to defend your children and while I respect it, please let me explain the full incident.” Neither man said anything as they looked at you, both of them giving off the impression that they’d rather be anywhere else than here listening to you.

“During arts and crafts time there was a bit of misunderstanding between Noah and Eva. I’m not exactly sure how it started as I was helping another student bu-,” You paused as Mr. Vanderbilt let out a disbelieving laugh, his hand waving off your silence to get you to continue.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of your pants as you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t just assault your student's parents, you cleared your throat before continuing. “Mr. Vanderbilt, your son threw a pair of scissors at another student. And while I’m sure you have more pressing matters to deal with, this is Noah’s third write-up this month.” You watched the agitation rise on his face, his mouth moving to form sentences before you spoke over him, “And regardless of his age, his actions fall under the category of assault, and as I’m sure you know this is a zero-tolerance campus.”

There wasn’t even a few seconds of silence between your words before the man spoke up. “I can assure you it was an accident and had you been paying attention to all of your students, I’m sure me and Mr. Jerimovich wouldn’t have to be here wasting our time.” You watched on in disbelief as his hands raised lazily to unbutton his suit jacket which probably cost more than your yearly salary.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to gather your thoughts in the most professional way possible whatever you had to say not seeing the light of day. “This child Ava, was she injured? If not then I really don’t see why I’m here in the first place.”

“Her names Eva you fuckin’ jagoff.” Mr. Jerimovich’s loud voice rang through your ears, and you could see you were once again losing control of the situation.

The more boisterous of the two men turned in his chair, his chest puffed out as though he was preparing himself in case this turned into a physical dispute. Your eyes bounced between them both knowing that Mr. Vanderbilt would be on the phone with his lawyer faster than Mr. Jerimovich could even throw a punch.

“Excuse me!” Your voice raised a few octaves, the overly polite persona you put on fading the longer you sat with them. “While the safety scissors didn’t break skin, there is a bruise on Eva’s collarbone. And you’re here Mr. Vanderbilt because Noah is prone to these outbursts and it’s gotten out of hand now that my other students are at risk of being hurt just because he may be overstimulated. I would appreciate it if you and your wife took the time to find the root of his problems, I mean no disrespect Mr. Vanderbilt but oftentimes this behavior usually begins at home.”

The sneer on Mr. Vanderbilt’s face was the last thing you wanted to see at that moment, you’d had enough experience with privileged and pretentious parents to know your Friday was just going to continue getting worse.

“They just let anyone teach our children nowadays don’t they?” His condescending smile was enough warning on its own. “Noah’s a great kid and listen I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but that’s just how boys are. I think the real issue at hand is the fact that my child’s education has been put in the hands of well…a child. Where did you say you received your degree from again?”

Indignation settled heavily in your chest as you watched a self-assured smirk paint his lips as he rose from his chair. “The way I see it, if you knew how to do your job none of this would’ve happened, I mean how hard is it to babysit a bunch of six-year-olds for a couple of hours?” You watched in silence as he stood to his full height, hands smoothing out his ridiculously expensive suit. “I’ll make sure Principal Pacheco hears about how unqualified you are to be in a classroom.”

The silence was loud as you watched him sashay out of your classroom door, eyes locked on his back the whole time mind racing with what you did in a past life to even deserve half the shit you were subjected to dealing with.

“What a fucking joke.” You jumped in your seat at the gruff voice part of you had forgotten he was there considering his silence, something that shocked you seeing how outspoken he already proved he was. “Asshole dad and asshole kid, am I right? What a fucking prick talkin’ to you like that, yo I don’t know how you put up with that shit.”

You blinked in rapid succession trying to follow his fast-paced words, your mind trying to figure out why he thought he could be so casual with you. You were snapped out of your stupor as he stood long legs leading him to the door, you pushed off the chair moving to meet him before he could step foot outside.

“Mr Jerimovich please wait,” he stopped his movements hand stalled on the door as he looked at you.

“Given the situation, I know it sounds a bit ridiculous, but Eva was also written up today.” You paused watching as his eyebrows furrowed.

“After the incident, while I was checking her for any wounds, she began to yell at Noah using…explicit language.” The man’s full body turned to you, his shoulders hunching over as one hand raised to swipe across his mouth, the sound of his incredulous laugh danced through your ears.

“Let me get this straight, some little punk ass kid assaults my little girl, your words. And you write her up because she says a few bad words.” You could understand where his irritation stemmed from, you debated just letting her off with a warning but then other students began repeating her words and the only way for you to help Eva understand the gravity of her actions was to give her consequences.

You began playing with the bracelet on your wrist unsure how much more verbal abuse you could take in one day. Your thoughts raced with the best way to go about this situation and somehow convince him to understand your duty as an educator.

“Between me and you, I don’t think Eva’s reaction was wrong, she’s allowed to feel whatever she needs to. But her response is where I had to draw the line, other students were repeating her words.” You hoped the look in your eyes could convey whose side you were on in this situation.

The man in front of you sucked his teeth as he shook his head, humorless laughter followed, “Is this the shit they teach at whatever fancy-ass little school you went to? She was hurt and probably angry, what the fuck did you expect from her. Listen, lady, I don’t know if you were raised to just roll over and take shit but that’s not how I’m raising my daughter.”

Whatever hold you had on your anger quickly slipped away as he continued speaking, “You don’t get to come into my classroom with your stupid little matching tracksuit and the smell of god-awful food wafting off of you and try to tell me about myself. And you also don’t get to insult my education and upbringing to make yourself feel better about the fact that the only impression you make in your daughter’s life is the string of curse words that constantly leave your mouth.”

He let out a real laugh this time, hands clapping the noise echoed around the mostly silent classroom, “So she can fucking speak up for herself, you’re just full of fuckin’ surprises! Why don’t you just teach my daughter like you’re paid to and leave the parenting to me, sweetheart.”

You weren’t sure when the two of you had gotten so close but you could feel his huffs of breath ghosting across your face, sure he could feel yours as well. It was a few moments of intense eye contact, neither of you wanting to be the first to end it, somehow doing so would be a sign of defeat.

“I would appreciate it from now on if your ex-wife or Eva’s stepfather was my only point of contact where she’s concerned.” Your words were punctuated by your eyes glancing at the gold band on his ring finger.

It was a low blow and although you didn’t particularly like the man in front of you, you knew that he didn’t deserve the blaze of your full anger. But you also didn’t deserve to be consistently disrespected for just trying to do your job.

You watched on a bit guiltily as his face dropped, his eyes darting between yours before settling into slits as he glared at you, his look of disgust making you feel like you needed to exfoliate the whole day away immediately upon returning home.

No more words were exchanged between the two of you. You watched as he turned back to the door to exit once again, his tall lanky body drifted across the hall collecting Eva. You stood in the entrance of your classroom lip tugged between your teeth as you watched them disappear down the hall. A guilty wave was sent to the small smiling child as she eagerly waved goodbye to you.

The classroom was all prepped and ready to go, the assortment of donuts were all lined up separated between vegan from non-vegan. Events like these always had a good turnout, part of you wishing these types of days were around when you were still in school.

You were nervous and while you wanted to believe it was because the school year was slowly coming to an end and you’d need to figure out how you were going to support yourself over summer break, you knew that some of the nerves had to do with being in the presence of a certain student's father.

Trying to occupy your racing mind, you double-checked that the coffee and hot cocoa were warm and ready to be served. You moved to the door of your classroom, eyes tracing over the ‘Donuts with Dad’ sign you’d spent all night making, chuckling at how much effort and creativity you’d put into something that would be gone in an hour or two.

You took your place in front of your classroom door, the time on your watch letting you know the main doors would be opening soon. Swarms of students followed by their father figures walked through the halls, your hand waving to greet the first few pairs to enter your classroom letting them know it was alright to help themselves.

The routine of greetings went on for a little while longer, you’d have to tamp down on the way your eyes constantly roved over the heads of other parents hoping to see the tall lanky figure that for some reason raced through your thoughts no matter how much he infuriated you. It had been a few weeks since the last spat the two of you shared and while he hadn’t stopped picking up or dropping off Eva, not that you actually expected him to. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other in the time between now and then. You weren’t sure what it was but as much as he annoyed the shit out of you, you found yourself missing the irritation he caused you, the way it felt almost fun to have someone push your buttons for the hell of it. It sounded insane the two of you had only met on two occasions and neither of them left a good taste in your mouth but you couldn’t help but want more interactions with him, it was finally getting to your head, spending every waking minute with children was finally pushing you over the edge so much so that you willingly wanted to argue with a parent of your student. Maybe it was time to take your friends up on that offer of a night out.

A parent calling out to you drew your attention, your eyes peeking into the classroom to see that it was pretty much full aside from the obvious missing duo.

The rest of your time was spent with each parent and student duo individually. Checking in to make sure they were all doing okay and answering any questions a parent may have had regarding their students' learning experience. You’d learned from Noah’s uncle who he’d chosen to bring that his parents weren’t as involved in his life as they should’ve been and that he was trying to talk them into getting him into behavioral therapy. You appreciated his honesty and you appreciated even more that he wasn’t quick to write off Noah’s behavior as him just being a boy but mostly you were surprised when Noah shyly handed you a letter of apology a similar one in his hand addressed to Eva.

After your rounds, you relegated yourself to your desk taking the time to answer emails and begin planning end-of-the-year activities, your eyes wandered to Eva’s empty cubby every so often concern sinking into you at her absence. There were about 30 minutes left before the adults would have to begin leaving, you were so engrossed in the pro and con list you made about working during a summer school session that you hadn’t realized the duo patiently standing in front of your desk.

The clearing of a throat jolted you eyes quickly flashing up, the surprise clear on your face. Your eyes darted between Eva and her father before your mind finally began working. “Eva! We were worried you wouldn’t be joining us today. There’s only about 20 minutes left but you're both welcome to enjoy some donuts and drinks.”

You pointed in the direction of the table where the refreshments were situated smiling at Eva as she eagerly bounced away. You were surprised to see her father still standing in front of your desk. The awkward air radiated heavily between the two of you, you could see his mouth opening and closing as though he had something to say but decided against it before turning to catch up with his daughter.

Focusing back on your previous task seemed almost impossible as your ears eagerly listened out for the heavy lilt of a Chicago accent, you didn’t want to seem too eager by approaching the duo so soon, but as the time on the clock continued to tick down you knew you’d have to get it over with.

Quickly standing you smoothed out your blouse before making your way to the table. They were situated at pulling up a chair of your own and trying to ignore the heated glare on the side of your head. “Good morning you two, are you enjoying yourselves?”

Eva’s wide smile punctuated by the faint whipped cream mustache helped to alleviate any lingering doubts that had settled within you. Reluctantly you turned to the only other adult seated at the table; the displeasure of you being seated next to him was evident across his face. You shuffled in your seat feeling uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze, “Is the coffee to your liking?”

It wasn’t much but you couldn’t sit and stew in the awkward tension forever, hoping that although you’d both made horrible first and second impressions of each other you could just let bygones be bygones. You drummed your fingers together as his stare stayed locked on you giving nothing away about his current thoughts.

“Ain’t nothin’ to write home about.” His shoulders shrugged in dismissal as he looked away from you, busying himself with the grade-appropriate decorations around your classroom.

Eva was none the wiser to the bad blood between you and her father as she continued munching on her donut, fingers making shapes out of the crumbs that now decorated her table. You twiddled your thumbs trying to figure out the best way to bring up your next topic of conversation.

You cleared your throat, gaining the older man’s attention once more, “Mr. Jerimovich, I’m not sure if you’ve heard but we have a field trip coming up,” there was no indication on his end that he was listening, just an unnerving blank stare trained on you. “Unfortunately one of our chaperones had to back out at the last minute, and I thought seeing as you haven’t joined us on a field trip this year you might be interested.”

His already too-big body hunched forward, his knee harshly knocking into yours under the table as he leaned into your space across the desk, his movements forced you back sitting ramrod straight in your chair. “Sorry sweetheart, I’m not too sure that’s a good idea and all ya know seeing as how you made it clear I’m a horrible influence on children. Wouldn’t want to corrupt anyone else’s kids.”

You bit your lip hard, the words you said to him all those weeks ago finally coming back to bite you in the ass. You had no one to blame but yourself and as easy as it would’ve been to go tit for tat with him in this moment, you were trying to be the bigger person and put this animosity between the two of you to bed.

A solid hand landing on your shoulder stopped whatever words you were struggling to string together. The unwanted weight caused you to look over your shoulder, surprised to see Noah and his uncle whose name you didn’t remember standing behind the three of you.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to make sure Noah apologized while I was still here.” You subtly shrugged hoping he’d get the hint and remove his hand and luckily for you, he did. The sound of a grunt met your ears as your eyes flashed back to the initial pair you were speaking with. Eva’s discomfort was palpable as she held on to her father’s arm, the young girl not too keen on the turn of events, if she was uncomfortable then Mr. Jerimovich was downright murderous in the way he sized the other man up, an unnecessary brawl sure to happen if you didn’t step in.

“Eva sweetie, Noah wrote you a letter to apologize for his actions. If you're interested in accepting it that’s great, but I won’t force you to if you don’t want to.” She nodded shyly at your words as she looked at you, her eyes moving up to look at her father as they spoke to each other in a few glances only they understood.

You wished Noah’s uncle would’ve let you handle the situation how you saw fit instead of bombarding the poor girl, probably making her feel as though she had to accept the letter because she was pressured by his presence. Eva’s eyes found yours once more, a reassuring smile on your lips to assure her whatever decision she made was entirely fine. Her small hand reached out palm face up as she waited for Noah’s letter, the small boy hastily tossing it in her hand while mumbling a reluctant sorry under his breath.

The air was awkward as you waited for the intruders to leave a forced smile drawing to your lips as the man’s hand landed on your shoulder once again this time squeezing it a bit. You let out a sigh of relief when they returned to their previous seats, your thoughts not as jumbled as before as you turned to try and persuade Mr. Jerimovich of your offer.

“You know you got a lot of nerve talkin’ about the impression I make on my daughter, now you’re beggin’ me to save your ass and lettin’ that jagoff fondle you in front of kids. I mean if I’m a shit influence you’re shittier.” He finished his sentence by taking a bite of his donut, the crumbs catching in his facial hair caused your lip to curl up in disgust.

He was lucky Eva had run off to dispose of her trash and that the ruckus of parents getting ready to leave drowned out his words. “Need I remind you Mr. Jerimovich that you are in my classroom, a classroom full of children, and still you don’t have the self-control to control your cussing” You stood up dusting the imaginary crumbs off your pants, “Clean up your mess and make sure you have your life together the next time you step foot in my classroom.”

“Yeah whatever sweetheart I dunno what’s got you wound so tight, but you better take care of it before you end up bitter and alone.”

A sarcastic laugh escaped at the irony of his words, “Remind me again, which one of us still wears the wedding ring from their failed marriage?”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but arguing with him sent you on a power trip of some sort, your hand reached out to break a piece of his donut off before eating it, your own sad little war prize.

His glare was the most vicious it’d ever been as he watched your mouth work around the sweet treat, “I hope you fucking choke.”

“You too sweetheart.” Your smile was a borderline snarl as you moved past him, shoulder-checking him on your way to clean up any leftover messes.

Regret wasn’t something you experienced often but as you stood listening to the tour guide your shoulder bumping into the tall man next to you from time to time, his annoyed huffs of breaths meeting your ears, you realized that you were your own worst enemy.

When you arrived at the school this morning your excitement was at an all-time high. As much as you loved teaching your students it was nice to get out of the classroom and go on field trips, you also appreciated not having to teach for a day. So as you waited with the other second-grade teachers for all the students and chaperones to arrive you were sure nothing could ruin your day, but that all changed when you saw Eva walk up with her very smug-looking asshole of a father.

You hadn’t given it a second thought before you removed yourself from the conversation with Mrs. Monroe legs working overtime to meet up with the father-daughter duo before they could join the rest of the waiting group. Eva smiled brightly as you approached them excitement written across her face the small girl had talked about the trip all week.

“Good morning Ms. Eva, are you ready to explore the museum?” Her head nodded rapidly as she giggled, her hand swinging back and forth in the cage of her fathers, “Why don’t you go join the others while I have a word with your dad.” She nodded, squeezing her father’s hand before taking off across the parking lot to join the growing group of second graders.

Looking at the man standing in front of you, you could see your reflection in the stupid-looking sunglasses he wore, the both of you staring each other down. Your eyebrows furrowed as his hand raised in offering to you, your eyes darting from his face to the slip of paper he was holding out. From the color of it, you knew exactly what it was before grabbing it, the chaperone slip you sent home with Eva and asked to make sure her mother got it.

“You know Mr. Jerimovich, it takes a lot more than filling out a chaperone slip to chaperone a field trip.” You couldn’t help but rub it in his face, a part of you needing to antagonize the older man, to be the winner of every interaction the two of you shared.

His lips curled into a smug smile as he took a step closer to you invading your personal space. The fact that he hadn’t removed his glasses infuriated you, you didn’t enjoy the fact that you could see every emotion racing through your eyes in the reflection while all of his were guarded.

“That little lizard brain of yours sure doesn’t do a lot of thinking does it?” Calling you a lizard was so out of pocket it almost made you laugh, but you bit the inside of your cheek as he continued. “Mrs. Monroe was kind enough to help me through the logistics, bless her heart she also had some choice words about your chicken head ass but I don’t kiss and tell.”

Your arm ached as he rammed his shoulder into it while walking past you to join the group of waiting children and adults. You never hated a student's parent before but something about Mr. Jerimovich just made you tick, and if Eva wasn’t one of your students you surely would’ve ripped him a new one by now.

The conversation happening at the adult's table droned on, you elicited quiet hums in order not to be pulled into the conversation not too keen on making small talk with people you couldn’t care less about.

“Oh Richard, I’ve been meaning to ask about the restaurant. I went by the other day for one of those lovely beef sandwiches but the windows were all boarded up. I hope Michael’s death didn’t ruin the business.” Mrs. Monroe’s voice was laced with what some might call curiosity but you’d known the woman long enough to know she was just a nosey old woman trying to sink her teeth into whatever form of gossip she could.

You had no problem keeping your attention on the complimentary lunch provided by the museum, but then you realized who this mysterious Richard she was speaking to must’ve been and your eyes found the man’s face as he began speaking.

“Nah, just renovating trying to take the restaurant in a new direction.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin, eyes meeting yours before finding Mrs. Monroe to your right.

It was hard to appear disinterested, but it's not like he would willingly divulge any personal information to you. Not that you wanted him to but you couldn’t help but be a little bit curious about the man who raced through your mind every time you ran through hypothetical arguments with him.

“Such a shame that boys dead. A morbid way to go, isn’t it? Shooting yourself in the head.”

The liquid running down your throat came to a stop as you choked on the water. Your airways constricted because of the accidental slip-up, Mrs. Monroe’s blasé way of speaking had caught you completely off guard and now here you were fighting to get air in your lungs as her wrinkled hand patted you on the back.

Relief came soon after, your lungs gulping down the outside air like a fiend, your wide watery eyes locked on electric blue ones across the table. “I’m gonna check on the kids, would you mind helping Mr. Jerimovich?”

It was almost imperceptible but the look of appreciation that ghosted through his eyes was probably the only form of thanks you would get for helping him out of this situation. The two of you rose from your respective seats grabbing your trash before making your exit and stopping by the trash cans before beginning to make your rounds to check in on the students. The air was quiet between the two of you, and not in a comfortable way but more so suffocating.

“So you own a restaurant?” Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything but you weren’t sure how much awkward silence you could take.

You turned to look at him, the two of you stopping in a shaded area of the courtyard, the furrow of his brow enough to let you know he didn’t fancy making small talk with you. You let your eyes fall on all the children, watching as they conversed while eating, doing your best to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

“Nope,” his voice caught you by surprise, gaining your attention as he stared straight ahead. “I’m just some cog in the machine,” His eyes dropped to yours with little to no emotion scattered through them as he looked at you.

A tight smile lined your lips unsure of whether you should keep the conversation going or let it lapse back into silence. “I uh, I’m sorry to hear about your friend, he must've been struggling.”

His loud scoff proved that you’d chosen the wrong topic to fall back on, his body turning to you hostility lined his shoulders as he stood straight up. “You don’t know shit about Mikey.” The snarl decorating his lips was vicious, his eyes darted around your face daring you to speak again.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect it's just-,”

“Just what? Need more leverage to throw in my face the next time you have a little fuckin’ tantrum.” His words were full of anger, eyes lit up in excitement as though he was just waiting for you to bite, to latch onto the bait he’d set out for you.

And you took it just as easily, “A bit full of yourself to think you take up any space in my mind.” You crossed your arms over your chest as the lie left your lips, it's not like he needed to know that though.

He smirked the rise and fall of his chest brushed against your forearms, “You’re a fuckin’ liar.” His voice dropped an octave as his eyes darted around your face before trapping you in his gaze, “You wanna know how I know?”

You didn’t, but that didn’t stop you from nodding your head anyway, anticipation rolling around in your gut as you awaited his words.

“Because I do,” you frowned trying to understand what the hell he was trying to say. “I think about you and that bratty ass mouth of yours.”

His words were like a scrambled puzzle in your mind as your brain worked overtime to try and understand the exact meaning behind his words. It would’ve been presumptuous to believe he meant them in the way your brain was screaming he did, but what else could it mean when a man told you he thought about you?

The sound of a child crying pulled you from your stupor, dissipating whatever tension had risen between you and the man in your personal space. You wanted to say something, needed to say something but it's like your brain had turned to mush, no thoughts made any sense, no sentence structures that could live up to the words he just told you.

So you left. Turned on your heels to find the student whose wails had only grown louder and hoped your brain would return to its default settings sometime soon. Although you knew you would ruminate on his words long after today.

The time on your dashboard told you it was five minutes past the time you agreed upon for the reservation and if you sat in your car any longer your date would consider you a no-show. You sighed grabbing your clutch and keys off of the passenger seat before slowly exiting the car, a part of you wanting to just drive home and forget this ever happened.

Initially, you hadn’t planned on accepting his offer of dinner, not usually one to mix your professional life with your social life, but upon realizing how long it had been since your last date you figured accepting the invite would be harmless.

Taking one last look in the reflection on your window you steeled your nerves and made your way to the entrance of the restaurant. One last deep breath rattled your lungs before you opened the door and let the delicious aroma of food attack your senses. Upon entering you were immediately greeted by who you assumed to be a host.

“Welcome to The Bear do you have a reservation?” You stared blankly at the man in front of you eyes occupied with tracing the few patches of ink that were visible on his skin, you could tell you were making him uncomfortable as he began fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket.

Your eyes found his once more an apologetic smile on your lips, “Yeah, sorry uh I think the reservations under Vanderbilt? I’m meeting someone.”

The man stood across from you nodding eyes falling to the reservation book on the podium, his finger tracing the name before looking up at you once more. “Right this way m’lady.” He did a mock bow motioning for you to follow behind him, his actions getting a quiet laugh out of you.

You followed him through the maze of tables eyeing the other patrons as you passed them before coming to a stop. A quiet thank you passed between you and the host as he gracefully pulled your chair out for you before letting you know they’d be back to take your order shortly. You watched as he walked off, not ready to be left alone on your first date in months.

“Was starting to think you might not show.” Beau’s words tore you from your thoughts as your eyes flashed to his, an apologetic smile lined your lips.

You tried not to fiddle with your hands, moving them from atop the table to settle in your lap, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

He waved your words off as though you could’ve been an hour late and he wouldn’t have minded, “Have you been here before? It's fairly new but I think it used to be a sandwich place, the head chef’s some bigshot from New York.”

Quiet hums escaped you at his explanation, you would’ve never come to this restaurant of your own volition, the aesthetics were beautiful, and having only been here for a few minutes you already found it comforting. But your salary wasn’t designed to be spent on an establishment such as this.

“No, this is my first time.” The casual conversation was helping to steel any leftover nerves you had

“Well, I hope I can make it worth it.” He was charming, to say the least, you’d give him that, his words drawing a small smile out of you, maybe this would go better than you expected.

The two of you engaged in small talk a few minutes more discussing which entrees the both of you were thinking about getting before you were finally interrupted.

“Well aren’t the two of you just a handsome couple please forgive my forwardness but you complement each other exceptionally well.” The words were spoken from behind you, you had to stop yourself from laughing at how thick they were laying it on, Beau preened across from you like he’d got the best promotion of your life. “Are we ready to order?”

Beau gave a polite nod as his hand gestured towards you, “Ladies first.”

You smiled eyes checking the menu one last time before turning to give your order, your brain short-circuited at the figure standing over your table. Neither of you spoke, and both of your smiles slowly disappeared as realization set in at the same time.

“Mr. Jerimovich?” You hadn’t seen him since he chaperoned the field trip, usually bumping into Eva’s mom or stepfather during pick-ups and drop-offs.

“Sorry sweetheart, that's an off-the-menu item.” His voice had an underlying tone of humor in it as his eyes subtly traced across your face before taking in what he could see of you above the table.

You stared up at him taking in the crisp suit he was wearing, surprised that he owned something that wasn’t made predominantly of spandex and cotton. Amusement danced through your eyes and your lips ticked up in a small smile the longer you stared at each other. “Do you have any recommendations for what's on the menu then?”

The man stared down at you, eyes bouncing between yours as he rolled his lips in trying to hide the smile threatening to take over his face. “Well we’ve got rave reviews about our steak which I do have to agree with, but that makes me a bit biased.” He paused for a second making sure he hadn’t lost your attention. “But if your taste buds are longing for the sea, our amberjack might be what you're looking for.

You nodded, resting your head against the knuckles of your fist as you continued smiling up at him. “Sounds delicious, I’ll have the Bucatini.”

A laugh shot through him, the small shake of his head almost imperceptible as he gave you one last look before turning to the man across the table. Your own eyes found your date across from you, a surge of guilt raced through you as you realized you’d written off his presence. You listened as Beau ordered, the two men trading words regarding items on the menu before you were once again left alone with your date.

“You two seemed friendly, did you know him?” He was trying to play off at being nonchalant but the curiosity in his voice gave him away.

“Hardly, he’s a parent of one of my students.” You were surprised Beau hadn’t remembered him from the ‘Donuts With Dad’ event, but there was no way you were gonna bring up what happened between his nephew and Eva while you were off the clock. “So, tell me about yourself.”

And so he did throughout the whole meal, you were barely able to get a sentence out before he was back to making the conversation about him. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it but you didn’t care all that much to call him out on it.

You’d zoned out after Beau once again began talking about his job in finance, listening just enough to know when you needed to appear interested. Your mind went back and forth on whether getting dessert is a good idea or not.

“Can I interest the lovely couple in our dessert menu?” It was like he read your mind, two dessert menus held in his hands as he looked between you and Beau, his stare seeming to linger on you longer than necessary.

Before you could even open your mouth to speak Beau’s voice spoke for you. “I think we’ll just take the checks, boss. Do me a favor and split it as evenly as you can.”

There was a moment of silence surrounding your table, you wished you could say you were surprised but that was far from the truth. While Beau initially seemed like a decent guy, the topics of conversation he always seemed to land on told you this was a signature move of his one of those “tests” to see if his dates were interested in him or the moneybags that came with his family name.

“You’re fine with that right, I mean I think it's only fair.” Beau’s words were aimed at you now eyebrows raised as if daring you to say no.

You rolled your eyes, fingers tracing around the wine glass you’d been babysitting for most of the night before you looked up at the older man a tight smile on your lips “We’ll take the check please.”

You watched in relief as his car exited the parking lot, a huge weight lifted off your chest at having been done with that date. He’d left with the promise of calling you the next day but you already knew you wouldn’t be answering that call.

Footsteps sounded from behind you, your lack of self-preservation skills had you spinning around before you’d thought better of it, upon seeing his face you leaned back onto the hood of your car arms crossing around your chest as you waited for him to stop in front of you. His hand stretched out in the distance between you before any words were spoken, your eyes fell to the wrapper in his hands, the streetlights bouncing off of it.

“You’re not trying to poison me are you?” His grip loosened around the square package as it passed from his hand to yours.

He shrugged hand falling back into his pocket, “Don’t think so highly of yourself princess, that would mean I gave a shit about you.”

A small chuckle left you as your eyes fell on the package in your hand, it took you a minute to figure out what it was before you realized it was a donut, a smile tugging at your lips as you thought about the last time the two of you had been together and donuts were involved.

The two of you stood in a comfortable silence for the first time since your initial meeting, neither of you knew what to say to the other seeing as this was your first ever interaction that hadn’t turned hostile.

“Don’t they have rules and shit about dating your students' parents?” His words were punctuated by the motion of him slipping a cigarette between his lips, his other hand using his lighter to light it. You watched as he took a few drags, not at all surprised to find out he was a smoker.

He took a few more puffs of the cigarette before holding it out to you in offering, your nose scrunched in disgust as you shook your head no before responding to the question he asked. “Technically he’s not a parent and the school year ends this week. So come Friday afternoon my students will no longer be my students.”

You looked at him, not breaking your stare as you opened the sweet treat, breaking off a piece and savoring the myriad of flavors as they settled on your tongue. The two of you fell back into that silence, the quiet chatter of Chicago’s nightlife filled in the absence your voices left.

“What the fuck did you see in that kid anyway?” You shrugged, breaking off another piece of the donut and eating it. “I mean who the fuck spends a whole date talking about how rich they are and then splits the bill? Motherfucker didn’t even leave a tip and you did.”

Amusement decorated your face as you watched him pace his tirade about your lackluster date borderline passionate. “Yo and don’t get me started on how fuckin’ boring that kid was. Like what the fuck would he even know what to do with a brat like you.”

Your eyebrows raised watching as he stomped out the cigarette, his body full-on facing you once more. You held the last piece of the donut out to him, eyes falling to his hand as it grazed yours, the glaring lack of a wedding band around his finger intriguing you.

He popped the bit into his mouth, lips wrapping around his forefinger and thumb as you spoke up. “You talk as if you know me.” Your eyes left his lips to hold his stare once more, “Tell me Mr. Jerimovich, what would you do with a brat like me?”

This was dangerous territory and you knew it but that didn’t stop you from wanting to dip your toes in and see how you’d come out the other side. You watched in anticipation as he looked at you, eyes heavy with every word running through his head that he wasn’t saying. His feet moved him forward, your knee brushed against his thigh as he slotted himself between your legs, your head tilting up to look at him from your seated position on the hood.

The air between the two of you was charged, both of you waiting for the other to bite first. You held his gaze determined to not be the first one to give in, his eyes left yours for a moment pools of blue dipping to the curve of your lips. You stilled as his hand reached out, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubbing across your bottom lip before tapping against it, his eyes daring you to open up even a little bit. Wherever he was concerned you would never back down from a challenge, and you didn’t, lips wrapping around the warm appendage as you sucked gently the taste of icing dancing across your tongue.

“I’d take care of this mouth of yours, wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with someone else.” It was like the world had gone silent, all you could hear was his husky voice and the loud pop your mouth made as he removed his thumb.

You could see that his pupils had blown wide, almost positive that yours looked the same, “What if I only want trouble with you?”

There was a split second of stillness before his hand shot out, the roughness of his palm wrapped around your neck with no intention of harming you, just a weight trapping you between him and the car. Without a second thought your hand reached out to wrap around his tie, a small pull on it was all you needed for him to get the message.

It was hot and heavy, all tongues and teeth the moment his lips found purchase on yours. All the months of pent-up frustration between the two of you were being poured into this kiss, your tongues locked in a battle as if whoever won was proof that they were the superior opponent. You took your chance to bite his bottom lip, the motion pulled a low grunt from his chest, his free hand moving to cup the small of your back as he scooted you even further down the hood, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist practically sitting in his lap at this point.

Surprise shot through you as the pressure on your neck became much more than decorative, as his large palm squeezed, your mouth opened wider in a gasp as he took the chance to shove his tongue down your throat. The eroticism of it all had your legs tightening around him as you searched for any friction, coming up empty as you languidly sucked on his tongue.

His mouth ripped away from yours, lips peppered heated kisses along your jawline as you looked at the stars through your lust-addled gaze, “Your mouth tastes like shit.” You weren’t sure why you said it but it was like you needed to rile him up.

A hoarse laugh left him as his lips and tongue began to lavish kisses around your throat, hand moving to push the sleeve of your dress down as his lips found your shoulder. You were lost in the ecstasy of it all before a sharp pain shot through you.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” His question was followed by another bite in the same spot as your head rolled back enjoying the painful ache it brought.

“N-no,” your words were broken off in a wanton moan as his lips glided across the exposed skin of your chest before his teeth sank into the flesh on your other shoulder.

It’d been so long since anyone had touched you like this and your brain felt like it was going into overdrive. You weren’t sure if he knew exactly how to make your body sing or if you were just so touch starved the simplest of touches would get you going.

A gasp escaped you as you felt his calloused fingertips skating up the exposed flesh of your thigh, the position he had you in made your dress bunch up around your waist. His mouth was still decorating the skin of your neck and while you should’ve told him not to leave any marks you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore, not when his fingers found the elastic of your panties that sat against your hip, and not when his big hand began massaging said hip.

You let out a quiet whine as his hand teased the band of your panties, the hand having skated further under your dress as he snapped the elastic against your skin. Your hand reached out to grip his bicep trying to ground yourself as his teasing made your head spin.

“P-please touch me Mr. Jerimovich.” You knew exactly what you were doing calling him that but in that moment you didn’t care, you just wanted him to stop teasing you.

His head shot up from your throat hand paused at your waist as he stared you down, his eyes were more black than blue now. The feeling of his blunt nails digging into your hip had you wincing, before you could even string together a sentence your mouth fell open on a high-pitched moan as his hips rammed into you the hardened length of his bulge began grinding into you both of his hands on either of your hips as he helped you rock yourself against him.

You could see the enjoyment in his eyes at watching you fuck yourself against him, each drag of his cock hit your clit deliciously the mixture of friction from your panties and the seam of his pants had your eyes welling up with tears as you bit your lip at the stimulation.

“You gonna fuckin’ cry?” You shook your head at his condescending question doing a horrible job of trying to remain unaffected. “You’re a real fuckin’ brat you know that? Arguin’ with me every chance you get, coming to my place of work with that fuckin’ loser.”

The raspiness of his voice was going to be your kryptonite and you needed him to shut the fuck up. Your hand untangled from his tie to reach for the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss just to get some silence. This kiss was different, a bit slower, and somehow a bit more passionate than the last. His lips moved tenderly against yours, his hands that found a home on your hips doing the same the slowness of the kiss translating to the tempo as he bucked up into you.

Your brain was already too overstimulated to try and understand why your heart began to feel like it was beating out of your chest, to piece together why being held against his chest like this felt like something you could see yourself enjoying and getting used to. Your mouths moved in sync with the tameness of the kiss not matching the ferocity either of you usually bestowed upon each other. The slowness of his hips rocking into yours was the icing on the cake, two bodies yearning for each other, for more than this parking lot tryst.

The sound of a car door closing pulled you from the fantasy drifting through your head, your body arching as far away from him as it could even though your need to continue being touched told you otherwise. His hands quickly left your hips, his whole body caging you in as he looked around the parking lot to make sure no one could see you. The noise had come from across the street, the civilian entering their car none the wiser to the reckless behavior you were engaged in.

It hit you all at once as you looked up at him eyes wide and filled with tears that slowly began to shed. Your palms pressed into his chest shoving him away from you as you hurriedly scrambled to get off of the car, hands fumbling to pull your dress down jumping in place as the warmth of his hands began helping you.

“You good?”

“No!” You hadn’t meant to shout but your nerves pushed you over the edge, you shook your head as he raised his hands in defense. “I’m a teacher and I almost let you fuck me in public. What if someone saw? I could lose my job.”

The consequences of your actions were beginning to set in. You were too busy in your world of lust whatever logic you had seemed to slip away with every caress of his fingers, every press of his mouth. You weren’t a reckless person and maybe that’s what drew you into this situation: a desire to throw caution to the wind, the tears streamed down your face as you ran through every negative scenario racing through your head.

“Hey, c’mere,” you didn’t get a chance to argue before his hands were pulling you into his chest, one holding your head against him while you tried to calm down. “Shh, you’re gonna be okay. I promise no one saw, nothing's gonna happen.”

You scoffed, moving your head to look at him, not interested in any lies. “Mr. Jeri-,”

“Richie.” His hand on your neck began massaging soothing circles into your flesh, the light touch calmed you a bit, “Call me Richie.”

It felt too personal. From the way he held you in the dim parking lot trying to alleviate your worries, to the way he looked at you eyes full of an emotion you weren’t quite used to seeing as you stared at him.

“I…I should go.” You made no move to step out of his embrace, eyes locked on his as his hand gently squeezed the back of your neck.

You stepped out of his embrace, the chilly Chicago air sent a shiver down your spine at the loss of body heat. You watched in silence as he stripped out of his suit jacket, your eyes landing on the smear of your makeup against his once pristine white shirt, eyes falling a little lower to the wet patch you’d left on the front of his slacks, white-hot shame shooting through you. You didn’t say anything as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, nodding your head in thanks too embarrassed to apologize for the stains you’d left on his clothes.

Neither of you spoke or made any indication of moving, his hands falling back into his pants pockets as you tugged the jacket tighter around yourself.

“Richie? Where you at man were ready for that little debrief thing you like doing.” The voice made you jump trying to fold in on yourself while Richie stepped in front of you hiding you from view in case the person walked around the derelict fence hiding the two of you from the back door to the restaurant.

“Just uh give me a minute Marcus!” Your eyes stayed glued to his back, wishing more than anything for this whole night to end and pretend it never happened.

He stood still until the sound of the door slamming shut reached his ears before his body swiveled back around to face you. “You good to drive home?”

You nodded, sending him a tired smile as the two of you began walking to the driver’s side door. Digging through your clutch you found your keys unlocking the car, stepping out of the way as he opened the door for you guiding you to get in. You stopped with one foot in the car turning to shimmy out of his jacket before his hands landed on your shoulder stopping your movements.

“Don’t worry about it.” You unconsciously settled into him, his fingers working out the tension you held onto. Your breath hitched as his hands skated from your shoulder to your neck before finding purchase on your cheeks, the rough skin of his thumbs gently swiping the tear stains away.

You felt vulnerable under his gaze, not sure if you were comfortable with him looking at you without that glimmer of anger and frustration in his eyes. He leaned forward unexpectedly, chapped lips burning a tender kiss into the skin of your forehead, lips lingering for longer than necessary before he pulled back.

“Do me a favor and get home safe.” The side of his lips ticked up in a smile.

Before you could lose your resolve you leaned in, kissing the edge of his lips where the ghost of a smile began before stepping the rest of the way into your car and watching as he stepped out of the way to close your door. He watched you drive off a small wave of his hand sent in your direction.

You drove home in a daze, mind still back in that parking lot. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as your car filled with the scent of nicotine mixed with pine trees the only culprit of the scent was the jacket neatly sat in your passenger seat. The choice of cologne was so odd it was surprising you hadn’t smelled it when you were trying to devour Richie in the parking lot, a smile raised to your lips before you started laughing at the chaotic night you had.

Your laughs died down as you promised yourself that it would never happen again, even though you could feel the growing urge to throw yourself into whatever that was headfirst. But logic was slowly coming back to you, giving you a myriad of reasons why it was a horrible idea and why it couldn’t happen again.

And now all you had to remember the moment was a jacket that smelled like nicotine mixed with some weird woodsy musk cologne and the yearning feeling left behind by his bruising kiss.

a/n: i hope you’re all doing well please enjoy! feel free to interact however you see fit! 🫶🏽

[joosthead]

finally // beautiful stranger || j.k. f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ part 3/prequel to normal au — this is a standalone fic but here’s part 1 and 2 if you want a little lore down the line : ). or if you’ve already read p1&2–this is how normal au joost and reader meet :3. set in december 2019.

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not from nl

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 11k (exactly !! :3)

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (strangers to…lovers?, f&m!receiving oral, eating it through panties, protected piv), smoking, drinking. mentions of violence. reader and joost are kind of dicks to each other + pouty and annoying but dw it's ok bc theyre cute. unironic use of the word yolo. reader is apprehensive about receiving oral—references being self-conscious because it’s been a while. unironic ome robert during sex : ( teehee op does not drink or club sorry for inaccuracy

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “finally // beautiful stranger” by halsey :'')

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: plushies!!! thank you for your patience and the love on normal au :''') i absolutely adore this au and i'm so glad to know you guys do too!! much more to come ;)))) honestly this isn't extensively edited i was just so excited to drop it : 3 thank you so so much to @howisjoostfanfictionforfree and @killerlookz for hearing me out on my decisions on how to place this in the normal au verse >-< I SO APPRECIATE YOU GUYS!! <3333

₊˚⊹⋆ translation: "Zo mooi, liefje, ik heb zoveel geluk." - "So beautiful, I'm so lucky." / "Je smaakt zo lekker, ik vind het geweldig." - "You taste so good, I love it."

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

You should’ve brought a jacket. 

If you were someone else, you’d have blamed it all on your roommates, their insistence that since your shared townhome was “only a few blocks away” from the club you were going to and “the snow isn’t even that bad” and “see it’s not even that cold” convincing you that an extra layer wasn’t needed. You’re you though, and you’re bearing the entire brunt of your regret as you trudge through the sleet covered footpath, the snow shoveled to the side and yet still not enough to keep the wetness off of your strappy heeled feet.

Why didn’t you bring a jacket? Why is it so cold in the Netherlands? Why did you move here for university? Why did you even sign up for that many courses this term, and why did the weather have to be like this right after you took your last final?

When will it end? Never, you think, but at the very least—tonight you get to party. After trudging through a kilometer of snow, of course, your roommates trudging right in front of you and suffering just the same. The snow that falls melts as soon as it hits the ground, your skin, dampening your hair and chilling you with the wind that whistles past. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have even gone—but you promised that you’d loosen up after how hard you’d been going at work and school. Either way, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to meet your roommate, Ruby’s…Ruby’s boy-thing, an up and coming music producer with big eyes and a soft voice stage-named Tantu; and you wouldn’t pass up seeing Alanis, too, an acquaintance of your other roommate, Marina, turned your own friend. 

It’s okay. Before you even know it (feels like an eternity), you’re through the line and through the threshold of the club (after getting squished and cut in front of and annoyed), and now you stand in front of the bar, trying (and failing) to get the bartender’s attention. 

The club is packed to the gills with people—it is a raucous Friday night, and it’s been months since you’ve been in a place so full of people that wasn’t a library, a lecture hall, or some work event you had to attend. Still, though, it feels natural getting back into the groove of things, holding hands with Ruby as she leads you through the dance floor, checking on Marina behind you before she leaves to find Alanis. 

The cold you were blanketed with outside is no more, not even close now that you’re slipping in between and through grinding bodies and flashing lights, the background music to your night a thumping beat you’ll feel in your bones tomorrow and a fast rapping Dutch voice over it. It’s overstimulating in a good way, you think, much preferred over the overstimulation of your packed schedule—you'll have a few weeks of this before it all starts again, and you're happy to be here at the end of it all. 

Eventually you make it to the bar. Someone stepped on your foot on the way there, you lost sight of Marina, you have to adjust your little black dress constantly—whatever. Ruby’s boy thing is unmistakable, giant blue eyes and typical dad cap, and he stands at the bar with three shots waiting for you both.

“You must be Ruby’s other roommate!” he yells over the music and you nod, smiling at him as Ruby goes to hug him around the waist, giggling as she does. 

You prop your elbow up on the bar for support—god, these shoes suck—and yell back, “You’re Teun? Is this your song?” 

“This is my friend’s song, actually, Joost!” He looks around for a bit before giving Ruby a smile; her excitement is contagious owing to the fact that she’s almost never so animated, like she’s bouncing on her heels with her movement. “He’s supposed to be here tonight, I think he’s late.” 

“Joost?” you yell, and he nods—you nod back in approval. Very pop, very gabber (if you’ve judged the subculture correctly in the 2 years being here), very loud, but you like it. 

“He’s a really cool guy, I promise!” Ruby says, giggling even more and sharing a mischievous look with Tantu that you’re not sure means something. 

“Mmm, sure,” you smile, scrunching your nose. You have a feeling that Joost, whoever he is, will become someone important later on in the night, but you put him on the back of your mind as you pick up your shot glass alongside the two of them and down it—you expect it to burn on the way down, seeming like some kind of vodka, but it’s smooth and sweet, only slightly burning. “Thanks Tantu,” you say, holding your hand up for a high five which he reciprocates, laughing. 

“You’ll like Joost, I think,” he nods, and you cock an eyebrow. 

“Are you trying to set me up with someone?” 

“You need something to distract you from all your work, babe,” Ruby says, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Hopefully expensive vodka will loosen you up a bit.” 

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, “I didn’t ask for a distraction.” Work and school are already difficult enough to juggle as is, let alone your abysmal social life only kept alive by Ruby and Marina’s wide circle of friendly, eccentric creatives. You’d rather just keep your circle small, keep your head down and focus, but your friends always have things up their sleeves. 

Ruby orders 3 Bacardi colas for your small group and turns back to you. “We’re gifting you one, okay?” 

You shake it off, focusing more on the lovely rum and cola once it comes into your possession. Sipping at it, you follow Ruby and Tantu onto the dance floor, the bustling crowd jostling you around as you teeter on your heels, keep your purse close to your body, and try to keep your drink from spilling. 

Truthfully, the purse (the purse!!!) is one of your most prized possessions—you don’t think yourself too materialistic, but scoring a 90s Dior saddlebag for less than a thousand euros, with your first big paycheck… you reason that that’s more than enough to get you to be materialistic. 

You cover it with your arm as best as you can as you try and follow Ruby’s pretty lion’s mane of brown curls, turning to make sure you’re still there every once in a while but mostly just hanging onto Tantu’s hand—you don’t mind third wheeling when Ruby’s being so cute, a side of her you've never seen before. 

The three of you make it to the heart of the crowd, running into Alanis and Marina and picking them up along the way, the thrumming beat of some early 00s song until it transitions to something so hyperpop your eardrums might rupture. 

You mouth the lyrics, bright lights shining into your eyes, your dancing constricted by being way too close for comfort with a bunch of drunk and sweaty strangers, but. You’re trying. That’s for sure. 

Marina’s hands snake around your waist as you sway together to the music, eyes closed and letting the alcohol get to you; you would go back to the bar and get another drink if it wouldn’t be such a damn hassle to do so. 

You’re enjoying every single moment, the time passing by in a blur of dancing people and loud voices and sweaty bodies—you’re almost in a haze, all you’d need is a drunk cigarette to make this night perfect, but then Marina lets go of you, and you get disoriented. So many lights, so many people, not enough of your people. 

You get elbowed in the back by someone and it takes you out of your trance completely. You look back in annoyance, the culprit being a tall blonde guy with douchey sunglasses who’s whooping and hollering with a friend who looks just as rambunctious as he is. Scowling, you turn back to where Ruby and Marina are, speaking/yelling with Tantu and Alanis, somehow several feet away, but then you stumble over your feet, and the guy behind you stumbles into you, and you feel a cold liquid run down your arm, your side, all over your dress. 

Shocked (and frankly, about to cry) you look down at your now dripping arms, your purse and the stains on it obvious even now in the dim club light. A mixture of anger and pure disdain for the guy behind you comes over you as he turns around—what the fuck!!! Almost four months of utter bullshit at work and university and this is what happens to you the night you get back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it, just find me later!” he yells, looking down at you, turning back to his friends and laughing, and you practically gasp in shock with how rude he’s being. Can’t even give you the time to make things right now, what makes him think you’ll trust him enough to leave it later? 

You tap on his shoulder, making him turn his attention back to you. He’s wearing earphones for some reason, and the big sunglasses really are so douchey. You’re normally not so judgmental—but he ruined your night. “Are you fucking serious? Sorry doesn’t cut it—this is vintage,” you shout, pointing at your poor purse. “And you’re a fucking asshole!”

“Oh, it’s vintage?” he scoffs, and you—you want to punch him in his smug face. You can’t even look him in the eye, his stupid sunglasses blocking your vision of him, but you know that you’re glaring holes through him. 

Any night else, you would’ve left it alone, probably. At the very least, get a yell in; at the very least, get his info and give him an angry text the next morning. Tonight, though, you have nothing to lose and a chip on your shoulder. You get up closer to him, in his face as best as you can with the height difference and the close quarters. 

“You wanna take this outside? You can yell where I can actually hear it, my music’s playing too loud!” he smirks, tapping on his stupid earphone, then pointing to the ceiling as the music keeps playing around you, as the people around you still keep dancing and hollering. He starts moving away from you, and you catch a glimpse of all of your friends—the puzzled stares from Ruby, Marina, Alanis, the concerned expression in Tantu’s eyes. You can't pretend to care about what you look like at the moment, except that’s all you care about at the moment. Your once perfect black dress, your mint-condition bag. 

You bring your purse up to your nose—fucking Baco, not even a clear drink that you can get out relatively easily. Maybe if you’d just brought a jacket, you wouldn’t have a Bacardi cola spilled all over everything and ruining your life. You forgot how intense you are when you’re tipsy. 

You follow behind him, practically stomping—you notice that people are parting for you more than they did in the beginning, and it’s likely because of the anger just radiating off of you in waves as you fume. Every once in a while, he turns and sees if you're still following…of course you are. You're not going to let him off the hook that easily. Any of your other friends would handwave it and just go back to partying. You’ve got an agenda, though. 

When you make it out of the club, jostling through what feels like a million people, you're a bit sobered up and it’s so late—it’s so cold. In the lamppost light, you see he’s much taller than you, wearing a heavy jacket and a wrinkled white button-up underneath it, baggy jeans with writing over the crotch. He looks exactly what you’d expect. “I already said I’d pay for your things,” he says, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and offering you one, which you take as you roll your eyes halfway to the back of your head. “You have a stick up your ass.”

You take the cigarette between your fingers, bring it up to your mouth and he cups the end, holding the flame of his lighter to it—it sparks, and you take a long pull before sighing, “It’s gotten me much farther places than you, I know that for sure.” A smile teases on his lips, and you can't help but smile back, your anger already melting away like the snow on the ground. The two of you walk a little ways down, trying to get away from the loud clubbers and failing. It’s peak business right now; you couldn't escape them together even if you tried. 

In your head, you tell yourself that it’s because of the nicotine, the smoke in your lungs, but you have to be real with yourself. Whoever the asshole who ruined your night was, whether he was a friend of a friend or the soundtrack to this club—he has pretty blue eyes and a prettier smile, and you…you are weak. And sobering up and realizing that making a scene was a bit embarrassing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod, proudly, smugly, because you'd earned the right to after the way your life has been the past few months. “Sure it has.” Mood ruined again. You walked straight into that. 

Again, you roll your eyes. “I'm not here to try and convince you of my accomplishments.” 

“‘Accomplishments’,” he says, lighting up his own cigarette. “So accomplished but you didn’t bring a coat for this weather. Smart.” 

This makes you realize just how freezing you are, one of your arms hugged close to your body for what little warmth you can muster from it—your dress is quite short, not to mention damp from this guy’s Bacardi cola spilled all over it, and you’re feeling the consequences. Goosebumps line your skin all over, the breath that leaves your mouth is not only smoke but the cold condensation in the chilly air, and you shake your head. 

“I didn’t think I’d have to come out here and yell at you, but here we are.” 

“How much is your dress? Your purse? I'll send you the money and more for your trouble.” 

“I can't just replace vintage,” you fuss, looking down at your outfit. Your purse was once pink and white and Dior-monogrammed—now it is a muddy brown. Still Dior-monogrammed, but uglier. You never thought yourself a fusser—maybe this season of your life has changed you more than you thought. “I got this at a thrift in Berlin, you know how hard that is these days?”

A heavy weight gets put upon your shoulders; his jacket that he places around them wafts the smell of expensive men’s cologne and smoke. You look at him, incredulous; he gives you a quick glance, then averts his gaze. “You're shaking like a dog,” he says, taking a puff from his cig. “You need it more than I do.”

“Thanks,” you nod, and he gives you an acknowledging hum. “You don't have to. I was an asshole to you and you give me your jacket.” 

“Don't apologize for something that was my fault.” 

“It was both our fault.” 

The night is silent as it can be—not silent at all with clubbers streaming in and out, the music and the talking leaking to the outside. The two of you are a bit farther away from all the people—everyone is walking the other way to another club or bar to continue their outings. 

“Do you want to sit down? We can exchange info and stuff here. Your shoes look uncomfortable.” 

Now that you’re warm, you realize another thing: your feet are aching tired from the dancing, the minutes of stomping after him. The curb in front of you is damp from the snow, but his jacket is so big on you that it can cover your ass—it’s not like you have much else to lose with this outfit, anyways. You sit and he settles down next to you. The sky is a deep purple canvas marred by light pollution, yet you can still see a few stars. Same stars here, same stars back home. 

Another realization: you’re sitting in a foreign country, in almost silence next to some stranger, smoking a cigarette, wearing his jacket after calling him a dickhead and after he’s implied that you’re some airhead. 

Maybe you're just boring (you're not), but life has never taken you to a place like this before. 

To the side, he stubs out his cigarette, and you take a better look at him. Pink creeps up his neck, and when he turns back, you see how vibrantly rosy his cheeks are. If you're seeing it right, his eyes are a little heavy lidded, probably as a result from all of the alcohol. He has a beauty mark underneath his lip, and his lips are just as pink as his cheeks as he brings another cigarette to his mouth. “Do you want another? Or do you just want to keep staring?” His voice is playful, enough so that you bite your tongue for the quip back. 

“I shouldn't. I’m trying to quit, anyway,” you say, still breathing yours in. He nods and you notice that you can actually see his eyes now—no douchey sunglasses, or whatever you called them in your head back there. “Why aren't you wearing your glasses anymore? The ones you wore inside?”

“I don't need to wear them now that the lights aren’t crazy. It gets very overstimulating in there, the glasses help.” 

“I assume your earphones are for the same reason?” You point at his dangling white earphone, and he nods. “I should try that. Maybe it’ll stop me from yelling at strangers.” 

“Maybe it will help you, too. Want to listen?” 

He offers it to you, tonight’s symbolic olive branch, and you take it. “Sure,” but you take it out of your ear almost as soon as you put it in, the music extremely loud and blaring. “How do you not lose your hearing?” 

“I’ll lose it anyway—YOLO,” he says, shrugging, and amuses you how serious he seems saying it. “YOLO” is a fitting mantra for him. “I'm a performer, anyway, so—YOLO! Accelerate the process.” The music turns down considerably; if you're hearing it right, it sounds like Flemish dad rock, something you'd hear on the radio if you grew up here. 

“YOLO, I guess,” you laugh, and he nods like he’s proud of you, laughing himself. It sounds more like a bark, voice now raspy because of the cigarettes, because of the cold, but it sounds nice. “You’re a performer? What have I seen you in, then?” His appearance is so distinctive—hair so bright it almost glows, eyes reflecting an icy grey from the dark of the footpath in front of you. His style is even more distinctive, all Supreme and Bathing Ape and hype beast brands you’ve never heard of. 

But it is Amsterdam. Curly blonde haired, blue eyed hype beasts are a dime a dozen here. You’ve probably seen him around somewhere, it seems like even your roommates know him pretty well through their scene of creatives—but you can’t seem to connect him to anyone you’ve ever watched or heard before. 

“Let me pull up my music for you.” 

“Soundcloud rapper?” you tease. 

“Adjacent.” 

He takes his phone out of his jeans pocket, and you peer over his shoulder, watching as he scrolls through a different playlist. He looks back at you, smiles, looks at your lips then back up at your eyes—it takes a little out of you to keep from rolling your eyes, it takes a lot out of you to keep your composure when he does it. Ugh. “I don’t know what to play you,” he admits, turning back to his phone. “Feels like you’re just going to mess with me when I do.” 

“I'll try not to. Can't promise anything, though.” 

You put your hand on his shoulder—he feels warm, sturdy, and he’s taking way too long to pick a song out of the apparently many he has under his name. 

Finally, he clicks on a title and it begins playing; 1 second in, you say, “Skip,” just to fuck with him, and it works well—he looks back at you, mouth agape and eyes wide, expression so earnestly incredulous you have to laugh. Your faces are closer than they have been the entire night, but you can't even focus on that as you laugh. “Skip?!” he exclaims, getting closer to you, all up in your face. 

“Yeah, skip,” you giggle, nodding exaggeratedly as you lean into him like he just did to you. He’s so close, and he grins at you as your noses come close to brushing. 

“This is the first song of mine I’ve played the entire time, and you want to skip it.”

Obviously, it isn't actually a skip for you—”Ome Robert,” a really fun song about…sucking dick? Being a god? Either way, it’s incredibly catchy and well produced, but you don’t want to let him know that just yet. “Yeah, I wanna skip it. You’ve gotta have better than this.” 

“I work hard on this song, I release it myself, it goes platinum in the Netherlands, I make it to impress beautiful strangers at the club just like you—and you want to skip it. All that work, what did it even get me?” 

Beautiful. This counts as a win. “I admire your work ethic and I think it’s so commendable that you set up a record label for you and your friends—but it’s a skip, I’m sorry to say.” You shrug, putting your hands in the coat pockets once you stub your cig out. The air is so cold—honestly, you worry for him, his disheveled white button-up the only thing shielding him from the weather now that he’s given you his coat. 

“Tell that to everyone in the club, you saw it back there. You probably even danced to it, too.” 

“Did you have to pay the DJ to get him to play your song?” 

“No, we’ve been friends for years.” 

“Ah, so it’s nepotism. I see,” you state proudly, and he groans.

“Nepotism? I will let you know, I established a record label myself. Fully independent, no nepotism.” 

Though Joost’s tone is annoyed, there’s nothing but an amused grin on his face; you smile back, “Is he signed to your label?” He nods, and there, just as easy, you have another piece of ammo. “Ah, so he’s kissing up to the boss.”

“You—“ he starts, eyebrows furrowing, then stops, shaking his head at you. “I've been talking to you for an hour and I don’t even know your name.”

“We’ve been busy.” 

You offer your name and he repeats it, question mark at the end. You nod and he smiles bigger, if that’s even possible. In the streetlight, his eyes shine, long blonde eyelashes almost covering them. “We’re supposed to meet, did you know that?” 

“Really?” 

“I’m Joost. Friend of Tantu and Alanis. They said they wanted me to meet…their friend’s friend? If you are that. Friend’s roommate?” 

“What a way to meet.” You didn’t think this would be the Joost that Tantu was talking about at the bar, fiery yet sweet making loud and proud music you’d never heard before. 

“We made great first impressions on each other, I think. You are unforgettable.” 

“Mine worse than yours,” you sigh, and Joost hands you his cigarette to smoke the final few puffs. You take it even though you should quit, even though you told him you’re quitting, your lipstick staining the butt. 

“We can put it behind us, yeah?” he says, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Friends?” 

“Acquaintances, for now,” you tease, but shake his hand anyway. “Fuck, dude, your hand is so cold.” Your brows furrow in concern as you squeeze his hand, surprisingly freezing, surprisingly soft save for a few callouses.

Joost laughs smaller than you’ve heard him all night, your hands practically in his lap; his cheeks are glowing pink with how long you’ve been out here—your cheeks are warm, but likely not for the same reason.  

“Acquaintances? Don’t play hard to get.” On instinct, you wrap your other hand around Joost’s in an attempt to warm it. “Your hands are so warm, I appreciate you for trying,” Joost remarks. “Very small, too, Christ.” 

“Oldest trick in the book, Joost, my god,” you laugh, exasperated, yet still, you let him move your hands so they're flat against each other, palms touching. He holds your wrist gently so he can line your hands up; his fingers are much longer and thicker than yours, and the sight brings warmth to your cheeks—it shouldn’t have the effect it does on you, but it does. 

“It’s working, isn’t it?” 

You bring his hand into the coat pocket with yours—it worked enough for you to now willingly share this tiny pocket, that’s for sure. “It’s working,” you say softly, averting your gaze now that you both know that whatever it is is something that’s felt mutually. “Do you do this with every pretty stranger you meet in the club?”

If Joost is a performer like he says he is, a big time independent record label owner like he says he is—there’s sure to be a line of people out the door, or at least a few groupies or someone. Someone in that club who recognized those songs, recognized the mop of blonde hair sitting in front of you now. Over several failed situationships and romps with people this side of Europe, you learned: there is always someone. Someone who’s less busy, less distracted, more interested. 

You know you fit the bill for the interested part, at least—less busy is something you’ll be for a short time, less distracted…well, you have your full attention on him right now, don’t you? It’s been so long since you’ve done something like this, maybe you’re just feening for an excuse to check your own boxes for him, maybe you want to do this for the sake of the line out the door or the groupies. 

Or maybe he’s just Joost. Whoever Joost is, considering you just met him. And maybe you just want him to keep holding your hand, or talk to you more, show you more of his music or go back home with you, slip into your bed, stay until the morning. 

“I can't say I have. I’ve never had a conversation like this with anyone, really, so it wouldn’t even be worth it if I did,” Joost says. Your faces are close again—you would bridge the gap if you just let yourself, but you can’t; you can only muster the courage to let your noses brush against each other, only the courage to smile. “Can I kiss you?”

It seems, he’s checked your boxes for you. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” you scoff, though you lean in at the same time. Joost leans back when you do, teasing grin upon his lips, and you furrow your brows, shaking your head. “Don’t play hard to get,” you mumble as he untangles your fingers in your coat pocket, takes your face in his cold and gentle hands and presses his lips to yours. 

He tastes like cigarette smoke; his Bacardi cola on your dress and your shoes, and now the taste on your tongue; he tastes like smiling into a kiss with a pretty stranger, the way you both do now. 

Joost kisses like he’s scared to broach you, like it’s the first time he’s been delicate in a while—you kiss like you’re hungry for him, because you are, not a single care about your lipstick on his face or the people walking past or the fact that he’s a stranger. His hand slips under your coat, gripping your hip as you pull him closer by the lapel; you beckon him to kiss you harder when you let him lick into your mouth and you lick back. 

It’s your turn to pull back, come up for air; Joost chases you when you leave, hand running down your body as you go to stand up, a soft little, “what no” leaving his mouth when you do. The look on his face—his face!!! Fuck.—is so cute, big wide eyes and hand on the back of your thigh. You cup his face (is this too tender?), rub your thumb at the edge of his lips where your lipstick has smudged in an attempt to clean it off. Turning his head, he kisses your palm, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Wordlessly, he gets up, stands next to you. “What the fuckkkk!!!” he whisper yells, gesturing wildly, and the street echoes the sentiment back. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” you say, laughing, and then stumbling because he’s gotten you in his arms again, kissing you, stumbling with you back against the brick wall of the building behind you as he laughs into your mouth to your whining between giggles about how he almost made you trip. 

Caged between his arms, you wrap yours around his neck so you can get up higher to kiss him—“I don’t regret spilling my drink on you at all,” Joost mumbles when you kiss his chin, nip at his jaw, go down to suck at his pulse point and nip at it too. “Can I touch you like this?” he whispers, and you nod as he brings his hands down to your ass, presses you harder against the wall, grinds against you as you kiss him breathless again. 

When Joost pulls away, you know—you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Breathing almost heavy, pink lips dropped open, face more serious than he’s been the entire night and scanning your features in a way that is truly disarming—you don't want to admit it, but Joost has got you wrapped around his finger, too. 

A group of people from the club pass behind—you hear a few whispers of, “Is dat Joost?” and a few wolf whistles. Someone gives him a few congratulatory claps on the shoulder which he cringes at, giving you an apologetic smile. “Don’t listen to them.” Once more, he kisses you.

“Your place?” he breathes, and you sputter for a response. This is going a bit too well. Your silence seems to speak for you, but really, you're just thinking about if your room is clean, if your everything shower was enough, if you’re ready to do this with him. “Too much?” he winces, giving you a weak smile, and you shake your head. 

“No, no, my place is fine—my roommates might be home, though.”

“I can be quiet.” 

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.” 

“It’s a half-truth.” 

“I’ll take that.” 

—

After a kilometre walk the direction of your house chock full of giggles and pauses to keep kissing against brick walls, dark store fronts, alley entrances, you finally make it back to your house. 

You hurry up the icy steps to your townhome, taking Joost by the hand as he trips his way up the flight. “Schat,” he breathes, and the pet name makes your heart skip a beat, “My house was closer the other direction.”  

“You suggested my place, Joost,” you laugh as you unlock your door and step in your warm foyer—you wave him in, kicking your heels off and stepping onto the cold wood floor as he does the same with his shoes. 

Closing the door behind you, you listen for a beat…voices. The walls are so thin here, you’re unsure if the sounds come from your next door neighbours or your potentially home roommates. Either way, you bring a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet. In his normal voice, he says, “I’ll be quiet,” and you laugh together at his volume—neither of your roommates would care, but the teasing you'll receive tomorrow if they knew it was Joost you were bringing home…endless. 

“Come, now,” you say, taking Joost’s hand and leading him up your steps, down the hallway to your room.

Your home is tiny and cozy and lived in—the three of you have worked very hard to make this feel like a household instead of just a shared living situation, frames lining the walls of your antics and travels together, baby pictures from home, posters of music artists and movies that one or all of you like. Joost lags behind you trying to look at them, but you just pull him along. Waiting any longer feels like a travesty. 

Once you get down the hallway, open and close your door, you push him up against your door and kiss him again to his surprise, your teeth clacking together from his smile and your enthusiasm. “You want me that bad, huh?” he teases, and you roll your eyes. 

The answer is yes, but you’re not going to let him know that yet. 

You room is as tiny as the rest of the house, a queen bed in the middle with off-white sheets, a desk on the far side, a dresser with a mirror when you walk in. 

“I don’t do things like this very often,” you mumble, fumbling with his angular belt buckle between your fingers, the cold metal of it and the jagged edges of the plate spelling “ALBINO” in a stylized font. 

“Me neither,” Joost breathes as he tries to help you, but ends up fumbling with it, too. “Holy fuck, if I knew this would be so hard to take off, I wouldn’t have worn it.” 

“Cool belt, nonetheless,” you say, and he kisses you thanks. 

“It’s the name of my album,” Joost beams as he finally gets it unclasped, pulling it through his belt loops. You undo his button, unzip the zipper, he does the rest, clumsily pulling down his pants slightly. “We should listen to it.” 

“Later.” From here, as you palm him over his underwear, feel his length through it, you can tell—he’s big. “You should’ve told me you were hiding this back there, maybe I wouldn’t have argued with you as much.”

“I was afraid you would’ve clutched your pearls if I did, schat, the way you yelled at me.” 

“You would be right,” you agree, knowing you would’ve probably thrown a drink in his face if he made some remark about his dick size to you in the midst of your argument. “But if you told me, we probably wouldn’t have sat out there for so long.”

“I wouldn’t have given up that conversation for the world.” 

From anyone else, these words would be hyperbole; strangely, from Joost, they feel true. it feels like you know him already, and he knows you. Perhaps it’s the result of having such a circle of a venn diagram of friends and acquaintances. Perhaps you did know him from a different time and you just forgot.  

“Me neither,” you agree softly, smiling into the kiss you give him as you reach into his boxers and wrap your hand around his hard cock. He’s just as thick as you thought. 

“Fuck,” Joost breathes into your mouth already, and you watch him and his face contort in pleasure as you jerk him lazily in his underwear just for the added sensation of the fabric rubbing against him. Gazing at your lips, eyebrows furrowing, chest moving up and down and breathing heavy, he says softly, “I haven’t done this in…a year? A year and a half? So please, have mercy on me.” 

“Go home with someone? Me too.” You figure that it makes sense—any fling he has is probably on the road, in hotel rooms, anywhere but home. You're not exactly welcoming guests on Friday nights either, but you’re holed up in it 24/7. 

“No, I mean—any of it. I don't do casual often, at all, really.” 

You scoff lightheartedly, “Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m serious,” Joost smiles as you take his length out of his boxers and get on your knees, the plush carpet cushioning you.  

You don’t do one night stands and you certainly don��t do them with self proclaimed “performers,” yet here you are. 

Now in front of you, his cock in your hand, you make complete peace with your decision, and it’s easy to do so. 

He is so pretty—all pale, the tip a delicate rosy pink and leaking wet, a vein running along the underside. It’s nestled in a thicket of lightly trimmed dark blonde hair; you give him a few pumps, running your thumb over the head for some lubrication when you do. 

“Won't listen to my music, but you’ll do this, ridiculous,” Joost says quietly, hand on your cheek as you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“You’re still on that? Big ego, shocker.”

“Obviously not a shock, you’re holding it.”

In shock at his audacity, you gasp dramatically. “Don’t get cocky, now. You still needed to beg me for streams earlier.”

You give a kiss on the pink tip, salty precum coating your lips. A perfect moment passes when you look back up at him—he rolls his head back in pleasure, a quieted moan slipping past his lips at your tongue finally on him, just one lick to the slit but enough to get him a little louder. 

His cock twitches in your hand, and you grin, kitten licks to his shaft, “Too much?” 

Joost says breathlessly, “I think my knees will buckle sometime tonight, schat,” and you beam up at him. 

“That’s a big compliment,” you purr, taking the head of his cock into your mouth and sucking lightly, which earns a strangled groan for you, a curse under his breath. With every bob of your head, you take a tiny bit more, about half—you're ambitious, but who can blame you when Joost is so pretty? Struggling to keep it together, his stomach muscles jumping and twitching with every hollowing of your cheeks, every drag of your tongue along the underside of his shaft. 

Joost’s hand comes up to the back of your head, just resting there gently as you swallow down his cock, dripping spit on your chin; it hits the back of your throat and you almost gag, having to pull back and pump him a few times, the shiny head now a deeper pink. 

“You like it that much, hm?” he says, moving your hair out of your eyes as you lick a stripe along the underside.

“When you make those sounds—yeah, I do.” You lap at a bead of precum dripping from his slit, and it makes him hiss; it makes him groan even more when you pop the head into your mouth and suck again. 

Involuntarily, he thrusts just a little in your mouth—”Can I do this?” Joost asks, and you nod around him. He’s gentle when he starts, and you prepare to take more of him by breathing through your nose.

He makes these little thrusts into your mouth that make your eyes water, shallow as you suck around him, steady with one hand on your head. With every thrust into your open mouth, he breathes heavier, his pretty lips are dropped open. Spit pools at the sides of your mouth; one long seat into your throat, followed by another, and you gag around him, making him groan loudly. “Holy shit, schat,” Joost breathes, and you feel accomplished. “Enough of that, I think I’ll cum.”

With his hand, Joost wipes your spit from your chin gently; brings you up to meet him for a sloppy kiss, which you smile into as he reaches around to your dress zipper, pulls it down a few inches, rough fingertips against your soft back. You start undoing the buttons of his button-up for him, fumbling just as you did earlier with his belt. For some reason, you can't find it in yourself to slow down around him. 

The zipper catches and you miss a button on the way down, both of you entirely too distracted by kissing like it’s a competition, like you want to eat each other—thankfully, you get all of them undone, and so you run your hands down Joost’s chest covered in hair, his happy trail, back down to his cock again. It makes him falter as he brings down your zipper but he manages to do it, fingers light as a feather running down your spine, nudging your dress down. 

Erratic and wild as the man in front of you, your heart beats a million miles an hour, your hands in his hair as he pulls down your dress completely and it crumples onto the floor. 

Joost pulls back, a string of spit connecting your lips, pupils blown out and wide as he scans your body, your breasts and your pebbling nipples. You move your arms in front of them, avoiding his gaze. “Don’t be shy,” he laughs softly, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed—“ he moves your hand over his heart—it beats as fast as yours, and you give him a small smile. “I’m nervous, too.” A kiss that seems to calm your nerves. “Can’t believe someone pretty as you would take me home.” 

He rubs your back, and already you feel comforted—how is this the same guy who spilled his drink all over you? “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Do you forget how your dress is still very sticky because of yours truly?” 

You laugh together as he kisses your cheek, the side of your mouth, then kisses your lips slow and achingly gentle, licking into your mouth and rolling your nipple gently between his two fingers, his other hand cupping your cheek. He drags his tattooed knuckles down the curve of your breast, making your breath catch in your throat, a small whine falling from your mouth when he runs them down your stomach, fingertips down over the lacy black fabric of your thong, down more and teasing at your covered clit. 

“Get on the bed,” Joost murmurs, and you practically scramble to it before he stops you with a loose grip around your wrist. “Woah, woah, woah.” With a puzzled expression, you turn back to him. “We can’t have them watching, what?” he says, gesturing at your bed. Staring back at you with gigantic embroidered blue eyes: three of your cat plushies placed upon your pillows from earlier when you made your bed. You weren’t exactly planning on guests tonight. “Blasphemous, no? They can look out the window.” Scooting behind you and to the bed, Joost scoops up the three, climbing over it to your desk facing outside. The moonlight streams in through your curtains as he sits them in a line and turns them around. “Much better.”

“Much better,” you repeat, laughing. On your now clear bed, you lie back and lean over. Opening the lower drawer on your nightstand, you rummage around for the box of condoms you know is somewhere in here but is covered by notepads, extra pens, random pouches filled with indeterminate belongings. Under a folder filled with paperwork and old assignments, you find the box, opened but largely untouched except for one used for a 4th date Hinge guy from months and months ago who didn’t even make you cum. 

You dig the box out and hold it out to him. Settling between your legs, Joost says, “Not yet,” taking it out of your hands and placing it on the nightstand. “I want to taste you, schat, I’ve been wanting to all night.” 

…Eating it already? You’ve declared that Joost is ran through, but you find yourself caring less and less with how enthusiastic he is. Still, though, there’s a part of you that’s apprehensive about letting him see all of you so soon. 

“Joost,” you blush, closing your legs. He moves them so he can see your face, and your cheeks grow hotter as you reason, “We just met.”

“And?” Tilting his head to the side, Joost scoffs. “We’re already naked in your bed, schat.” 

He makes a good point, but still…you’ve never had anyone offer to do it on the first link. “I don’t know…You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“You just put my dick in your mouth, it’s only fair I do something in return.” Just a little, you part your legs for him; slowly, he takes a place between them, gaze disarming as he comes to lie on his stomach and rests his cheek on your thigh, giving it a chaste kiss. So convincing, but you don’t really need to be convinced, do you? “I will make it worth your while, baby.” 

Soft mewls come out of you inadvertently when Joost noses at your inner thigh, sucks at the sensitive skin. “We could just move on—that is perfectly fine, too. But I could give you even more of a good time if we do this.” 

“You talk big game, Joost,” you laugh. With his age and strange tattoos and his bleach-damaged hair and his expensive attire, you expect Joost to be bad at…all of it, really, but he’s only subverted your expectations tonight without having the chance to fully even touch you yet. 

“I wouldn’t do so if I couldn’t prove it to you.” Joost presses a chaste kiss over your panties, over your clit, and somehow, your heart ups gears, beating unsteadily. “And if I didn’t want it so bad,” he adds in a low voice. Completely different from the smiling, pink-nosed boy you saw in him earlier, Joost is hungry for you, the look in his eyes telling you everything you need to know about the veracity of his words. “If you don’t want me to see, I’ll close my eyes—for now, we can just do this.” 

Whoever had him last must have trained him well.

Lathing his tongue over you, Joost spreads his spit over the cloth of your thong, soaking the fabric even more than it already is as he holds your gaze. One arm is hooked around your thigh; the other hand, you’re not entirely sure, but judging from how heavy he’s breathing, how desperate he looks as he eats you out over your panties, the movement of his arm—he’s touching himself, and you wonder if he can feel how much more wet you become at the idea that he is. 

A few hours ago, thought yourself unshakeable in the face of him—now you’re a squirming puddle in his hands. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to—but I promise—“ Joost says, big blue eyes shining at you, hands now clasped together as if he’s begging for it—you figure that he is begging for it, technically, and who are you to deny him the opportunity? “Do you really not want it?” Though he’s giving you an out, he sounds so resigned, and it makes you smile a little. 

From the sidewalk, your front steps, the threshold of your room, you wanted Joost badly; wanted him even after considering all the outcomes of this: a waste of a free night, or an hour or two with an overconfident and underperforming boaster before you shoo him away, or a sweet but egotistical rapper in your tidy bedroom putting plushies on top of your university textbooks and leaving his clothing on your floor. 

Despite yourself, you want him. The confirmation that he wants you just as badly, too—the air in your room is charged with electricity, warm and stuffy almost even with the cold outside. You haven’t felt something so strong in forever, too distracted by work and school and life to really care about your body’s needs, even less so what it wanted. 

Joost is exactly what you want. 

“No, no, please,” you breathe, already lowering the side of your thong. “I want you, please, Joost.”

The confidence feels more like giving permission to yourself to be so vulnerable with Joost. No one has seen you this intimately in months (feels like years) and definitely not after such short time together. 

“Okay, schat. Okay,” Joost says, pressing one last kiss over your underwear before helping you pull it off. When you kick it off somewhere on the ground next to the bed, he screws his eyes shut dramatically, and you laugh. 

“You can open your eyes, you know?”

“Hey, I said I would keep them closed for you, I’m not going to break my promise.” He shakes his head, moving forward to kiss…somewhere, you’re not really sure, but it ends up being the junction between your leg and your center, which tickles you. 

“Break it, I don’t care.”

“If you say so.” Joost shrugs, then opens his eyes. Already, it’s as if he’s trying to study you, and it makes you want to hide. Against your better judgment, you open your legs wider for him to have more room, and he gives you a small grin. “Zo mooi, liefje, ik heb zoveel geluk,” Joost says softly, one tentative lick up your seam that makes you shudder. Your cheeks feel warm with how reactive you are to him. Synapses overloaded with his skillful tongue teasing at your clit through your lips, parting them slightly with his fingers—you don't even have it in you to translate what he said to English in your head. “Je smaakt zo lekker, ik vind het geweldig,” he groans, laying his tongue flat against the bud, lapping at it a few times, smacking his lips loudly against you. 

He wraps his lips around your clit, making you moan loudly at how good it feels; you tug at his sweaty blonde hair, and he laughs, he laughs with his mouth on your pussy, and the vibrations of his deep voice make you go crazy. Already, you feel your climax about to approach—in the whirlwind of your busy life, you had no time at all for any self-love, and you guess that your heightened sensitivity is a direct result of that. 

Or maybe Joost is just that good. 

You watch Joost as he devours you slowly, eyes trained on yours and unflinching, arms hooked around your plush thighs and holding you down—even if you wanted to, you couldn’t get away from him. 

When he reaches his right arm up to paw at your breast, you can’t help but notice—“You—is that Crazy Frog?” Crazy Frog tattoo?!?! On his forearm of all places?!?! Who exactly are you sleeping with? You are entirely and endlessly entertained and intrigued by the stranger you’ve picked up tonight. 

“You know Crazy Frog?!” Joost exclaims, pulling back from you with a pop that makes you moan, lips glistening as he sits up a tiny bit. 

“Yes, I know Crazy Frog, Joost.” You laugh, amused if not a little puzzled at the notion that Crazy Frog could be some niche reference for anyone who’s used Youtube in the last 15 years or born before 2003. 

“I thought you would be too fancy to know him, I’m glad you aren’t.” 

“I may have a stick up my ass, but that doesn’t mean I live under a rock.” 

“Great,” Joost smiles, climbing up over you to give you a quick kiss before you gasp at two of his fingers circling your clit. “Then we will get along just fine.” Kiss to your cheek, and he’s back on you again.

The pause in stimulation makes you more sensitive, somehow, and when he immediately sucks your clit hard, it punches the air out of your lungs—you clench your thighs around his ears, but it just makes him suck harder. In the matter of a minute, your orgasm is coaxed out of you by Joost and his wonderful mouth, your moans no longer quiet and subdued; you have to cover your mouth with your hands, but it’s no use when he keeps licking your swollen clit on your comedown, every stroke of his tongue bringing intense waves of pleasure surging through you, making you sob out his name like your neighbours won’t have it memorized by the time tomorrow comes. 

Joost pulls away from your pussy slightly when you finally release all of the tension in your thighs, your body, letting your vice grip on his blonde hair go. Every part of you feels like jelly as you try to catch your breath, sweat on your brow, the pulse between your legs strong and steady as a result of the beautiful man lying between them. 

“You want another?” Joost asks, wiping his mouth, then giving you a wet kiss on your overstimulated clit that makes you curse his name to his raucous laughter. “I can give you another, I could do this forever if you asked.”

“No, no need, that’s very much enough, thank you,” you say, shaking your head. If you could stand not to have him inside you for one more minute, you’d take him up on his offer. “That was too good.” 

“Dank je wel,” he grins, then kisses you, your own flavour on his lips and his on yours. 

“Graag gedaan,” you giggle in your crappy accent and he kisses you again. 

“Wowww, fluent. Very impressive, schat.” Joost nods, giving you a small round of applause, and you roll your eyes but pull him in for another kiss anyway. He moves to sit down so you sit on top of him—his cock is still hard as it was before, a small wet spot on your sheets next to you from where he laid down. 

The feeling he gives you, it’s inexplicable—all those days writing reports and essays, brainstorming and editing, thousands and thousands of words upon paper, and Joost has rendered you speechless in mere hours. No sound between you—no jabs, no complaints or thinly veiled flirty insults, just your shared breaths in your bedroom, just the dull shuffle of your now messed up comforter against your sheets as you reach over and rip off a condom from the sleeve, the box falling over and onto the floor. 

For once, you don’t quite care; you only care about ripping the wrapper, taking it out, pinching the tip of the condom, rolling it down his hard cock as you kiss him open-mouthed and thoughtless.  

“All fours,” Joost whispers, and you let yourself follow his lead after so long having to be in complete control of your life. It feels good being with him, feels good when he places your legs far apart and you settle on your elbows, back arching. You’re so exposed like this—you almost flinch when he dips his fingers into your dripping folds. You turn your head to look back, let him see you and your face as he teases your clit. “Who would have thought?”

“Thought what?” you breathe, wiggling your ass back against his hand. 

“Nothing to say? No teasing?” 

“I’ve done my teasing.” You already knew Joost’s hands were big—but when he wraps them around your hips and pulls you to him gently, the size of them is stark, so warm and gripping you tightly. He comes closer behind you, his thighs behind your ass, dragging the tip of his cock through your slit with a groan. “Joost,” you sigh in a small voice, so overcome by your need for him. “Please, I need you, please fuck me.” 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

With a few more swipes of his cock through your wetness, a few circles of the head against your clit that make arousal pool in your stomach and between your legs, he finally inches it inside of you just a little. 

He’s going so slow, and you—you've never been so impatient in your life. You slide back for him, loud moans coming from the two of you at the fast stimulation, his cock dragging against your walls as you  take him deeper. “Oh my god,” you whisper as he eases more of himself into you, then leans over you, chest pressed against your sweat-sheened back and a hand snaking around to knead your tits. 

“‘Ik ben een god,’ I guess,” Joost says into your ear with a laugh, and you can't help but laugh too, even with all the ego dripping from quoting his own song calling him a god while he’s fully inside of you. 

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“I don’t have to flatter myself,” he says, and the grin in his voice is absolutely diabolical; he says it with a hard thrust into you, which you moan at, the way his cock hits your spot so amazingly, your eyes almost roll back into your head. Every nerve in your body is electric, so many months without use, without stimulation, Joost is a shock to your system. “You do it enough for me.” 

You practically hide your face in the sheets as he falls into a rhythm thrusting into you at an angle so deep inside you could cry—you would never let Joost have that satisfaction, though, so you bite your lip and revel in the pleasure. Every steady seat of his cock inside you, every single breathy moan that falls from his mouth, every whispered murmur of your name accompanied by his hands roaming your back. 

The sticky slap of his balls against your clit, the wet sound coming from your pussy so filthy it could take you out of this dizzying haze. Really, it sends you in deeper, burying you in it the way he’s burying himself inside of you. 

“Fuuuck,” you drag out as you grip your sheets for any leverage, eyebrows furrowing with his hands gripping tightly on your hips to bring you back onto his cock. “Joost, like that.” The pace he's set for you both is aggravatingly perfect—you think you might want it forever. 

“You sound so pretty saying my name like that, baby, do it again.”

“Joost,” you mewl, eyebrows scrunching that you’re letting him have what he wants. You start to say it again, but as you do—he sinks into you so quickly, so hard, then starts sliding out of you so slow you let out a strangled sob. You can’t say anything else when he continues fucking into you, only letting out stifled sighs with every movement. 

“So much to say earlier, now look at you. It’s okay, I know it’s good, liefje,” he says softly. 

“So good,” you murmur, the drag of his thick cock in and out of your pussy bringing you almost to the edge as you collapse your torso onto the bed, so exhausted with the endless dopamine hit you’ve managed to score with Joost—almost to the edge until he ceases his movements completely as he’s fully inside you. 

“Schat,” Joost breathes, and you turn around and pout at him, completely (and justifiably) annoyed at the stoppage of his wonderful hips. 

“Fuck you, why'd you stop?” you ask, propping yourself back up on your elbows and shaking your head. 

Joost leans over you, lips on the nape of your neck, so you turn your head. “Fuck you,” he says, and you kiss him as he laughs. He’s so full of it—You’re so full of him, a comfortable pressure inside of you and snug against your spot. “You need me to hold you up? You can lie down if you want, schat, maybe it will feel even better.”

“Yeah, hold me up.” At your wish, he stands you both up on your knees as he supports your stomach; one hand wrapped around your waist and the other snaking down, down between your legs. 

You’re sure that this will collapse you once more—you don’t mind. He resumes thrusting into you, breathing into your neck, kissing your shoulder. The wet slaps of skin against skin, the sighs and the breaths and his raspy voice in your ear when he finally touches your sensitive clit alongside the firm movements of his hips. “Let it out, lieverd, I know,” Joost murmurs into your neck as you sob in pleasure; there isn’t a single second of reprieve he gives you, not even slowing the circles he’s making on your sloppy clit. 

You don't have it in yourself to argue; not against the ego or his wandering hands and his voice you’d deem condescending if you were still arguing on the stoop in front of the bar earlier—Joost is right, it is good, and this angle he has thrusting up into you is mind blowing, even as the rhythm becomes irregular and disjointed as he kisses and bites the side of your neck. 

Your heart beats ever faster, the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens with every languid and messy thrust inside of you. You reach behind yourself to hold onto Joost around his shoulders, gripping his hair as you bring him in for a rough kiss, all teeth and carnality—you were so composed, once upon a time. He’s given you every reason to forget that. 

“Oh, fuck, schatje,” he mumbles into your mouth. You pull back to look at Joost in his glory—he’s even prettier like this, messy and sweaty, patches of pink all along his cheeks and neck, eyes focused and almost stern. “My hand is cramping,” he says, and you laugh when he adds quickly, “And you also feel amazing, but also my hand is cramping.” 

“Keep going, I'm almost there,” you say, and he obeys, still rubbing your clit, your wetness smearing on your pussy and his hand. “Do it for me, Joost, you feel so good,” you breathe, and he nods, kissing you deeply—it hits you before you even register it, takes you off guard when you climax and you have to pull back from him to moan his name, looking him in the eye when you do. 

You’re never this loud—it’s very vulnerable realizing how much he’s coaxed out of you, Joost watching intently, soft smile upon his lips at your clenching pussy around him as the waves of your orgasm come through you, practically leg shaking. 

He kisses you quiet again; kisses you until it’s his turn, thrusting sloppily into you, the overstimulation stinging, but so good still. 

He whimpers your name, and you contemplate asking him to give you another orgasm; he whimpers again into your neck, just a soft vocalization against the still filthy sounds of the final few thrusts he can give you as he cums, the warmth you can feel through the condom flooding your pussy. 

When he stills, Joost places his forehead against yours, and you breathe together in silence—if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two of you have been with each other for years. 

“I’m really surprised I lasted that long, schat,” Joost breathes, and you laugh, watching his face as he grins at you 

“I’m surprised, too,” you tease, giving him one last kiss and untangling yourself from him; he’s still inside you, softening with every passing moment. When he slips out of you, you hiss—it feels empty, how sad. 

“Hey, mean.” You flop down on your bed, completely spent, sweaty, still wet between your legs and watching as he takes off the condom, ties it off, and throws it in your waste bin. “I showed you a good time, didn’t I?” 

“I’m not sure,” you tease when Joost comes back to sit next to you, putting his underwear back on with an annoyed rolling of eyes. “Maybe you’ll have to show me one next time?”

“Next time, huh?” he smiles, slipping his shirt on from the pile on the floor, starting to button it up. “Ehh, I’ll think about it,” he says, and you slap him lightly on the shoulder. 

“You’re a dick, Joost.” Joost cackles as you barrage him with a bunch of weak punches to his shoulder and back, getting your revenge for the dress and your purse, for him being a rapper and a fuckboy and the giver of the best dicking down of your life. You try not to let it kill your vibe—it likely will later, but for now, you can just be silly about it. 

“Where’s your bathroom?” 

“The door next to mine.” 

Closing your eyes, you lie back on your bed, half expecting him to just dip, hoping he’s not that much of a fuckboy. But a few minutes pass, and there’s a soft knock to your door, and Joost steps gently into your room again with a glass of water and a washcloth in his hands. 

“Did you think I would just leave?” Joost asks, coming around to your side of the bed and handing you the glass. “Glassie water!” he says in a singsong voice, and you look at him puzzled as you thank him. “You’ll understand when you listen to my music more.” 

“‘When…’” you laugh as he gives you an offended look and nudges your legs open. The washcloth is cold when he places it on your skin and you wince, shaking off his apologies about the water’s temperature because it’s sweet that he’d even do this in the first place. 

As Joost cleans you up, delicate and gentle as ever, he says softly, “I will send you whatever money it takes to clean your purse, I will give you my number, and I’ll send you my schedule for the next month. Okay?” 

“Schedule? You sure it’s not filled with other strangers from the club?” 

“It’s not, I swear. You’re going to come to one of my festival shows this month, and you're going to like it.” Joost leans in and you expect a kiss for some reason, but he just takes the glass from your hand and drinks from it himself. A free festival pass doesn't sound so bad. “Ruby and Marina are back. I said hi.” 

“Oh god,” you laugh, covering your face. “What’d they say?” 

“They were surprised you took me home, but apparently they won a bet with Tantu, so—we did something good, I think!” 

“You think?” 

“I know!” You laugh at his…everything, really, sinking down in your comfy bed, realizing how heavy your eyelids are, realizing that you still haven't even exchanged numbers or last names. Does it matter this far in? “I think I should get going, schat. The sun is rising.” 

In the middle of his sentence, you practically drift off into slumber, pulling your covers over your bare body. “It’s cold, stay.” You pat at the spot next to you. “But not for too long.” 

thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) askbox hereeee - juno

[abibliophobiaa]

right where you left me;

chapter one: ticket to anywhere

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods. inspired by this edit from @somnambulic-thing.

masterlist | next chapter

——

October, 1990…

——

Everything is wrong.

It hits you, sitting there in front of the vanity mirror, voices swirling about the room full of your girl friends. Your gown, the colors of the bridesmaids dresses, the venue. It’s too lavish, too over the top. Not the small, intimate feel you imagined ever since you were a little girl, friends surrounding you, watching as you married the man of your dreams.

But then again, the groom isn’t who you imagined either. That’s the first of the many issues with this day that jump to your attention.

Clark is fair haired and light eyed. Handsome, in the way that you can tell he spends thousands of dollars on clothing to do so. More acquaintance than the man you always envisioned standing beside you on this day.

This same man, who you found only moments ago seemingly in a passionate argument with one of your bridesmaids. Both of them touching one another in a way that seemed too familiar, like they’d done this dance, had this same conversation at least once before. She begged for him to leave, to get away now, to back out of the marriage. Pleaded with him to consider love, instead of some business endeavor.

Had reached up and kissed him bruisingly, his hands fisted in her gown. The same wrinkled one that stares at you now as your fingers toy with your bouquet, her sad eyes plastered on your face.

You know you should feel something. Anger, betrayal, hurt, resentment — but instead you feel nothing at all. You’re not in love. Haven’t been. Now your mind only buzzes, someone calling your name bringing you to attention, head lifting slightly.

“Are you okay?” they ask, “can I get you anything?”

And it’s two words.

A name, really, that pops into your mind.

“Can you see if Steve Harrington is here yet?”

——

Steve’s not sure what to think when a bridesmaid he barely recognizes — likely because he’s only met them once or twice before — barrels toward him, an intensity in her eyes that has him worrying something has gone wrong.

Everything is wrong, though. Because he’s here, in this ridiculously huge wedding venue, standing in for those in Hawkins who couldn’t make the trip, about to watch as his best friend marries a man who isn’t Steve Harrington.

And as much as it pains him, loving you means doing anything to see you happy — even if it kills him in the end. It’s all he knows, all he has done for as long as you’ve been a friend to him, two wide-eyed eleven-year-olds sitting in some fancy ballroom as you watched your parents parade themselves around like the elite that they deemed themselves to be.

What he doesn’t expect, however, as he’s practically dragged into a room, is to find you standing there pacing back and forth, beautiful as ever and not at all happy for someone who is about to be married.

“Stacy, a moment?” you ask, lifting your head enough that he can see you fully.

You’re absolutely breathtaking, in a way that’s almost cruel, because after today you’ll officially be a wife. After today, he’ll have to accept that his feelings that are not at all platonic toward his best friend he still harbors all these years later can only ever just be that: feelings.

As the door shuts behind Stacy, you rush forward and slam into his chest, and he’s immediately there to wrap his arms around your waist. You’re a vision in a fluffy tulle skirt, the veil on your head brushing against his chin, and it’s then he feels the frantic flutter of your heart against his sternum. It’s then he can feel your fingers curl around the lapels of his suit — can see the flash of tears swimming in your eyes.

“I need to get out of here,” you whisper hoarsely.

Breathlessly.

“What do y —”

“Please…take me away from here. Anywhere, I don’t care. Please,” you beg, and though he has more questions than answers, he dips his head. Because again, he’ll do anything to make you happy.

Even if that includes helping you run from your own wedding.

With a long exhale, Steve steps back a bit, fingers carding through his hair. He moves to the door, head tossed over his shoulder to glance back your way.

“Give me a second,” he says, slipping from the room into the hallway.

There’s no one in the nearby vicinity, this room far enough away from the rest of the guests that escaping shouldn’t be a problem. His eyes catch on the glowing exit symbol in the distance, and he knows his car is a few blocks away, but it’s better than nothing and will have to do.

When he slips back into the room, you’re wiping your hands along your dress, clasping one around his as he extends a palm your way.

He can’t deny the ache in his chest as you take it, the electric jolt that courses through his body, but now isn’t the time. If you’re going to get out without anyone noticing, you’ll have to do so now — and quickly.

“Come on,” he urges, and you’re both off, rushing down the empty hallway unbeknownst to your waiting guests, the world bursting to life in color as the exit doors swing wide open.

——

“Remind me to never run in heels again,” you gasp out, hand tight in Steve’s as you dart through busy city streets, avoiding bodies along the way.

All around, people honk their cars, citizens whistle and congratulate you as you run on by. And you know it’s because you and Steve, for all intents and purposes, look as though you’ve just married. Him in his suit, and you in your poofy wedding gown, the edges now stained a murky soot color.

“And I want this stupid thing off my head right now.”

Steve pauses on the side street as you come to a halt, his chest bumping yours at the abruptness as your fingers reach up to unclasp your veil from your head. Balling it up in your hands, you toss it into the nearby garbage can. Pigeons scurry away in haste, a squirrel skittering away from its hard earned meal.

“How do I look?” you ask, hiking up the edges of your gown as someone nearly trips on it, making their way towards the crosswalk.

“Like a runaway bride.” He laughs, shaking his head. “My car is another block that way. Let’s go.”

He grips your hand again, and you know you really don’t have to hold it, but it brings you comfort all the same. The further you run away from the wedding venue, the more you realize what exactly you’ve done. You’ve run out on your intended husband, on friends, on your family who has spent the money to make it all happen — and everyone will have something to say about it. Word gets around quickly in your social circle.

But it’s a decision for yourself. The first in a long long time.

There’s something so liberating about it — about rushing after Steve as he loops you around other bodies, as he opens the passenger side door for you and helps push your frilly skirts inside, before dropping down into the driver’s seat and shoving his key in the ignition.

And as he turns the key, peeling away from the busy side street, and heads toward the nearest highway, you know it’s the right decision.

——

Neither of you speak for the first half hour driving. The roads are busy, traffic bumper-to-bumper in the city, Steve’s grip a white knuckled one around the steering wheel. There’s also the suddenness in which your reality comes crashing, dress still on your form, the edges sodden around your ankles, the ring on your finger glinting in the slowly setting sun. Every part of this day has done a complete one eighty.

“We’ll probably have to stop in a few hours,” Steve says, a little more to himself, the hum of the radio spilling into the quiet car, “where do we want to go anyway?”

“I still can’t believe you drove all the way here,” you tell him softly, head turning a bit to take him in.

He’s loosened the tie around his neck, his hair is a little unkempt now, the suit jacket long tossed into the backseat. Those bare forearms of his ripple with each turn of the wheel, your eyes dragging along hair-dusted skin. You’ve missed him; more than you ever could realize, his presence a comfort after being surrounded by people who don’t understand you — not really, at least — for so long.

“I wanted to be here,” he says, “I don’t mind driving, you know that.”

You did. You’d spent many nights circling the familiar streets of Hawkins over the span of a few years once you’d both been able to drive. Those same streets that are unfamiliar now, mere memories in your mind. It had been a few years since everything that happened with Vecna, and a few years since you watched your childhood home grow smaller and smaller in your parent’s rear view mirror, Steve along with it, waving from his parent’s driveway.

“And I wanted to see you,” he adds, glancing your way, those hazel eyes bright in the setting sun.

The idea dawns suddenly, lips moving to form the words before you can think otherwise, “Hawkins. Take me to Hawkins with you.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, a little hesitantly, weariness seeping into his tone. “It's about…a twelve hour drive. I think we can make it to Ohio before getting some sleep for the night. You’ll just need to direct me with the map.”

You answer with a smile, reaching into his glove compartment and pulling out the map, the weathered corners bent like they’d been the last time you’d gone on a road trip with him. After everything had gone to hell at Starcourt, you needed to get away, the two of you taking to the road, a finger swirling around until it landed upon a random state.

It feels like old times, sitting here in the car with him, the windows down, his hair blowing in the wind, and the crisp smell of fall air to greet you.

The drive is quiet for the most part, other than the small exchanges here and there of roads to take, giving him enough time to make sure he’s in the correct lanes and the like.

It dawns on you then how long it’s been since the two of you really talked. Your exchanges throughout the years have been sparse, at best. Always meaningful, but moving twelve hours away has put a strain on your relationship from the get go. Initially you’d aimed for one phone call a week, which had soon turned into once every two weeks, and then down to once a month.

And once Clark had stepped in six months ago, your conversations were even less frequent, and always cut short — Clark never having understood why the two of you were so close.

So you suppose you shouldn’t be too surprised when Steve suddenly asks, “What happened back there?”

“I didn’t want to marry him,” you admit in a whisper, training your gaze ahead at the streets, leaves golden and amber flashing by the passenger side window. “I couldn’t marry him. I didn’t love him — I never loved him.”

It had been an added blessing that it seemed Clark felt the same, his mouth preoccupied with your friend’s minutes before you made your escape out the back door.

“Then why agree to marry the guy?”

It’s an innocent question, but it has your stomach lurching all the same, your lips parting slightly, heart pounding in your throat. “Steve…your parents are like mine. You know why.”

Because it had been arranged that way, Clark’s path pushed in front of yours, the pressures of your parents and their business ventures breathing down your neck. That and Clark had his own goals, as did you, and marrying would help you achieve them.

It wasn’t like you’d ever love him, either.

Love had only been reserved for one man in your life, and he’d never loved you back.

“So you marry some uptight rich guy to make your parents happy? What about how you feel?” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel, voice rising in volume. “And you were going to just go along with it?”

“Stop judging me! It’s not that simple.” His eyes dart to yours, unused to you ever raising your voice at him. “You don’t get it. You gave up that life. I had no choice but to go with them when everything happened the way it did in Hawkins.”

“Yes, because I was tired of feeling like a failure of a son,” he grumbles, carding his fingers through his hair, “tired of being looked at like I was Jonah Harrington’s biggest mistake.”

“You’re not a mistake.” Your fingers reach over the center console, briefly hovering above his bicep before resting there gently, feeling the tension in his form dissolve. “I thought I was doing the right thing for my family. I was trying to buy time and get my inheritance so I could be done with it all eventually. It was stupid, I know. But I’m making this decision right now, running away with you, for myself.”

His hand slides down to grasp yours, bringing the back of your knuckles to his lips to press a kiss there. He’s done it thousands of times over the years, but it has your heart skipping like it does every time, chills dancing along your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, dropping another gentle kiss to your knuckles, “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Me too, Steve.”

——

The moon comes out to play, and the two of you stop at a gas station just as Steve’s watch reads eight at night. The place is dilapidated at best. Neon glowing lights flickering along the top of the pump, the numbers worn away by weather, the inside of the building covered in inches of grime.

You’d intended to grab some snacks and water bottles, but the lack of sanitation efforts has you wanting to wait for the next convenience store instead. So as Steve pumps the gas, you lean onto the hood of the car, skirts spanning around your thighs, thanking someone as they pass and comment on how beautiful you look.

“You do look beautiful, you know?” Steve lifts his head, those corded muscles on his forearm drawing your attention once more. Head shaking, you tip your head up, eyes narrowing on his face curiously. “A shame you got all dressed up for that guy though.”

“Shut up,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him, propping your map up on your thighs. “So if my guesses are right, we’ll be getting to Ohio in a little less than three hours. Hopefully the hotels in Powell aren’t full. I’m already pretty tired.”

“If worse comes to worse, we could always sleep in the car —”

“Steve.”

“What?” He raises a hand in surrender, smiling at the angry furrow of your brows. “Wouldn’t be the first time we camped out in the back seat of it.”

“I’d prefer a mattress after the day we both had,” you tell him, folding the map and tucking it beneath your thigh. “We also need to keep an eye out for a store. Pretty sure I saw a cockroach in the gas station, so I’m not trusting anything in there. Plus pork rinds and jerky didn’t exactly sound appealing to me.”

Steve grimaces in agreement, the gas pump clicking, signaling his full tank. He replaces the nozzle on the holder and pushes the flap back into place, snatching the map from your hand as he passes around the front of the vehicle to slide back into the front seat.

You follow suit, shoving your skirts about your thighs, finger toying at a hole in the hem that you must have made while running through the city streets. The realization of thousands of dollars, all for naught, with the lingering fear of your parent’s disappointment swirling in your gut has your stomach churning uncomfortably. But there’s little time to linger on those worries, as Steve slides a finger along your forearm to draw you back to reality, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Look at me,” he demands softly, hazel eyes glowing in the seedy gas station light that flickers above. Lips twitching, you meet his stare, chest warming under the burn of his affection, “there’s that smile I love. Everything is fine.”

There ends up being a small grocery store at the next exit, a little family owned thing, with very few shoppers lingering inside. You offer to go in alone, but Steve insists you’re in another state and he’s not about to leave you by your lonesome. So you end up standing beside him, him all tousled in his dark pants and wrinkled dress shirt, and you in your dress, drawing the attention of curious customers.

“We got lost on our way to the airport for our honeymoon,” Steve tells one person who wanders a little too close for his liking as you grab bags of chips off of a rack, tossing in a jar of salsa for good measure. “Going to stop at that hotel down on Verdant instead. Really want to go above and beyond and treat my wife, you know?”

The one that looked all seedy, like it was practically falling apart, windows broken and covered with wooden slats. The customer eyes the two of you wearily, offering well wishes, sounding a little uncertain as they slowly but surely back away, not wanting to talk any further.

Nothing quells your giggles at that, head pressing into the bag of marshmallows you found, eyes pinched shut to keep your tears at bay. “Steve, they probably think we’re crazy.”

“Speak for yourself, honey,” he chuckles, reaching over to snatch the bag from you, “why do we need these?”

You pluck it back, pouting. “If you must know, they’re for me. I don’t share with guys named Steve who have too many opinions.”

“If we’re getting marshmallows, we need graham crackers and chocolate too,” he points out, reaching over to grab the other two s’mores ingredients from the end cap you’re standing in front of, tossing them into your shopping cart. “For two adults, it looks like we’re buying for a bunch of kids about to enter into a sugar coma.”

“Look — we’ve had a stressful day,” you huff out, pushing the cart further down the aisle, “we’ve earned s’mores and snacks. Plus we need it for the rest of our trip. I saw a coffee shop next door too. I’ll buy it. I feel bad you drove all the way to the city, only to leave again.”

“If I have coffee now, I’ll never fall asleep,” he exhales, shoulder brushing yours as you meander through the aisle, snatching a package of water bottles for the car off a pallet. “I do think we should grab breakfast tomorrow morning. Maybe do a little touristy stop before heading back to Hawkins. What do you think?”

Time alone with Steve? Time you haven’t had in way too long, if you’re being honest with yourself. Even now, standing in the store with him, getting gas with him before that, you realize just how much you’ve missed your best friend. Things like this, so banal and generally uninteresting, have you smiling until your cheeks hurt, brimming to overflow with excitement.

It’s an easy choice, really. “Sounds perfect.”

——

One room. There’s only one room with a single bed left in the whole damn hotel. You suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise, because nothing has really turned out how you anticipated today.

Still, you ask the woman at the front desk again, and she arches a brow in confusion — likely assuming you and Steve are already having marital issues merely hours after you tied the knot. There’s no use explaining it to any more people tonight. For now, you’re a newlywed, and Steve is your doting groom.

“Not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

Steve’s voice is a low rumble near your ear as you stare at your distorted reflection in the silver wall of the elevator across from you. The thing is you have shared a bed with Steve numerous times over the years. As teenagers, when you often snuck over to Steve’s, after your parents left for business trip after business trip. He’d leave the window unlatched, a hand there to grab you as you scaled his trellis, blankets already pulled back on your side of the bed.

But for some reason this feels different. Hours ago you’d been engaged to another man — hours ago, after you’d caught said man in an affair, you’d only had one thought. And it had been this man standing before you; though then again, it had always been that way.

Steve Harrington, your beautiful best friend with a big personality and even bigger heart. Steve Harrington, the one that you always wanted, but also the one that never was.

With a steely sigh of resignation, you watch as Steve swipes the key card, flicking the light on in the doorway. It’s a simple room, not the upscale hotels you’re accustomed to. There are no lavish furnishings, no glittering chandeliers. Instead you’re met with a dresser and a dilapidated television. Against the back wall is a bed, the linens starchy beneath your fingertips, though you suppose they’ll have to do.

Steve whistles, glancing up at the popcorn ceilings. “Could be worse, right?” It’s an awkward chuckle, his hands reaching down to undo the buttons around his arms, hair on his chest visible a moment later as he unbuttons the top of his dress shirt. “Shit — just realized we don’t have any clothes. Should have stopped somewhere.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, because he’s seen you in nearly every state of undress at this point.

In bathing suits over the summer, sitting atop his bathroom sink in your bra after Billy Hargrove had shoved you particularly hard at the Starcourt mall while under possession, your ribs scraped against the hard ground. And you’d seen him the same, beaten and bloodied after his altercation with Jonathan, after the Russians had taken him for questioning and beaten him to a bloody pulp, after the events with Vecna that had left his skin raw and battered.

Though you suppose this is a little different, as it’s the first time he’s going to be undressing you, despite being under different circumstances than those you dreamed of throughout the years. Fantasies you’ve long pushed aside in the catacombs of your mind, to be filed away as ‘things that’ll never happen since he’s your childhood best friend.’

Your fingers tremble as you turn in front of him, exhaling deeply as you mutter out, “I can’t reach the buttons. Could you…please?”

There’s a sense of awareness that settles over you as he approaches from behind. Broad, battle-calloused hands rest at the nape of your neck, drifting lower where they settle on the endless row of buttons there. His breath prickles along your skin, those nimble fingers of his toying with that first button, his inhale shaky as he undoes another, and then another, and another. With each button, more flesh is revealed, the ghost of his touching a phantom along your spine, the dress starting to sag around your breasts, your hands coming up to cup the gown close to your chest.

Steve’s eyes meet yours in the mirror affixed to the wall in front of you — hazel, and sparkling in the ethereal moonlight that pours through the softly parted curtains, tinged with an emotion you can’t quite put a name to. A deep exhale falls from gently parted lips as his knuckles drag along your spine, a delicate line that stops once he reaches the base, freeing you from the last of the buttons. White tulle drops to the ground beneath you, toes kicking it out of the way, leaving you standing there in a cream nightgown, lace detailing around the edges hugging the sumptuous curves of your breasts.

Steve’s throat bobs, clearly not wholly unaffected by all of this, as he peers at you. Your feet carry you backward toward the bed, legs curling beneath your form as Steve moves to unbutton his own shirt, tossing it haphazardly into the corner once it’s free from his torso. He’s the same and different than you remember. All broad chested, a dusting of hair along his upper body, a line from his naval down beneath the dark pants hugging a pair of toned thighs. Scars line his sides where the demobats had bitten into his flesh, his shredded back a tapestry of markings that catch your eye as he walks around the opposite side of the bed and slips in beside you. You avert your eyes, trying to not draw attention to the fact you’ve been ogling, ignoring that simmering ache low in your belly that forms.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing, only settling down on the mattress and shifting so his thighs brush your hips, his head resting on a pillow as he gazes at your profile.

Rolling onto your side, you reach over and trail your fingers along the forearm he tucks under his head, thumb running gentle stripes along the width of it. “Thanks for saving me today.”

“You know I’ll always be there for you,” he whispers back, reaching over your form to turn off the bedside lamp. “Always.”

——

Stones knock against the bedroom window. Rouse you from bed. Head poking up from your pillow, you wander over to the windowsill, hand covering your heart as Steve’s head appears in the opening, body practically thumping against the floor in his hastiness.

Broad palms settle on your biceps, the backs of your thighs pressing into your mattress as he leads you to sit down, hazel eyes meeting yours. Your fingers reach up to glide over his chest — to feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest.

He’s real.

He’s here.

After worrying for days that something has gotten him too, he’s right here in the flesh.

Alive.

“I saw the news,” you gasp out, swallowing the harsh knot growing in the back of your throat, “Do they really think Eddie Munson did it? Do they really think he killed Chrissy? Fred? Steve, what’s going on? Is it the Upside Down? Let me help you.”

“It’s bad this time. Like — like really bad.” His fingers touch along your temples, poking and prodding, gauging your reaction. Your only reaction, however, is to grip at his wrists, fingers bracelets around his pulse points, head tilting to the side. “Are you in pain anywhere?”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you reassure him, pushing forward to loop your arms around his waist. To push him back against the bed so he can settle down a bit, his thighs against yours. “Your heart is racing. What’s wrong? I’m coming to help next time —”

“You’re not helping this time. Last time was a mistake.”

You’d been driving in the rain one evening back in July and saw Max and El walking on the streets, looking a little dejected, and ended up peering in the window at the Holloway’s when something had gone wrong and demanded the girls tell you what was going on — especially when you were El’s tutor and she usually told you everything. Once you’d found out Steve was missing too, all bets had been off the table for staying out of whatever was bump in the night.

He rolls over onto his side, hand coming up to cup your cheek, smothering your grimace under the softness of his touch. “I can’t…I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”

“Steve.”

Your hand rests over his, eyes boring into his, noting the flush on his cheeks, the glittering lower line of his lashes. Whatever this is, whatever he’s dealing with…the weight is crushing him, and your heart breaks with the immensity it.

His fingers reach over to grasp at your Walkman laying on the bedside table beside your bed. He drops it down onto the mattress between the two of you, a pleading look in those hazel depths.

“Put your favorite song on loop. Keep batteries on you at all times, and keep the headphones nearby until I tell you it’s safe.” Your mouth opens to speak, but he continues, “Please, just trust me. It’s safer for you this way. People are dying.”

“Let me help, Ste —”

“Please,” he begs, dropping his forehead against yours, “just trust me, okay?”

You nod, and in the morning, as you start to feel your body coming to wake, his fingers trace your temple. Like he’s trying to memorize every detail, the calluses on his fingers from years of baseball soothing your soul.

“I love you,” he whispers, like he always does.

I love you, in the way he loves Dustin and Robin or any of the other kids.

I love you, in the way he’s loved you since you were eleven.

I love you, in the way you always tell one another you do.

I love you, in the way he always has, but not in the way you always wished he would.

“I love you,” he says once more, and you slip back into sleep.

——

Went to try and find us some clothes. You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. Be back soon. - Love, Steve.

With a yawn, you roll over in bed, clutching the note to your chest. It smells like your best friend — that warm vanilla scent with something minty beneath. Comforting and completely him. The space beside you is still warm, the imprint of his body a reminder that he’d even been there at all. Popcorn ceilings meet your field of vision as you flip onto your back, holding aloft your left hand, light coming through the window catching on the glittering diamond there.

“Never thought you were one for a rock that needs an insurance policy,” Steve teases, appearing in the doorway with bags of clothes and other products in hand. “Then again, never thought you’d marry a guy named Clark. What is he, Spider-Man?”

“You mean Superman?”

He shoots a mocking glare your way and settles down beside you on the bed, pulling out various articles of clothing.

“It’s not designer, I hope that’s fine.” You shove at him lightly. He’s gone with a pair of black leggings and a chestnut colored sweater for you, along with a pair of boots that’ll be nice for the fall weather outside. “I eyed the shoe size. Hope they fit.” The shoes are a size too big, but they’ll work, and you laugh as he pulls out a bra and a pair of underwear. His eyes narrow a bit your way, “Just wanted to make sure I covered all the bases. I already got judged enough at the store by the cashier, so do not even go there right now.”

You snicker, tucking the clothes against your chest gratefully. Honestly, nothing sounds better than a new pair of comfortable clothes, ready to be rid of the flimsy dress dancing along your thighs.

“This is perfect,” you tell him honestly. Steve himself went for something similar — a pair of dark blue jeans, a black sweater, and a pair of simple shoes. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” he says, stopping you from reaching for your wallet. “You couldn’t exactly walk around in your dirty wedding dress for another day.”

“Yeah, but you’ve already done too much for me —”

“You’re my best friend. Stop acting like you’re inconveniencing me. I asked for this. Plus we haven’t hung out much in…oh, I don’t know, two or three years? That’s a lot of lost time to make up for.” As your features soften at his words, he adds, “Now hurry up and get dressed. There’s a diner around the block that looks nice enough and I’m starving.”

——

Fifteen.

You’re fifteen and it’s a dare.

Tommy and Carol think it’s funny.

Seven minutes in heaven with Steve Harrington.

The room is silent, all eyes on you. And maybe it’s the cheap liquor stolen from Steve’s parent’s expensive cabinet running through your system, but when Carol points at you and laughs that you won’t do it, you grip Steve by the collar of his shirt and stomp off to the nearby coat closet.

Steve’s breathless behind you, body thumping yours as you both stumble inside and the door is shut. Without hesitation, you tug on the rope chain connected to a single lightbulb and squint as your eyes adjust to the orange glow radiating off Steve’s golden skin, flushed by the summer sun.

“Time is ticking and we don’t hear kissing!” Tommy cackles, though it’s muffled through the wooden door separating you from the rest of Steve’s guests.

The rest of the room dissolves into fits of giggles, drowned out by the harsh thump of your heart pounding in your ears. The light flickers up above, and part of you wonders if it’s the only imperfection in the Harrington home. Something so trivial, and yet it distracts you from this nerve wracking moment, in this closet, with this boy.

“I’ve — I never…” you babble, feeling your chest heat, embarrassment choking off the rest of your words. “So, like, if we…do this…I don’t really know what I’m doing. And I think if I’m going to get it out of the way, I’d want it to be with someone I trust, and there’s no one I trust more than you. So, like, why not, right?”

Steve’s grinning. A goofy little thing that grows as he steps a little closer, one of his palms curling around your hips, toying with the belt loop on your jean shorts. “You want me to kiss you, hmm?”

Steve’s different now. He’s grown in the four years you’ve known him. He’s handsome, not that he hasn’t always been. But there’s more of him now. His chest is broader, his hair is longer, he’s popular now. By default, you are too. None of that has ever mattered; as long as you have him, you’re happy. But it’s at fifteen that you really understand the love you feel for him isn’t wholly platonic. In fact, the older you get, the more time you spend with him…it only solidifies in your heart that whatever his soul is made up of sings to your own.

It’s equal parts surreal and terrifying.

“Hey…hey,” Steve whispers, voice a coo that he only reserves for you, “what’s the pout for?”

“You’re teasing me,” you tell him, tipping your head up a bit, the fire in your eyes clashing with the worry in his, “and I already told you I’m nervous. You only have one first kiss and I —”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I'm being an asshole. Let me start over again, yeah?”

You nod, swallowing thickly as he lifts a hand and cups your cheek. The pad of his thumb runs over your bottom lip, parts you for him gently. Shaky breath skitters along your bottom lip, heart thrashing wildly behind your sternum as he takes another step closer and tilts his head down a bit, the warmth of him permeating your thin tank top when his chest brushes yours.

“It’s just me,” he breathes out, noting your trembling, taking another step closer.

His hips bump yours and linger, all the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. A steady beat of ‘kiss me, kiss me, kiss me’ in time with their wings throbs in your blood.

Steve’s thumb strokes back and forth against your lip, drags it down further as your breath mingles in the middle, as you lean up onto your toes and meet him there, humming into his flesh.

The space between you shrinks and he’s there, warm and gentle against your flesh. You barely have time to register the fact he’s kissing you, because a knock sounds from the other side of the door, signaling your time is up. Both of you jolt apart, a little breathless, your hand coming up to rest against your mouth. He swallows thickly and opens the door, the closet awash in bright light, and though he seems mostly unaffected, a solid realization drops into your gut.

You’ve never loved anyone before, and maybe people will say you’re ‘too young’ to know anything about it, but you know with absolute certainty you love Steve Harrington.

——

Steve’s beaming because you’re glowing. Practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wander through the park you’d stumbled upon shortly after breakfast, shoes crinkling against fallen leaves as you kick them into the air, glee personified. He wishes he had a camera, if only to capture the way you look right now. You, with your head tipped up to the sky, arms out at your sides, catching the small droplets of rain that began falling only minutes ago on your upturned palms.

He’s already suggested heading back to the car and getting on the road for the remainder of the trip to Hawkins, but the more it rains the happier you seem. As though you’re shedding your old life, a little lighter than you had been hours ago.

He hates that Clark’s ring is still on your finger, especially when he feels the way he does simply looking at you in this moment, but he can only imagine the enormity of the emotions welling in your system. You walked out on your family and your marriage; he knows your family, and knows what consequences might come from your actions.

Maybe you need a moment before popping the bubble and accepting fate? And who is he to hinder your joy? He’d spend every day trying to get you to smile like you are right now, having done so all the years of your friendship, only now it twists his gut tight. A harsh coil, curling around his esophagus, robbing him of his voice and air.

“I love how free and open everything feels here,” you tell him, practically skipping over to his side, shoulder brushing his. “I’ve been in the city so long I forgot what it’s like.”

He knows exactly what you mean. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. For a moment he can pretend you two are the only people in the world. “And soon you’ll be back in Hawkins,” he says, curling an arm around your shoulders, tucking you in close. “Are you excited?”

“A little nervous to see everyone,” you admit, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s been…”

“Almost three years since you visited.”

He’d come to visit you in the city, on weekends where he could get away and book a plane ticket. But even then, he’d only see you for a weekend at a time. Nothing like before, when you’d spend nearly every day with him, and then once Robin joined the picture, she’d become the third part of your trio.

He can’t wait to have the both of you back together in the same state again.

There is so much he already imagines doing, places he wants to show you, things he wants to share with you.

“Everyone misses you, though,” he reassures you, hating the way your features drop when you whirl around to face him, the amber leaves wrinkling around the edges of your shoes. “They’re going to be so excited. Swear.”

“Pinky promise?” You hold out the sad little pinky, eyes leveling with his.

“We haven’t done one of these since we were seventeen when you asked me to teach you how to parallel park and promised to write my science paper if I helped you pass —”

“Yeah, because I failed the road test and was the only one in our class to not pass on the first try. It was embarrassing.” And you’d been miserable about it. Made it everyone’s problem. He’d thought it cute, the way you’d ripped Tommy H to shreds when he said it was okay you failed because Steve could always chauffeur you around, and you’d flipped the guy off with your favorite finger to throw his way.

Still, he curls his finger around yours and grins, “How do you feel about getting on the road? If we leave now, we should be in Hawkins by dinner time. Maybe we can bother Eddie for a free drink. You know he owns the Hideout now? Expanded it, so it’s a restaurant too now. The owner had passed and trusted Eddie would take care of it. Everyone’s really proud of him.”

You don’t. He’s never told you. It happened the past year, and with Clark entering your life, communication had dwindled a bit. He tried to hide his upset with those first few phone calls. Tried to pretend he never noticed how you’d spoken quicker, as though you were trying to speed up your catch up sessions, as though someone were looking over your shoulder.

It hurt to have the little bits he got to keep of you — the parts he liked to think were for himself — cut even shorter.

Things are different now, he reminds himself. You’re here, with him, heading back to Hawkins.

But for how long…that weary part in the back of his soul whispers. Just as quickly as he has you back, he knows he can lose you now. The thought alone stirs dread within him.

“Do you mind if we stop at a phone booth first? I want to call my family. Make sure they at least know I’m okay.” You’re already gesturing to the booths he can see in the nearby distance, hidden under a halo of golden and flame colored leaves dancing on tree branches.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” He knows them. He knows it’ll be anything but civil conversation.

He watches a grimace flutter across your features. “I think I owe at least that to them.”

——

Calling is a mistake. A huge, unfathomable mistake. The phone booth rests on the outskirts of the park, leaves falling to the ground around you, the fall chill in the air adding to the drop in temperature once you step beneath the awning and dial the number you know by heart.

Steve remains behind you, a comforting hand on your shoulder you accept by lacing your own fingers atop his. There’s a quick greeting, a simple ‘hi’ that spills out from you in a nervous rush, and then the phone blares to life. What feels like dozens of voices burst on the other end. You can hear your father shouting in the distance when your mother says who is calling.

Clark’s voice also appears in the background, and you wonder why he’s with them. It’s not like you ever spent much time with him outside of family obligations.

The relationship had been a ruse, a predisposed desire foisted upon you both by affluent families in want of furthering their ‘prestigious bloodlines,’ a result of societal pressures becoming too much. Many had insisted many married for less, that these arrangements were more common than you were led to believe, that love wasn’t afforded to people ‘like you.’ You hated it — hated all that it stood for.

Your relationship with Clark had never been deeply emotional or physical. A kiss on the brow or a peck on the lips for appearances sake, but you never allowed him near your heart. He was a friend, sure; someone you could talk to, could vent to — but that was all it ever had been.

You were merely upholding the optics your families expected of you both. The plan all along had been to eventually separate after Clark received his promotion within your father’s practice, and you obtained your inheritance before finally deciding what you wanted to do with your own life. Figured it was the least owed after throwing away everything you once knew to play a role you detested as a ‘perfect daughter’ to one of the largest plastic surgeons in the country.

“Where are you?” your father demands, voice a gruff bark, “You must have some grand explanation for walking out and throwing the thousands of dollars I threw into your wedding away.”

“I’m safe,” you tell them, smiling softly to yourself as Steve’s fingers squeeze tight around your shoulder.

“Don’t think we didn’t see you run out with Harrington's son. I had the venue pull the security footage —”

“With Steven?” your mother gasps. “You didn’t tell me that, dear.”

“If this is some affair, you and Clark will deal with it in couple’s counseling. I expect you back here this instant, young lady. I did not raise you the way I did just for you to run back to that hell in a handbasket town —”

“I need time away,” you say, a little bite to your tone you don’t expect, heart hammering away, “I don’t know how long. But I need this, okay?”

“Sweetheart.” Clark’s voice pours through the receiver. It’s fake, you know it’s fake. All appearances because he knows his promotion is in jeopardy. He can’t be sole heir of your father’s practice without the wife needed to secure the deal. “Let’s think rationally here. Come back home, I miss you. Please, my love.”

Steve stiffens behind you, his ear having lowered down to the earpiece. You shake your head and he softens when you tug him nearer by his sweater, relishing in the warmth of his body to block out the cold.

“I only wanted to call to tell you all that I'm okay. And I’m okay. I promise.” Voices start to rise in volume, but the phone slams against the holder and the line grows dead, ready for the next caller. Fingers rise to pinch at the bridge of your nose. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill out. Steve opens his mouth to speak, but you offer a stiff shake of the head, murmuring, “Can we just…go? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, sliding a hand down to take yours in his, pulling you from the phone booth. You follow listlessly behind, free hand toying with the edge of your sweater. For someone who always takes up a room with her personality, you seem so small now. Deflated. He hates it. Hates that they hold this power over you, knowing he escaped the same thing years ago now and never looked back. “I love how they still think I’m some shitstain on my family legacy even after all these years. Kind of funny, right, seeing how those people are so miserable, and yet for the first time in my life I’m actually happy.”

You laugh at the blasé nature of his words. He always knows what to say to make you laugh, always has. “I’m glad one of us is.”

He stops, whirling around to cup both your shoulders. “You’ll figure it out too. This will all blow over. It’ll be okay. Do you want me to take you back home?”

The word sinks deep in the pit of your stomach. Home. Is it home, though?

“No,” you mumble, sounding a little forlorn, “no, I want to stay with you.”

“Okay, well…I have one rule when we get back into the car.” His hair dances along his brow as a stray wind picks up. There’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw, and the urge to run your fingers along that new part of him rises up within you. Head tilting to the side curiously at his words, he continues, “Your life back in the city? Doesn’t exist right now, okay? All of that — leave it right here on this walkway. Think you can do that for me?”

You nod, the city laid there to rest on that sidewalk in the middle of Powell, Ohio.

——

Steve visits the first winter after you leave Hawkins. Feels a little out of place as he appears at your parent’s doorway, holding out a bottle of wine he grabbed from a supermarket, in a suit that he knows is ill fitted on his body because he borrowed it from Eddie Munson. Your home is huge; towering white walls, marble floors, a sprawling staircase. But it’s cold and it’s empty and feels empty, without memories to fill it.

Not like your home back in Hawkins, where he spent his days laying on your bed as you studied, or on the couch watching movies, legs tangled in blankets, chairs set around to make silly forts. He misses baking in the kitchen — or rather you baking, while he prattles on about anything that comes to mind as you tossed ingredients together with love and care.

His heart swells as you rush forward, practically leaping into his arms, perfect as you’ve always been. All beaming smiles, melodious laughter, and that incomparable beauty that radiates from within you.

You feel like home — like his; and yet, you’ve always felt that way.

But you’re here and he’s in Hawkins and you’re miles apart now.

And the way your father pulls him to the side after dinner for a not-so-innocent glass of whiskey outside reminds him exactly of that.

“This childhood crush you have — I always thought the two of you would grow out of it. But it’s clear that is not the case.” It’s a dark sound, a sound that has Steve swallowing thickly, fingers tightening around his glass. “We allowed it for as long as we did because it was good for the two of you. Having friends in that town. These are the people my daughter needs to be around. Her peers, her friends, people that she can grow with.”

Steve swallows again. It’s not unlike the conversations he’s had with his own father before his parents left Hawkins. ‘You’re not good enough for her, you’re not good enough in general, you should have scored that hoop, should have won that baseball game, should have gotten better grades, should have joined the family business.’

Should have, should have, should have.

“I love your daughter, sir.”

He’s always dreamed of telling you first. But the moment was never right, sometimes you’d be dating someone, or he would be. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if your feelings were the same. If he learned anything from the knock on his head thanks to Nancy Wheeler, it was that life only passed you by if you waited.

The older man leans back on his chair and sips his drink, the air bitingly frigid, and yet Steve feels hot beneath his clothing. Can feel every wrinkle of fabric against his slick skin. “You know I can’t allow that.”

“Not to be disrespectful, sir, but she’s her own person —”

“That may be true. She has her free will, and both of us are well aware how stubborn she can be, but sometimes that clouds her judgment —” Steve’s mouth opens, but he’s cut off, “What will you be able to provide her? Where are you working these days? That movie shop?”

“I’m — ah —”

“If you were to marry her, how would you provide for your home? For your children, should you have any?”

Steve flounders on the spot. He has his job, and maybe it doesn’t pay what he would like, but he’s also taken up working side jobs with a local contractor. Has started learning how to build, how to fix, has started remodeling Hopper’s old home that he bought off of him when he married Joyce. It’s a fixer upper, but it’s one of the few things he has that he can fully say are his and his alone.

Maybe he doesn’t have everything now, but in a few years…

“Imagine in a few years. You might make her happy now, but what if she wakes up one day and realizes love isn’t enough? When the bills come in and finances are tight — it creates a strain on a relationship, a stress that I don’t think your childhood whims can even sustain. Not forever, at least. She’s used to this.” He waves his hands to the lavish home you live in. “All she knows is this.”

And he cannot measure up. He can’t provide this. Will never be able to reach this unimaginable wealth. Can’t take you to fancy five-star restaurants, still drives the car he’s had for years now, lives in a home that doesn’t have fully functional windows. A home where when it rains he lays out buckets to catch the water droplets that dribble inside through the roof that still needs a ton of love. He has no pension, no fancy 401k, and the barest of savings to his name.

Not enough, he’s not enough, not good enough.

It’s the words that are unsaid that speak the loudest.

He understands immediately what the older man means.

He’s not enough for you.

He’d never been enough for his own family, so why did he assume this would be any different?

“I know I cannot tell you what to do,” the man across from Steve says, a smug grin across his lips that has his blood running cold, “but I would like to make it very clear you will not have my blessing in the matter. Is that understood?”

Steve says nothing, because the door slides open and you’re there in your sparkly dinner dress that likely costs more than what he makes in a week. The differences in your classes have never been so firmly drawn in the sand. You take his hand and urge him inside, smiling at him like he hung the moon, and your father presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Steve, remember what we talked about, son.”

And he’s gone, but his words remain. Swirling, swirling, swirling around inside Steve’s mind. Like little crystalline shards, little daggers, that sink into his skin and twist. Barbs, tangling within him, leaving him reeling and aching.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, brows furrowing, hands cupping his cheeks. “Hey, are you okay?”

You’re warm, stroking his skin so comfortingly, and he smiles down at you, forces it onto his face for your sake. “I’m okay,” he lies, but though you frown a bit at his reply, you smile weakly when he adds, “Missed you, that’s all.”

“There’s a movie playing tonight that I think you’d like. Come with? For old times sake?” Hopeful. You sound so hopeful.

“Sure,” he says hollowly, the mantra of ‘not good enough’ echoing impossibly loud as you walk him down the hall.

——

The rain falls harder now. Thicker droplets that drop against the windshield, little tracks like tears falling down the glass, pushed away a moment later by wipers.

You tug your thighs up closer to your chest, head nodding along to the song playing on the radio. Steve seems far away — lost in thoughts that form a haze over his eyes. Moments ago you’d run your fingers over the backs of his knuckles and he’d offered you a smile, but that wouldn’t do.

“This mountain I must climb,” you sing out, filling the car with your off-key notes, “feels like a world upon my shoulders.”

“What are you doing?” Steve chuckles, head turning your way. There’s a nervousness about him that feels unfamiliar. A conscientiousness that’s usually not there when it comes to him.

Trying to break him out of whatever spell he’s in, your hand splays out, clutching at the sleeve of his sweater dramatically, waving his arm in the air.

“Through the clouds I see love shine —” Another grand swirl of your free hand, and a laugh bursts from him. “It keeps me warm as life grows colder. Come on, Steve!”

“In my life, there’s been heartache and pain,” he mumbles beside you, thumb tap-tapping against the steering wheel. From where you’re sitting, you can see the twitch of his lips, the corners climbing upward. “I don't know if I can face it again.”

You both break into a fit of giggles as the next lines come through the speakers. And then, with your hand against your heart and his waving out in a flourish that teasingly thumps your chest you both cry out in equally as horrendous voices, “I wanna know what love iiiiis. I want you to show meee.”

You turn to face him, staring intently in his eyes, both of you wailing from deep within your bellies, “I wanna feel what love is. I know you can show meee.”

Your head falls against his shoulder, both your shoulders shaking as the song continues around you, eyes following the tracks of the raindrops spilling onto the glass. Comforting, it’s comforting and feels like home.

The chorus blares again and you catch Steve mouthing the words to the song, his eyes a little misty, your heart splintering down the middle.

Trying to break the quiet tension in the car, you tease, “Is that a tear in your eye I see, Steve Harrington?”

He shoves you lightly, though he makes no effort to move you from his shoulder, sniffling noisily. “Shut up.”

“It’s an emotional song. I don’t blame you,” you giggle airily, looping an arm around his waist, the gearshift digging into your middle. You’re about to ask him what has him in his thoughts just as a rectangular object flashes by your side of the car. “Oh! Was that the —”

“Welcome to Hawkins,” he says softly, your head whipping behind you to catch the back of the sign declaring your entrance to your childhood town.

“I’m back?” You breathe out, nose nearly pressing up against the windshield, despite Steve trying to pull you into your seat by the back of your sweater. “Steve?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles breathily, “you’re home.”

“Home.” Endless rows of lush trees fly by, the rumble of distant thunder drowning out the Foreigner song blaring through Steve’s stereo system. “It’s been so long. Still kinda smells.”

“Definitely still smells over here,” he admits, finally managing to get you to rest back against your seat. “Calm down, you dork.”

Wrinkling your nose at him, you suddenly jump, clapping his forearm rapidly with your excited palm. “Oh my gosh — I get to finally see your place!”

“You get to stay at my place too,” he muses, smirking in a way that has your toes curling a bit in your shoes.

You watch as familiar buildings come into view. Different than they were before the town had been devastated by Vecna, but they're all the same. He winds down roads with names you can still remember, weaving along streets until making his way down the path toward where you knew Hopper’s old cabin to be. Only as you pull up, glancing out the window up at the beautiful trees above, it’s much different than you remember. Gorgeous, nestled away as it is in the middle of one of the most peaceful places in all of Hawkins. Larger and triangular on top, with wide windows and a wrap around deck. Beneath a wooden awning are two wooden chairs, facing your direction. A porch light glows with a yellow light, illuminating the deck and the car just feet away from where Steve parked.

“Were you expecting company?” You push the clasp of your seatbelt free, grabbing your things and pushing the passenger side door open. Leaves crinkle and crunch beneath your feet as you step out, rain droplets falling onto your head.

“Looks like Eddie is still here. That’s his fiancée’s car.”

“Eddie’s here.” He nods at your query, stepping in closer, arm there to loop around your shoulders. “Your home…it’s so much different than it was. It’s — it’s amazing, Steve.”

“Figured it needed some remodeling, seeing as monsters had ripped through it.” He grins to himself at your compliment, though, pride radiating off of his form. “It does look pretty great, doesn’t it? I’m proud of it. Mr. Lafferty gets all the credit. He taught me everything I know.”

“Mr. Lafferty…” The name sounds familiar. He’d been one of the few carpenters in town.

“He passed away a few months ago.” Steve grimaces. “But he helped a ton. We expanded the place, added some rooms, and updated it. It’s…well, it’s home.”

“Show me?”

He nods, pulling you along the makeshift walkway beside him. Rocks shift and move as you follow him, shoes tapping against the wooden steps leading to the front door. Steve pushes it open and you’re greeted with high ceilings, wooden beams along the walls, a fireplace set in the far right corner, two gray couches nearby with a wooden table in the middle of the space. There’s a television in the corner, and set back against the far wall is the open kitchen area.

“You are…not at a wedding,” Eddie murmurs, appearing from within the refrigerator, open beer can in hand. “Thought you were getting hitched.”

“Decided marriage wasn’t for me,” you laugh, rushing forward to slam into the man, sighing happily into his chest as arms loop low around your waist. “But Steve tells me you’re getting married.”

“Yeah, somehow tricked a girl into saying yes,” he chuckles, taking a step back to look at you. “You look great.”

“You do too!” His scars look faded by time now, his hair longer than you remember, earring twinkling behind those dark curls of his. “And who is this?”

There, on a little mat in the corner of the kitchen, is a little orange kitten. It peers up at you with honey colored eyes, a little nervous as it pads closer to Eddie. The metalhead scoops the kitten in hand, little kitten limbs spilling over his forearm.

“This is my nephew, Garfield,” Eddie says, rubbing at a tiny furry ear. “Steve found him behind the Hideout. I managed to convince him to keep it. Poor guy is out here living all on his own, it was only a matter of time before he started talking to the trees. As his best friend, I needed to look out for him, you know? So I figured talking to a cat would be more acceptable.”

“Very funny, asshole.” Steve plucks the kitten from his friend, holding it between the two of you. Your eager fingers reach out to pet it, the little head tilting upward to maximize chin scratches, a rumbly purr vibrating against your fingertips. “You fed him?”

“Fed him, cleaned up after him. By the time you have human babies, I’ll be a pro.” Eddie clapped his best friend on the back, giving you another hug. “I should get back. Promised Abi I would grab pizza on the way home. I’ll see you both around. Enjoy your night, kids.”

His ringed fingers waggle and your cheeks burn. “Oh, it’s not like —”

He offers a parting bow and slips out the door, his boots thundering on the front steps, leaving you alone in Steve’s home. Alone again, you take another glance about the space, noting the staircase against the opposite wall.

Raising a finger in the air, you ask, “Your cabin has a second floor?”

“Yeah.” He nods, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. “Come on.”

Following him, you walk the few stairs leading to his bedroom, taking in the large king bed set against more windows that bleed moonlight into the otherwise dark space, the tan and cream pillows piled high against a dark comforter, his closet in the corner. There’s a woven basket in one corner, various plaid and knitted blankets poking out. To your left is what he tells you is the bathroom, door closed for now.

Even without the fire presently burning in the fireplace, the home feels warm. Like something Steve has put his heart and soul into to make it exactly what he envisioned. Proud doesn’t even start to touch the emotions welling up within you for the man.

All of this. He’s done all of this in the years since you’ve been gone.

“So, uh, you can use the bed? I have a ton of blankets, so I can always sleep on the couch. For however long you want to stay.”

“Steve, no.” He arches a brow. “This is your home. You didn’t plan on hosting. You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Or…” Steve places Garfield down on the edge of the bed, the kitten curling up into a content ball, paws kneading into the comforter below. “we just…share? Again, nothing we’ve never done before. Just like the thousands of other times we’ve done it.”

“I mean. Hell, we did that last night too.” You shrug, because he’s not wrong to suggest simply sharing again.

“Exactly.” Steve watches as you walk around his bedroom, taking in the sights. “I got you pajamas. They’re in the car, so I’ll just have to run out and grab them quickly. We can go shopping for more stuff in the morning. If you’re…planning on staying for a bit.”

“Yeah…I mean, I haven’t thought about for how long, and I don’t want to put you out for longer than I —”

“You can stay however long you need to. Or want to. Not a problem.” Steve clears his throat, hand coming up to run along the back of his neck.

“Okay.” You nod.

“Okay,” he echoes.

That’s that.

And later, as you both curl up beneath the blankets, Garfield lying comfortably near Steve’s feet, you whisper into the darkness.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

You can feel him in the bed behind you. There’s enough distance between you that it feels like a chasm, though.

“I’m cold.”

He exhales a yawn. “Do you want me to throw more logs on the fire?”

“No…” You shift backward a little, your frigid feet touching his warmer ones. “Can you, uh…get closer? Like when we were younger.”

Bandaged knees. Summer slick skin. The smell of sunblock in the air. Bodies huddled together, legs tangled and arms wound right. Nights where you fell asleep against him on the couch during winter, his heartbeat a lullaby. Laying under the stars at Lover’s Lake, losing track of time, and having to rush back home as the sun set to get ready for school, his hair a wreck. Images flicker in your mind, memories of times long ago.

It feels different now. Changed, as his body sidles in closer, a muscular arm coming to curl low around your waist. A hum pours from you as he tugs you against his chest, the feeling of his breath at the back of your neck a comfort that has your head nuzzling further into a fluffy pillow.

“Is this good?” he asks, resting his forehead against the back of your head, the rumble of his chest vibrating along your spine.

“Perfect.”

And as his breathing slows and he starts to drift off to sleep, you can’t help but to think about how warm he feels. About how easy it would be to lose yourself in this fantasy — of staying here, in this home, with the person you love.

Therein lies your problem.

——

please please interact if you like. it means the world to content creators. and as always, i am so happy to share a new story with you all. 🩷

[webslingingslasher]

banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?” 

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.” 

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?” 

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?” 

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.” 

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid. 

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.” 

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.” 

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes. 

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?” 

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?” 

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.” 

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello. 

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard. 

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year. 

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own. 

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside. 

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’ 

‘Give me five minutes.’ 

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs. 

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting. 

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed. 

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it. 

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively.  “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.” 

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?” 

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.” 

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?” 

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.” 

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries. 

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.” 

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.” 

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.” 

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.” 

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.” 

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.” 

“So this was all for nothing?” 

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.” 

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.” 

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs. 

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture. 

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie. 

“Then introduce yourself.” 

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent. 

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out. 

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this. 

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.” 

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out. 

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears. 

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text. 

‘friend?’ 

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions. 

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash. 

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time. 

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left. 

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders. 

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?” 

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ. 

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing. 

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-” 

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.” 

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?” 

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.” 

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.” 

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring. 

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend. 

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious. 

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy. 

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.” 

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?” 

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.” 

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?” 

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.” 

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.” 

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.” 

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.” 

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed. 

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.” 

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours. 

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too. 

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?” 

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.” 

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged. 

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.” 

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.” 

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition. 

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny. 

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch. 

“She’s difficult and entitled.” 

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul. 

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained. 

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?” 

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back. 

“It’s so soft.” 

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?” 

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious. 

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting. 

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight. 

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion. 

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him. 

“Peter, hi!” 

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.” 

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?” 

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.” 

“I know how to hug.” 

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.” 

“No.” 

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too. 

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.” 

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear. 

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.” 

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin. 

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.” 

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink. 

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.” 

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second. 

“Which album?” 

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?” 

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.  

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?” 

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.” 

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked. 

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back. 

“Who’s that?” 

You point at yourself, “me.” 

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch. 

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.” 

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown. 

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.” 

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone. 

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.” 

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away. 

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time. 

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?” 

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand. 

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.” 

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other. 

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for. 

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.” 

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.” 

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.” 

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up. 

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body. 

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.” 

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning. 

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.” 

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs. 

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section. 

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care. 

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.” 

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach. 

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his. 

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though. 

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?” 

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.” 

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself. 

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!” 

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit. 

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move. 

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.” 

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?” 

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!” 

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.” 

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.” 

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.” 

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.” 

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second. 

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.” 

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.” 

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.” 

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter. 

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.” 

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch. 

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity. 

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work. 

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.” 

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger. 

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.” 

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now. 

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.” 

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.” 

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.” 

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?” 

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more. 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them. 

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?” 

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy. 

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.” 

“You act like one.” 

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’  You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug. 

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.” 

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him. 

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to. 

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell. 

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish. 

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more. 

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later. 

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky. 

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?” 

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter. 

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in. 

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket. 

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!” 

The good one? 

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute. 

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.” 

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort. 

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.” 

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad. 

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky. 

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored. 

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.” 

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.” 

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall. 

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him. 

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?” 

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do. 

CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

 Prince next, “Sam Mason.”  

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?” 

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.” 

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck. 

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you. 

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it. 

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color. 

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space. 

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it. 

“Right,” one step closer. 

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you. 

“And then?” 

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation. 

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself. 

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.” 

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening. 

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-” 

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip. 

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time. 

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him. 

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that? 

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading. 

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same? 

“Parker, you out here?” 

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker. 

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you. 

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.” 

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing? 

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.” 

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened. 

Just so you could keep it to yourself. 

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream. 

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball. 

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up. 

“Cheers, Parker.” 

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling. 

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor. 

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges. 

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest. 

“I bid Isaac Barns.” 

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality. 

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again. 

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first. 

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking. 

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you. 

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now. 

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch. 

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you. 

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research. 

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter. 

‘big brother season.’ 

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless. 

[velvrei]

RUIN ME

summary: robby is cobra kai’s top male fighter. the reader is cobra kai’s top female fighter. thr two are rivals, but a snake sleepover at kyler’s and robby’s forgetful mindset seems to change that matter.

pairings: robby keene x female!reader (horribly written enemies to lovers)

warnings: smut, porn with a plot, enemies to lovers, mirror sex, unprotected sex (use protection my loves) choking, hair pulling, PDA, slapping, dirty talk, angsty smut

word count: 11k+ (non-edited work)

author’s note: this is my first published work on here but i have many others on wattpad and ao3. (users velvrei for both if you’re anxious and would like to check that out.) i hope you enjoy :)

You didn't see yourself as a negative person unless it regarded Robby Keene. You didn't get along very well with him. Something about him just angered you.

First, it started when he joined Cobra Kai. You had always been a Cobra and thought it was unfair for him to just switch sides as he did. Yes, he had a horrible home life, but you were petty and you wanted all your attention back.

Then, it continued as you interacted with him. Everything he did came off as cocky. He acted like a dick toward you. One time, you got chosen to spar with him and he did it, but every chance he could he took you down even if it wasn't a part of the practice. That little shit.

And now, your hatred for Mr. Keene only grows as he continues to run his life at your dojo. Kreese loved you, Terry loved you, hell even Johnny loved you when he was your sensei because of your awesome listening skills but now this new kid came in and stole all your thunder. What a bitch.

The only person who knew about your hatred was your best friend Tory Nichols. Despite the differences in humor she still slithered her way into your mind.

You walked into the dojo with a dramatic sigh.

"Oh my god, what did Robby do this time?" Tory asked, the sarcasm stung you, in a good way. "Absolutely nothing, that's the problem. I don't understand why he gets all this attention over being a Cobra, like who gives a shit!?" You rambled to her as you took a sip from your water.

Once you finished, "Yeah. I guess Sensei just wanted to take him in or something. He is Johnny Lawrence's son, after all, you gotta expect a little reaction from people." Tory explained, which just angered you more. You didn't give a tiny fuck if he's Johnny's son.

"Oh yeah, big whoop." Your eyes rolled, and just as they fell Sensei Terry and Sensei Kreese strutted out from the back room in suits and dress shoes. What the hell?

"Y/N, Robby, get changed and meet us in the car. We have work to do." Silver said, throwing a dress at you and a suit at Robby. "What..." You whispered as you checked out the dress.

Robby had the same reaction, but after he processed he went into the back bathroom. "I call the bathroom first!" You called as soon as he made it to the door.

"Hell no you don't," Robby snarled, opening the bathroom door and letting it shut loudly to purposely make you irritated. After a minute or two, he walked out in his white button-up and tie. He looked really bad. Kind of.

"Go ahead, don't take forever," He said, brushing past you as his shoulder hit against yours. You stood angered, shooting a crude nickname his way before moping off into the changing room. You deviously switched the dresses to the sexy black dress you left in your bag.

When you walked out, Robby, Sensei Kreese, and Sensei Silver were already in the car. You studied Robby's expression as you opened the door and stepped in. He glanced at you, eyes roaming up and down the dress attempting to ignore the fact that it perfectly hugged your figure.

Sensei Kreese started up his car, while Robby tapped his leg onto the soft car floor impatiently. "What are we even doing out of class anyway?"

Silver's answer brought you back to reality. "We are going over to Daniel and Johnny's dojo. I want to formally apologize but in a way that shows I'm better than him." Sensei explained, glancing back at the two of you in the rearview mirror.

"You said Daniel and Johnny's dojo, right?" Robby said, his tone full of worry and anger. Your eyes rolled themself as you looked out the window, trying to drain out the complaining.

Of course, Robby had to ruin it only a couple of minutes later. "Y/N." You gave him a disgustful stare, his eyes meeting yours in intimidating eye contact. "We're here. Now get the fuck out before Kreese yells at us."

You had absolutely no idea why Terry needed to brag to Daniel about how awesome his dojo and students were, but who knows what could've happened if you cared enough to ask.

You went to open your door when Kreese opened it for you. He came over, "I don't know why he wants to 'apologize' so bad, but let's just get this over with or when we go back the dojo will be in flames." Kreese shared with a laugh.

You gave him a small chuckle then followed Sensei Silver into the dojo, which was unusually outside. The dojo had many rocks that even you could admit were quite beautiful. You stayed back so no one currently in the dojo could see you, per Silver's orders.

You were now shoulder to shoulder with Robby, waiting for the signal from Terry or Kreese. He looked over at you. You noticed a slight change in his pupil size, they dilated slightly and went back to his normal size. Why did they dilate when he looked at you...?

"You good, Keene?" You asked him, that normally wouldn't be your style of language toward him, but he seemed nervous for some reason. "Yeah, I'm good. Why do you care anyway?" There he was. Bitch.

You gave him confused look. Before you could question him, you heard Silver mention his favorite students, followed by your name and Robby's name. You smiled over at Robby, noticing how he said your name first.

Your satin dress fit perfectly, tiny black straps resting on your shoulders, the bottom diagonally cut just below your thigh. Robby was in a matching black suit and tie. Of course, Silver was being dramatic, but you knew if you or Robby refused it wouldn't end well.

"These are my two best students." You had no idea where he was going with this. He continued talking about his dojo and how much of a success it was, and somehow lead to apologize to Daniel for what he did. You still had absolutely no idea, but you didn't question it. "Who will be competing in all valleys? Just wanted to let you kids know what you're up against."

When you entered, you noticed a boy with a large purple mohawk staring at you like he was the lion and you were the gazelle. Gross. When you went to leave, the same boy came up and grabbed your arm. "Hey, pretty lady."

"Hawk, leave her alone." A pale boy with black hair said, trying his best to intervene. "Demetri, back off." He spat. He turned back to you, "You've got like, the best ass I've ever seen," Oh hell no, "You'd be so pretty if you smiled." His words made you fucking angry. "You got a boyfriend? I mean even if you do I'm sure I'm way better than him," He said cockily, his eyes roamed your body as you could feel the anger build up inside of you. What an asshole.

You were tempted to do something about him yourself, but before you could get the thought out of your head you felt an arm around you. "Hello, my love, is there a problem here?"

You looked over and we were met with Robby's face closer than it had ever been. He gave you a wink. You tried to hide your confusion while he turned toward Hawk.

"Why is your arm around her?" Hawk questioned, he wasn't buying it. Robby snarled, "Cause she's my girlfriend?" You saw an older blonde man's head tilt at that statement.

"Ain't no way she's your girl." A taller boy with black fluffy hair chimed in. You gave him your cruelest look, then turned to Robby. "I am indeed his girl." You turned to the boy with the mohawk in front of you, "What was your name again? Pigeon?" You asked.

You heard snarls from the inside of the dojo while you walked off quickly, Robby's hand in yours. When you turned the corner you quickly let go of his hand. "I didn't need your help. I could've handled that myself. But thank you." You scoffed, getting back into Silver's car.

Robby held back his anger before getting in on the other side. You both silently waited for both of your Senseis, the tension between you and Robby so thin you could cut it with a butter knife.

He cleared his throat, "Why are you such a bitch to me?" At first, you thought you hadn't heard him correctly, but when you realized he had actually said that you made sure your shock and anger were clear in your expression. "Excuse me?"

Both of Robby's eyebrows raised, "I've been nothing but nice to you," That was a lie, "And you just treat me so horribly. It makes no sense."

You sighed, trying to control some of your anger. "I am only a bitch to you when you are to me. So maybe if you weren't always such a selfish douchebag all the time you'd get some amiability." Robby saw how angered you were by the question and somehow just found it funny. He really is a dick.

Robby was unable to bicker back when both of your Sensei's opened the car door on each side. "So unbelievable!" Terry shouted, swinging his leg and body inside.

The ride back to the dojo was silent except for Terry. Once he started ranting about something, it only stopped when the subject was changed but if he felt like it, he could be on that annoying topic for hours.

Even though the visit was brief, it was eventful, not for the tournament but you and Robby. When you were alone in that car with him, your hatred changed, and the tension that was once conflictual became suggestive. You couldn't believe how quickly your relationship with Robby could change from only your perspective, but it did. You hated it.

When you arrived back at the dojo you walked in first, desperate to get away from the idiot that was Robby, you grabbed your bag and without a second thought walked straight into the bathroom.

You assumed Sensei would continue the session after, so, you figured why not mess with Robby a little? You saw how amazed he looked when he saw your figure in that dress, so, let's make it better.

You quickly changed into a pair of gym shorts Tory had given you, she told you they'd make your butt look even better than it already did so you gave it a try.

You watched yourself in the mirror, scrunching up the long part of the shorts to make them shorter, then turning around and scrunching up the shorts around your ass to make your ass look better. Thank you, Tory Nichols.

You were just in a sports bra and figured that alone was fine, your outfit wasn't too random either sense your sports bra was black and the shorts were magenta, you left your gi outside of the changing room, so you would walk right past Robby when you went to get it.

Pulling open the curtain gained the attention of Tory, who just gave you a smirk as turned around and grabbed your bag. When you turned back around Tory had her jaw dropped and was almost more excited than you were.

You went to the back and placed your bag on the ground; you expected Robby to be training with the others, but he was there, bench pressing what appeared to be 135 pounds; you weren't surprised since you'd seen him lift higher before.

When you walked in, your gi was hanging up in the far corner, and as you went to get it, Robby naturally stopped for a drink of water, and of course, you walked right past him in those skimpy shorts. When you think about it, the situation was kind of hilarious.

When you turned to leave the room, you noticed Robby's eyes were looking somewhere else to make it appear as if he wasn't staring. You knew he was. Mission accomplished.

You walked passed him and his eyes caught yours as he took a sip of water. "Next time, don't be so obvious, Robby." He spat out some of his water, he knew you were bold but he wasn't expecting to be called out.

You walked out of the room with a proud smirk on your face. "Oh, god, what now?" Tory asked, taking a sip of water herself. You pointed to Robby, who was in the back nearly choking on his water, attempting not to make a mess.

"Damn, Y/N! You did that?" She asked, turning back to you. You nodded and hid your smile, "I caught him staring and I called him out," You spoke, your words sounding like gibberish because of how much you held back your laughter.

Tory began laughing with you. "Looks like you got him hooked. Whatcha' gonna do now?" You turned to Tory and simply smiled at her, "Absolutely nothing. It's his turn."

Later that day, Silver told you Robby had forgotten his bag and you were the one who had to drop it off to him because he was "busy". At first, you thought he was just mistaken sense you remembered him living at the dojo, but when he told you Robby had bought himself an apartment, you were beyond curious to get into his business.

Tory: bae getting that enemies to lovers trope

You: no gtfo

Tory: don't lie to me, yk if he asked you to make out and then be strangers for the rest of your life you'd say yes

You: girl

Tory: have fun ;) Practice safe sex btw

You: TORY.

You waited, knocking on his door a bunch as the indecisive male himself swung the door open in a frustrated manner. He stood shirtless, his body was toned, you stopped your eyes from traveling down to his hard abs, his shorts pulled slightly below them as if his v-line was glistening just for you.

He gave you a harsh stare, "Why are you here?" He didn't even seem to notice his karate bag hanging at your hip.

You threw it to him, "Here. Silver said you forgot it and told me to bring it to you. He was busy." You spoke quickly, going to walk away but were stopped by Robby. "Sorry if this is a bad time," You mentioned, pointing out his current tired state.

He sighed, "Thanks. It's fine, I guess. Are you going to Kyler's house tomorrow? He invited us all over to spend the night and watch movies." He asked, leaning in the doorway. Your lips formed a smirk when you caught his eyes looking you up and down.

You cleared your throat, "Kid's an ass sometimes but he sure knows how to have fun, so probably. Depends on how I'm feeling after practice tomorrow. Why you wanna know, Keene?" Robby zoned out, his eyes directly staring into yours as he suddenly remembered where he was and what you had said, "Just wondering, why you gotta make it weird, Y/N."

You shrugged, "You're the one who was staring." You gave him another crude look up and down before going to walk away. "See you tomorrow, Keene!" You shouted down the hallway as Robby finally shut his door.

♛

chat - queen cobras

the cobra kai dojo (no senseis)

tory ❌

so small change of plan bitches

there is no longer space in my car

someone else has to give y/n a ride

kyler💩

i'm not giving her a ride

tory ❌

correct you're riding with me

way to use your brain asshat

kenny🦶

💀💀 bruh

i obviously can't drive so

tory ❌

robby?

robby🧔🏻‍♀️

no.

tory ❌

bro robby

robby🧔🏻‍♀️

nope

kyler💩

canceling the party

kyler💩

gtfo no you aren't

robby come on bro

tory ❌

it's a ride it's not that bad

kenny🦶

pause.

kyler💩

what kinda ride🤓

tory❌

you guys are weird

don't leave me with them robby

just drive y/n it's not that bad

robby🧔🏻‍♀️

ugh

i hate u

y/n🤑🤑🤧

tory what the fuck

so i can't go?

tory ❌

only if robby changes his mind

y/n

robby pls

robby🧔🏻‍♀️

no ma'am

y/n

please bro

ill do anything

kenny🦶

pause

tory

now wait a minute...

y/n

STFU

robby

anything..?😏

y/n

gtfo

** later that day **

Somehow the gang had convinced Robby into driving you to Kyler's. It thankfully worked when Kyler threaded to cancel and never reschedule, we all knew he could never actually pull that off, but he bluffed it and it finally broke Robby.

There you sat in the passenger seat, awkwardly scrolling through Instagram as Kyler's house was almost ten minutes from the dojo. Music was playing quietly in the background as Robby used his left hand to turn the steering wheel, rounding a curb before changing the radio station a bunch.

"Nothing good on here," He mumbled, before finding a channel with some random country music. "Perfect."

You gave him the weirdest side eye before changing the channel once again. "Hell no. Now I know you're lying. No one actually likes country music unless it's a joke."

Robby smirked, "Maybe I'll be the first then. Country music is definitely underrated."

You scoffed, "Not even close. Country music is overrated and should not exist in the first place. If it's going to be country at least make it Like Bryan. That's the only good country artist. Or just don't play country at all."

Robby rolled his eyes before just silencing the radio fully, to stop the bickering. "Whatever. Always gotta ruin the fun."

"If that's what you call fun, then tonight won't be much fun because your bar is very low." You stated as Robby turned down Kyler's very busy street, and pulled into his driveway without a single bump or scratch.

You went to open your door after he parked but you watched as the lock came undone and still there was no movement from the door. "Shit, why of all days does it have to jam now. You're going to have to get out this way, Y/N."

Your eyes widened as you realized what he meant. He technically could've gotten out first and then let you out but this way would be more fun. You loved teasing him.

Your seatbelt was now undone, and you got up on Robby, swinging your leg over to straddle him. It was difficult for you both to maintain your composure while Robby was wearing only a black tank top and grey sweatpants. Once you realized what you felt, you ignored it. He stared at you with wide eyes and pink cheeks as you slung your other leg around his, got out of the car, and left him sitting there like a deer in headlights with his head back and his breathing heavy.

What the hell just happened?

ROBBY'S POV;

Y/N was on top of me, the way she looked down at me was, fuck, so hot. I hated it. She had to get out my way because my fucking door jammed, but honestly, I wasn't mad about it. I never realized how beautiful she was until now but I'd never let her hear me say that because she'd never let it down.

As she swung her leg around and got off the top of me, it was so difficult for me not to get hard, even if it was just a simple movement such as standing up. She started walking away and I took that as my chance to adjust myself so my dick wasn't noticeable, of course, she sends me into Kyler's house with a fucking boner as if she did it on purpose. Little snake.

I grabbed my overnight bag and all the stuff I needed before following her into Kyler's house. I walked inside closely behind Y/N, everyone already seemed to be there and Tory looked at Y/N wide-eyed before looking back at me.

"You guys took forever," Tory mumbled. I gave her an sarcastic laugh before setting my stuff down on Kyler's kitchen island. Kyler threw himself onto his dark brown couch, "So, we can do anything you guys want. The house is ours until 8 pm tomorrow."

I laughed and opened his fridge, I didn't give a shit cause Kyler didn't either, I've been to his house quite a few times surprisingly and he always had the best food. I hadn't been invited over for dinner much, but I took advantage of it when I was. Kyler's mom makes the best dinners.

I grabbed a Fanta and watched as Y/N spun around in the chair next to the kitchen island. "Grab me one." I rolled my eyes as I grabbed a second soda and threw it at her. She gave me a fake gasp, "Now it's gonna explode. Bitch," She mumbled the last part under her breath but I chose not to comment on it knowing it wouldn't end well.

"By the way guys, I invited Aisha. She's cool and she's technically still a Cobra at heart." Tory spoke.

I watched as Y/N's face lit up, "I miss Aisha, I'd never be mad at that." I tried my hardest not to look at her, but it still felt a bit awkward after what happened in the car.

"Where's your bathroom?" Kyler lead Y/N to the bathroom and as soon as Y/N was out of sight Kenny turned to me.

"So, Robby, you and Y/N make out yet?" Did I hear that shit right? I almost spit out my soda. I quickly swallowed, "How high are you, bro?"

Kenny laughed, "Not that high, yet. But it's obvious you and Y/N like each other. Hell, when you walked in here you looked like you two had just banged." Kyler and Tory both looked taken aback by Kenny's bold statement. Kenny noticed, "What, am I wrong?"

Tory laughed, still somewhat shocked, "No! Just didn't expect to hear that shit from you. Kids gotta point though," Tory agreed, as Kyler came back into the room.

"I could hear you all from the bathroom. You talk very loud. But I agree. Robby, you gotta make your move tonight. Just no sex on the family couch please." They were crazy. Right?

"I'm not having sex with Y/N on the family couch, Jesus Christ," I laughed, "Don't be weird you guys. I'm probably not going to have sex with her at all. Something awkward did happen in the car, though."

Kyler smiled, "Good! There was room in Tory's car, that was just our little push. So, what exactly happened between you two little lovebirds?"

SECOND PERSON POV;

When you dried your hands on Kyler's light blue hand towel, you heard bits of laughter coming from the main room. You began to listen, and heard Kyler not so nonchalantly holler and then a mix of gibberish-sounding words you couldn't put out from how far away you were.

You opened the door, the loud sound ruining your plan of sneaking up to hear their conversation. Goddamnit.

As you strolled back into Kyler's beautiful home, you heard Robby with a million-dollar idea. "Y/N, Hawk was being weird to you, earlier, right? When we were with Sensei Silver?" All you could do was nod.

"Ew! That bird? What'd he do this time?" Hawk had a reputation at the Cobra Kai dojo, he was known as a traitor, pussy, bird, and many other menacing nicknames that are probably best not to be mentioned.

"He was just being weird, like flirting but in a weird and unattractive way. It really wasn't that big of a deal, though."

Robby didn't care how dramatic it may seem but he felt his heart sink a little with how unbothered you were. That's a good thing, obviously, but also it wasn't okay, so Robby felt something needed to be done about it.

"What do we say about a little payback?"

♛

That's how the five, now six of you had your two cars parked and were at Hawk's doorstep, multiple packs of toilet paper and multiple egg cartons in hand. Aisha had joined and brought all the supplies on her way. It was perfect.

There you stood shoulder to shoulder with Aisha and Robby, egg carton in hand, as you all quickly threw a bunch of eggs in his yard and at his house. You turned to Aisha, "Aren't you and Hawk friends?"

She scoffed, "Eli and I were friends. After he turned into Hawk, he was like a whole different person. He thinks he's badass but in reality, he's just fucking ignorant. Then one day he told me he usually doesn't like big girls and that he caught feelings for me. I smacked him in the face and that was when I moved." You held in the urge to chuckle as the image of Aisha slapping the shit out of Hawk filled your mind.

"Damn, he may not be a badass but you sure are. Go to you for sticking up for yourself. However, I don't blame him for flirting with you. You're gorgeous. He was an ass, though."

Aisha nodded, about to give a response when Kyler gathered everyone's attention. "Okay, someone goes ring the doorbell and we'll all drive away." Kenny scoffed, "What if he has a ring camera?"

Kyler laughed and ran to his car, "He probably does, that's why I brought these. Which one of you daring souls would like to take on the challenge?" Kyler asked, holding up two Ghostface masks from Halloween.

Robby laughed before grabbing both and handing you one. He gave you a huge grin, before putting his mask on. Why the hell was that hot?

You put yours on and followed him up to the door as the others got into each car, ready to drive away Robby quickly rang the doorbell and you used some toilet paper to cover up the ring doorbell before sprinting as fast as you could back to Robby's car. You hopped in the back assuming the door was still jammed and tore your mask off as Robby left his on and quickly drove sped the road.

He tore his mask off, his breathing was heavy and you found yourself once again to Robby in a Ghostface mask, watching as he used one arm to steer and the other to throw the masks into the backseat.

Still, out of breath, he panted words that you could barely recognize, "That was fun," His chest was heaving as he turned back to look at you, tiny drips of sweat forming on his forehead as his eyes met with yours. "You still breathing, Y/N?"

You ignored how your heart skipped a beat when he said that, and then grabbed your phone and crawled into the front seat. "Totally. Back to Kyler's house, we go. Wonder what other ideas he has for us," You laughed, checking your phone to see a text from Tory.

Tory: we picking up some pizzas and movies while we're out. You and Robby can head back to Kyler's house and enjoy your alone time ;)

You hid your smile before typing a quick response.

You: thank you HAHA but make sure to look at my movie list I sent you earlier, all the good ones are on there

Tory: yes because I'm sure Robby would enjoy seeing you simp over Billy Loomis. Have fun babe not answering you anymore so you're forced to interact with him😘😘

You: fuck you

Tory: love you too

You: you're actually not gonna answer?

Seen 1m ago

God damnit, Tory. You clicked the side of your phone which turned it off and kept your eyes on the road in front of you. You felt Robby's beautiful hazel eyes gazing contently at you, you chose to ignore it and instead began speaking which caused him to stop staring, "Tory said they're picking up food and movies, and said we can just go back to Kyler's and wait for them."

Robby smiled and looked out the window on his side before turning back to you, "You realize they're trying to get us to hook up, right?" You started laughing, "Yeah I'm well aware. They're trying so hard, too."

After a couple of seconds of on-edge silence, Robby broke it by turning up the radio a little. "Let's drive around for a bit. They can wait if they have to," He spoke, turning the radio on before handing you the aux cord, "Sense you hate what I chose so much, put on your playlist. Let's see if there's anything good."

You smiled before purposely grabbing the cord out of his hand in an aggressive manner, and plugging it into your phone. He just shook his head and laughed, focusing on the dark roads before him. It was around 11 pm, and there were barely any cars out, which was expected considering how unpopular the roads near Kyler's house were.

You scrolled through each playlist that you had for each different mood, before choosing your main one and hitting shuffle. The song Slut Me Out by NLE Choppa began playing and you went to skip it but Robby stopped you by gently gripping your wrist. "This song's on there for a reason, let it play."

You gulped and nodded, the lyrics playing as Robby turned it up enough to the point where it almost hurt your ears, which was technically just the right amount.

After that song played along with a few others that both of you screamed all the lyrics to, he watched as you picked up your phone to check for messages and saw a Lana Deal Ray song had just started.

"You listen to Lana?" He questioned, his tone sounding very confused. You scoffed, "I'm surprised you even know who she is, yes I listen to Lana. This song is one of my favorites," You shared, as West Coast began loudly blaring. The beat that dropped on that song was sexy, the ending especially and it was perfect for you and Robby's current state of tolerable enemies and friends with tension.

He surprisingly knew all these lyrics too, and in this one, you could sing all of them without a second thought. As the chorus and small beat drop came, you felt your body get chills as it does every time, watching as Robby rested his head back onto his seat, lip-syncing some of the lyrics and shouting the others.

After that part kind of calmed, the next beat drop came just as fast as it left, the soft swing of the music making you feel like you were the queen of the world. It continued through and almost got to the part with the even sexier background music, you felt Robby's eyes intensely staring at you as if he was playing a scenario through his head. You didn't blame him, this song was heaven.

As the sensual part of the song began, you gave him a soft smile and rolled your window down so your hair was flying, he rolled down all the others including the sunroof, took your seatbelt off, and stuck your head out of the window. Robby watched and felt himself get hard once again but not by your touch, just at the sight of you.

You made sure to arch your back a little and scream the lyrics, holding onto the top of his car as if you needed leverage. Robby felt as if this moment was from a music video and you were the main actress the whole video focused on. You were mesmerizing.

He felt his cheeks were red and quickly turned his head to look away from you as you brought yourself back into the car and Robby pulled into Kyler's driveway. All the other cars already sat in the driveway. You grinned, "See you inside."

He sat there for the second time that day, his cheeks red, his dick hard and unsure of what the hell just happened and how you gave him yet another boner. You laughed to yourself and practically ran inside, opening the door and rushing over to Tory and Aisha to tell them all about what just happened.

After about twenty seconds Robby walked inside. At first sight, it once again looked like the two of you had just fucked, but this time it looked worse than before.

This time you looked over and Robby and could see his dick through his pants. You found it crazy how you could go so quickly from disliking each other to flirting constantly, but you honestly weren't complaining. You finally realize how fucking sexy Robby was, completely disregarding how you saw him as your karate rival not even an hour ago. That moment you just shared with him definitely made it difficult to go back to just that.

♛

After your eventful car ride with Robby, the group played a bunch of dirty but funny card games and ended the night with a decade movie marathon, where you watched two movies from a decade of your choice and then chose the better movie and went down the like to explain why, it was now around 5 am, still fully dark, which meant everyone was sleeping until you woke up with a dry feeling in your throat and a sudden need for water.

So, you left the huge fort you all had made and made your way to Kyler's kitchen, trying to avoid making any loud noises so everyone could get their sleep.

You grabbed a plastic cup from Kyler's kitchen cabinet, opened the fridge, grabbed the ice-cold filtered water, and poured it since Kyler said his tap water was disgusting. You filled your cup about halfway and quickly took a sip, noticing Kyler had a window above his kitchen sink and saw a kid riding his dirt bike in the middle of the night.

You laughed to yourself but your laughter quickly went away when you felt hands poking your sides and almost spilling the water you had just beautifully poured for yourself.

You turned to see Robby, and hit his shoulder, "You bitch, I almost spilled my water," You whispered yelled, before hitting his shoulder again and angrily setting your water down.

"Yes, 'cause you spilling your water would be the end of the world," He whispered sarcastically, before grabbing a plastic cup for himself. You watched as he reached around you, the veins in his hands flexing as he has each arm on each side of you, his front lightly grazing your back as you felt butterflies in your stomach and somewhere lower.

Robby poured his water from the filter just as you did, and removed all contact from your body so he was now fully away from you. "Why are you smiling?" You asked him, noticing his sly smile, wanting to wipe it off his stupid face.

Robby felt his strong demeanor slowly fade away as he saw your siren eyes, and heard what you finally said, "Stop smiling before I give you a reason to," It was cheesy, but still made his cheeks pink. You continued, "Are you blushing?"

He shook his head and suddenly felt embarrassed, "Hell no," He lied, you knew damn well he was and it was just getting darker. "Are you sure? You seem very nervous, or that could just be my imagination."

You brushed a piece of hair out of his face, before looking him directly in the eyes. "You're so pretty, you know that?" You dragged your hand from his hair, softly dragging down his cheek, and then on his chest. You felt how quickly his heart was beating. "Your heart is beating very fast, maybe you are nervous." You knew exactly how to push Robby's buttons and it absolutely infuriated him. Robby wasn't going to lie, part of the way you were speaking definitely turned him on. His cheeks were bright red.

That was his final straw, he pushed you to the inside corner near the fridge, holding your hips in place so you were pinned in front of him. "Quit acting like a bitch before I treat you like one." He kept his hand hard on your hip and brought the other hand to cup your face. You swallowed hard but wanted to remain in your teasing, ways, so you continued.

"You can be infuriating, Y/N. Maybe if you weren't such a selfish brat I would've liked you sooner." He huffed, his words fanning in your face, his lips millimeters from yours.

"So you like me? Took some guts to finally admit that. Took you quite a while didn't it?" Your eyes shot deeply into his beautiful green eyes that now seemed hazel due to the darkness. You saw how hot Robby was when he was mad. You made a mental note to push his buttons more often. He let go of your hips which would definitely leave some type of fingerprint mark, he downed his water and threw the cup into the dishwasher, walking back over to you before grabbing you by the shirt, "Lose the attitude before I fuck it out of you."

He walked back to the place he was sleeping, now leaving you standing there in your tracks like a deer in headlights. Your breathing was heavy and you were now definitely nervous about what came next. You couldn't wait to tell Tory and Aisha about this.

♛

When you woke up once again, it was almost 2 pm. You sat at Kyler's kitchen island eating a bowl of Fruity Pebbles, in the seat between both Tory and Aisha while the boys were eating in the gaming room near the back of the house.

You continued to take another bite and quickly finished it, "Something happened last night between me and Robby." After those words were said, both girls immediately gained a huge interest.

"What?!"

"You better start talking, babe."

You cleared your throat, "Well, basically I went to go get a drink of water around 4 am, and Robby apparently did too. And then I started teasing him because why not and then he kind of snapped." Tory's mouth fell open, "What kind of snap?" Aisha grinned, "Yeah was it like a sexy snap or a snap like where he forever hated you?"

You laughed before answering, "It was honestly both. But then after I teased him he basically pinned me against the fridge and told me to quit acting like a bitch before he treated me like one," After you said that both girls were extremely shocked and Aisha almost spilled her cereal bowl, "Oh there's more," You added with a laugh. "And then, after that, he said something like if you weren't such a brat he would've liked me sooner," You watched as the girls' jaws dropped wider, "And to top it all off, he ended it with Lose the attitude before I fuck it out of you. Which is my personal favorite."

Tory spit out her cereal and milk that time and began laughing with Aisha at the incident but then remembered why she did that. "Jesus Christ! I didn't know he had it in him." Aisha commented before Tory nodded, cleaning up her mess. Tory quickly moved on, "So, you gonna let him do it?"

"What let him fuck my attitude out of me? Hell yeah, just don't know when. I'll just continue teasing him and let him make the move when he wants." Aisha and Tory both nodded, quickly changing the subject as the boys walked into the same room.  Tory and Kyler have each other 'the' look as Robby walked to the sink to grab a glass and get some orange juice out of the fridge.

Robby's eyes met yours as you went to take another bite of your soggy cereal, watching as he eyed you up and down and slowly took a sip of his juice, staring into your soul before walking back into the game room with the guys following closely behind him.

You all started laughing after hearing the door loudly close.

The sleepover was definitely fun, and extremely eventful. You and Tory were the last to leave Kyler's house around 7 pm when Kyler came out of his room. "Uhh, Y/N, Robby forgot his overnight bag. Could you bring that to him?" Kyler sucked at hiding his smirk and laugh knowing exactly what he was doing.

"Is this-" Before you could even finish, Tory interrupted you. "Yes, this is our way of setting up you and Robby. Now go get your dick, babe. I'll be in the car in a sec." She said, basically pushing you out of the door.

After about a minute, she walked out and hopped into the driver's side. "Okay, the plan is, you're going to Robby's, and I'm not coming to get you for a few hours, so, just hang out at his place for a little."

You went to argue but she just shushed you, "Nope, not a word. Even if you don't want to fuck him that's fine do what you want babe but you need quality time with him, and this is the push you need. So make the best out of it. You only live once my love," She said, putting on her makeup in the mirror as she still somehow drove perfectly.

You watched as she applied her mascara, "Where are you going all prettied up?" Normally if it were one of your other friends you'd hate asking that but you knew Tory, she wouldn't put in the time and effort of doing makeup because she usually hated it, so when she did it, it was rare and for a good reason.

She smiled, "I have a date. I'll text you when I'm done so you know when I'm on my way. Or I can just drive your car over. Whatever works best." Somehow within your short conversation, she was already at Robby's apartment complex.

She blew you a kiss goodbye as you got out and grabbed Robby's duffle bag from the back, swinging it around your shoulder and walking into the building. Once you got to Robby's room you knocked on the door a few times as you did last time, so he knew it was you. He swung the door open, and didn't seem too thrilled at first but lightened up when he saw his bag." Y/N. I didn't even realize I forgot that until now." You gave him a small smile, "Yeah, Kyler realized and sent me here. Sorry if I once again have horrible timing."

He smiled and looked at the ground, "That's okay, you're not interrupting anything," Where did this nice guy come from? "You can come in if you'd like."

You accepted his offer after remembering what Tory had said and went inside, he closed the door and then walked into the kitchen which was visible from the front door.

He grabbed a glass and then another, "You want anything to drink?" No seriously where did this gentleman come from, not even 24 hours ago he had you pinned against Kyler's fridge and was threatening you with a good time. "I'm okay, thank you."

It definitely felt awkward, those moments you shared running through your head as Robby sat down on the couch not too far from you. You didn't know what to say or do, or if you should try starting a conversation. That's when you knew this was painfully awkward.

Robby cleared his throat, thank god, "You wanna watch a movie? I have a lot, you can choose." You gave him a smile for saving the awkwardness, "Sure. Let's see what you got."

After a surprising few minutes of scrolling, you decided on the category of marvel and let Robby choose which movie. Whatever movie he chose would say a lot about him, so when he chose Thor Ragnorok you were definitely thrilled.

As the movie began to play, Robby turned to you, "Are you cold? Would you like a blanket?" His offer seemed like he was being sweeter than normal, and it made you curious, but you weren't complaining. That kid was being nice.

"Eh, not really but I probably will get cold." You admitted with a tiny laugh as Robby grabbed the fluffiest blanket you had ever seen off of his other couch. He sprawled it across you, only leaving a little to himself as the movie began and you couldn't wait for cause that was definitely one of your favorites.

A little after half into the movie, you felt Robby's eyes on you. He was staring, the same way he did during your little detour from Hawk's house. This time, instead of ignoring it, you looked over at him.

"You know, Robby. I notice you staring at me. I just don't say anything." You mentioned, and he felt his cheeks go bright pink as they had many times the day before. Robby seemed embarrassed as if his whole nice demeanor disappeared cause of what you had just said. You didn't even say anything wrong, Robby just hated being called out.

"Sorry," He grumbled, turning back to the movie. 'Don't be a bitch.' That was what you wanted to say, but you kept it in for now knowing it would probably not end very well for you.

After another 5 minutes, you began overthinking the whole situation and making yourself angry, thinking about all the times when he had teased you and you said nothing about it, or when he would be mad at you for no reason.

You turned to him after a good few minutes of thought, "Robby, what the hell is your problem with me? Like why does everything I do make you mad? I'm not even intentionally doing anything at this point I'm just being myself and for some reason, that seems to make you-"

"I don't have you Y/N, you just make me so mad. You act like a bitch and then fucking tease me or whatever the fuck that was yesterday!" Robby shouted, standing up. There goes nice Robby. You knew something was up.

"I do not act like a bitch! It's all fun and games but clearly, you can't handle that."

"No, apparently I can't! I'm sorry for not liking when my fucking friend or enemy or whatever the fuck we are confuses the shit out of me to the point where I'm literally questioning myself! You act like the whole work revolves around you! Maybe if you didn't act like such a slut all the time I'd be able to" And there it was. A loud smacking sound on Robby's face finally made him shut the fuck up.

"Never speak to me like that again." Robby felt more angered, but also a little turned on with how hot you looked right then.

"What if I-" Smack. Again, and this time he felt less angered and more turned on over anything. "Y/N..." The way your name rolled off his lips so smoothly, made you get butterflies. Smack. You smacked him once again just for fun, not as hard but after that, he began to lean in toward you. So you stopped him, grabbing his neck and bringing him closer to you.

"Okay, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," He spoke just above a whisper, voice cracking due to your hold on his neck.

You sat a couple of seconds and considered excepting his apology, and when you let go he almost instantly grabbed you and pinned you on the couch, wrapping his hand around your neck. "Had to switch it up. I like it better this way."

You tilted your head back slightly and your mouth slowly fell open, the need to breathe leaving your mind because of how turned on you were. You could sacrifice a couple of breaths if that meant being choked by Robby Keene.

His taunting words somehow made you wet, and you knew you were in for a long night of fun and trouble. Robby kissed your lips with his hand still around your throat, then began placing wet kisses along every part of your skin he could.

His breath was heavy on his hand and the part of your neck that was uncovered, "Can I?" He asked carefully, tugging at your top. When you nodded he wasted no time and brought it above your head practically ripping it in the process.

He continued kissing down your chest, slowly loosening his grip on your neck and then letting go completely. The sight of you in just your bra made him even harder as he continued down, noticing a drawing near your rib. "Is this.. a tattoo?" His words were slow as if he was contemplating whether or not he should ask his question. You laughed before running your fingers through his hair, "Yes, love. I got it not too long ago, so be gentle, there." Those words turned him on more than they probably should've, but he was too flustered to complain.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and want. He continued once again to kiss down your stomach, you could tell the tattoo made him even more of a horny animal, and you were excited for him to see the others you had sprawled around your body. "Can I take this off?" His consent was very attractive, even though it was indeed the bare minimum the way his voice was perfectly raspy made it ten times sexier.

"Knock yourself out, baby."

The sudden use of pet names made his pants tighten. He sharply inhaled before skillfully undoing your bra with one of his hands and letting it drop along with his jaw when he saw the second tiny ink drawing just below your breast.

"Got a bunch as soon as I turned eighteen. I have more if you wanna see them," The breathy sound of Robby led you to believe this man had a tattoo kink, so you did the expected, "Robby, do my tattoos turn you on?"

It made your heart flutter realizing how quickly Robby can switch from dominant to submissive, you didn't know what would happen next and you loved it. It was exhilarating. Robby held in his need and looked up. "Yes, they do. A lot." You laughed. "I could tell. Don't be embarrassed. 'S cute."

He quickly forgot what had just happened and continued his painfully slow teasing. He kissed down until he got to your pants, then asked once more if he could remove your clothes, to which you replied yes, and when you did he tore it off as if he was a hungry animal. It was fucking hot how eager he was.

After removing your bottoms, he grabbed both of your thighs, squeezing them and then slapping them until he was satisfied. He took off your underwear after asking for consent and hearing and seeing your answer and aggressive nod. He slapped your thighs once more before tightly gripping them and throwing them over each of his shoulders.

He left no time for hesitation, he licked a long stripe up your clit, your moans motivated him as he messily continued, he couldn't even compare to how good you tasted.

Your moans loudly filled up all the sound space in the room, feeling the sudden need to squirm as Robby stuck a finger inside of you and he continuously flicked your clit with his tongue. Swear words and gibberish nonsense fell from your lips as Robby pumped his finger in and out of you, your toes curling and your head practically throwing itself back.

Robby looked up at you with a lustful look, "Right there?" He asked, holding his finger at a spot he somehow knew would make you go feral. "Oh my god, yes!" You shouted, his name falling from your swollen lips over and over.

"Does It feel good, baby? Let me hear you." You bucked up your hips but were stopped when Robby held them against the couch. "Use your words." His mean tone turned you on, even more, the struggle to move made you hornier by the second.

"It feels so good, Robby, don't stop. Please." He smirked to himself before continuing. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head. "Look at me, Y/N. No one coming but you."

His snarky comment makes your legs shiver, every ounce of your body feeling numb as you looked him directly in the eye, squeezing a handful for some sort of a release sense you'd be reaching yours soon. "You gonna come, my love?" Robby's soft words made you shiver, "Yes, Robby, oh my god."

You couldn't believe Robby Keene was right in front of you, watching you orgasm for the first time, it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. The white liquid kept spilling out of you, it finally stopped but your legs continued to shiver as Robby wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. At the sound of it, it may have sounded weird, but in person, it was fucking hot.

His smile was cheeky but bright and it made your stomach gain butterflies, he came up to you, and grabbed you by the neck, bringing your upper half slightly upwards. "I told you to look at me, babe." His words were stern, and they made you hungry for more. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll listen next time."

He let you off with a small warning before letting go of you, then standing up completely and then walking into his room. After a couple of seconds, he shouted for you, "Y/N, come here!"

You basically ran into his room regarding how excited you were, and when you saw him standing in front of his mirror, hand on the desk as he leaned his body weight on it, just staring at himself in the mirror. The mirror was right next to from the wall his bed was up against, next to the door. The mirror was huge, definitely more than a make-up stand type desk as if it was used for something else.

You stopped at the door, but he signaled you over with his two fingers before mumbling a 'come here.

You walked over to where he was, and he quickly moved your now messy hair away from your neck and slowly began kissing it before whispering something that at first sounded like gibberish, "Look at yourself."

He looked up and look at your gorgeous face through the mirror, "You're going to watch your face, as I fuck you senseless in this mirror. Mkay?" His soft tone sent shivers down your spine and made your knees weaken.

"Undress. Tap my arm a few times if it becomes too much. You're okay with this right?" His demeanor shift made you fall for him even more, even though it technically was once again the bare minimum you still were about to melt.

You nodded, "Use your words, beautiful." You began to strip and then corrected yourself, "Yes. I'm okay with this, please just, touch me, Robby." When you finally undressed, "As you wish, my love." Robby was already shirtless so he took his pants off and went to take his boxers off but you stopped him before he could.

You undressed him yourself, pulling down his boxers in a teasingly slow manner, looking him in the eye in the most sensual way possible, you knew it would make him nervous. He looked back at you; you noticed how he struggled to stare back until he looked away. "You nervous, baby?"

He turned you around and lightly wrapped his hand around your throat, slowly increasing the pressure to the point where he almost cut off your airway but not completely.

"I am not nervous," His two fingers went straight to your clit and began to rub fast circles, "Stop treating me like I'm your bitch. Now watch yourself in this goddamn mirror while I fuck you until your legs are shaking." You wanted to give him a sassy remark but the hold on your neck stopped you from verbally communicating.

Robby's lips latched onto your neck as he slowly moves his fingers, then places a line of kisses along your shoulder as he continued his assault on your clit, "That feels good, baby?"

"So good, fuck," You moaned under your breath, your legs beginning to shake and squirm as you felt Robby's hands remove the contact from your clit. You were frustrated at first but held in a gasp when you felt his tip at your entrance.

"You ready, baby? Remember you can back out at any time." His offer sounded nice but getting fucked by him sounded even nicer, so you nodded and followed that up with the verbal confirmation he loved so much, "Yes, Robby. I'm ready."

He nodded and slowly pushed into you, a breathy moan fell from in between his lips as a whimper left your mouth. You felt as if your body was being stretched out, the feeling was ethical. You felt as if you were in euphoria and you hadn't even reached your high yet.

Robby moaned, "Can- I move?" His whisper sent shivers down your spine. You moaned out a loud yes, as Robby pushed himself in, then pulled out and aggressively thrust back in again.

You carefully watched his face in the mirror, his face of pleasure blessing your eyes as the sounds he made blessed your ears. He used his other hand to grab ahold of your breasts, squeezing and massaging them roughly making the pleasure absolutely insane.

A breathless scream tumbled from your lips, the sounds you made rarely being heard as his grip tightened on your neck. Robby caught his lower lip in between his teeth as he watched you in the mirror. Your beautiful fucked out expression, the soft sounds that left your lips, and how your walls felt around his thick cock would've been enough for him to come in his pants.

He watched in the mirror as his dick slipped in and out of you, the sight alone could've made him finish. Your eyelids felt heavy and you struggled to watch yourself as Robby has so demandingly ordered, you knew if he caught you with them closed you'd get a consequence.

However it was very difficult not to squirm or clap your eyes shut, the pleasure you were feeling was unmatchable and it made you tingle. Robby repeatedly hit your g-spot, the feeling becoming almost too much to the point where your eyes fell closed.

He removed his hand from your throat before grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back. "Keep your eyes open. Guess you don't know how to fucking listen." His stern tone made you ache, you suddenly clenched around Robby and he let out a throaty laugh, "You like when I speak to you like that, huh? Fucking whore."

His words affected you in ways you never thought he could, but he just kept going, making you weaker and weaker as your legs slowly began to feel like jello, "Fucking look at you, baddest girl in the valley. Do you think Sensei'd like to know that his toughest female fighter is getting fucked and degraded right now? By his strongest fighter? That'd be a real conversation, wouldn't it." His cocky words made you so close to your high and yet you didn't release.

A scream tore from your chest as you slowly felt your release getting closer and closer, your legs now completely shaking as Robby moved his hand from your throat to your clit fibbing quick circles after noticing how close and desperate you were.

"You're gonna come, baby, I can feel it. You feel so good, fuck, it's so hard for me to function." His slight praise carried you on longer, you needed something more just to push you over the edge.

As if it were on cue Robby yanked your head back once again, the inflicted pain forcing you to scream and moan at once which was followed by a few swear words. You repeated his name many times as you felt your body get pushed over the edge. The euphoric feeling gave you goosebumps, the warmth of your bodies mixed together almost threw Robby over the edge, but just as you did, he needed a push.

You kept yourself moving even though Robby's thrusts were overly aggressive and just how you liked it, he looked down and watched your ass bounce with each thrust and then watched your pretty orgasm face in the mirror, which finally brought him over the edge too.

His mouth practically spilled with moans, grunt and whimpers for when the pleasure became too much to handle. "Holy fuck," His choice of words was funny looking back on it but in the best of the moment you didn't laugh nor even pay attention to his words, you watched his face. You could've easily came once more just at the sight of his orgasm face.

You felt his cum shoot inside you, his dick twitched as he practically screamed and continued to move in and out of your tight cunt. "Fuck- fuck- you're so- so tight," He panted, his high staying longer than usual which made him shake and squirm. "Not so tough now, are you pretty boy?" Your words made him cum even more inside of you, your words clearly affected him so you took that as an advantage.

"Wonder what Sensei would think when he found out his right-hand student liked to be called a pretty boy in bed. That'd one interesting conversation, huh Robby?" He pulled his dick out of you with a slight chuckle, "Ha ha, so funny, using my own words against me."

He watched you limp over to his bed as he went into his bathroom and grabbed a damp washcloth and walked over to you himself, carefully wiping away any of the leftover white stuff and watching as your swollen pussy continued to throb. "Damn, didn't know you had the hots for me, L/N. We should do that again sometime. Maybe as more than just enemies, I guess."

You felt yourself laughing as you sprawled out onto his very comfortable bed, "You really think enemies fuck and then just go back to normal? Imagine how easy that'd be for people who don't catch feelings. I'm clearly not one of those people, so yes, Robby, I'd love to do it again and yes, Robby, I'd love to be more than just enemies. I hate admitting it but you are nice sometimes, and that's a great thing to be."

Robby nodded with a soft smile, "You're not too bad yourself, Y/N. I'm just happy we're getting along now. I had no idea how I was planning on getting that to work but I guess it just worked out itself."

You laughed before answering in a calm tone, Robby came to lay with you on his bed after shutting off the television in the living room. "Me too, Robby, me too."

♛

The next morning Tory had invited the whole gang from Kyler's party to Robby's new apartment to see what really went on the night before and to see if the tension and hatred were still there or if it had been fucked out.

Tory was completely correct though, she walked into a clean house but a messy couch, popcorn spilled a little, and a few pop cans sitting on the coffee table. "They definitely fucked." Kyler stated, walking further into Robby's home.

Tory laughed at his statement before quietly and carefully walking into Robby's room after gently opening the door, making sure you both were covered before allowing the others to see for themselves.

You and Robby were snuggled up in his bed, you'd head laying on his exposed chest and your arm sprawled around it, your top leg up and resting onto his legs. Robby was honestly a beautiful sleeper. Tory didn't notice, but Kenny did.

"How does he look so good when sleeping? I go to sleep and look like the Grim Reaper. God clearly has favorites." Kenny's statement made the rest of the group quietly chuckle which caused Robby to wake as you still sat sound asleep in his arms. His eyes widened when he noticed his friend group, "What the hell are you doing here?" He mouthed, not wanting to wake you from your precious sleep.

"We came to check up on you. Clearly, you guys had a fun night so we'll let you be." Kyler whisper and yelled, practically leaving Robby's house in a hurry, he was probably leaving for something important or just wanted to go home. Either option made complete sense.

Tory smiled at you even though you couldn't see her. She felt like a proud matchmaking mom, and nothing could change her feelings for you two. You didn't realize it at the time, but you'd be hearing a lot about what happened that night, especially from your teammates.

Robby made you both angry and happy. But the happy feelings were mutual. That was the best option in the end.

[onlymingyus]

7PM

pairing; boo seungkwan, lee seokmin (dk/dokyeom), kwon soonyoung (hoshi) x afab reader

genre; smut, fluff, crack

warnings; unprotected sex, anal sex, fingering (vaginally and anally), oral (f & m receiving and giving), impact play, biting/marking, scratching, praise/degradation, some mention of crying from pleasure, creampie (several times), multiple orgasms, pet names/nicknames, drinking/eating, alcohol, spicy truth or dare, pining, aftercare, honestly some poly themes

w/c; 11k and some change

requested; no

'bout you master list

a/n; thank you to @housewifehui and @wonwussy for being the literal best and editing/reading for me. ngl this ended up being longer than i thought it would be but its a lot of people in the same room and i've put a lot of feelings into fics lately, i don't like rushing things. i hope you all are enjoying that, a little less pwp and a bit more porn with plot.

“Truth or Dare?” 

The words leave your lips as a giggle, your body resting against Dokyeom’s as he shakes his head lifting his hand for Soonyoung to hand him another beer.  He might be more on the side of drunk at this point but he couldn’t miss the way his body reacted to the feeling of your warm breath against his bare bicep. 

“Only if you actually accept some dares this time, Y/N.” 

You laugh again, your hand grabbing Dokyeom’s forearm so you could use his body to sit up a bit straighter to look at Boo Seungkwan. “I’ll have you know Boo, ‘truth’ can be just as interesting but yes…I will accept some dares. I swear it on…” The three men watch you glance around until you meet Soonyoung, who smirks at you. 

“I swear it on, Soonyoung’s favorite tiger plushie. I might even give it back one day.” 

Soonyoung narrows his eyes, tipping back a shot of tequila at your words before pointing at you. “I’ll just steal him back, you are a dirty little thief. I knew he was here.” As much as he wanted to pretend to be mad at you, Soonyoung can’t help but go soft when you laugh, shrugging your shoulders and causing one side of your sweater to slip down your arm. 

“You wouldn’t dare, I sleep with him every night, Soonie. I need him almost as much as I need you three.” 

You had no idea how your words affected the men sitting near you. While Seungkwan had to take a calming breath at the idea that you needed him, Dokyeom was still trying to keep himself in check as you leaned against him. Soonyoung was a bit bolder, his eyes roaming over your face and body as he watched you take another shot, your nose wrinkling up at the burn. 

“Truth or Dare, Y/N?” Soonyoung’s words bring you back to the present, shaking your head as you think about his question and smile stretching your legs out so that you can rest more comfortably between Dokyeom and Seungkwan. 

In truth there was nothing different about this night than any other night when the four of you had decided to have a sleepover, sitting on the floor much like tonight playing stupid party games. Plenty of nights the three men had crashed in your living room, one of them usually ending up in your bed after pouting about being cold, but it was all so seemingly innocent. Tonight there was more of an unspoken tension in the air. If you felt any of it, you didn’t seem to let it show. 

Meeting Seungkwan’s eyes, you see the challenge in his eyes, the way he raises his eyebrow knowing that you are considering choosing truth as you always do. You smile at him so sweetly that Seungkwan’s eyes drop to your lips briefly, his body shifting slightly before he looks down a grin on his face when you finally speak. 

“Dare.” 

Dokyeom hadn’t expected you to actually pick dare, shifting his body he causes you to fall against his chest. You laugh at his shocked face, a smile spreading across his handsome face, his large but gentle hands helping you to sit back up. “Sorry, just really thought you’d pick tru–” 

“I dare you to ask Dokyeom if he is turned on right now.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes almost glitter with mirth when three sets of eyes shift to him. A smirk forms on his lips as Dokyeom shakes his head and laughs trying to come up with words. “He’s just full of shit and drinking. So you don’t have to do the dare if you don’t want–” 

“Are you turned on right now, Dokyeom?” Your eyes move from Soonyoung to Dokyeom, your lashes slightly lowered as you have to look up at him in the position you are leaning against his frame. His expression quickly changes causing you to become even more curious. Your eyes follow the bob of his Adam’s apple, while you listen to Soonyoung laugh under his breath nearby. 

“I, uh…” Why wouldn’t he just answer? It should be an easy yes or no answer, at least that’s how you feel at the moment with your inhibitions slightly less, especially with how warm his body feels against yours. Sitting up, you move to your knees and tilt your head causing Dokyeom to curse under his breath, lifting his right hand he rubs the back of his neck shooting Soonyoung a dirty look. 

“Yeah, a bit.” 

Your cheeks warm slightly but a smile spreads across your face only to be slightly lessened when your teeth catch your bottom lip. A small playful squeal of a giggle leaves your lips because you can’t help but think how much fun this is. Seungkwan was right to have you take more dares. 

“My turn!” you giggle. Dokyeom takes a deep breath letting it out when you finally turn away from him to look at the other two men, his eyes finding Soonyoung once more as he shakes his head muttering, ‘fuck you.’ Soonyoung can only grin giving the younger man a playful wink while they all wait for you to make your choice. 

“Seungkwan, truth or dare?” 

The man on your right swallows hard upon hearing his name. He hadn’t realized this was how truth or dare was going to go or he might not have pushed you to accept more dares. Not that he was really complaining, just nervous as you looked at him with those pretty eyes that made his mouth go dry with nerves. 

“Uh, tr–truth…I guess.” 

You pout dramatically, pretending to be disappointed in him for choosing ‘truth’ after pushing you to do just the opposite. He watches you tilt your head from one side to the other before you crawl closer to him, a sly smirk on your lips. “Okay, tell me one thing I could do to you that would make you cum almost instantly.” 

“Holy shit, Y/N…” Soonyoung’s words are more of a laugh, his head shaking as he reaches for the bottle of tequila pouring himself and you another shot. Dokyeom takes a long drink of his beer while Seungkwan’s mouth falls open in shock. 

“You can tell me. It’s fun, Kwannie.” You smile at Seungkwan, lifting your hand to run your fingers along his cheek almost seductively expecting him to pull away or to tell you off but instead, he stays still and you feel the warmth of his skin blooming under your touch. 

“Is it fun, Y/N?” His words are quiet, but you still smile nodding your head as the youngest of the men stares into your eyes. “If that’s how we are going to play this, fine.” Finally turning his head from your touch, Seungkwan picks up the shot that had been poured for you, lifting it to his lips to tilt it back letting the liquid run down his throat. Soonyoung laughs, lifting the bottle in somewhat of a celebration offering to fill up the glass again. 

Seungkwan barely acknowledges the other man, his eyes finding yours again as he clears his throat. “If you wanted to make me cum, almost immediately? You’d have to drag your teeth along the length of my cock. Get right to where the tip begins…you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” 

Now your cheeks were burning, and you couldn’t help but imagine doing exactly what Seungkwan was explaining to you, on him. Your eyes fall to his lap only for Seungkwan to tilt your head back up, his fingers under your chin, a smirk on his lips now. “Then you’d suck. I’d be doomed.” 

Seungkwan watches you run your teeth over your bottom lip, a smile crossing your lips, he knew that look. You were clearly thinking, and he had an idea about what. Removing his hand from your chin, Seungkwan smirks a bit, hearing you breathe out your words, your butt falling back to your knees. 

“Mm, truth or dare…Soonyoung?” 

Soonyoung had been mid-drink when Seungkwan said his name causing the man to choke on his drink. Coughing, he laughs it off and wipes his lips with the back of his hand raising his brows. “You know what, as much fun as you and Y/N made ‘truth’ look…I’m going to say dare.” 

You weren’t surprised when Soonyoung chose ‘dare’, he usually did. Most times this ended up with him running out into the cold buck naked to jump into the pool, only to come back with his hands over his crotch while he cursed, but this time you had a feeling it would be different. 

Seungkwan leans back against the bottom of the couch, his eyes moving around the room until they land on Soonyoung again. You watch Seungkwan lean forward picking up the other man’s cell phone before tossing it in his direction. 

Raising a brow Soonyoung catches the phone with a confused look on his face before Seungkwan finally speaks. “Go into another room and call Y/N. She won’t answer but you leave her a message telling her exactly what you’d like to do to her in bed.” 

Soonyoung’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he tilts his head moving to stand. “You think I won’t? When will she listen to it?” 

Seungkwan considers the question glancing towards you in thought before smirking slightly. “She will listen to it when she is dared to. Isn’t that right Sweetheart?” Lifting his hand he runs his fingers over your cheek much like you had his when you were teasing him. 

You nod, feeling Dokyeom’s fingers move around your waist only causing your breath to be that much harder to take as the man keeps you close. “Yeah…” 

“She’s so patient. What are you waiting for, Soonyoung?” 

His eyes were moving over the scene in front of him investigating it as if he were going to miss something if he stepped away but at Seungkwan’s question, Soonyoung sighed leaving you alone with your other two friends. 

It hadn’t escaped you that Seungkwan had called you Sweetheart or how he or Dokyeom were treating you. When you let out a small breath, Seungkwan lets his fingers fall from your face, an amused look on his face as he takes his attention from you leaving you feeling frustrated. “That’s mean…” 

Dokyeom laughs next to your ear hearing you mutter, his fingers sliding against your stomach. “I think Seungkwan is being very fair, Y/N. You are playing dirty tonight. What’s gotten into you?” 

Moving your hand over Dokyeom’s forearm you want to tell him, ‘none of them yet, which was the problem’ but before you could speak, your phone dings letting you know you have missed a call and have a voicemail waiting. 

“I can’t wait to hear what that says.” Seungkwan laughs, his eyes moving to glance at you and Dokyeom before everyone’s attention is drawn back toward Soonyoung. The sound of him literally tripping over his own feet and finally rolling over the back of the couch to land in front of the rest of you causes you to laugh. 

“Please god tell me I didn’t miss anything good! Oh, and truth or dare, Y/N?” 

Narrowing your eyes, you laugh only abruptly before the feeling of Dokyeom’s fingers brush over a spot where your shirt has lifted slightly near your hip. “Fuck…uh, truth.” 

This was not what Soonyoung had wanted to hear, you watch as he dramatically leans his head back with a groan. His eyes meet yours once again causing you to press your lips together to hide a smirk until he raises a brow. “No, you think you are getting it easy, but you proved just how much fun ‘truth’ can be. Tell us a list of names you like to be called in bed. I want the dirty truth.” 

All the men watch your tongue move along your lips, your mouth feeling suddenly very dry. Tipping back another shot of tequila you find that does nothing to help the feeling, it only makes you cough. Dokyeom laughs softly, sliding his hand from your side to your back to rub it gently. “Take a breath, I’m sure you are incredibly tame.” 

Raising a brow you find his words to be a challenge, your eyes meeting his making him smirk. “Tame?” Extending your arm out towards Soonyoung, you hold the shot glass steady allowing him to refill it for you, his fingers holding your wrist gently. 

“I like some tame names. Baby, Sweetheart, darling…those are all nice. You could be sweet to me, call me angel or Princess.” Seungkwan grins a bit, tipping his beer to his lips, seemingly taking notes as you continue to speak. 

“Or call me, Kitten…” Your eyes find Soonyoung, who lowers the tequila bottle at the name taking a breath. “You said you wanted them all?” He nods, and you lean back arching your back as if you are getting comfortable but it only causes your sweater to shift, your breasts drawing the eyes of each man. 

“I like when it gets a little dirty too. Whore or slut…but I’d rather be yours.” When you say ‘yours’ your eyes lower, a laugh on your lips tilting your glass back to take your shot before you clarify before the men’s brains explode. “I mean, in a possessive way. Maybe like, “my pretty whore or my slut”. You get what I mean?” 

No one is quick to speak, especially when you finally look up to meet their eyes one by one. You are only granted nods and steadying breaths. “I figured you would. So, Dokyeom…truth or dare?” 

You watch one of your favorite smiles spread across one of your favorite people’s faces, there is no one else like Dokyeom. No one could make you feel shy by just smiling. He was literal sunshine personified. 

Leaning back slightly, Dokyeom purses his lips and narrows his eyes playfully before finally nodding. “Dare. I’m curious what you will decide on….” His words trail off before he raises a brow looking at you teasingly to add, “Princess.” 

Your lips part to take a breath as Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head and muttering under his breath that ‘this is going to be good’. Seungkwan simply drapes his arm over his knee, the tips of his pretty fingers rubbing together in anticipation as he waits for you to speak. 

Dokyeom tilts his head as if to say, ‘what are you waiting for’ only to be rendered speechless once again when you finally do give him his dare. “Dokyeom…baby, I want you to kiss the part of my body that you’d like to cum on.”  

You hear Soonyoung swear under his breath, the way he shifts to get closer to you and the other men as if he will miss out on something once again, but your eyes never leave Dokyeom’s. The man in front of you rubs his lips together, his eyes moving over your face before working downward in thought. 

“Over your clothes?” 

You hadn’t considered that question, raising a brow you laugh, tilting your head back to find Seungkwan even closer than he had been a moment before. The feeling of his warm sweet breath causes you to pause when you feel it against your neck. “Uh…oh. I’ll lay down and you…can move my clothes to place the kiss.” 

Seungkwan smirks at you, meeting your eyes briefly before you look away to find Soonyoung just a couple of feet away from you now as well. Dokyeom grins, his eyes moving back up your body, he nods sliding back to let you move from between all of them so you could lay down. 

“On my back? Or did you want to cum on my ass, Dokyeom?” 

Your question causes the man to laugh, while it causes Soonyoung to bite his fist. Dokyeom shakes his head sliding on his knees towards you. “On your back is just fine.” You start to lie down on your own but stop short when Dokyeom’s hand rests behind your neck, helping you do it much slower than you had planned. Your eyes meet him, and you find him smiling at you suddenly urging your thighs to push together. 

“Such a gentleman…” 

“You say that now.” Dokyeom laughs, his eyes pulling at the corners slightly from how brightly he smiles making your stomach tighten from nerves. When your back is against the floor, he slides his hand from behind you glancing over your body once again like you are a piece of art. “Anywhere?” 

Soonyoung sighs, tilting his head and beginning to get impatient. “That was the prompt. Anywhere you’d wanna cum on her.” Seungkwan laughs at the man’s impatience, swatting at him to make him sit back some when he leans towards you and Dokyeom as if he could take the man’s place. 

“I’m just making sure. I want Y/N to be comfortable.” 

You can’t help but smile a bit at those words, reaching up to run your thumb over Dokyeom’s cheek before letting your thumb dare to drag across his lips. “I did give you the dare, I’m good, I promise. You can pick any spot.” 

God, Dokyeom could feel his pants getting tighter from just your words and the idea of picking any spot. There were so many spots he wanted to cum on you…or rather in you, but for now, he’d keep it above your hips. 

Sliding his hand along your hip, Dokyeom raises a brow watching you arch your back so he could slide your shirt up your stomach. The sound of the other two men taking deep breaths catches his attention, almost pulling it from you, but he can focus, dragging his thumb under your bra. 

Getting the idea, you shift your body letting him pull your shirt up further exposing your chest to him and your other friends, causing all of the men to take pause. You weren’t wearing any of your special lingerie, just a simple bra with some lace around the edges but it was enough to drive them all crazy. 

Dokyeom sucks in a breath and laughs as you take your shirt from him to pull it over your head tossing it towards Seungkwan who catches it with a chuckle of his own.

“Alright then…but what if I’d want to cum…here?” 

It was your turn to suck in a breath, Dokyeom’s middle finger drags under your bra, the tip of his nail just falling short of grazing over your nipple. 

“I see, and you wouldn’t want to cum on my bra? Is that what you are saying?” 

Soonyoung had to give it to Dokyeom, this was smooth as fuck. He was using his dare very wisely. Lifting his hand, Soonyoung runs his fingers over his lips to stifle a groan as Dokyeom nods at your words only for you to move to your elbow reaching behind your back to unclasp the garment. 

“I wouldn’t…wouldn’t want to ruin any of your things. You did call me a gentleman.” 

You smile, laying back down and reaching for Dokyeom’s hand to put it back over your bra using his fingers to pull at the cup so that he could get the idea to pull it from your body. “I did call you that.” 

Lifting your arms, you allow Dokyeom to drag the bra from your body leaving you topless on the floor. Each of the men had their reaction to the sight. Dokyeom drops the garment next to him before smiling at you shaking his head that you would allow him such a privilege, while Soonyoung almost vibrates in place. His thumbnail caught between his teeth as his eyes rolled back in his head before he stared at you full of lust. 

Seungkwan simply meets your eyes before letting his eyes roam over your chest taking you in like a meal. “Stunning…you are so pretty, Y/N. If you don’t do something soon, Dokyeom…Soonyoung is going to pounce on her.” 

His words cause you to laugh, your gaze falling on the man looking at you like a predator who has found his prey. “We are still playing the game, Soonyoung…you have to be patient.” He didn’t have the patience nor did he want to. 

Dokyeom just shakes his head, lifting his hand to trail the back of his fingers over the top of your breast and drawing your attention back to him as you let out a soft, slow breath. “So your dare was to kiss you where I’d want to cum of you. That was a difficult question, I won’t lie, but…I’d pick here. Look how pretty you are, can just imagine my cum painting your pretty tits.” 

Your cheeks burn, your teeth catching your lip as Dokyeom speaks. You hadn’t expected him to explain or talk to you like that but you weren’t complaining, but it’s when he leans down and you feel his breath against your chest that you can’t help but let out a soft whine. 

Dokyeom smiles before he nudges his nose against your soft skin, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. He lingers where he is for a brief moment before placing a slow, almost sensual kiss on a spot near your nipple causing a moan to escape your lips. 

His lips linger, a gentle groan caught in Dokyeom’s throat until he finally pulls back to look up at you with blown-out pupils. “Truth or dare?” No one else in the room spoke, they knew the question was for you. 

“Oh my god, truth.” You arch your breast towards Dokyeom’s hand only to have him pull back with a small smirk. It’s only when a whine falls from your lips, your hand moving to hold the side of his tank top tightly that he looks over your face sitting up fully. 

“Do you want to be fucked?” The question wasn’t surprising and yet it caused every other person in the room to take a deep breath. Soonyoung and Seungkwan knew it would change how this entire night and possibly how your friends would go from that moment forward. You had been waiting for it, longer than any of them could even understand. 

“Yes, god…more than anything.” Dokyeom groans at your answer, his cock throbbing trapped behind his jeans. He only nods and gestures his hand towards you for you to continue the game. Whining, you look at the other two men finally deciding on Seungkwan, “Truth or dare?” 

Out of the two, Seungkwan was keeping his cool much better. Yes, he wanted you badly but he also knew the night was young and he wasn’t going anywhere. Especially not after your answer to Dokyeom. “Dare.” 

“Play the voicemail from Soonyoung on my phone.” 

Seungkwan laughs, moving from his spot on the floor, you watch him adjust his jeans. His painfully obvious erection makes your mouth water as you remember your earlier conversation. With your phone finally in his hand, he types in your code to unlock it and goes to your voicemails hitting play on the most recent from Soonyoung, and placing it on speaker. 

Soonyoung smirks, his eyes moving from your phone to yours. He all but fucks you with his eyes as you begin to hear his voice fill the room causing your thighs to brush together once again. 

“Y/N…I have to wonder if you thought I wouldn’t tell you what I wanted. Well, fuck that…” You hear the sound of Soonyoung sitting down on a bed, your bed before he starts to talk again. “I’d eat you out like it was my last meal, I bet you taste so fucking good. You always smell like a dream so I can only imagine that your cum must taste like honey.” 

You bring your fingers to your lips to stifle a moan making Soonyoung raise a brow. He glances up to meet Dokyeom’s eyes gesturing back down to you. “Move her hand…you get to hear my dirty little thoughts, I want to hear your dirty little moans when you hear them.” 

Dokyeom’s hand wraps around your wrist pulling your hand from your mouth but your eyes never leave Soonyoung’s as you continue to listen to the recording. Seungkwan sits back down next to you, his eyes roaming over your legs as they rub together, his hand tilting the phone towards you so you can hear it better. 

“Then I’d fuck you open with my fingers so I could make sure you could take my cock. I bet your pretty pussy would swallow it up. You wanna swallow my cock up between your thighs?” 

You knew he wasn’t speaking to you at that moment but you still nod, causing Soonyoung to smirk. Reaching out he takes the phone from Seungkwan as the recording ends to put it out of the way. Seungkwan licks his lips knowing it is his turn to ask the question, “Y/N, truth or dare?” 

Laughing out a soft moan, your legs almost shaking from how much you want them to touch you. “Dare, god please make it a good one.” You were trying so hard to be patient, Dokyeom’s thumb running over your pulse point in your wrist, Soonyoung moving close enough to finally push your hair from your eyes. 

Seungkwan grins at you and laughs, “I dare you to be our good little whore and fuck all of us like you so clearly want to.” He knew that was the last question and that it would make it or break it even more so than Dokyeom’s question but when you moan out a “Yes, please Seungkwan…” that is all it takes for you to get what you want. 

He moves past Soonyoung to grab the back of your neck pulling you up from the floor, his lips colliding with yours hard in a rough kiss. Seungkwan hisses words against your lips, his fingers sliding down your stomach to your shorts to unbutton them quickly. “Sound so fucking pretty…help me get her to the bedroom.” 

Dokyeom nods, moving to his feet he leans to pick you up from the floor letting you keep your lips on Seungkwan’s for a moment more before the younger man pulls away to make you whine. Soonyoung grins at you hearing you whine as Seungkwan leaves you in Dokyeom’s grasp. 

“He’s not leaving you like he said…we are going to the bedroom. You are going to get so fucking spoiled tonight, Kitten. Save your whines for when you need them.” 

You start to speak, moving next to Dokyeom when Soonyoung moves to walk beside you. The feeling of his hand moving over your ass caused you to let out a small squeal of excitement. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I was so scared you guys wouldn’t want me like this.” 

Seungkwan raises a brow hearing your words when the three of you move into the room after him. His eyes meet yours as he tosses a few pillows out of the way then the stuffed tiger you had stolen from Soonyoung. “And you’d be so very wrong, Sweetheart. We thought you’d be repulsed by the dirty shit we’ve talked about when it came to you. How we all wanted to fuck you…be more than just friends with you, but none of us wanted to fuck up our friendship.” 

Dokyeom’s lips move across your neck making you smile, your eyes getting heavy from pleasure as you listen to Seungkwan speak. You feel Soonyoung’s hands move to your shorts, working them down your legs, his lips pressing to your stomach as you moan out softly before speaking. 

“This isn’t ruining anything, this is better. It’s so, so much better. You know I love all of you so much.” You feel Dokyeom’s lips turn up at your confession. You had all told each other that you loved one another many times but this time felt special. You practically purr out a moan feeling his nose brush behind your ear, Soonyoung’s fingers finally sliding your panties down your legs. 

“Fuck, you are dripping.” You could feel it, but hearing Soonyoung say it knowing he could see it between your legs was an entirely different thing. Seungkwan smirked at the sight in front of him only to clear his throat a moment later. “Lay her on the bed, you are both greedy.” 

“We are just anxious to have her, Seungkwan.” Soonyoung’s breath hits your folds as he speaks causing you to shiver. Your bottom lip gets caught in your teeth as you watch him get back up and lead you to the bed, where Dokyeom sits you down.  

Seungkwan watches carefully, his eyes never leaving you even as the other two men listen to your whines about them getting out of their clothes. Soonyoung is the quickest to give you what you want. His shirt is discarded across the room so that your fingernails can move across his toned muscles as your eyes move across his skin causing him to let out a sharp breath. 

“I’m so fucking hard, Kitten…and as much as I want you to touch me I just want my face buried between your thighs after seeing you dripping down your legs like a whore for us.” 

A smile spreads across your lips as Soonyoung’s hands move to your wrists moving your hands from his stomach and finally away from his body. You watch as he moves to his knees listening to you let out a soft faux whine at his words only for him to laugh and roll his eyes. 

“If you want to touch someone so bad you have two other cocks to unwrap. Seungkwan called me greedy, I’m planning to show him otherwise.” 

Soonyoung doesn’t allow you or Seungkwan a single word before his hands slide your legs open further and your moan fills the room like a dinner bell. The feeling of his warm tongue dragging through your folds is overwhelming, causing you to arch your back and push your hips towards Soonyoung’s face only to feel him groan against your pussy, pushing your hips back down with strong hands. 

Dokyeom had been patiently watching until you moaned so sweetly. The sound went straight to his cock causing it to twitch almost violently. His shirt had also been discarded next to the bed when you had asked but he hadn’t taken your attention from Soonyoung, instead, he had been perfectly content with watching. That was until you fell back on the bed, your breasts rising and falling with each lusty moan escaping your perfect little lips. 

“Mm, so pretty. She’s so pretty, Seungkwan, don’t you think so?” 

Seungkwan smirks at Dokyeom’s words, his hand lifting to brush his thumb around your pert nipple causing you to whimper. Your eyes move from each man while Soonyoung sucks your folds into his mouth with an obscene wet sound making your cheeks burn. 

“So fucking pretty, tell me what you want, Sweetheart. I’ll give it to you, but you have to ask.” 

You were having a hard time thinking much less speaking but when Seungkwan spoke to you so sweetly, almost in a condescending tone it made you clench around Soonyoung’s finger as soon as he pushed it into you. The man between your legs grins against your folds at the reaction before kissing your soft skin, his tongue peeking out to circle your clit teasingly while you whine out your answer. 

“Want…oh my god. I wanna suck your cock Seungkwan but I…ah Soonyoung!” 

You wanted to tell Dokyeom what you wanted from him as well but Soonyoung slides in a second finger turning his palm towards the ceiling, his fingers curling upwards to brush against your spot perfectly with each thrust. You hear three distinct laughs, one, in particular, warm against your ear causing you to whine out Dokyeom’s name bringing your attention back to him as you turn your head to capture his lips with yours speaking against them. 

“Dokyeom…I want…want you to touch me, kiss me…I need to touch you. Want to see your cock, take it out. Please?” 

The way you were whining, a slight moan in your words was driving Dokyeom crazy. Seungkwan could almost hold himself back, telling you to wait but Dokyeom found himself willing to give you anything and everything the moment you asked for it. 

Nodding his head, Dokyeom shifts off the bed pushing his jeans and boxers down before leaning back across the end of the bed so that his lips could capture your shoulder while he took your hand guiding it to his waiting and leaking cock. The moment your fingers brush over his head a shuddering breath escapes the man’s mouth that causes you to whimper and close your thighs around Soonyoung’s head. 

Still watching, Seungkwan licks his lips, his head tilted as he waits. You had asked him for something and he wasn’t a liar. He was going to give it to you. He knew why you had asked for it, the answer he had given you earlier but he wasn’t going to cum like that, not when he had the chance to cum elsewhere given a chance. 

“Y/N, Sweetheart, where are your condoms?” 

You look at him confused and shake your head, extending your hand towards Seungkwan trying to get him to come to you but he only shifts slightly closer letting you grip at his shirt. A small laugh falls from his lips as he looks down at you, the desperation in your eyes, Seungkwan lifts his hand to run it over your hair while he watches you starting to come apart from all the attention you are getting from the other men.

“Baby…think hard for me.”

“I’m on birth control, Kwannie.” 

Your words cause the other two men to take pause, especially Soonyoung who takes a deep breath between your thighs at the idea of fucking you raw. Seungkwan’s fingers fall down your jaw where he tilts your face more towards him examining you carefully before he leans down to speak against your lips. 

“If that’s what you want baby.” 

Nodding against his lips, you kiss him desperately, feeling Dokyeom thrust into your hand and Soonyoung dive back between your legs sending you over the edge for the first time that night. You whine breathlessly into Seungkwan’s mouth until you can’t handle it anymore and fall back on the bed having to push your hand into Soonyoung’s hair as he latches on to your clit, determined to overstimulate you. 

Seungkwan watches your thighs tremble, your fingers harshly pulling at Soonyoung’s hair only seeming to push the man further into his lust-filled stupor until he finally pulls away with a groaning breath letting you have a moment. 

“Fuck, you taste so good. I could eat you out all damn day, Y/N. We are never going back to how it was before.” 

Dokyeom laughs at Soonyoung’s words, his hand sliding along your breasts squeezing gently, thumb and forefinger rolling your nipple gently between them to watch you arch into his touch while your hand lazily strokes him. Turning his hand over, palm up, Dokyeom groans your name as you meet his eyes. Your thumb presses against his slit while his fingers dance along your hipbone, moving to the center of your legs to finally graze through your cum and Soonyoung’s saliva. 

“I agree with Soonyoung. I can’t go back after this, I wouldn’t want to. I don’t think you’d want to either, would you Princess?” 

You whine out a no, rolling your hips toward Dokyeom’s fingers even though you were already so sensitive. Your attention stayed on him but you knew that Soonyoung was moving around the room, his pants dropping to the floor. He only pulled your eyes back to him when his hands moved under your arms to slide you towards the edge of the bed so your head could rest off the edge, his eyes glancing towards Seungkwan. 

“She said, she wanted to suck your dick, Kwan. Don’t make her wait all fucking night.” 

Hearing him laugh causes you to bite your lip, your eyes searching for Seungkwan to find him with significantly less clothing than before, his shirt and pants on the floor. His eyes find yours as his thumbs hook into the top of his briefs to push them down letting his cock bounce back upwards making your mouth water with each of his steps around the bed towards you. 

You try to stay focused but when Dokyeom’s middle finger presses against your entrance a soft moan slips from your lips. Your hips lift to meet the long digit eliciting a low chuckle from the man who leans down to press a kiss to your neck muttering against your skin. 

“You are tight around my finger even after Soonyoung ate you out. You need more prep if you are going to fuck any of us, Princess. Don’t worry…I’ll make sure you can handle it. You just worry about your Kwannie.” 

Hearing his name leaving Dokyeom’s mouth in such a cute way causes Seungkwan to roll his eyes even as he looks down at you. You were anything but cute at the moment. Ravishing, mouth-watering, fuckable, there were a million words that Seungkwan could use to describe you but he couldn’t get seem to get his mind to connect with his mouth with you reached out your hand for him. 

“Want you…” 

Those were the only words that could slip from your lips but they were enough to make Seungkwan take another step toward you. His fingers run over your cheek, your lips parting for him as you tilt your head backward to give him the signal he needs to use your mouth. 

“Fuck…Y/N. This isn’t how I pictured this happening.” He wasn’t sure how he had pictured it, his pre-cum coating your pretty lips as he traced them with the head of his cock, but it was something he’d never forget. Pushing into your waiting mouth, Seungkwan lets out a shuddering breath, his knees almost buckling at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. He could feel the way you instantly pressed your tongue along the underside of his head trying to tease him. 

“Mm, Kitten…are you good with your mouth? You have Seungkwan panting like a teenager getting head for the first time.” 

You smile around the cock in your mouth, a moan sending a vibration through Seungkwan as your response. Soonyoung runs his fingers along your collarbone letting his eyes move from your mouth down to your legs watching your hips lift to grind down. 

“Add another finger. She can handle it, can’t you baby?” Soonyoung wasn’t actually wanting a response from you but another groan escaping Seungkwan when you gag around him taking him all the way to your throat makes Soonyoung laugh. Moving around your bed, running a hand over his face, Soonyoung opens your nightstand figuring that personal space is a thing of the past. With a smirk on his lips, he picks up your vibrator giving it a once over before returning it to its rightful spot in place of picking up a small bottle of lube. 

Dokyeom’s eyes dart from what he is doing, adding another finger feeling you stretch around him as the third finger seems to push you to your limit, to watching Soonyoung curiously. “She’s fucking soaked Soonyoung…but it wouldn’t hurt to use lube. I don’t want to hurt her, especially if all three of us are taking turns.” 

You were trying to pay attention to their conversation but one stroke of Dokyeom’s fingers against your spot causes your teeth to rake the underside of Seungkwan’s cock as you arch off the bed. Pressure begins to build in you so intensely that you have to pull from the man to take a breath.

“Fuck…fuck! There…don’t stop Dokyeom. Please?” 

Seungkwan takes a step back trying to catch his breath having gotten so close to his own orgasm only to have it pulled away. He instead watches as you sit up on your elbows, your hand moving to hold Dokyeom’s tightly almost as if you are in conflict with yourself if you want to keep him closer to push him away. 

Feeling your pussy tightening around him and hearing your pleas, Dokyeom’s attention stays focused fully on you. His knee pushes into the bed as he nods, his free hand moving to hold down your hips keeping you still while he coaxes you toward your orgasm. 

“Right there? Is that the spot, Princess? Are you gonna cum for me?”

Standing completely still, Soonyoung simply holds the bottle of lube as he watches you nod before a whining moan slips from your lips. His eyes fall between your legs at the same time as he mutters, “holy shit” watching your orgasm push Dokyeom’s fingers from you as you squirt. 

“She’s fucking perfect. Kitten…Y/N? Baby, my love…marry me? Marry us?” 

Falling back on the bed, your legs trembling you can’t help but laugh at Soonyoung’s words feeling Dokyeom’s hands sliding over your thighs soothingly. You knew he was kidding but at the same time, it was a fucking tempting thought. 

Tossing the bottle of lube onto the bed, Soonyoung crawls up to hover over you. His eyes finally met yours eliciting another laugh to split from your lips. 

“Just need a second, haven’t…been a while since I’ve cum that hard.” 

Dokyeom feels a bit of pride swell in his chest when Soonyoung raises a brow glancing at him. “Yeah, well there is cumming and then there is that. Baby we are going to have to change your bed. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my fucking life. You think…” 

Hearing him trail off, his fingers moving across your skin to trace around your nipple making you shiver, you open your eyes once again to look up at him curiously. The bed dips on your other side when Seungkwan finally takes a seat to get closer to you. 

“Think what, Soonie?” 

“Think you could take two of us? If we prep you?” 

Seungkwan shakes his head, a scoff falling from his lips thinking that surely Soonyoung had gone too far but you surprise him by biting your lip and nodding, a small “yeah” whispered with a breath. 

“Yeah? You gonna let us fuck that cute ass?” 

Your cheeks burning at Soonyoung’s forwardness, you turn your head, laughing as you say yes again. His fingers hold your chin turning your gaze back to meet his, leaning down Soonyoung brushes his lips almost teasingly across yours making you whimper when he pulls away. 

“Good girl. Turn over on your stomach. Maybe you can give Dokyeom a present for making you cum so hard, hmm?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you nod. Your cheeks warm, and you let Seungkwan help you turn onto your stomach before you move to your hands and knees. Dokyeom already standing in front of you smiles when you glance up to meet his eyes, his fingers sliding over the side of your head enjoying having you so close to his cock already. 

“I won’t lie, as much as I was enjoying fucking you with my fingers…I was curious about what you were doing with your mouth. Wanna show me?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

Seungkwan raises a brow taking a deep breath as he runs a hand over your back tracing your curves down to your ass. Another thing he hadn’t pictured, was the possibility of anyone being able to do this to you but here they all were, and now Soonyoung was kneeling behind you rubbing lube together on his fingers. 

“Incredible.” Seungkwan’s words draw your attention briefly, your hand wrapped around Dokyeom’s length. You glance at the youngest man meeting his eyes as you place a kiss on the tip of the cock in front of you making him smirk at you before you feel his hand lift and then connect with your ass cheek firmly. “Tease.”

You moan feeling the burn from Seungkwan’s hand, the way his pretty fingers kneed the warm flesh afterward making it feel sensual. It draws your attention from the first bit of pressure when Soonyoung presses his index finger against your rim easing it in slowly.  

“Fuck, there we go. Relax…gonna feel so good. Fill you up in every single way we can Kitten. Make you ours completely. Isn’t that what you want?” 

Soonyoung watches you nod, a whine slipping from around Dokyeom’s cock as you take more of him into your mouth. 

“Of course it is. You are ours, always have been. Our pretty fucking slut. God, Kwan...look how pretty this is.” 

A second finger worked into your tight hole, Soonyoung tilts his head, his other hand keeping your ass open for him. He lets Seungkwan scoot in closer listening to the man groan softly when he finally sees how you clench around his fingers. 

“Just go slow, shit…she’s gorgeous. You are so beautiful, Sweetheart.” 

Seungkwan’s hand slides along your ass, his thumb pressing near where Soonyoung’s fingers scissor into you stretching you out. You knew he was making sure you wouldn’t be hurt but you didn’t want Soonyoung to go slow anymore. It felt too good and you wanted more. 

Leaning his head back, Dokyeom ran a hand over your head licking his lips and trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly as you moaned around him. You were too good with your mouth. He knew that he had asked to see how good you would be but there was no way he was going to miss out on fucking you. 

With a low groan, Dokyeom pulls back from you making you whine out a small “no” your eyes searching for him and a reason. “Gonna make me cum, Princess. Wanna fuck you, gonna let me?” 

You nod quickly, your hand reaching for him almost desperately as you push back on Soonyoung’s fingers in an attempt to get more stimulation. 

“God, need more. Please…I can take it. Please fuck me? I’ve been good, haven’t I? Kwannie, I’ve been so good.” 

Hearing you say his name, Seungkwan moves back to lift your head so he can meet your eyes, his lips brushing against yours. You feel Soonyoung push in a third finger causing you to let out a sobbing moan against Seungkwan’s mouth. 

“You have, you’ve been so good. Almost time, hmm…why don’t you tell me who you want to fuck first?” 

You were almost panting into his mouth trying to think clearly when Seungkwan asked you such an important question. Your brain becomes fuzzy to the feeling of Soonyoung’s fingers burying themselves into your ass pushing you towards a third orgasm so quickly. 

“I…oh my god. Soonyoung, I want Soonyoung to…in my ass.” 

Seungkwan nods, a smirk against your lips. You feel his hand slide over your stomach and finally between your legs. His slender fingers dance between your wet folds driving you over that edge once again while his forehead rests against yours. 

“And who gets to be in this sweet little pussy first? Hm?” 

Breathy moans escape your lips but words are almost unintelligible. Your legs shaking you rely completely on Seungkwan to keep you from falling forward on the bed until your orgasm ends. 

Soonyoung’s fingers slide over the swell of your ass, he smirks as Dokyeom shakes his head leaning down to check on you as you seem to come back to reality. 

“Want…Seungkwan first.” 

Your words were quiet but you feel Dokyeom’s long fingers on your cheek and hear Seungkwan’s gentle laugh against your ear. You weren’t sure how you wanted it to work but it appeared you didn’t have to figure that out. A few silent looks from the men around the bed put Seungkwan into motion, his head resting against your pillows. 

Fingers extending towards you, Seungkwan raises a brow as he watches you carefully, almost possessively knowing that you were his first. Two other sets of hands slide along your body allowing you to crawl along the bed making your way to Seungkwan until you are finally sitting across his thighs. 

Seungkwan watches you take a deep breath, your tongue running slowly along your lips from nerves. You had gone so far with all of them tonight but this would ‘seal the deal’ in a manner of speaking. Kneading his thumbs into the top of your thighs working them up towards your hips, Seungkwan smiles at you, his head tilting questioningly as he speaks calmly. 

“Is this something you still want? No one here is going to be upset if you want to stop.” 

Soonyoung could feel a slight ache in his stomach at the thought but he also knew deep down that if this was as far as you wanted to go for the night he would respect it and be happy with what he had with you. Furrowing his brows, he runs the back of his hand along your back to soothe your nerves but to also let you know that neither he nor Dokyeom had left you so you wouldn’t be worried. 

A smile spreads along your lips to the feeling of their hands on your body, Dokyeom’s joining as he massages your lower back. The man leans to press a soft patient kiss to your shoulder blade waiting to hear your answer to Seungkwan’s question only to find you glancing over your shoulder at him when you do speak. 

“I want this. I promise, just take care of me?” 

“Oh, Princess…we have always taken care of you. Why would we stop now?” 

You can’t help but laugh at Dokyeom’s words. He wasn’t wrong, they had always gone out of their way to take care of you in various ways. 

“He’s right,” Soonyoung speaks next to your neck, his lips moving along your soft skin causing goosebumps to spread along your flesh. “Every night we stay here, one of us will wake up earlier than you to make sure to either cook your breakfast or at least order something. We make sure you drink plenty of water, take something for your hangover, take a shower…” 

Your lashes lowered feeling his fingers moving to your hips to help guide you towards Seungkwan, the feeling of his hard cock brushing between your folds sending a shiver through your body as you moan quietly. 

“Remember last time? Seungkwan let you sit in his lap and he cut up your food for you and fed it to you because you said your head hurt too bad. You had drunk a little too much and slept so hard but he loves you so much he made sure you still ate.” 

You remembered, your eyes open to find Seungkwan looking up at you, his lips parted so sweetly to the feeling of your wet folds sliding over his cock with each rock of your hips. He felt so good even like this, you couldn’t wait to feel him inside of you. Lifting your hips, you whimper for him watching Seungkwan nod, his fingers wrapping around his length guiding his head to your entrance letting you slowly sit back down over him. 

“Shit…so warm. Oh my god, Y/N, baby.” 

Seungkwan’s words make you smile, your moans falling from your lips breathlessly as you try to get used to the stretch adjusting around him. You nod letting Soonyoung help you move your hips over the younger man. 

“You sound so pretty, Kitten. You feel full, hmm?” 

Soonyoung watches you for a moment until you look back at him knowing what he was really asking you. His hands slide to your ass where his thumbs separate your ass causing you to clench around Seungkwan. 

“Please, please…please?” 

Your pleas were so sweet and tempting, how could Soonyoung say no? How could Dokyeom just sit there and not feel like he was going to burst to watch you lean forward, your body trembling? 

“Please what? You want Soonyoung to fill you up back here?” 

Dokyeom had spent most of the night surprising Soonyoung, so when he spoke questioning you about what you wanted exactly, Soonyoung couldn’t help but smirk. His eyes fell to the other man’s hand as it move past his so that his middle finger could press against your now puffy rim teasing you. 

Tears of pleasure were stinging your eyes, your hips moving harder over Seungkwan. He was holding on to your hips, his nails digging gently into your skin in an attempt to calm himself down when your walls tighten around him once again. You nod meeting Dokyeom’s gaze, the sweet man you loved so much is still there but with a look of almost sadism laced within. 

Arching your back, a gasp slips from your lips when Dokyeom’s finger slides into you causing you to feel that much more full. He laughs lowly at your reaction leaning to kiss your cheek, nodding along with your babbling for more. 

“Yeah? I know…I know. Soonie is going to get ready. Yes, Princess, you sound so fucking pretty moaning like a whore. Are you gonna cum around Seungkwan’s cock?” 

Soonyoung laughs to himself, his hand coated in lube before he strokes himself a few times shaking his head and listening to Dokyeom’s dirty talk. He had no idea the man had it in him but he was impressed. Moving back to hold your hip with one hand, Soonyoung taps Dokyeom’s wrist to signal for him to move. He listens to you whine pathetically when one finger slowly slides from your ass causing him to shake his head again, the head of his cock pressing against your waiting hole. 

“So needy.” 

Your hands resting on Seungkwan’s chest, your nails digging into his skin eliciting a hiss to fall from the man’s lips as Soonyoung slowly pushes into you. Dokyeom groans, his cock leaking heavily against his thigh, his impatience almost outweighing his desire to fuck you as he looks at your mouth falling open in a lust-filled moan. 

Soonyoung groans almost louder than anyone in the room as he feels your ass around him. Your tight hole pulls him in close to your back so you can feel his chest rising and falling quickly as he battles with himself to calm down trying not to cum the moment he is inside of you. 

“I want to ruin you, Y/N…ruin you for anyone else except us.” 

You shiver to hear Soonyoung’s words, his hand sliding along your stomach to press against back against him but also down over Seungkwan causing the man to groan your name. He was doing his best not to lose it. Trying to let you control how fast you wanted to go but it was becoming too much and feeling how tight you were with Soonyoung also inside of you pushed him over the edge. 

Thrusting up hard, Seungkwan can’t help but smirk listening to how you start to moan his name. It sounded like the best song he had ever heard. It was like a chant that was meant only for him, something going in time with the beating of his heart in his ears. A groan escapes Seungkwan’s throat when your fingers wrap around his wrist in an attempt to ground yourself, that was his last straw, the last string and you had cut it. 

Seungkwan’s body shudders as he fucks his cum into you feeling it running down onto his thighs with each of your movements. There was nothing better than that feeling, knowing that it was him inside of you, his cum dripping out of you. 

Soonyoung has to hold your hips tightly when your orgasm is triggered by Seungkwan’s. Biting his bottom lip to the point he tastes copper, Soonyoung leans his head back groaning your name feeling your ass moving over his cock. You were going to push him over that same edge and he wasn’t going to tell you no. 

With one hard thrust, Soonyoung leans forward to latch his mouth onto your shoulder. Thick white ropes fill you until cum is dripping down the back of your thighs. Dokyeom shudders at the sight, his eyes moving over the three of you until Soonyoung finally moves back exposing the dark mark he had left on your shoulder. 

“Mm baby, come here.” 

You were exhausted, so allowing Soonyoung to carefully slip from you and lay you on the bed on your back caused you to smile. A soft, “thank you Soonie” slipped from your mouth before it was swallowed by Soonyoung in a kiss as he hovers over you. 

Seungkwan ran a hand over his face, his stomach sucking in tightly before he laughs looking around the room to find Dokyeom watching you carefully. 

“I have an idea, Dokyeom…run a bath.” 

The man looked confused for a moment thinking that he was being sent away but a brow raised by the younger man followed by a simple head tilt gave him the answer he needed. You watch with a whine, reaching for Dokyeom when you see him start to leave the room heading for your bathroom. 

“No, want…–” 

“You will, Sweetheart,” Seungkwan speaks softly, rolling to his side to push your hair behind your ear as Soonyoung lays on his side beside you. “In the bath. Does that sound nice? Remember Soonyoung said we take care of you? Let Dokyeom take care of you. Soonyoung and I will clean up in here, and have something for you to eat when you get done.” 

You had to admit it all sounded so nice and too good to be true. Sighing softly, you can’t help but smile when Soonyoung kisses over his love bite from earlier while Seungkwan leans to kiss your jaw making you laugh. 

“Okay, I love you.”  

Two muttered “love you” fill your ears before you feel another hand running over your head drawing your attention to Dokyeom at the side of your bed. You can’t help but let your eyes travel over the expanse of his body and notice how his cock was less hard, but you could take care of that. 

Helping you to your feet, Dokyeom lets you lean against him. A small laugh tickles your ear when he feels your hand sliding over his ass as the two of you make your way into the bathroom toward the now-filled tub. 

“So handsy. What about my honor, Y/N?” 

Your laugh fills Dokyeom’s ears, his hands taking both of yours allowing you to step into the warm water first. He watches you carefully, his cock twitching slightly back to life at the sight of you enjoying the feeling of the warmth, and the sound leaving your soft lips. 

“I’ll take your honor, Mr. Lee. Get in, I need you.” 

He didn’t have to be told twice, carefully moving to sit behind you, Dokyeom lowers himself into the water, a groan similar to yours escaping his mouth to how good it felt on his skin. Still, he couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of your skin on his even more as you leaned back against him, your fingers running along his toned thighs under the water. 

“You are so beautiful, Y/N. We are so lucky to get tonight with you.” 

The words are spoken against your ear causing you to shiver, your lips turning up in a smile. Your eyes close as you lean back against Dokyeom’s chest allowing yourself to relax. The feeling of his fingers dancing along your stomach makes you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a moan. 

You weren’t trying to hide how much you wanted him, Dokyeom surely knew, but this somehow felt more romantic and intimate than what had happened in the bedroom with Soonyoung and Seungkwan. A warm groan hits your skin when you grind back against Dokyeom feeling his cock once again hard against your back. Each of them was endowed perfectly in their own way but Dokyeom had the other two beat in both girth and length. 

“Dokyeom…please? Want you so bad.” 

Dokyeom smiles against your neck, his gentle lips pulling back so that his teeth can rake along your skin once. He nods before letting out a groan when you move from him to turn in the bath to face him, sliding your legs around him in the tub so you can straddle his hips with your own. 

“This okay? I want to be able to kiss you, touch you…” 

There was no fucking way, Dokyeom was going to tell you no. In what world would this not be okay? If his face wasn’t telling you everything you needed to know, his cock was. You can’t help but to smile feeling it jerk against your thigh as you roll your hips toward his body, your lips brushing over his. 

Carefully adjusting yourself over his cock, you feel his tip press against your entrance making you sigh into the kiss softly. Doyeom groans into your mouth feeling you around him for the first time, his hands sliding over your hips to your ass to hold you tightly once you are sitting over him fully. 

Small soft thrusts meet your lazy movements, the water sloshing near the top of the tub threatening to spill over with each passing moment. It didn’t take long for your body to put you back on edge, your orgasm threatening to hit you, a cord ready to snap at any second with how deeply Dokyeom was buried inside of you. The angle of his cock hitting you was almost as perfect as his fingers had been on the bed, Dokyeom can only smile against your lips when you whine his name and that you are going to cum. 

“Yeah? Cum for me, Y/N. Just for me…cum around my cock.” 

The last of his words were strained when you do as he wants, your orgasm ripping through you causing you to clench around him. Your thighs trembling, your fingernails scratching down his chest leaving red streaks that he would wear proudly. Dokyeom breathes out your name, his fingers lifting you by your ass only to let you fall back down over his thick cock as he follows you over that edge spilling into you with a soft groan. 

Collapsing against his chest, you press gentle kisses to his neck making Dokyeom laugh at how it tickles. Your eyelashes brushed against his skin making him squirm, and though he was softening the feeling of him moving in you was enough to make you tighten around him still. 

“You are going to be the death of me. I have nothing left, if you keep clenching around me like that…you’ll suck me dry.”

The thought was enough to cause you to clench one last time before Dokyeom is able to slide from you shaking his head to the feeling. His eyes fell to the water to watch the swirl of white mixing in the water making his head spin. 

“Need to drain the water and get to actually clean.” 

Dokyeom listens to you whine, a laugh on his lips when his backup arrives in the form of Seungkwan. The sound of your shower cutting on and his tsking make you smile before you even feel his hands on your sides helping you stand. 

“Don’t pout, Sweetheart. It’s not like anyone is making you do any work. You are getting spoiled.” 

He was right. You were very lucky. Your body leaning against his, you allow Seungkwan to help you into the small shower. His hands carefully work soap into your skin while you close your eyes breathing softly against his shoulder. 

You weren’t sure if you had fallen asleep standing up or how you had gotten into bed but the feeling of fingers tracing around your belly button under a nightshirt along with the smell of food brought you back to reality. Soonyoung smiles watching your eyelashes flutter open, your pretty eyes finding him laying at your side. His hair is still damp from his own shower, you can’t help but smile reaching up to run your fingers over his lips granting yourself a gentle kiss on your fingertips. 

“I’ll let you sleep soon, but you need to eat a little something. Also, I know the bed is probably the best but Dokyeom is bitching about how not all of us will fit on it so he found every single fucking blanket in the house and made a bed in the living room. Would you be upset about sleeping in there?” 

Your chest tightens to the suggestion as you sit finding Soonyoung holding the stuffed tiger you had “borrowed” in his arms. 

“No, I want to be able to cuddle with all of you but I swear to god Soonyoung…if you take that tiger out of this apartment I’ll never touch your dick again.” 

A shocked laugh escapes the man’s lips as he leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek. The stuffed animal is placed firmly against your stomach. 

“You are so fucking bratty, I was going to say…I’m leaving him here with you. He’s yours now, for when I can’t be here. Now come on, Seungkwan made ramen.” 

You smile clutching the tiger to your chest before sliding off the bed to follow Soonyoung. The sound of laughter causes you to stop short so you can watch him roll over the couch to fall into the pile next to Dokyeom. Seungkwan smiles even though he scolds the two older men trying to keep them from eating all the food, while they all sit on the makeshift bed waiting for you. 

At that moment you couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be. 

“Hey, guys…truth or dare?” 

Seungkwan groans looking up at you, a smile playing on his lips as he rolls his eyes. “Truth” 

Each of them watch as you move around the couch before falling to your knees between them letting them get a better look at you. The way they looked at you was different now. 

“Do you love me?” 

Dokyeom shakes his head, his teeth catching his bottom lip. He leans forward resting his arm on his knees and reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek allowing you to lean into his touch. 

“You know we do.” 

tag list; @bangchanbabygirlx @just-here-to-read-01 @niktwazny303 @strawberri-uyu @yeritheloml @tis-niki @noraehey @hoohoohope @otterpopchan @xuxibelle @foxdaisy @smileysuh @vern0nsworld @synthetickitsune @enhacolor @pandorashbox @yeosayang @gyuhanniescarat @yoonguurt @jwnghyuns @xoxodino @sakurasangcl @woniewhite @fantasy2wonderland @midnightvalentines @woozis-wife @sunnyteume @multi-kpop-fanfics @noseblowersanonymous @whyokoa @baldi-2 @misssugarlips @raevyng @sstarryoong @dkakapizzaboy @noniestars @tigermoonbiss @diving1ntoyou @valentxi

please note that I am doing my best to tag all of you who have filled out the tag list form but tumblr won’t let me tag some of you. I think that is because either you have tags turned off or possibly a blank tumblr page. consider reblogging some of the fics you like from me or other writers. ♥

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed. 

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: dating zoro edition

- slight nsfw images + wording , very slight

- male reader !!

liked by freeluffy, SUPERCOLA, and 10k others

rzs.[name]: muah smooch kiss 😚

tagged: [name]s_hubby

[name]s_hubby: i love u pretty boy

-> rzs.[name]: come home imy

-> [name]s_hubby: im gettin ur stupid biggie bag wait a second

dni_nami: STOP BEING HAPPY ON MY TL ‼️‼️‼️ I DIDNT ASK FOR TS esp from u two

-> rzs.[name]: btw nami i jus venmoed u for the snacks u bought for us at the movies

-> dni_nami: i wish u both nothing but happiness 🫶🏼 love u botthhhh

uso_pp: damn why he eatin u ... [name] u good??

-> [name]s_hubby: pls stfu u touch deprived idiot

liked by purrrona, rzs.[name], and 11k others

[name]s_hubby: why r ppl spelling gym "jim" that shit sound stupid as fuck

tagged: rzs.[name]

rzs.[name]: my favorite pillow <333

rzs.[name]: guys do u see how he tagged me :))) its cuz hes my boyfriend

rzs.[name]: pls tell me ur single plsplsplsplsplsplsplsplspl

-> [name]s_hubby: i almost blocked u bc i thought u were a rando

-> uso_pp: smths tellin me this isnt the right answer ???

-> [name]s_hubby: mb i mean, yes i do have a boyfriend and am happily married to him

freeluffy: ZORO i beat ur pr 😈😈

-> [name]s_hubby: mf i know u didnt stop lying

princesanji: vomitted in my mouth xoxo

-> [name]s_hubby: the jealousy from this comment is crazy

liked by [name]s_hubby, princesanji, and 10k others

rzs.[name]: HES SOOOOO HOTTTT I MIGHT JUST START DROOLING

tagged: [name]s_hubby

[name]s_hubby: please do not start drooling i might break up w u

-> rzs.[name]: u practically started crying when i told u i had to leave the bed to go to school , i cant even jmagine if i broke up w you

-> uso_pp: his ass is not built to survive without u [name] pls dont break up w him for the sake of everyone else

randomgirl: happy for u ig ...

-> [name]s_hubby: im gonna block u from [name]s phone cuz hes too nice to do it himself foh w ur bullshit

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills, and 100 others]

johnnybro: BIG BRO ZORO GOT THE CUTEST BOYFRIEND EVER

-> rzs.[name]: JOHNNNNYY zoro says he misses u

-> [name]s_hubby: i didnt but good to hear from u johnny and yes my bf is the cutest

liked by rzs.[name], [name]s_hubby, and 9k others

SUPERCOLA: zoros drunk ass couldnt even stand upright and [name] had to go on over there to sober him up

tagged: rzs.[name] and [name]s_hubby

robinkills: what even got him to come back to his senses? he was so drunk

-> rzs.[name]: i told him he would have to sleep on the couch unless he got serious

[liked by dni_nami, princesanji, and 57 others]

-> dni_nami: thats all it took??? wtf 💀💀💀

freeluffy: zoro is so funny 😂😂😂 he kept bumping into poles ans apologizing to them

-> [name]s_hubby: luffy delete this comment rn u have ten minutes.

rzs.[name]: i love my boyfriend 😇 even if hes so fucking stupid

-> SUPERCOLA: pls do NOT start beef in my comment section i was tryna show how cut u guys r as a couple not how stupid u both are

liked by rzs.[name], princesanji, and 17k others

[name]s_hubby: one day ill put a proper ring on his finger and then MAYBE just maybe bitches will stop tryna slide in his dms

tagged: rzs.[name]

uso_pp: it was cute until u threatened a whole population of people

-> [name]s_hubby: the issue is that theres a whole population of people tryna get w my bf, thats not my fault

dni_nami: zoro u almost had me fooled that u were being a SWEET bf for once

rzs.[name]: why not rn???

-> [name]s_hubby: shhh

princesanji: the caption couldve been smth great and then u ruined it

-> [name]s_hubby: and ur still single. so...

liked by dni_nami, [name]s_hubby, and 12k others

rzs.[name]: i was told to make it more obvious on my acc that i have a bf (even tho hes in all my posts) so pls stop dming me now ty

tagged: [name]s_hubby

[name]s_hubby: his username is literally "roronoa zoro's [name]" as in - IM RORONOA ZORO ... i need all of u to wake tf up

-> rzs.[name]: and my man!!! thank u to my man!!

dni_nami: if anyone knew u two in real life theyd know all u do is talk abt each other

uso_pp: the world if ppl were able to take a hint🌈✨✌️☮️🕊️

princesanji: i am begging all of u to actually stop dming [name] bc the amt of ppl is genuinely stressing zoro out and its making him act even more like an asshole to the rest of us. please spare us this treatment and leave them both alone

[liked by [name]s_hubby, rzs.name, and 120 others]

rzs.[name]'s story:

happy 2 yr anniversary, im so lucky to have you in my life

[name]s_hubby replied to your story: i hope i get to wake up next to you everyday, i love you so much please come home quick so i can show you pretty boy <3

[celestie0]

does anyone wanna be on taglist for this choso x reader fic? 🧚‍♀️✨

edit: hellooo if you're seeing this now, i already uploaded the first chapter here!! you can comment under the chapter post if you would like to be added to the taglist :)

HI BABES i’m starting a new choso fic series :””) here’s a bit of info about it:

ᰔ title. in another life

ᰔ pairing. rock band au - punk rock!choso x fem!reader ft. fiancé!nanami

ᰔ genres. smut, fluff, angst, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, messy decisions, jealousy, etc.

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

inspired by a lot of things lol but mostly the anime nana, the movie past lives, the book before we were strangers, and the song about you by the 1975 (aka angst galore)

here is a little teaser:

lol i literally couldn’t choose which part to tease but i feel like this part kinda fits the vibe

the first chapter is already done! it’s 11k words and will be posted tomorrow apr 4th @ 2pm PST :)) very exciteeeddd for it hehe

but anyway, if you’d like to be on taglist for it, please leave a comment under this post!!

thank u to anyone who supports the fic 🥺💕

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Four AU)

Threesome Edition

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Threesome (M/M/GN), Jealousy/possessive fighting, Spitroasting, Size difference, Oral sex (reader performing & recieving), Swallowing, Double penetration, PinV sex, Anal sex, Breeding kink, Humiliation kink, Creampie, Aftercare.

Word count: 11k

Notes: Alright you fuckin degenerates HERE YOU GO! I DID IT! Alternate version of chap twenty-four which ends with a bit more s p i c e, aka Miguel is no longer a dumb virgin.

You barrelled into the elevator with Mig at your back. Neither of you could even stomach waiting until the doors were closed; the moment you hit the floor he was pinning you down with his lips and biceps, tonguing your mouth with furious, pining little moans. The doors closed on a handful of curious if horrified onlookers.

‘Mm- mm, come here’ he hissed between kisses, furiously petting your body.

‘M-Mig—’ You barely even got his name out of your mouth before his tongue was back down your throat. The soft ‘ding’ of the elevator, a reminder of the professional, clean-cut environment you were in, was drowned out by the sound of Mig grinding you into the floor.

You dug your nails into his back as you smothered you with his human torso. It was hard to breathe. You felt your lungs expanding in your chest as his muscled chest crushed your ribs. No air could hope to break through the bond he’d made between your lips, that halo of saliva and venom, allowing him to taste you in the most perverse way. His flat, hot tongue was curious as it brushed your own. You felt so delicate. So small. He wanted to eat you up.

You were getting lightheaded.

‘Mm—MM—’

It was right then, as Mig was sliding his tongue down your throat, that a deafening bang filled the elevator. You spun in unison to see the unexpected interruption.

The doors to the elevator had been yanked apart, revealing a tall and imposing shadow in its maw. You both watched in a state of panic as their face came into view.

Miguel’s cold, tired pout stared back at you and Mig from the elevators entrance.

For a moment all three of you went silent. You were too shocked to say a word, as was Mig, and Miguel seemed too exasperated to get a word out. He simply ran a hand down his face and furiously rubbed at his eyes.

‘Ay coño—’ he murmured beneath his breath.

You felt your heart sink into your chest. Oh god. You’d been tricked. Of course, this was all a ruse, wasn’t it? Miguel had set you up, made you feel safe, and now he was going to show you off to everyone. You could faintly see the curious spiders moving about the lobby behind him, all of them in the perfect position to see you beneath Mig.

You locked gazes with Miguel as he stared down at you with cold, red, disdainful eyes. You silently pleaded for him not to do whatever he was about to do, even though you knew it was likely pointless. His eyes narrowed.

‘Everything okay Miguel?’

Someone from outside called to him, and you braced for him to reveal you and Mig in your compromising position. But Miguel didn’t do that.

‘It’s fine! Lyla spotted something off about the elevator. I’m going to check it out’ he said, and before anyone could reply he used his own web to slam the elevator doors shut.

You were too shocked to even get up. ‘You—Miguel, where did you—’

‘Why… did you not USE A PORTAL TO GO HOME?’ he hissed in your face. You stumbled back as Mig pushed his way forward, his teeth defensively bared. The two butted foreheads so hard that it let out a violent cracking noise.

It took you stumbling to your feet to stop them from breaking into an all-out war. Your skin-tight suit had been soaked with slick just from Mig’s sweet kisses, and the smell seemed to have a physical pull on the two men. You stood, sodden and abashed, beneath the joint glow of their eyes.

‘I….’ Miguel grunted and coughed, forcing his aggravated expression back on like a mask. ‘I said, why did you two not make a portal and go back to your universe. Why did you go into the elevator?!’

‘I, ah—I, wasn’t, thinking straight’ you blurted. ‘I just… I needed, to—’

‘Eres estúpido—’ Miguel paused midway through his angry rant to breathe. You watched in real time as he forced that instinctual rage down. ‘I know’ Miguel grunted. ‘I know. God, you both—stink. Just— alright, stand back’ he barked. You hated how you still obediently followed his orders.

Miguel held up his watch and created a portal on the far side of the elevator. He gestured for you both to jump in. ‘Here. Sneak out while you can, I’ll divert the people outside.’

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You wanted to ask what his deal was, where he’d gone, why he was suddenly helping. You had a million questions for this man, though you quickly realized they’d have to wait, as Mig was tugging you towards him. The spider hadn’t blinked since Miguel entered the elevator, and his body was shaking with an innate desire to tear his rival to shreds.

Miguel stared back with cold eyes.

‘Go, now. Out’ he said. Mig bobbed his head. He checked quickly that you were safe and stable at his side, and with his foreleg around your waist he leapt through.

You dove through the portal and stumbled back out into the old woods, your feet right on the verge of your homely little hole in the ground. You let out a low groan as you hit the grass.

The heat was still burning low and strong in your core, thickening with every minute that passed. You’d settled it a little by letting Mig grind on you, but it would soon return. At least you’d be able to quell it at home.

Mig took a moment to collect himself on the grass before grasping your nape between his teeth, his favourite method for carrying you in a rut. It was pleasurable to grasp you in his maw, to show off how small you were and how strong he was. You didn’t need words; his warm, affectionate breath on your neck was enough, as was your willing acceptance of his grip.

You hung limp and allowed him to carry you down into your shared nest. Through the rounded door, down into the dimly lit earthen tunnels where the candlelight danced across your skin. Your belly knotted in anticipation. You knew where he was taking you.

Sure enough, Mig went straight to the bedroom. He widened his jaw and let you drop into the soft, sweet silk covering your shared bed, all of it smelling like him. You breathed in his scent as he began rustling at your back. He was doing his little mating dance, rhythmically shaking to earn your favour.

‘Mi tesoro’ he whined. ‘Mi hermoso tesoro, te necesito.’

You coyly glanced over your shoulder at him. That temptation was bubbling in your gut again, the heat prickling beneath the skin. You wanted that pretty spider to have you.

‘Mm… Mig, come here—’

You rolled and held out your arms, ready to take him in, only to lose sight of him in an explosion of light.

Your arms flew to your face as Mig dived on your body. You could feel him trying to shield you, but from what you didn’t know. You tensed and prepared for some kind of attack.

But nothing happened. Seconds passed without a change in the air, spare for the light you could see dancing beneath your closed lids. When Mig also failed to move or speak, you opened your eyes.

You froze. Miguel was standing in the middle of your bedroom, his silhouette framed by a shifting portal, the culprit of the sudden explosion of light. He ignored you both as you gawked in shock, instead fixing his sleeves as the portal collapsed in on itself.

‘Miguel?’ you blurted. He glanced down at you and froze. He could smell the heat on you even here. That fragrant, tempting musk, the scent of slick dripping from a body ready for him to breed.

He was like a starving man on the brink of death being taunted with an overripe peach; all he wanted to do was tear into that soft flesh, and taste whatever was inside. He bit his tongue to stop flushing.

‘Really? The moment you got back, you start—rubbing on each other again? Not a second to waste? God you are both—’ he paused to hiss beneath his breath. ‘Degenerado. Cochino’ he emphasised as he glanced at Mig. The two locked eyes.

‘You’ Mig hissed, venom bubbling at the corners of his teeth.

‘Cochino’ Mig repeated coldly.

The two jumped at each other before you could even think of stopping them. They went for the throat, teeth gnashing and claws flying, snapping and pushing on each other’s shoulders like dogs. You yanked at Mig’s fur in vain.

‘STOP! MIGUEL, STOP!’ you cried.

After the initial burst of rage Miguel did force himself back. He stumbled away and panted hard, leaving you to grip Mig’s side so he didn’t finish the job. It was clear that the hormones in the room were simply too much for them.

‘Get OUT, OF MY NEST!’ Mig seethed. His body let out a rustling sound like a snake, a fools attempt to scare Miguel away. His variant let out a violent hiss, and you tensed in preparation for another attack, but to your surprise Miguel instead relented.

He drew back and shook his head from side to side, physically smacking the left side of his face with his palm. He continued this pattern until he seemed to have calmed. ‘Look, I—I came, to talk. I need to talk to you both’ he said.

‘You are not welcome in my nest, nor even in this forest’ Mig said, his lip curling with distaste.

‘I just—I need to talk to you!’ Miguel replied cryptically. Mig was having none of it. He stamped and reared his front legs in a territorial display.

‘I have nothing to say to you, spare perhaps that I’m disappointed to see you didn’t—’ Mig froze. He wanted to say ‘die’, but as it reached his lips it petered out into nothing. That wasn’t the truth. His raging, stallion hormones were pushing him into anger unbecoming of himself.

He was, deep down, glad to see Miguel alive. Nothing could quell their past, nor his fundamental morals. He valued life. He valued this man, even if he hated him for what he’d done. Mig swallowed hard and struggled to regain his commanding tone.

‘You… What do you want?’ he barked. ‘If you want them—’

‘Idiot. I’m not here to hurt you, or to touch them, or—anything of the sort. Look, if you’re that paranoid, you can… tie my hands together. You’re a freak, you should enjoy that, right?’ Miguel replied spitefully.

Mig narrowed his eyes. ‘If our shared insecurity taught you anything, it should be that you are not my type’ he said slowly.

Miguel narrowed his eyes back. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a grim half-smile. He let out a chuckle. It was just one soft noise, then two, then three. ‘Mhm. Funny. Funny. Just—can we talk? …Please?’

He said ‘please’ like it physically hurt to say, but he said it. Mig glanced around his shoulder at you, and you glanced back.

You weren’t sure what to think. Miguel so far had done three things that surprised you. He’d filed the paperwork so you didn’t get in trouble, which at the time you suspected could have been a secret ploy to ruin you later, but now he’d been given the most perfect chance to embarrass you both in front of the society and he’d instead saved you again.

‘If you wanted to talk you have a funny way of going about it’ you said coldly, nothing the fresh cuts on Miguel’s arm. He sneered at you. He clearly wanted to argue back, but just like before he shook his head until his eyes were a little clearer. It was as if he was physically fighting some demonic possession.

‘We’re—spiders. It’s what we do’ he said in response, only to fold at the sight of your disgusted, disbelieving expression. ‘I mean—the, rut, it… I’m sorry. I will hold my tongue’ he said instead.

‘Do you promise to just… stand, quietly? And not, attack my partner again?’ you asked.

‘Yes. I will- stand here, and not attack. I promise’ he said, and even waved his wrist web mechanisms aside. He held up his hands in surrender.

The distaste in Miguel’s eyes was what you wanted to see. If he’d had something planned he’d have looked cool, collected, perhaps smug even. Right now, he looked angry. He looked annoyed, even, that he had to do this. He was doing this against his will, meaning either someone was forcing him to help you, or he was forcing himself to do this.

You gently patted Mig’s back, urging him to lean around and face you again.

‘Let’s hear him out’ you said. Mig instinctively looked disgusted at the idea, almost betrayed that you’d even suggest it.

‘He—after what he did—’

‘I’m not asking for anything other than to hear him out’ you insisted. ‘If he makes a move, you can kill him. Though, only if I haven’t killed him first. But twice now he’s helped us out. He was given the perfect chance to actually get us kicked out and he rejected it.’

‘He— It’s a, ploy. It has to be’ Mig hissed. You shook your head.

‘No. If he had a plan, he wouldn’t be so angry that he’d done it. He knows he’s getting nothing out of this.’

Miguel raised a brow as you spoke. He seemed begrudgingly impressed at how perceptive you were.

‘Argh…. Very well. Arañita, ask what you must’ Mig grumbled. ‘Just don’t let him stay too long. His- stench is disgusting.’

Miguel opened his mouth to argue back, but a murderous side-eye from you forced his mouth shut again. He curled his lip with petulant disdain as you faced him.

‘Alright. Look, we don’t have much time, unless—well unless you plan to watch again, so let’s be quick. Up front, what do you want?’ you spat. Miguel widened his jaw and snapped as he spun, his body betraying the mannerisms of a cornered animal.

‘I wanted to—apologize.’ He grit his teeth on the word ‘apologize’, and he refused to make eye contact, but he did at least manage to get it out. You paused.

‘You—You want to apologise?’ you said incredulously. He grit his teeth so hard they cracked.

‘Y… Yes. Yes. I want to apologize’ he repeated.

You maintained your pause, your eyebrow slowly raising. Now this was interesting. Interesting enough for you to briefly push your heat aside. ‘Okay’ you said, ‘go on. Do it. Apologize.’

Mig let out a dangerous purr at your back as he watched the man with unblinking eyes, as did you. Miguel felt that gaze like a spotlight.

‘I’m—sorry, for how I acted’ Miguel said. The words seemed to weigh in his mouth like hot coals. It looked like agony. ‘I’m sorry. I am, genuinely, sorry, that I let my distaste for you personally impact their safety.’

‘What about Mig’s safety?’ you pushed.

Miguel bared his teeth. ‘I was getting to tha—uh. Yes, I am sorry that I impacted on your safety too, Miguel. You—whatever issues we have, you were under my care, and… you are one of me. The only one of me I still have contact with. I should have kept you safe.’

‘I don’t need your protecting’ Mig sneered. He reared himself for the second time, fully gripping the roots of the ceiling with his claws to show off his enormous side. Miguel stirred with discomfort at the display. He tried, against all the impulses in his body telling him otherwise, to stand still and finish his apology.

‘I’m sorry I tried to approach you so aggressively while in rut, I—am, disgusted in myself for that. I grabbed you and that was wrong. I’m sorry I acted unprofessionally in trying to tear you apart. I truly, believed, I was doing what was right, that you were in danger in his care, but I—I was wrong’ he said, grimacing on the word ‘wrong’.

‘I know I was wrong. And I hate it, because I can’t afford to be wrong, but that—that isn’t your fault. I just—I am sorry, for how I pushed both of you. You… didn’t, technically, do anything wrong.’

Mig listened in silence. When he spoke, it was cold.

‘I don’t care. I don’t want it.’

‘Mig—’

‘I don’t need, nor want, his apology’ Mig cried, both at you and Miguel. ‘And you shouldn’t either. He is a lying snake!’

‘I can’t—lie! O’Hara’s can’t lie!’ Miguel argued, his hands now clasped to his chest. Mig spat venom at him for the second time.

‘You are not an O’Hara. You are a snake. You are—’

‘YOU’RE being unfair! I apologized, I—I did the thing, this is not my fault anymore!’

Mig let out a sardonic laugh. ‘After all you’ve done? You pathetic, grovelling, creature, begging for my mate, begging for attention—’

‘I’M SORRY’ Miguel blurted. Mig reared himself up to instigate a fight, but this time you held him back. You grabbed a thick fistful of his fur and tugged him back down to the bed beside you.

‘Miggy- stop—’

You heard their teeth clashing above you. You hated, internally, how your hot little body throbbed at the sound. You were still instinctively excited by their violence.

‘YOU ARE A SNAKE—’

‘I’M TRYING—TO FIX THING—’

‘YOU ARE A MONSTER!’ Mig cried, his mouth barely a cm Miguel’s.

‘YES! YES, I AM!’

Miguel’s wailing filled the room as the two fell apart, and for a moment you all paused. He let out another broken sound as he paced back and forth across the dirt floor of your bedroom, his head now hanging in his clawed hands.

‘I am! I am! Why do you have to remind me!?’

Mig paused. He was trembling with the unfulfilled need to fight, coursing with adrenaline, but that noise ruined everything. The sound of a man wailing. He didn’t know what to do with that.

‘You… After, all you’ve done—’

‘Yes! I know! It’s why I--- It’s why, I’m trying’ he whined through gritted teeth. You could feel Mig tapping his feet in discomfort.

‘Is that what—do I have to stand here, and be berated, to fix this!?’

‘Why should I not be allowed to speak to you the way I want?!’ Mig snapped.

‘Because it—GOD, It’s so easy for you!’

‘What do you mean, easy for me?!’

‘Because despite what you are, you—grotesque, beast, you get to be—’ Miguel paused again. Through all that anger, through all that disgust, you thought for a moment that he looked sad. ‘You get… you get…’

He looked pitiable, lost, alone. It flashed over his eyes for just a second before he blinked it away.

‘I have seen, every version of myself’ Miguel said. His voice had dipped now, reflecting that internal sadness you’d sensed. ‘Every. Version. They are all… miserable. They all lose someone, if not everything. Do you know how many Peter Parkers there are, that are happy?’

You shook your head awkwardly, and Miguel let out a sardonic chuckle. ‘Almost 60%. Do you know how many versions of me, are happy?’

Again, you shook your head. You saw that little flash of self-pity again.

‘It’s just… him’ he spat. He raised a claw and pointed it at Mig, who stared back with sombre eyes. ‘It’s just, him, now. The only one happy, and it wasn’t even with someone from his own universe. He’s all that’s left. The only other version of us who got to be happy was the one who wasn’t changed, who got to have a child, but he died before he got to really raise her. Everywhere I went, I was alone, or dead, or a monster. Do you know, what they DOES to a person?’

You felt your body growing small in the face of his spiel. You felt Mig shuffling uncomfortably.

‘You don’t. But he does.’ Miguel pointed again to Mig, who refused to meet his gaze. ‘He knows. He knows what it means to be alone, and for that I needed him.’

For some reason, that sentiment bothered you. ‘You treated Mig worse than anyone else’ you blurted. Miguel didn’t deny it.

‘Because I know why we’re alone! It’s—us! As beings!’ Miguel lamented. ‘It’s the spider in us, this, monster, this animal, with no morals, just—eat, fuck, sleep, kill. I wanted to believe I could be good. That I could be better. But I keep…’

He paused again to let out a long breath. ‘I keep, fucking, up. I keep hurting people, like you. But he fucked up too. I justified, myself, because… well he fucked up too. It must be all of us. But he… You, stayed with him, so long. You ignored peoples disgust, you—ignored his body, and you, stayed. I couldn’t comprehend why. I thought—he had to be using you.’

‘I stayed because he’s good’ you insisted. ‘See, you’re so—cruel to him, just for looking this way. He’s only ever been kind.’

‘Ah. Yep. And there it is.’

You blinked in confusion as Miguel smiled sadly.

‘There it is, that’s what drove me so mad. Like he said. I am—a jealous, man. Why did you care about him, why did you want him, and not me?’

‘I—’

‘It doesn’t matter. Does it? It doesn’t matter why you picked him. All that mattered, to me, is that you didn’t pick me. I… hate, what I am. I despise it. And I just—I wanted, someone, to want me. Even a part of me. I wanted someone to prove me wrong. But they never did.’

‘But, your friend—’ you started to say, until Miguel interrupted you again.

‘Pity’ Miguel grunted. ‘It feels like… pity, when he touches me. It’s why I can’t stand it unless I have to. He’s a good man, but… Nobody touches me because they want me.’

‘How sad’ Mig cruelly noted. Miguel let out another sad laugh, and you noticed then that his red eyes were wavering. They were swimming, like the setting sun over an ocean scape. He was crying. He was trembling as he fought himself.

‘You stood by his side. You stood by him through everything, and I…’

He paused and wiped a hand down his face. ‘I have no excuse anymore. Something is wrong with me. I don’t know what, maybe—it is, the spider, maybe its potency is more in me than him because its hidden, I don’t know. I just know that, he’s doing something right, and—I don’t know what it is, but, I want to know.’

He turned to face the wall, seemingly to hide his emotion. ‘I’m sorry’ Miguel said slowly. ‘I am, sorry.’

Mig took a minute or so to slow his breathing, using your warmth and presence as a comforter to soothe his violently beating heart. His body began to relax as he leant against you for support.

Bit by bit, the tension in the room burnt out. Soon all that was left was the smouldering remnants of a very complicated relationship, lingering within all three of you at once.

‘I… don’t, know, how to trust this’ Mig hissed. ‘I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust you.’

‘I will prove it’ Miguel said over his shoulder. ‘I will. I want to, help.’

‘Help with what?’ Mig pushed.

Miguel let out an exasperated sigh. ‘We mentioned, ages ago, that the reason you needed to be sanctioned was due to the unknown factors around people from different dimensions having children. Right?’

‘Yes. I remember what you used to keep us apart’ Mig hissed.

‘I…’ Miguel opened his mouth to deny it, but he had to stop himself. He knew it was true. ‘Yes, I did. I used it as an excuse to shame you away from each other. But—it wasn’t, untrue.’

‘What wasn’t?’ you asked.

‘The issue of, inter-dimensional couples’ Miguel explained. ‘That. That is the issue. People from different universes have different DNA, we’re coded to the universe we came from. As far as we know, it’s not changeable. It’s why, without that watch there, you would de-stabilize and your DNA would crumble in another world.’

You blinked, and glanced at the watch on your wrist. As you contemplated what he was saying, you started to feel a little sick. The reminder that you weren’t welcome here, that you were hanging by a thread in this world, it hurt to realize. You and Mig weren’t from the same universe. You were never meant to meet.

‘Because of that, the idea that—well, the possibility of breeding between dimensions, it’s never been touched before. None of our members have tried, until… you, two. There is a very real fear that it could cause an anomaly, or—kill you, one or both of you.’

You were drawn to look at Mig, and he was drawn to look at you. He looked horrified. The intrusive memory of Dana, dead on the ground, filled his head. The idea of that being you, of you dying in an attempt to bring about offspring for him, it made him his heart palpitate.

‘Arañita?’ he whimpered. You touched a hand to his flank to help keep him grounded, and internally you stiffened yourself. He needed you to be strong for him.

‘We… yeah. We know that’ you said slowly. ‘I mean—even if it wasn’t true, we accepted that we might not be able to have kids. It’s fine. I’m happy with him.’

‘That’s fine, but… If we could know for sure, would you want to know?’ Miguel asked.

‘I… I mean, yes, but, how?’ you asked, still in shock.

‘I’ve done some research into this area before. I haven’t conducted anything regarding the creation of new life via different universal donors, but, I think my previous research may be useful. I just—I need help to do it. I wasn’t good enough, on my own, to do anything successfully. I’m too- busy.’

He cracked his knuckles as he spoke. He looked angry to admit it, to acknowledge his failure. You watched his full display with wide and curious eyes. Something in him had undoubtedly changed.

‘You’re, asking for help?’

‘Yes. I need—more of me’ Miguel explained. ‘I will do the bulk, since I’m the only one who can do it, but I need assistance, and the only one who can help is another version of me.’

‘And, you’ll help us find out if we can, stay? Together? Why?’ you asked.

Miguel grunted, his lip curling into a slightly sarcastic smile. ‘After all the failures I saw, I gave up. But… I have convinced myself, perhaps stupidly, to do this one more time. To try, one last time. Maybe I can still prove I’m a good person, maybe—’ Maybe I could love something, he thought, though he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Maybe he could be happy. Maybe, he wasn’t doomed.

Mig grunted at Miguels proposition. He didn’t look pleased, but deep down he had regained some of his sympathy for his variant. This arrogant fool had ruined himself, and now he stood here crying, asking for help.

It felt good to see him so low. It also felt bad. Mig could so easily see himself in his place. He’d done so much, and yet he just kept forgiving him. Perhaps he was stupid for that.

Deep down he did want to regain his connection to Miguel, as the only two people in the multiverse who understood each other. How could he not? But the water was so murky now, he didn’t know if it could ever be fully cleaned.

The hormones certainly didn’t help. While he instinctually wanted to submit to you, in turn he wanted to submit this man. He’d beaten him in a fight, he’d won your favour, and yet it wasn’t enough. He still felt unfulfilled. What more could he need? What could he do to even them?

Either way, what mattered is that Miguel was making an offer that meant the world to him. The chance to be with you long term, to consider having a family, to be a unit. It was all he wanted.

‘Very well’ Mig said slowly. He began to lower his tensed spider legs back to the floor as a sign of clemency. ‘I… accept your proposal. I cannot accept your apology, but I accept it as a… start.’

Miguel gave an awkward nod in response. His eyes betrayed a conflicted admiration for his counterpart, though it was still tinted with self-loathing and jealousy. Mig sighed. His own eyes betrayed the same.

‘Yes, I um—I don’t know if I can forgive, yet, not until I’ve seen some change, but… I mean I appreciate the apology. I do’ you said.

‘Oh, god—don’t pity me too’ Miguel scoffed.

You let out a little sarcastic laugh through your nose. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. I—’

You opened your mouth to add something, only to double over with a low groan.

You’d forgotten. In the thick of shock you’d forgotten the heat, still lingering deep within your body, begging for release. Against your will it reared its head, that primal urge bursting forth into your blood. It was hot. It was tight. It was BEGGING.

‘Ah…. F-fuck, ah—’

‘Are they okay?’ Miguel blurted. Against his better judgement he moved to help you, only to get a nose-full of that smell. The sweet, rich musk of your body, the smell of pheromones calling to him. He almost stumbled.

‘Oh… Oh. I—’

He caught Mig’s eye as you whined and shuffled in the sheets. The spider was glowing with dangerous intent. His eyes were wide, red, bloody and smooth, and he was slowly moving to cover your body. He refused to blink as he dragged your little body towards his own, his teeth sinking into your suit to pull you closer.

Miguel felt that usual flood of confusing, conflicting emotion. He felt jealousy, lust, disgust. He wanted to run, to flee, and yet he wanted more than anything to dive in, to bury himself in that mattress and plead for your favour.

‘I see you are—busy’ Miguel said through his teeth.

You managed to look up at him as he spoke, your misty eyes struggling to fixate on his face.

Just as he could smell you, you could smell him. As you breathed in his pheromones you came to a sad realization.

Miguel was still infected. He was still rich with pollen, still rutting, still burning up with heat, and he had no other outlet. You’d needed sex almost ten times a day to soothe your shared rut, but theoretically, Miguel had received nothing. No relief, no saving, just that agonising itch he couldn’t scratch.

Your saw his eyes lingering. He was sniffing, subtly, breathing in the smell of warmth and sex and musk. You saw his fist tighten and noted the subtle squeak of straining leather as it did so.

‘I… I should, go—’

‘Wait.’

You spoke without thinking, ordering him to stay. He did as told, his eyes lingering on your face. You held that gaze.

O’Hara’s couldn’t lie. They could hide the truth, but they couldn’t distort it. You knew he was genuinely sorry for what he’d done. He wouldn’t sound so angry about it if he wasn’t. Whatever he’d done before, right now, he was tame.

You couldn’t forgive him so easily, but your brain was on fire. The heat had burned away all higher thought, and you just couldn’t cope with the need. You saw him standing there, alone, and you thought about when you were crushed during the fight.

You secretly relived that memory often. The thought of being penetrated on both ends, to be utterly subdued by two huge men with their snapping teeth and inhuman pheromones, it was too much to even think about. It made you soft. It made your insides clench around nothing, reminding you of your own need to be filled.

The final, filthiest taboo. The one peak, the one ultimate indulgence. That sweet, rare, unachievable gem.

As you looked up with misty eyes you saw the tension in Miguel. The need bubbling just under the surface, the accumulated denial of relief. That stupid, emotionally constipated man, denying himself the most basic touch, ruining himself for pride.

It was hard to not feel sorry for him. It was hard to not want to see him weep over the faintest touch. It was hard to not want to submit him yourself.

‘I think… I think, I know, how he can start showing, how sorry he is’ you murmured.

You felt Mig shifting above you. He was already hard, unabashedly so even in front of his variant, and he seemed too distracted to have heard you. He was panting while rubbing himself out against your thighs.

‘Uhn… w-what?’ he asked, his voice husky. You licked your bottom lip.

‘I… I know, how he can start, making it up to us. If he agrees’ you repeated slowly. You felt Mig rock to a stop.

‘What— What do you mean?’ Miguel hissed. He was feigning annoyance to avoid revealing how aroused he was, how the smell of your body was tugging at him like a physical rope. You licked your lip a second time, and this time, you bit it. Miguel’s eyes instinctively widened.

‘We made him watch us, that one time, right?’ you said slowly. While Mig purred at the memory Miguel looked away, clearly embarrassed. He must have assumed you were going to make him sit and watch again.

‘Yes, I remember’ Mig replied. ‘Do you—’

‘What if, we—did that again, but this time, we let him help?’ you blurted.

Miguel’s head snapped back to you, his eyes wide and hungry. He seemed confused. Did he think he’d misheard? Did he think his mind was playing tricks? You held his gaze steady, your own eyes starving for touch, and slowly his eyes widened with realization. No, he’d heard right.

‘He could… help us out, with easing the r—’

Mig growled hard, cutting off your proposition. You groaned as his talons sank into your back. He pinned you hard to the bed as he leered around your back, his eyes burning as they narrowed at Miguel.

‘Mine.’

‘No, Mig, I—’ you glanced up and tried to catch Mig’s attention, your eyes darting between him and Miguel. You were gesturing silently your desire, your interest.

‘What—what are you saying, arañita?’ he hissed. You bade for him to come down so you could speak with some semblance of privacy.

‘I… I, look, just hear me out. I’m suggesting, that… maybe, just, one time, it—fuck, this rut is so bad, and, if he owes us, it might help me, to… let him, get, involved.’

For a moment you saw concern flash over Mig’s eyes. ‘You… want, him?’ he asked. You shook your head.

‘No, no, not like that. I don’t want him. Just… what he has on him’ you whispered. ‘This is purely physical, I just… This all started, because—mm—we’re all, messy, hormonal, idiots, and you know that. I-I know, you offered to let him watch again, to—ease himself. I-I’m offering that again, just—different. As weird as it is, he owes us, and I want him—to make up for shaming us. How better than to show him for the hypocrite he is?’

In the corner Miguel was absolutely still. He was trying to cover up how he was almost drooling at the mouth like a starving animal, his venom glands working overtime as his rutting body trembled.

This was wrong, he thought. This was so wrong. He shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t indulge this. Oh, but god, the idea of touching something, of being touched, it made him dizzy. Despite his brain screaming at him to go, he stayed.

‘I-I don’t want your, pity fuck’ Miguel hissed.

‘It’s not pity’ you hissed back, your own body now trembling. ‘I want—to use you.’

Those words drew him to pause. Being used? That meant being wanted, at least on some level, right? Suddenly all of his reservations melted, leaving only the burning, desperate excitement beneath. He’d be touched. He’d be wanted, even just as a donor. He’d be required.

Mig purred low. His eyes were narrowed, but he seemed curious. ‘You… Wish to, use him?’ he murmured. ‘But, the mating—’

‘No mating’ you panted. ‘Just- I’m proposing just the mouth, for now. No mating. I only mate with you.’

The mouth, Miguel thought with a tremble. He could fuck your mouth.

Mig grunted, his breath condensing in the air. The glow of his eyes turned his smoky breath red. He refused to let anyone else touch you, or inside you, but he couldn’t pretend something inside him wasn’t a little aroused by the idea of you using his counterpart for your own pleasure.

The heat was spiralling you all out of your usual depths.

‘You are, mine?’ he murmured. He spoke so low that only you could hear him.

‘I’m yours’ you whispered back. As if to prove that point you used his foreleg claw to slice your suit open at the crotch, smearing his fur with the seed he’d left dripping from your cunt. He shuddered a little at the reminder.

‘All yours. It’s just… It’ll calm him down, it’ll calm me down, and he’ll have to obey you. I’ll let you be in control of what he does. I think, that might calm you down, too.’

Mig glanced down at the little sticky white strings hanging between his fur and your inner thighs. He fixated on them as he tried to think through the haze of heat, through the violent throbbing pulsing of his cock.

The more he dwelled on the idea, the more it fascinated him. It felt deeply perverse but in this state it was feeding his pleasure. He was disgusting and horrified at the idea of you mating with his variant, or of being affectionate with anyone else, but what you suggested? Using him like a toy to bring him right down to your level, to humble him completely, keeping him in your joint good graces so he never messed with him again? It fed right into his need to assert dominance.

It was tempting. As was the idea of seeing you so desperate, so horny, all while taking his seed alone, it sent a little shiver up his spine. His abdomen rustled.

‘Mm… I will, be in control?’ Mig asked. You nodded.

‘And… you are, mine?’ he repeated. You nodded harder.

‘All yours’ you whined. ‘All, all yours. Always.’

Mig purred again. He let out a low clicking noise before raising his head, and with a neutral expression he gestured for Miguel to approach with one claw. Miguel obeyed.

‘You do not mate with them’ the great spider barked. ‘That is my right only. You do not touch this—’ he paused to gesture at your chest, your clit, and your entrance, ‘Or this, or this. They are mine. You will not speak nor receive any words of affection beyond appreciation for their- hospitality. That is for me alone. You will stand still, and obey, and they’ll do what they want with you. Understand?’

Miguel curled his lips. He seemed aggravated still that he had to tilt his head back to speak with his counterpart, but the need to be touched kept him rooted to the spot. ‘Yes, sir’ he grunted with a crack of his knuckles.

Mig purred. Their eyes glowered in the dark of the den. ‘Good’ he noted. ‘Then, mi arañita, you may show me what you want.’  

You were shaking with anticipation as you nodded up at him. ‘O-Okay. Just—if, if anything bothers you, let me know, okay?’

Mig paused and admired how affectionate your gaze was, how big your eyes looked peering up at him from your precious position, bound and pinned on the bed by his huge hands. ‘Of course’ he purred. ‘Of course. Mi arañita.’

You nodded to Mig before letting him mount you from behind, instead turning your own focus to Miguel. ‘C-Come here’ you panted.

He approached with a slightly curled lip, seemingly annoyed that he had to take orders, but despite his cold face you could see his cock straining beneath his suit. The hologram was sparking at the tip with how hard it was trying to burst forth.

He stopped in front of your face, barely an inch from your lips.

‘You… Are you—a-ah!’ You squeaked and jolted as Mig tore your suit aside, leaving you completely naked. You could feel his tip probing at your cunt, smearing you with pre-cum. Miguel’s eye twitched as he fought not to show he arousing he found your pathetic, needy display.

‘Are you, ready?’ you asked. Miguel looked down at your wide, hot, pleading face, and for the first time, he looked almost shy. He slowly nodded.

You gestured for him to lower his suit. Miguel did so silently, his eyes fixated on your face as you waited impatiently. He waved away the suit at his groin, and you watched as his hefty cock fell free in front of your face. You squeaked at the sight.

You weren’t exactly surprised by the size. He was clearly huge, veiny and uncut, but you’d been rather ruined by Mig’s extraordinary size and structure. His plush, soft, squishy phallus was unmatched.

You were shocked just because you were seeing it at all. What a filthy thing to do. Part of you still wondered if this was wrong, if this was a good idea, but your brain had been melted by lust until it was all that remained.

As Mig angled himself and began coyly puncturing your cunt with just the tip of his cock, you widened your lips into a wet, inviting little circle.

Miguel swallowed hard. He put one finger beneath your chin and slowly moved in, letting his member sit upon your lips. He seemed afraid that at any moment he’d be bitten.

You let out a moan and started to tongue him. He tasted unnervingly different to Mig, clean but slightly sweaty with a faint metallic tinge lingering on the skin from his holographic suit. You flicked on the tip and let his pre-cum smear your tongue. Thick, warm, just a little sweet.

‘Ay, Dios mio’ Miguel whimpered. The stoic monster was already submitting.

You swirled your tongue around his member and gingerly started to suck on him. Immediately, your eyes rolled back into your skull. God it felt so good. You strained for more, hungrily trying to lap at his shaft. His hand flew to your head.

‘Ah, perfecto/a—’

Miguel groaned out loud only for Mig to hiss in his face, instinctively drawing Miguel to hiss back. You had to buck your hips to settle the two down.

‘You—you do as he says’ you panted up at Miguel. He glanced down and eyed up your face in turn, noting the way you were trembling and jolting with each gentle thrust from your partner. The sight made him weak. He swallowed his pride and ducked his head.

‘Yes, sir’ he murmured.

Mig purred low as he pumped himself inside you. He made Miguel wait as punishment, forced to watch you mewl and whimper as the wet sound of your copulation filled the air, but after seeing how horny you were he relented. Mig gestured for Miguel to continue before letting out his own low groan of satisfaction as he pushed in deep.

Miguel grunted and spread his legs for stability. He put his thumb on your smooth, wet lower lip, and slowly pulled it down. He eased your jaw open before pushing his cock towards you.

You tensed up, hard, and caught his eye as he pushed it in. You felt his cock enter your mouth and audibly whined.

He let out a sound like he was being strangled. The pure, inescapable relief, it was overwhelming. Fuck, he was inside your mouth. He was being touched. He was fucking something.

He started to move the moment he felt the velvety lining of your mouth squishing his shaft.

So soft. So wet. Your tongue moving back and forth on the base of his shaft, combined with the soft sucking motion of your lips and throat, it made him want to cry. That big man was reduced to an absolute mess.

His clawed hands flew to your head for stability, but a hiss from Mig forced them back. He put his hands behind his head and internally strained to stay standing as you sucked on him. ‘A-Ah—so, so soft, so soft—'

‘Soft’ Mig repeated. He was fully inside your cunt now, his cock squishing back and forth against your walls as they quivered and clenched. His entire abdomen was bucking hard with each thrust, and the motion was unintentionally pushing you back and forth along Miguel’s shaft.

You were truly spit roasted between the two, penetrated on both sides by those enormous men who could both break your back with ease.

Fuck, it felt so good. This was heaven, and every bodily fluid involved here was your mana.

As you sucked on Miguel, you felt his hips starting to move of their own accord. He started to gingerly pump your throat. He wasn’t as big as Mig, but he was still so much more powerful than you, so rough and strong. You caught his abs tensing as he willed himself not to cum too fast.

He moved one hand from his head to your chin so he could feel it moving in your throat. Your eyes unintentionally locked.

You still retained your distaste for the man, and his smug little groans were grating, but there was something really pleasurable about having him fuck your mouth. You kind of liked submitting to him. You kind of liked this asshole getting his way, especially like this.

As he watched you his lips parted. ‘You like that?’ he whispered, smugly flashing a fang. You moaned in response.

‘Yeah, they like it’ Miguel breathed.

‘Mm… Good arañita’ Mig purred. ‘Are you having fun, mi tesoro? Do you feel better?’

You moaned louder, your cunt unintentionally clenching him tight. Mig’s deep groan resonated through the entire den. ‘A-Ah-- Tú eres el major, aranita. Ah… Is that small thing giving you a mouthful at least?’

His subtle jab made Miguel hiss, but he was quickly humbled once more. Mig withdrew his shaft about halfway out just to measure up against him, forcing Miguel to see the sheer size of that plush red cock dripping in pearly slick. You whined and bucked your hips, begging for him to put it back, and with a smug grunt Mig returned to pumping.

Miguel bit back his desire to bite the man’s throat. He wasn’t used to being the smaller man.

He relented to just being grateful he was being touched. No matter what, he got to fuck your mouth. He got to watch your bratty, difficult little face while you sucked his cock, mewling and moaning submissively, and that was truly enough.

He did a little test by pulling out, and sure enough you whimpered and strained to get it back. He pulled out inch by inch, until just that sweet, curved member was resting on your lips, and only when you pleaded did he slide it back in.

‘Ah… there you go’ he murmured smugly. ‘There you go. I’ll give you what you want.’

He didn’t need to breed you. He just needed you to beg once. He needed to be wanted.

In this messy, tense threesome you all continued to indulge. Miguel remained rigidly still as you played with his cock, coyly sucking and stroking and teasing as you wanted, while Mig pumped in and out of your pussy.

Your home was saturated with a musk so thick you could almost see it, taste it. You were drowning in the smell of sex, the taste of skin and cum, and the obscene soundscape of your own body being ravaged while you choked on Miguel’s shaft.

The tension just kept growing. You were losing all higher thought, dumbifying yourself to be their little breedable catch, relishing in the submission. It had, somehow, breached the divide between the two men, as they fixated solely on you and your pleasure.

At one point Mig pulled out just so he could lift your hips to his mouth and slather you with his affectionate tongue, eagerly lapping at your swollen clit as you continued sucking on Miguel. Your moans vibrated through his soul.

‘Mm.. Tengo un hambre de lobos, arañita. Quiero comerte’ Mig purred between licks. When you bucked your hips for more he chuckled. ‘Mm. Do you like that, mi tesoro?’

Your reply was muffled by Miguel’s cock, but he replied for you. ‘They—mm, they said—y-yes’ he grunted.

Mig paused. An intrusive thought filled his head, and while it disgusted him at first, his hormones pushed him to ask. ‘They… How do they feel?’ he purred.

Miguel whimpered. ‘Ah… a-amazing’ he confessed. ‘So… fucking, amazing—’

Mig rustled with perverse excitement. He began to raise himself back up, his enormous phallus throbbing and twitching in the cold air. He turned and curiously watched you moaning and deep throating Miguel as he slowly pushed his cock back inside you. He watched you squirm, your hips shifting and adjusting to the size, your hands tearing at the sheets as you screamed.

He let out a little rustle of satisfaction.

‘Would you prefer to be sucking on me, arañita?’ he asked, emphasising each word with a slow thrust. You nodded aggressively.

Miguel felt his stomach drop a little at the embarrassment, but Mig wasn’t finished.

‘Are you having fun though, mi tesoro? With your new toy?’ he asked.

Again, you nodded aggressively, your lips widening as you slathered Miguel from base to tip. You allowed your saliva to hang and drip from his veiny cock down onto the silk below.

Miguel almost whined out loud. That’s what he needed. Fuck, it was humiliating, but it was so worth it.

He could be a toy. He could be your toy. He gripped the back of his head and started pumping into your throat again.

‘A-Ah… F-Fuck, I’m—close—’

To his own personal disgust, he looked at you and Mig for permission to cum. You nodded eagerly at the idea, and Mig simply waved his hand. He was too busy riding out his own pleasure to care right now; he was on the verge of cumming inside you, of filling your womb with his hot seed, he didn’t care about that pathetic toy squirting in your mouth.

Miguel sighed with relief as he was given assent. He grabbed your head and started thrusting hard.

‘F-Fuck, oh— más duro, haz que me corra—!’

Miguel came violently, unloading god knows how much pent up cum into your throat. You took it all with nothing but a shocked squeak.

He grabbed and pulled your hair as he slathered your mouth and gullet with that thick load. It slid down hard, and you were forced to swallow the entire time he pumped to stop it overflowing.

And then, right as you were choking on Miguel’s seed, Mig ejaculated inside you. You were thrown between them like a rag doll, like a true little cum dumpster, filled from every angle. Mig thrust hard to paint your cervix with his seed which pushed you forward onto Miguel’s shaft.

It was too much. Even without outside stimulation you managed to shudder into your own brutal orgasm. You clenched Mig so hard he rasped at the feeling, your little body shaking and spasming with pleasure. Your screams were muffled by Miguel’s shaft, but he felt your throat vibrating.

‘Good—good arañita, that’s it’ Mig panted frantically. ‘Good, good little arañita, that’s it. You enjoy yourself.’

When they’d both emptied themselves they slowed and slowly pulled out, leaving you to collapse into the sheets. You were immediately showered with kisses and praise from Mig while Miguel fell to his knees.

He was euphoric. The man almost fell into a full prayer position as he lulled in the sweet relief you’d offered.

You expected that to be it. You’d quelled the beast, you’d achieved a kind of stalemate. But it wasn’t over.

As you lay back and let Mig continue his gentle aftercare, you began to realize that the heat hadn’t passed. It was still in your veins. You continued whining, mewling, wiggling your hips for attention. The two men could feel that brief emptiness beginning to build up again.

It was as if there was a pressure inside their bodies that they had to expel, that they needed to unload into you. It was painful, weighty, a physical need.

The more sweet, wet little noises escaped your mouth, the more they seemed to involuntarily converge on you. You felt Mig at your back gently rustling his abdomen, and you felt Miguel starting to crawl towards your front. You felt their breath on your skin, their hungry eyes gawking.

You were spread out before them, naked and warm, your body coated in little beads of sweat. They could see the pearly strings of slick between your thighs.  It was glistening, smooth. You must be so wet by now.

The tension peaked, like a jar teetering on the edge of a table. The two Miguel’s locked eyes.

The jar fell, and it smashed. They dove at you.

This time there was some snapping and scratching, some territorial hissing as you were tugged back and forth, but your desperate whining and their new-found pack dynamic helped to soothe their instinctive need to fight. Instead, you were grabbed and squished between the two of them at once.

‘Help me prepare them’ Mig barked, and Miguel obeyed.

Miguel held your hips as Mig spread your legs, lifting you up until you were in the right spot for penetration. They used Miguel’s webbing to hang you from the roots above, maintaining your weight in the air, and Mig used his sticky webs to keep your legs stuck to his abdomen. He trapped you in a bondage tie against him, just like when he’d soaked in you, and Miguel used his hands to hold your torso as he positioned himself at your back.

You felt Mig as he forced his cock back up inside you, squishing your overstimulated muscles aside, while Miguel began prepping against your ass. He used his webs to drag over a pot of that pain relieving gel you’d been prescribed. He smeared it over his entire shaft, so thick it dripped off the tip, and with a soft grunt he began lining himself up with your anus.

You let out a soft gasp. You were being distracted by Mig who was already busy slowly moving inside you, so you only barely noticed Miguel’s member probing at your rear. But he didn’t tease for long.

‘Can I—Can I penetrate, here, sir?’ Miguel panted. Mig nodded, clearly too preoccupied with breeding you to care. As you whimpered in their grip Miguel pressed his lips against your neck.

‘May I fuck you, little spider?’ he hissed.

‘Y-Yes.’

‘Has anyone fucked you here before?’ he whispered. Embarrassed, you shook your head.

‘N-No.’

‘Okay. Don’t freak out. I need you, to stay still for me’ Miguel murmured in your ear. ‘Stay still, and try to loosen up’ he purred, before pumping himself inside you.

You immediately tensed up at the sensation. You had to fight to loosen for him, even with that much lube, as his cock’s size was suddenly very noticeable. He forced your muscles to make room from him.

‘MM—mm, that’s it, that’s it, come on—’

He bottomed out with a desperate growl, his claws digging deep into your hips.

You felt everything. The sweat on his abs where they’d pressed into your spine, his muscular hairy thighs against your own, his heavy balls crushed against your ass, and his shaft, gently throbbing inside you. A desperate whimper escaped your lips.

You realized, in your lust, you’d just given your anal virginity to him. Miguel’s groaning let you know that he’d noticed that too. ‘F-Fuck… Fuck, so fucking tight—’

You gasped as his breath hit your neck. You could smell the hunger on him, the desperation, and the allure.

This stupid little spider, this whiny brat, now giving him a taste of what he’d craved for so long. He breathed in your scent and trembled; what a stupidly adorable little thing, he thought. Part of him just wanted to praise you, to berate you, to worship you.

But that part of him was quickly pushed aside. The higher mind was subdued, and all that remained was pure, primal, animal lust. He started to rut the moment he was settled inside you.

‘Uhn—f-fuck, finally—’

His voice peaked as he started thrusting. You felt the power in his hips as they started clapping you from behind, pulsing in and out of that tight hole. The feel of your ass bouncing each time he hit it made him almost weep.

‘Ah—c-careful, please’ you begged.

‘Mm—must, breed you’ he whined. Mig paused and hissed at him again, and this time Miguel willingly backed down. His lust was malforming, adapting to his subservient role just to feed itself.

‘Yes, sir’ he whined. ‘You breed them, sir.’

‘Good’ Mig snapped. He continued humping between your legs as Miguel gently thrust at you from behind. ‘They’re mine.’

The glow of their conjoined gaze was blinding. Red light pulsing in your vision as they skewered you, pumped you, smearing every inch of you with precum and sweat.

‘You want me to breed you, arañita?’ Mig purred.

‘Fuck- breed them good’ Miguel groaned. You felt Mig grasp your jaw in his hand.

‘You were made for O’Hara cum’ he hissed, utterly lost to pleasure. ‘You were made to be stuffed with these genes, arañita. My perfect mate. I want you saturated with it.’

‘You—craved it so much, you couldn’t stand having just one, huh?’ Miguel hissed in tandem, letting out a breathy laugh. You could feel them both crushing you from the front and back as they rhythmically pumped. You were small, helpless, frail between them. You rasped with each shaky moan.

‘Mi arañita’ Mig purred, ‘you sure you don’t want me to breed you for real?’

‘They want to be bred’ Miguel panted. You felt his lips near your neck, his claws on your hips. ‘They need it. I can smell it in them. Their body wants it.’

In the hazy mist of pure degeneracy the two men dissolved into moaning, thrusting animals, grunting and desperately kissing across your face and neck. Mig bent forward to tenderly brush his tongue against your own while Miguel nibbled and kissed your shoulder from behind.

They snapped at each other occasionally, but now even that was a form of sexual gratification. Miguel had lost all boundaries, and he was willing to be the beta if it meant he could vicariously breed you. They had the same DNA, after all, and he was still pumping you regardless.

He’d snap just to get Mig to bare his larger, more terrifying fangs, all for the thrill of backing down.

And you, in the middle, were struggling to even breath. You were being pulverised from both ends, stretched to your limits and fucked until it was all you could feel. Your legs had gone numb, your hands were tingling with pins and needles, and all you could focus on was the two, veiny, weighty cocks twitching and pulsing against your guts.

There was no coming back from this.

‘Can’t- believe, I get to breed with you’ Mig whined. ‘Perfect little spider—’

‘Let—let me take off the patch’ Miguel breathed. Mig purred loudly, his abdomen shaking with excitement. ‘Yes’ he panted, ‘yes, they need breeding properly.’

You squirmed between the two men as they crushed you. They both had elated, almost ravenous expressions, their lips drawn back into the same desperate, dreamlike smile.

‘W-Wait— Mmm, fuck—’

Your face was sweaty from their conjoined breath and the toll this constant movement was taking on your body, and you were struggling to get any word out.

‘We’re gonna breed you, pretty little thing’ Miguel purred, his voice husky as he blurted his most perverse thoughts. ‘Little brood mare, time to grow an O’Hara in you.’

‘F-Fuck—’ You squirmed harder and screamed with pleasure as they both continued to erratically pump you. They were feeding into each other’s delusional fantasies.

‘Mm—Arañita, don’t you want it?’

You were losing your mind like this. There was nothing but them, nothing but their pleading, nothing but the thick, primal drive between the three of you. You felt yourself going dumb.

‘Ah… y-yes’ you blurted.

‘You want to be bred?’

‘Y-Yes’

‘You want my cum in you, arañita?’

‘Y-Yes!’

‘MM—Fuck, give it to them’ Miguel snapped. ‘Fucking pump them—’

‘Oh I will’ Mig panted. ‘Come here, you beautiful little creature—’

The two started thrusting harder, rhythmically rocking your body back and forth between their own. You were totally crushed into stillness, your body moving without any input from you, leaving you to feel in perfect detail what they were about to do.

You could feel them pulsing in and out together, separated by the thinnest bit of skin, nudging at your insides as they quivered from the overstimulation. You could that your thighs were completely sodden at this point. You were dripping with slick, with cum, with pain relief gel, even with sweat, to the point that you looked like you’d just exited a pool.

You weren’t sure how much more you could take. You clung tight to Mig as he cradled and fucked you.

‘Shh, shh, here we go—here we go—you just take it, mi tesoro, that’s it, just take it—’

‘F-Fuck I’m close—’ Miguel cried.

In near unison the two men ejaculated inside you.

It was far too much for you to handle, but luckily they were in tune enough with your body and hormones to sense that. Miguel had the sense to pull out and keep only the tip inside you, instead pumping his cock with his own fist as he spurted each thick rope into that tight space.

Mig, too, pulled back a little to make room, and supplied you with short, gentle bursts as each squirt of seed pulsed up through his shaft. You were filled, yes, but not so much as to be unbearable. You were allowed to lull and enjoy the feeling of each fat cock gently expanded and throbbing that warm, soothing seed inside you. You could enjoy their joint, frantic breath on your skin, their pitiable whining and grateful kisses.

Once utterly spent the two pulled out slowly and cut the webs, allowing you to go back down to the mattress. Mig stayed with you, your body safe and cradled in his arms, while Miguel collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

The man fought to catch his breath. It felt as if every scrap of energy he had was gone, but as the fog on his brain cleared, he scraped together what willpower he could to glance at you across the bed. He noticed the patch was still in place.

‘Oh, thank, fuck—you idiot’ he whispered beneath his breath, letting out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t fucked up that badly.

At this point the heat had truly been subdued. He could feel the emptiness at last, the relief of that weight lifted from his shoulders. For all the weird, conflicted feelings he had about what he’d just done, the sheer relief trumped them all. He’d have done so much worse just for this. The feeling of being empty, of having mated, it was all he wanted. He lay back and closed his eyes.

On the other side, Mig was busy nestling your cheek. He was focused on keeping you comfortable, ensuring you smelled healthy and weren’t in any pain. He kissed your jaw and nestled into your hair, and in response you shakily put your hand on his cheek.

‘I-I’m okay’ you whispered. ‘I’m okay.’

‘Are you sure, arañita?’

‘Y-Yeah. I’m sure.’

You went quiet for a moment as you nuzzled each other, showing through affectionate that you were both okay and on good terms. His human hands pet at your waist, rubbing you with his calloused thumb, while his sharp nose nestled against your brow.

‘You are… mine?’ he whispered. You nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, of course. I’m yours, Mig. Always. Are you, okay?’

He nodded as well, his lips still parted as he panted. ‘Y-Yes. Yes, I think so.’

‘Are… are you sure?’

You couldn’t deny that part of you felt a little guilty for what you’d asked them to do, even if they’d gotten into it. It was strange. You felt like you shouldn’t have done it, but it’d felt so good it was hard to understand why you felt that way.

Mig hummed and looked from you to Miguel.

The man wasn’t making any moves towards you. He was laying on his back, breathing in the relief.  

As strange as it was, he did feel like he’d found some state of resolution. They were both satisfied finally, which had by itself eased a large amount of the tension between them. He had, technically, followed orders. He had even broken and supported his desire to mate with you.

It hadn’t solved everything, but seeing Miguel wallow in acknowledgment of his hypocrisy, to have had him bow his head and support you both so strongly as to have participated in your copulation, it was definitely a start.

It still felt a little tense, and undoubtedly awkward now that the thrill was done, but it didn’t feel bad, and perhaps right now that was the best they could ask for.

Miguel must have noticed him looking, as he slowly opened one eye. The two locked gazes.

‘Ah…. Hey. Thank you’ Miguel said. Mig’s eyes widened. He seemed too surprised to even give a reply, so Miguel just let out a breathy chuckle.

‘I can think. Finally, fuck, I can think clearly.’

‘You… This doesn’t mean—’

‘I know. They’re yours’ Miguel said, easily catching Mig’s main concern. The spider growled. ‘I know they don’t want me, and I don’t need them. It’s fine. I just—I needed to stop that, fucking, pain—’

He ran a hand down his face as Mig’s eyes darted across his body. Bit by bit, he lessened the tension in his body. He didn’t need to fight.

‘It is… quite, painful. I still recall very well my seasonal ruts when I was isolated, it was… agony’ Mig replied, offering a branch of sympathy. Miguel took it with a similarly cold grunt. ‘It is… awful. Yeah.’ His eyes turned then from Mig to you, locking onto your exhausted eyes. For just a second, they looked soft.

‘Thank you’ he repeated. You just awkwardly nodded. How else did you respond? It was so strange, just lying in the bedroom beside this man you’d hated, who’s cum was now sliding in pretty streaks down your back after being pumped into your ass.

You caught him admiring your body for a moment, but you saw no hunger in him. He wasn’t starving for you. All you could make out was a kind of quiet gratitude, and maybe a little physical attraction.

‘Ah… Okay. I should go’ Miguel said. He rose to his feet with a couple of stumbling steps before phasing his suit back on, covering up any evidence of what he’d done.

‘You—you’ll still help us, right?’ you asked. Miguel nodded without turning his head.

‘Yes. I don’t lie. I stand by my word. Just, uh—avoid me, please, until your heats over. You could, set me off again, and… I like being satisfied, right now. I want to keep this.’

With those final words he drew up a portal and left you Mig’s aftercare, stepping back out into the cool dusk of Nueva York. He breathed in the empty, city air and sighed.

He wasn’t sure how he’d react. Now out of that haze, that mist, would be guilty? Angry? Unsatisfied? Jealous?

No. He just smiled a little to himself, and then made his way back inside. For now, at least, he was truly satisfied.

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