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jungkoode · 3 months ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 19

˗ˏˋ redefining stances ˎˊ˗

"You have always put people in different categories: friends, dating and fucking. And the idea of someone redefining that makes your chest twist inwardly, because that's just not how it works. Never has."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 15k

content: parental expectations, inner monologue, anxiety attacks, body reactions, redefining terms (friendship), fights, communicating (kind of...), subtle propositions, blowjob, handjob, embarrassment and insecurity / self-doubt (f), guiding (m), orgasm, cumming on face, hanging out plans.

✧ author's note ✧

WHEEEEEEW. okay. hi. hello. greetings. blessings upon your crops.

So first of all, I must humbly report that the new goal system (Tumblr and Wattpad having to align like twin stars) is working beautifully. It gave me a luxurious (dare I say scandalous) nine-day window to edit, tweak, breathe, and cry. And I only did one of those things on the floor (take a wild guess). I’m keeping it for now, besties. Let’s see if it continues to save me from myself.

Now. This chapter. Yeah. She’s 15k. And I would say “I don’t know how that happened,” but I would be lying through my teeth. Ask Koopsy. The BJ scene alone was 3k at one point. And then I had time. And we all know what happens when I have time. I rewrote it. And suddenly it’s eight. I regret nothing. It’s unhinged but like… in a deliciously purposeful way.

I especially loved dragging some vulnerability out of our girl—Y/N’s still that stubborn “keep it all inside or die” kind of girlie, but you’ll see her starting to leak, emotionally. And the way Jungkook isn’t being mocking when she cracks a little? When she masks her insecurity and he just sees her? HELLO. I giggled. I kicked my feet. I twirled my hair.

Also?? This chapter really digs into how fundamentally opposite they are when it comes to emotional frameworks. Like, Y/N hears “friendship” and sees expectations, accountability, people expecting her to care back. Hard pass. Meanwhile Jungkook is like “let’s label this so we can safely not fall.” LMAO. It’s giving defensive strategies 101. It’s giving textbook avoidant-anxious overlap. It’s giving both of you need therapy immediately and maybe a hug.

BUT. You’ll also see a little growth. A spark. A whisper of a maybe. She doesn’t fully shut down. She doesn’t say “no.” She’s simmering. And as someone with trauma? That simmer is progress. That’s real. That’s human. That’s our girl doing her best with a backpack full of emotional grenades.

Anyway. This is your 4x VERY slow emotional slow burn reminder. If you’re here hoping they’ll acknowledge feelings soon—first of all, who are you? Second of all, no. Third of all, this is not a customer service inbox. You don’t get to file complaints. You get to suffer. That’s the deal.

Enjoy the chapter, scream in my inbox, or join the crying circle on Tumblr where the rest of Kiki Nation gathers to chant “girl what the hell” in unison.

Welcome if you're new. Godspeed if you’ve been here.

Kiki out.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Pancakes smell like rain and roses and a home you can't go back to.

The smell is soft at first, curling around the edges of your consciousness as you blink against the morning light filtering through the blinds. Warm and familiar, it drags you back—not to this kitchen, not to this apartment, but somewhere far away. Somewhere softer. Somewhere safer.

Pancakes always smelled like home. Like rainy mornings where the sky was a patchwork of grays and blues, stitched together by streaks of silver rain that blurred the world outside the window. Mom would hum as she worked, her voice low and steady, blending with the sound of batter hitting the pan and the hiss of butter melting into golden pools.

She never measured anything—not really. Just a spoonful here, a dash there, warm milk poured straight from the carton into the bowl without hesitation. She’d laugh when Dad complained about her ‘eyeball method,’ but he never said no to her pancakes. Not once.

The kitchen always smelled alive on those mornings—like butter and sugar and coffee mingling in the air, weaving through the faint floral scent of the potted roses Mom kept near the window. She swore they dulled the smell of food, but they never did. The pancakes always won, their buttery sweetness overpowering everything else until it felt like you could taste them just by breathing.

You loved those mornings. Loved how they made the house feel lived in for once—like more than just walls and furniture and people passing each other on their way to somewhere else. On rainy days, it felt like home. Like something worth staying for.

Maybe that’s why pancakes were your favorite. Not because of how they tasted (though they were always perfect—soft and fluffy with just enough sweetness to make you grin through a mouthful), but because of what they meant. Because they were more than breakfast; they were a memory stitched together with rain and roses and laughter that echoed long after the plates were cleared.

You close your eyes now, letting the smell wash over you like a wave, pulling you under until all you can think about is that kitchen—the one with the chipped tiles and mismatched chairs where Mom would stand with batter-stained hands and Dad would sip his coffee too loudly just to annoy her.

And for a moment—for one fleeting second—you’re there again.

Home.

The problem with perfect memories is they're usually lies.

And then it's gone.

The mirage of home evaporates like morning dew on grass, leaving behind the acrid aftertaste of something that never really existed. Not like that. Not with the softness your mind painted over the jagged edges.

Those pancake mornings? They always came with conditions.

‘Straight A's this semester, honey? Pancakes on Sunday!’

‘Piano recital went well? Let's celebrate with breakfast tomorrow.’

‘SAT prep finished early? I'll make your favorite in the morning.’

Always a reward. Always a transaction. No matter how much vanilla extract Mom added to the batter, you could still taste the expectation underneath—bitter and metallic, like pennies on your tongue.

Makes sense why you can't enjoy things without earning them first. Why everything has to be deserved.

The scent wafting through the apartment shifts now. No longer just butter and sugar and rain-soaked roses, but something sharper. Something that stings the back of your throat and makes your stomach twist.

Guilt.

Because who the fuck resents pancakes? Who looks at a mother standing over a hot stove, humming while she makes your favorite breakfast, and thinks: this isn't enough?

You do, apparently.

You who had everything—the nice house, the private school, the parents who ‘just wanted what was best.’ The ungrateful daughter who still squirmed under their touch, who counted down the days until college like a prisoner marking time.

You don't have the right to feel trapped by love. You know that.

People would kill for what you had. For parents who showed up. For a home without holes in the walls. For pancakes on Sunday mornings.

So entitled. So privileged.

The voice in your head sounds like Mom when she's disappointed—soft and somehow, sharp at its core. She never raised her voice.

Never had to.

Just that quiet, ‘I expected better from you,’ that cut deeper than any scream.

Your teeth grind together, jaw clenching so hard it aches.

There's a pressure building behind your eyes, hot and insistent, but you refuse to let it out.

Not over fucking pancakes.

Not over the way Dad would look at your report card before he looked at you.

Not over the way Mom rescheduled your life without asking, because ‘Yale doesn't accept students who waste time on sketching.’

Not over the way they both pretended your opinion was valued while systematically stripping away every choice that mattered.

‘We're just guiding you. We're just helping. We're just doing what parents are supposed to do.’

The smell of pancakes is suffocating now. Cloying. Sweet in a way that coats your tongue and makes you want to scrape it off.

And still, there's that whisper, that insidious little thought that's been following you since you left: Maybe if you'd been better—more grateful, more deserving—it wouldn't have felt like a cage.

Because that's the real fucked-up part, isn't it? You miss them. Miss the security of those Sunday mornings. Miss knowing exactly what was expected, even as you chafed against it.

Miss feeling like someone cared enough to map out your entire life, even if they never bothered asking which direction you wanted to go.

The guilt surges again, stronger.

What kind of monster resents safety? What kind of daughter hates being loved?

The kind who runs away to New York and still wakes up in the middle of the night, heart racing, thinking she's late for a lesson she never wanted to take.

The kind who changed her major three times before settling on English, just because it was the one subject Dad thought was ‘impractical.’

The kind who buys her own groceries and pays her own rent and still can't shake the feeling that she's doing everything wrong. That somewhere, someone is keeping score, and you're failing.

The kind who smells pancakes and wants to cry.

Not because you miss home.

But because part of you is afraid it's following you here, to the one place that was supposed to be yours. Just yours. With no expectations attached.

The smell is coming from the kitchen. Someone is making pancakes in your kitchen.

And you don't know whether to smile or scream.

Your fingers clutch your phone, because the pressure building in your chest has to be channeled somewhere.

The numbers glare back at you, accusatory.

8:00

Panic bubbles out of you.

Late. You're late. You're always fucking late. Dad's voice in your head, that disappointed sigh. ‘Time management reflects character, dear.’

You bolt upright, heart hammering against your ribs, and then—

Nothing is right.

The sheets aren't yours. Too dark, too soft. The wall is wrong—black, with one accent wall in deep red that you've definitely never painted. There's a carpet beneath your feet when you swing your legs over the edge. Your water bottle isn't where it should be. Your clothes aren't where you left them, you’re naked.

This isn't your room.

This is Jungkook's room.

Jungkook's bed.

And suddenly last night comes rushing back in fragments that make your skin heat up.

Not the usual—not the snarky comments across the kitchen table or the silent treatment when you're pissed at each other. Not the avoidance of the last four days where you both pretended the other didn't exist.

No, last night was... talking. Just talking. Both of you just... existing in the same space without trying to burn it down.

And then—

Jesus Christ.

You press your palms against your eyes, but that doesn't stop the memory. Him between your thighs, making those sounds like he was the one getting pleasure from it. The way he looked up at you, eyes almost black in the low light. How he touched himself while tasting you, like he couldn't help it.

And then after, when you both should've retreated to separate corners to lick your wounds and rebuild your walls—you didn't. You fucking climbed into his bed. Told him to stay. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

What the actual fuck is wrong with you?

You can't even blame alcohol. Two glasses of wine over the entire evening doesn't equal drunk. Doesn't equal stupid decisions. Doesn't equal... whatever the hell last night was.

So what was it?

You drag your hands down your face, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

Are you really that easy to disarm? One decent conversation, one night where he's not being a complete ass, and suddenly you're sleeping in his bed like some kind of...

Like what? Not a girlfriend. Not a friend with benefits, because friends actually like each other.

Just... a girl who got confused. Who let her guard down. Who maybe wanted, just for a night, to not fight everything and everyone.

Including yourself.

You grab one of Jungkook’s discarded black T-shirts (oversized ones, because he thinks he’s cool or something) and some clean boxers to entertain your thoughts.

But it’s no use.

Your fingers dig into your scalp, tugging at your hair. You want to bang your head against the wall until these thoughts scatter, but then you remember—again—that it's not your wall. It's his. This entire space belongs to him, and you're the intruder here.

Except he didn't say no, did he? When you suggested, he didn't really hesitate. Much. Just huffed, carried you and then plopped right next to you. Like maybe he wanted it too.

And for one brief, stupid moment last night, curled up in sheets that still smelled like him, you thought… maybe this could work.

Maybe you could actually be friends.

Real friends.

The kind who talk about shit that matters. Who know things about each other that have nothing to do with sex or power plays. The kind who don’t pretend silence is neutrality and eye contact is war.

But friends means caring. And caring while fucking is a road that leads straight to complication city, population: you, crying on the bathroom floor at 3 AM wondering why you weren't enough.

Fucking is one thing. Dating is another.

Being friends? That’s a whole different monster.

And you’re not naïve enough to believe people can safely be all three at once—not without bleeding somewhere.

Sure, people who date usually start as friends. And yes, most people who date also fuck.

But you?

You don’t date. You detonate.

And Jungkook? He’s got matchsticks for fingers and a mouth that knows exactly where your fault lines are.

So, no. He doesn’t get to be all three. Doesn’t get to orbit your life from multiple angles. Doesn’t get to slip into your day like heat and leave like regret.

He’s not dating material.

But he is fuckable. Dangerously, addictively, ruin-your-life fuckable.

So that’s where he stays. Logically.

You check your phone again. Still 8:00 AM. But it’s Saturday, which means—

Your new job. Barnes & Noble. 10:00 AM.

The panic recedes, leaving behind a hollow sort of relief.

You're not late. You have time. Two whole hours to figure out how to look Jungkook in the eye without thinking about his mouth between your legs or the way his voice sounded when he talked about his ex or how he looked when he seemed actually, genuinely concerned.

Two hours to rebuild all those walls that somehow, without you noticing, started to crumble.

You're not sure it's enough time.

The heel of your palms dig into your eyes as you let out a sigh that feels like it's been trapped in your chest for days.

Fucking pancakes. The whole place reeks of them, sweet and buttery and—

Pain slices through you, vicious and unexpected.

"Fuck—"

Your body curls in on itself automatically, a reflex you can't control. It feels like someone's taken a rusty knife to your insides and decided to twist. Your hand flies to your lower abdomen, pressing against it like that'll somehow help. Like you can hold yourself together through sheer force of will.

The IUD. Has to be.

It's been nagging at you for days now. Little pinpricks, the occasional twinge that made you wince but was easy enough to ignore.

But this? This is something else entirely. This is your body throwing a full-scale revolt.

You sink back onto Jungkook's bed, chest doubling over toward your knees.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Just like Mom taught you, back when panic attacks would hit in the middle of the night before big tests. Back when your chest would get tight and the world would spin and everything felt like too much.

‘In through your nose. Hold for four. Out through your mouth.’

‘Good girl. That's my good, brave girl.’

The memory of her voice is so clear it's almost like she's here, sitting next to you on this bed that isn't yours, in this room that smells like someone else. Guiding you through the pain like she always did. Always so calm. Always so sure.

Even when you hated her methods, you never doubted she knew what she was doing.

The pain ebbs, receding like a tide that's bound to come back. It leaves you empty and oddly fragile, staring at the dark gray carpet between your bare feet. The urge to slide back under Jungkook's covers is almost overwhelming. To just hide there until the world feels less overwhelming.

Something soft and warm brushes against your ankle.

Griffin looks up at you with those unblinking amber eyes, his tail a question mark behind him. He makes that little chirping sound that's not quite a meow, more like he's asking if you're okay in the only language he knows.

"Hey, buddy," you murmur, reaching down to scratch under his chin where he likes it best.

He leans into your touch, purring loudly enough that you can feel the vibration through your fingertips.

Such a simple thing. Touch and response. Need and fulfillment. No conditions, no expectations. Just connection.

It makes your throat feel tight in a way that has nothing to do with pain.

Griffin bumps his head against your palm, demanding more attention. Typical. Exactly like his owner—always taking more than he's given.

The thought makes you snort softly.

You stand, slower this time, wary of another attack from your rebellious reproductive system—yet nothing happens. Small mercies.

When you open Jungkook's door, the smell of pancakes hits you like a wall. Rich and sweet and somehow wrong. Not like home. Not quite. Different ingredients, different hands.

And there he is. In a fucking Sonic the Hedgehog T-shirt and matching pajama pants. Hair a mess, like he styled it with a fork and an air fryer. Flipping pancakes like he’s got his life together.

Standing in the kitchen with his back to you, shoulders moving slightly in time to whatever's playing through those expensive headphones. Completely in his own world. Completely unaware that you've been having an internal crisis in his bed for the past twenty minutes.

Completely, infuriatingly normal. Like last night changed nothing.

Maybe it didn't. For him.

Maybe it didn’t. For you.

Or maybe it did.

You sigh, dragging yourself toward the kitchen because someone needs to make sure he doesn't burn the whole fucking place down. The security deposit is half yours, after all.

Jungkook doesn’t show any sort of acknowledgement, headphones clamped over his ears, head bobbing so violently you're genuinely concerned it might detach from his neck.

Like his brain doesn't have enough problems already without the potential concussion.

Now that you're closer, you can actually hear him—not just humming, but full-on rapping? along.

Or trying to.

The tinny leak from his headphones gives you just enough to recognize that god-awful song that's been all over TikTok lately.

Gang Baby, NLE Choppa.

Of course that's what this idiot listens to while making breakfast.

He spots you in his periphery and doesn't miss a beat, turning just enough to start mouthing the lyrics directly at you. His eyebrows do this ridiculous waggle when he gets to the part about let me B-A-N-G and let me fuck some.

You curl your lip in disgust, which only makes him snort and rap more enthusiastically.

"Real classy, Rogue. Nothing says 'good morning' like misogynistic garbage at—" you check your phone, "—8:12 AM."

He pulls one side of his headphones away from his ear.

"Sorry, what? Couldn't hear you over this absolute banger."

"I said," you position yourself next to him at the counter, peering at whatever he's mixing in that bowl, "you have the musical taste of a horny fourteen-year-old who just discovered his dad's Playboy collection."

"Hey, don't hate. NLE Choppa is a lyrical genius."

"Oh yeah? What's next on your sophisticated playlist? 'Me So Horny'? Maybe some 'My Neck, My Back'? Real breakfast ambiance."

"Those are classics," he grins, completely unashamed. "But I reserve those for special occasions. Seduction purposes only."

"Has that ever actually worked on anyone with more than two brain cells?"

"You tell me, Nix." His voice drops half an octave, eyes flicking down to your lips for just a second before he turns back to his bowl.

You make an incredulous sound.

“What the fuck are you making, anyway?"

"Protein pancakes, babyyyy!" He drags out the word, lifting the spatula like it's a trophy.

Your face must show exactly how you feel about that because he laughs.

"What? Gotta maintain these gains."

The fucking idiot actually flexes then, one arm curling up while he continues to stir with the other.

You swat at him, connecting with his bicep.

Firm. Solid. Warm.

You pull your hand back like you've been burned.

"God, you're so fucking stupid."

"Stupid hot, maybe."

You ignore that, moving toward the coffee maker. The one thing in this apartment worth waking up for.

"Ah ah," he tsks, reaching behind him. "Already made you some."

You pause, watching as he passes a mug over to you.

Your mug. The dark blue one with the chip on the handle that somehow ended up being yours even though you can't remember buying it. Steam curls from it, carrying the rich scent of coffee—strong, with just a hint of hazelnut.

Exactly how you like it.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wrapping your fingers around the warm ceramic.

“Thanks," you mutter, the word almost painful to push out.

"So," he says, pouring batter onto the griddle, "you're eating some pancakes, aren't you?"

You purse your lips, hesitating.

On one hand, protein pancakes sound like something a gym bro invented to justify eating dessert for breakfast.

On the other, your stomach reminds you it's been empty since those chips you inhaled around midnight.

"Come on," he pushes, "you need protein to maintain that ass, Nix."

Your jaw actually drops. "Excuse me?"

"What?" He grins, ducking his head when you swat at him again. "I'm just saying, would be a pity to throw that to waste. You've got an amazing—"

"Ughhhhh, okay! I got it!" You cut him off before he can finish. "I don’t wanna hear it at this hour. I'll eat your stupid pancakes, my god."

He looks far too pleased with himself, flipping a perfectly golden pancake like he thinks he’s an actual chef or something.

"They're not stupid, they're nutritionally optimized."

"Is that what your protein powder labels call them? The ones with the half-naked bodybuilders flexing on the front?"

"Hey, don't judge my fitness journey."

"Oh, I'm judging everything about you, Rook. It’s my whole brand.”

He just chuckles, sliding the first pancake onto a plate and pouring more batter. The domesticity of it all is somehow ridiculous.

It feels too normal. Too easy. Like you've done this a hundred times before.

Like maybe you could do it a hundred times more.

Dangerous thought. Very dangerous.

You take a long sip of coffee, letting the bitter heat scald away whatever the hell that feeling was.

Jungkook slides a plate toward you, two perfectly golden pancakes stacked and steaming.

And honestly; they actually smell... decent. Not like the protein chalk you expected.

"Bon appétit," he says with a ridiculous flourish of his hand. "Try not to fall in love."

"With you or the pancakes?" You grab a fork from the drawer, sitting on one stool and poking at your breakfast suspiciously.

"The pancakes.” He says with a smirk, joining you in the adjacent stool. “I’m too much for you to handle.”

You roll your eyes, taking a reluctant bite. Fuck. They're good. Like, actually good. Not gritty or chalky or tasting vaguely of chemicals like most protein-enhanced food.

His smug grin tells you your face has already betrayed you.

"Don't," you warn, pointing your fork at him.

"Don't what?" He leans forward, one elbow propped on the table. "Don't mention how your eyes just rolled back in your head? Or don't point out that I'm right about something, and that's clearly causing you physical pain?"

"Don't be insufferable before 9 AM." You take another bite, speaking around it. "I haven't had enough coffee to deal with you at full throttle."

"What about last night? You seemed pretty happy dealing with me at full throttle then."

"Seriously? We're doing this now?"

"Doing what?" He stabs his own pancakes with his utensil. "Having breakfast? Talking? Being... you know, normal?"

"Normal. Is that what we're doing?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, last night was..." He shrugs, taking a bite of pancake. "Nice. You know? We actually talked. Didn't try to kill each other. Maybe we could do that more."

Oh god. This is exactly what you were afraid of. This weird, awkward morning-after attempt to redefine things.

He's going to want to put a label on it now, isn't he?

Turn your convenient arrangement into something messy with expectations and feelings and other terrifying shit.

Friends. Or friends with benefits or whatever stupid idea he’s about to come up with.

No. Absolutely not.

"We talked," you say carefully. "We also fucked. Let's not make it weird."

"How is it weird to suggest we could be, I don't know, actual friends?"

And there it is.

"Friends." You stab at your pancake with more force than necessary. "Right. Because that's what people who've seen each other naked are. Friends."

"I mean, yeah? Friends who fuck. It's a whole thing. People do it all the time."

You look up at him, fork frozen halfway to your mouth.

“And how's that worked out for you in the past, Rogue? These fuck-buddy friendships of yours—all solid, drama-free arrangements, were they?"

His eyebrows furrow. "I'm not suggesting we start braiding each other's hair and sharing deep dark secrets. Just saying maybe we don't have to pretend we hate each other 24/7."

"I don't hate you," you say automatically, then immediately regret it.

He scoffs. "Progress."

"Don't get excited. I don't like you, either."

"Sure you do." He grins around a mouthful of pancake. "You like parts of me, at least."

"Your modesty, definitely. That's my favorite part."

"Not what you were saying last night."

You throw a napkin at him. It flutters pathetically halfway across the space between you.

Stupid napkin. Stupid Jungkook.

“Can we just—can we just eat? Without dissecting our relationship status?"

"What's there to dissect? We live together. We fuck sometimes. We talk sometimes. We don't hate each other. Seems pretty straightforward to me."

"Nothing's ever straightforward. Sex is one thing. Friendship is another. Put them together, and it's a disaster waiting to happen."

"Why? What's the issue? You really think if we start being decent to each other, suddenly the whole arrangement falls apart?"

"No, I think if we start being 'decent' to each other, suddenly there are expectations. Suddenly I'm supposed to care if you're having a bad day, or listen to your problems, or worry about your feelings when we're fucking."

"Wow. The horror." He rolls his eyes. "God forbid you acknowledge I'm a human being and not just a convenient dick."

"That's not what I meant—"

"Then what did you mean? Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you think I'm too fucking stupid to understand boundaries. Like I'll immediately start writing your name in hearts or some shit just because we've upgraded from roommates to friends."

"I didn't say—"

"I don't want to date you, Nix. I don't want to be your boyfriend. I just thought it might be nice to not act like we're in some cold war every time we're in the same room. But if that's too much emotional labor for you, fine. We can go back to pretending the other doesn't exist unless we're naked."

The sting of his words surprises you. Why do you even care? This is what you want—no messy emotions, no expectations. Just the convenience of living together and occasionally hooking up. Clean. Simple.

Except now it feels anything but.

"You're twisting what I said."

"Am I? So you're not freaking out about the terrifying prospect of actually being friends with the guy you've been sleeping with?"

"I am not freaking out." You are absolutely freaking out. "I just think it's... cleaner. If we keep things the way they are."

"Cleaner." He snorts. "Right. God forbid anything in your life gets messy."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've got your shit locked down so tight you're about to snap in half." He stands up, grabbing his mug of coffee. "You think I don't see it? How hard you try to control everything? How fucking terrified you are of anything that doesn't fit into your perfectly organized boxes?"

Your grip on the fork tightens. "Oh, please. Tell me more about myself, Rook. You've known me for what, one month? Clearly you're an expert."

"I may not know shit, but I see enough. I see you'd rather cut someone out completely than risk them having any kind of power over you.”

"Fuck you," you spit, but it comes out weaker than you intended.

Because he's not wrong, and that's the worst part.

"Yeah, we've established that part works great." He drops his plate on the sink and it clatters noisily. “Look, forget it. You want to keep pretending we're strangers who occasionally fuck? Fine. Works for me. Less work anyway."

"That's not what I said." You stand up. "I just don't see why we need to redefine everything. Why can't we just... let it be what it is?"

"Because I don't even know what the fuck it is! Am I your roommate? Your fuck buddy? That guy you hate but tolerate because the rent is cheaper split three ways? What the hell am I supposed to tell people when they ask about you?"

"Why are people asking about me?"

"Jesus Christ." He throws his hands up. "That's what you focus on? Not the point, Phoenix."

"Then what is the point? Spell it out for me, since I'm clearly too stupid to get it."

"The point is, I talk to you more than I talk to most of my actual friends. I see you every day. I know how you take your coffee and what you look like when you come. So excuse the fuck out of me for thinking maybe, just maybe, we could drop the whole 'we're just roommates who tolerate each other' act and admit we might actually be friends."

You stare at him, chest tight with something you can't name.

Can't or won't.

This is exactly what you've been avoiding—this messy, complicated conversation that blurs all the neat lines you've drawn.

"I don't do friends with benefits," you finally say, voice quiet, your plate joining his. "It never works. Someone always ends up hurt."

"Who said anything about hurt? It's not that deep, Nix. We're not in a fucking rom-com."

"No, we're in real life, where things get complicated and messy and people have expectations they don't even realize until they're disappointed."

"The only expectation I have right now is for you to stop overthinking everything for five seconds."

"I'm not overthinking. I'm being realistic."

"You're being paranoid. And kind of insulting, if I'm honest. Like I'm some lovesick puppy who can't handle a casual arrangement."

“I’m paranoid? That’s rich coming from you, Ro. Real fucking rich."

His eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a fucking hypocrite." The words tumble out, hot and fast. "You want to talk about being friends? About opening up? That's hilarious coming from the guy who deflects every personal question with some stupid joke."

"I don't—"

"You absolutely do. Every time." You step closer, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Ask about your financial situation? Oh, it's fine, just selling a kidney next week, ha ha. Ask about your ex? Turn it into some bullshit story about how she 'graded' you after sex, like it's all a big fucking joke."

His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. "That's different."

"How? How is it different? You want me to be all open and friendly, but all you do is deflect and crack jokes.”

"I didn’t say anything about being all open and—”

"Then what are you saying?" You throw your hands up, frustration making your voice rise. "Because it sounds like you want all the benefits of friendship without any of the actual vulnerability. You want me to be your friend when it's convenient, but god forbid I ask about anything that matters."

"What do you want to know, Nix? What deep dark secret are you dying to hear? How I'm drowning in debt because my ex fucked up my credit? How I can barely make rent some months? How I wake up in the middle of the night panicking about money? Is that friendly enough for you?"

The sudden honesty knocks the wind out of you. Your mouth opens, closes, opens again like a fish gasping on land.

"That's what I thought." He tilts his head, motion clearly angry. "You don't actually want to know that shit. You just want to point out that I don't share it to win an argument."

You both stand there, breathing hard, like you’re studying each other.

But then Griffin rubs against your ankle, completely oblivious to the emotional warfare happening above his head and you…

You, honestly, feel tired.

Bone-deep tired.

It's too early for this much... whatever this is.

"Look," you sigh, the fight draining out of you. "Maybe we're both right, in our own way. And maybe we're both being assholes."

He blinks, clearly not expecting the shift.

After a moment, his shoulders drop a fraction.

"I’m listening.”

"Last night wasn't terrible," you say, choosing your words carefully. "Talking. Whatever. Maybe we don't need to define everything right now?"

"Revolutionary concept." His voice has lost its edge, that familiar sardonic tone creeping back in. "Not immediately labeling every interaction. Who would've thought?"

"Shut up."

You pick up your coffee mug again, taking a sip to hide the relief washing over you.

Crisis averted. Boundaries preserved.

For now.

"So what are you saying?" he asks, leaning back against the counter. "We just... see where things go?"

"I'm saying maybe we don't have to be strictly roommates or strictly friends. Maybe we can just... exist in the same space sometimes without trying to kill each other. And if it turns out we don't hate it..."

"We can revisit the friend thing?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Maybe." You shrug, aiming for casual. "If you manage not to be completely insufferable."

"Tall order." He's almost smiling now. "I'll have to suppress all my natural charm."

"If that's what you call it."

You roll your eyes, relieved to be back on solid ground.

This you can handle—the banter, the back-and-forth, the careful dance around anything too real.

This is safe.

Under control.

"Just eat your protein pancakes, Rogue. Don't you have gains to maintain or whatever?"

"Can't skip arm day," he agrees, flexing dramatically. "These biceps don't maintain themselves."

"God, you're insufferable."

"Yet here you are, eating my pancakes, drinking coffee I made you." He gestures at your mug with his own. "Almost like you tolerate me."

"Stockholm syndrome, obviously."

"Obviously." He hums thoughtfully for a moment. "So, we're good?"

"We're..." you search for the right word, "...fine. For now. Let's just take it a day at a time, okay? No pressure, no expectations."

"I can do that." He nods, looking almost relieved himself. "One day at a time. Starting with today, where you admit my pancakes are fucking amazing."

"They're edible."

"They're incredible and you know it."

"They're protein powder with extra steps."

"They're a culinary masterpiece that your taste buds aren't sophisticated enough to fully appreciate."

"My taste buds are perfectly sophisticated, thank you very much."

"Says the girl who eats chips at midnight."

"At least I don't drink protein shakes for dessert like some kind of psychopath."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it. My midnight chocolate protein shake would change your life."

You make a gagging sound. "I'll pass, thanks."

"Your loss." He shrugs, then glances at the clock. "Don't you have to be at work at 10?"

"Yeah, but it's only—" you check your phone, "—8:30. Plenty of time."

"If you say so." He moves towards the space between the entryway and the couch. "First day, right? Gonna sell some books to the masses?"

"That's generally what happens at a bookstore, yes."

"Well, don't let your sparkling personality scare away the customers."

"I have excellent customer service skills, I'll have you know. I can fake being nice for hours at a time."

“You sure ‘bout that? Haven’t seen you be nice for more than thirty seconds."

"That's because you don't deserve my niceness."

"And the customers at Barnes & Noble do?"

"They're paying for it. You just get the real me."

"Lucky me," he snorts. "So, you nervous? First day and all?"

"It's a retail job, Rogue, not brain surgery. I think I can handle scanning books and saying 'have a nice day' without a panic attack."

"Just asking." He takes a sip from his mug. "Making conversation. Like normal people do."

"Yeah, well." You shift, suddenly uncomfortable with how... normal this feels.

Like you're actual roommates having an actual conversation.

Like maybe this friend thing isn't so impossible after all.

"I should probably start getting ready."

"Right, sure." He nods, glancing at his room. "Wouldn't want you to be late for your first day of shaping young minds through literature."

"It's Barnes & Noble, not the Library of Alexandria."

"Still. Books. Knowledge. Power. You know."

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot of shit for someone who reads, like, one book a year?"

"Hey, I read." He looks genuinely offended. "I just finished that one about the guy who—"

"If you say 'Rich Dad, Poor Dad,' I'm going to throw this mug at your head."

"I was going to say 'The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck,' actually."

"Of course you were." You can't help the laugh that escapes. "How original. Let me guess, you also have 'The 48 Laws of Power' on your nightstand?"

"Whatever, man." He shakes his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Suck my dick."

The words come out light, amused—a casual dismissal that’s not angry or bitter, just a throwaway line, the kind of thing he'd say to Yoongi or any of his friends when they're giving him shit.

But something about it—the vulgarity or maybe the signature shitty and playful challenge in his eyes—makes you reckless.

"Okay."

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes sliding to the side as the word slips out.

Casual.

Like you just agreed to pass the salt, not... that.

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. His body goes rigid, one foot already pointed toward his bedroom. He turns his head slightly, just enough for you to catch his profile.

"Huh?"

You cross your arms, teeth worrying the inside of your cheek. A shrug lifts your shoulders—noncommittal, like this isn't making your heart hammer against your ribs.

Your eyes drift back to his. Meet and hold.

"I said okay."

He turns fully now, coffee mug dangling forgotten from his fingers.

"Okay... what?"

"Sucking your dick."

You watch his throat bobble, the muscles in his neck working as he swallows. Like he’s processing what you just said. Like you just suggested something completely alien, something that requires a full system reboot.

And okay, fine, maybe it wasn’t the most casual thing to drop into conversation. But still.

You arch an eyebrow, scowling at him because why is he overthinking this? Does he not want you to do it? Don’t all guys want to get sucked off? Isn’t that, like, a universal truth or something? What’s with the hesitation?

The longer he stands there, frozen and dumbfounded, the hotter your frustration burns. It’s not like you even want to do this (okay, you do, but that’s not the point).

The point is he’s always the first one to be like “bet” whenever you throw out some reckless suggestion.

Pushy without being pushy—he knows boundaries, sure, but he’s still the guy who’ll smirk and say “you won’t” just to see if you will.

And now? The one time you actually offer something? He’s looking at you like you’re speaking Simlish.

You move toward him, until you're face to face.

His mug wobbles in his grip, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

You look up at him through your lashes.

"I said I can suck your dick if that's what you want."

A shaky exhale escapes him, warm against your face.

"Nix..." His voice has dropped an octave, rough around the edges. "Don't fool around. That's not nice."

"I'm not fooling around."

Slowly—so slowly it feels like time has stretched into something thick and syrupy—you sink down to your knees.

The kitchen tile is hard, and really, it should be uncomfortable. Should snap you out of whatever madness has possessed you.

It doesn't.

Jungkook bites down on his lower lip, the sharp edges of his teeth digging into the flesh like he's physically holding back a curse. You can see the evidence of his interest already straining against his pajama pants.

His fucking Sonic pajama pants.

Because of course. Of course this would happen while he's wearing cartoon hedgehogs. Of course this

moment—where you're on your knees in front of him, heart pounding, breath shallow—would come with this absurd detail that makes it real in a way that's almost uncomfortable.

Your hands come to rest on his thighs.

Strong. Solid. Warm.

"I mean, we've been hooking up for a month now. Almost." Your voice sounds different to your own ears. Lower. A little breathless. "You've eaten me out multiple times, but... I haven't sucked your dick. Not even once."

Your eyes drop deliberately to the bulge straining against ridiculous cartoon fabric. It should be funny.

It's not.

"Is it because you didn't want me to?"

He shakes his head. Fast. Emphatic. A jerky motion that tells you everything you need to know.

"So why didn't you ask me?"

He doesn't answer. Can't, maybe.

His throat works again, adam's apple bobbing. His pupils are blown wide, dark and hungry as he stares down at you.

Your fingers play with the waistband, slowly—so fucking slowly—pulling it down just enough to reveal his hip bones and the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the elastic.

"Have you thought about it at all?"

"Yes." The word comes out strangled, like it fought its way past whatever restraint he's trying to maintain.

Your eyes snap up to his.

He curses when your eyes lock onto his again—the control you have, even down on your knees.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He exhales, surrender in the sound. "Yes, I've thought about your beautiful plump lips wrapped around my cock, Nix. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Heat blooms in your cheeks, spreading down your neck, across your chest.

You hadn't expected him to be so... explicit. So honest.

"Maybe." Your thumbs brush against the skin just above his waistband. "What else have you thought about?"

His mug clatters onto the counter beside him, abandoned and his now-free hand comes to your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

"Thought about how you'd look," he murmurs, voice pitched low enough that you have to strain to hear it. "On your knees. Just like this. Those big eyes looking up at me while you take me in your mouth.”

Jesus.

Your body responds instantly, a rush of heat between your thighs that makes you press them together unconsciously.

When did Jungkook get so... articulate?

His thumb presses slightly against your lip, just enough to part them. "Thought about how warm your mouth would be.

How good it would feel. How you'd sound."

"How l'd sound?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, confidence returning as he watches your reaction. "The little noises you'd make. The way you'd moan around my cock when I pull your hair."

Oh.

Your hand moves higher, finding the hard length of him through his pajamas. He hisses through his teeth when you palm him, fingers wrapping around his shape.

"Like this?" you ask, squeezing gently.

His hand moves to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands at the back of your head.

Not pulling. Not yet. Just holding.

"Getting there." His voice is strained now, tight with need.

"But in my head, there's a lot less talking and a lot more—"

"Sucking?"

His laugh is half groan. "Yeah, Nix. A lot more sucking."

"Hmmm" you murmur. "Where's all that big talk from earlier?"

"Temporarily relocated," he manages. "Blood flow issues."

That startles a laugh out of you, breaking the tension for just a moment. Trust Jungkook to crack a joke while you're literally about to have his dick in your mouth.

Your hands pause, giving his bulge another soft squeeze before—

“Wait—couch.” He grabs your wrist, stopping your motions. “Let’s do this properly.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah? Better for your neck and knees and all that. Let’s go.”

You roll your eyes but follow as he then drops onto the couch, sprawling like he owns the place—which, technically, he does, but still. His left elbow hooks over the cushion rest lazily, and his knuckles come up to rest against his cheek as he leans into it.

The picture of nonchalance.

Except for the way his hips shift slightly, rolling upward in a small, deliberate motion as he spreads his legs wider.

Your eyes narrow.

That little buck of his hips? The way his thighs stretch out as if to frame you? It’s not subtle.

Neither is the look he’s giving you now—those half-lidded bedroom eyes that always seem to appear when he’s horny. His lips curve into something smug, and god he’s so obvious it’s almost embarrassing. Like one of those guys in bad romance novels who lounges around shirtless, flexing for no reason except to remind everyone they have abs.

“So?” His voice is low, dragging out the single syllable like a challenge.

You cross your arms tighter over your chest, glaring at him because—what? Is this supposed to be seductive? Is this his idea of foreplay?

“You’re already making me regret this, you know that?”

He snorts, the sound sharp and amused as he tilts his head slightly. “I don’t know why I doubt that.”

Your only response is a scoff—short and derisive—as you step closer. The floor feels uneven beneath your feet, though you know it isn’t. It’s just your nerves playing tricks on you.

Because this is real now. This is happening. You’re about to suck cock. Rogue’s cock.

You want this. You do. You’ve been curious about this for longer than you’d care to admit—curious about him, about what he likes and how he reacts and whether he’ll look as smug when he’s falling apart under your mouth.

But still… You haven’t exactly done this much before.

David—the forgettable high school boyfriend who thought foreplay was optional—had pretty much stuck his dick in you and called it a day. He didn’t even know girls could orgasm until you brought it up once during an argument (and even then, he seemed skeptical).

Your life hasn't been that tragic since then, thankfully.

A few hookups here and there have shown you that men aren't a total lost cause after all—some of them even know what they're doing! But sucking dick?

That's... different. It's not something you've done often enough to feel confident about it.

Sure, you know the basics—you've read enough spicy books and fanfics to have a decent idea of what works (English majors don't judge; they research).

But knowing what works in general isn't the same as knowing what Jungkook likes.

And this is his cock you’re talking about—his stupidly perfect body and his stupidly perfect everything else.

And now here you are, kneeling between Jungkook’s thighs while he looks down at you with that stupid smirk of his.

You glance up at him expectantly, hoping for some kind of cue or instruction or… anything really. Like he always does, talk shit with that big mouth of his. Dirty talk or whatever.

But all he does is blink at you for a moment before he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his Sonic pajama pants and starts pulling them down.

His cock springs free, standing there like it owns the place.

And okay, yeah, you’ve seen it before—plenty of times, actually.

You’ve had it inside you, for fuck’s sake.

But this? This is different. This is up close and personal, inches from your face, glossy and flushed and looking way too proud of itself.

Beautiful isn’t the right word. It’s a cock. A literal penis.

There’s nothing beautiful about it—it’s just a piece of meat, veiny and slightly curved and standing at attention like it’s waiting for applause or something.

And yet... you can’t look away.

Why is it so glossy? Is that normal? Does he always look like this when he’s hard? You don’t know why your brain is spiraling into a full-blown analysis of his dick right now, but here you are, mentally beefing with it like it personally insulted you.

Be so fucking for real right now.

And again—there he is. Silent. Watching. Not saying a single goddamn word.

Which is weird because usually, Jungkook doesn’t shut up during sex. He’s all about the dirty talk—filthy little comments that let you know exactly what he likes, what he wants, what he’s thinking.

But now? Nothing. Just this expectant silence that makes your skin prickle with self-consciousness.

You hate him for it.

Your hand wraps around him before you can overthink it anymore. Because okay, fine—you might not be an expert at this, but you’re not completely clueless either. You’ve sucked cock before (not a lot, but enough to know the basics), and you know how jerking off works.

So that’s what you do: start slow, your hand moving down his length in a steady stroke.

He hisses softly at the contact, his hips shifting slightly against the couch cushion. When you glance up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s already looking down at you—his lips parted just enough to catch your attention as his tongue darts out to wet them.

And still, he says nothing.

“What?” You grunt the word out before you can stop yourself, frustration bubbling up in your chest.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly—like he wasn’t expecting you to call him out.

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, but his face gives nothing away.

“Okay,” you mutter under your breath, pulling back slightly as doubt creeps in around the edges of your confidence. “I’m doing everything wrong. Forget it.”

You start to stand up—because honestly?

Fuck this.

Fuck him and his smug silence and his stupid perfect dick that’s making you second-guess yourself when you were perfectly fine five minutes ago.

But before you can fully retreat, his hand shoots out to grab yours—not rough or demanding, just firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice low and almost... gentle? “Hey, no. Don’t do that.”

You stare at him for a moment, then look away because suddenly eye contact feels like too much.

There’s a beat of silence before he swallows audibly, like he’s pondering what to say.

“Do you want me to…” He hesitates for half a second before continuing, his tone careful but curious. “Verbally tell you what I like?”

You purse your lips tightly, the edges pressing together in a way that’s almost painful.

Because somehow, saying yes to that—admitting you need him to tell you what to do—feels like losing. And you don’t want to lose. Not here. Not to him. Not when he’s sprawled out like some kind of smug king on the stupid couch, looking at you like he’s waiting for you to figure out how to solve a puzzle he already knows the answer to.

He doesn’t push, though. His hand stays on yours, warm and steady, as you let him pull you gently back down.

Your knees hit the floor again, and the carpet feels rough against your skin, grounding you in the moment even as your brain screams at you to get it together.

“Okay,” he says after a beat, his voice soft but probing. “What’s up?”

Your eyes snap to his, narrowing slightly at the question. “That’s what I should be asking you.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, clearly unimpressed with your deflection.

“C’mon. Usually you’re so mouthy. You literally made me beg yesterday just to eat you out. I don’t get this sudden prude thing you’re pulling.”

Damn him. Damn him and his ability to read you so well it feels like he’s got a script for your every thought and reaction.

“I’m not acting prude,” you snap defensively.

“Really?” His lips twitch upward. “Because you’re staring at my cock like you’re mad at it.”

Your jaw tightens as embarrassment flares hot in your chest.

“I’m not mad at it,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

“Then what’s the problem?” He tilts his head slightly, genuinely curious now. “Tell me.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by how simple he makes it sound—like voicing whatever’s swirling in your head is the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s not tied up in knots of insecurity and doubt and whatever else is making your throat feel tight right now.

Because he’s right. You could just tell him. That would solve everything, wouldn’t it? But somehow, the thought of saying it out loud—of admitting that maybe you’re not as confident about this as you’d like to be—feels like stepping off a cliff without knowing if there’s anything to catch you at the bottom.

Why does it feel like losing? Like humiliation?

His brow furrows slightly when you don’t respond right away, and then he asks—carefully, hesitantly—

“Okay… have you done this before? A blowjob?”

The question makes your stomach flip for reasons you can’t quite explain. Your eyes drop to the floor as heat creeps up your neck and into your face.

“…Yus,” you mumble under your breath.

“Yus?” He repeats incredulously, leaning forward slightly like he didn’t hear you right.

“Yes,” you say louder this time, still staring at the carpet like it holds all the answers to life’s mysteries.

“But not often,” he guesses—and fuck him for being right again.

Your head snaps up at that, ready to fire off some kind of retort about how that’s none of his business or how he should shut up because clearly he’s not an expert on everything either—but then he laughs.

Out loud.

And it stops you cold.

Because it’s not mean or mocking or anything close to what you expected—it’s just… laughter. Light and genuine and almost disbelieving in a way that makes something inside you loosen just a little bit.

“What?” You demand sharply.

“Oh my god,” he says between chuckles. “Phoenix—is that what this is about? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You glare at him because what else are you supposed to do? Admit he’s right? Again? Absolutely not.

He notices anyway—of course he does—and his grin softens into something closer to understanding as he leans back against the couch cushions.

“Bro,” he says lightly, shaking his head like this is all so obvious now. “It’s totally chill.”

You scoff quietly, looking off to the side because meeting his eyes feels impossible right now.

“I mean it, you want to try, right? You want to experience it or whatever? Nothing wrong with that.” He pauses for half a second before adding with a small smile: “Let me help you, aight?”

You don’t say yes. Of course you don’t. You never say yes.

You run your tongue across your upper lip instead, slow and lazy like you’re tasting the tension, and shrug—shoulders stiff like maybe it costs you something to agree.

Which, okay. It kind of does. Dignity’s already dangling by a thread.

But he reads it. Of course he does. Like you’re a fucking cartoon strip and he’s already memorized every panel.

He just grins—guffaws, really, because apparently this is hilarious to him—and tilts his chin toward his cock like that’s normal. Like this is a fucking TED Talk on Applied Dick Science.

“Spit.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Spit on it.”

Like it’s nothing. Like you’re asking him if he wants oat milk in his coffee and not literally hocking a loogie onto his dick.

Your face does something between a grimace and a snort. “What are you, a porn algorithm?”

“Relax. It’s not a kink thing. Just helps with… y’know. Glide.” A shrug. So casual. “Friction’s not your friend, Nix.”

You squint at him. “So now you’re a physics professor.”

“Professor of good head,” he says under his breath, eyes twinkling like he thinks that’s clever.

You exhale slowly through your nose. Not quite a sigh. Just enough to say fine, sure, without actually giving him anything.

Then your eyes flick down, then back up.

And maybe you don’t mean to hold eye contact for as long as you do, but whatever. Your gaze locks on his, and his mouth hitches slightly at the corner.

One of those small, lazy smirks that says he’s watching everything you do. Which he is.

You drop your eyes again. Shift forward. Palms to thighs. Inhale once through your nose, just to clear whatever mental fog is still clinging.

Then you lower your face toward him, mouth hovering just above the head of his cock.

And okay. It’s a little intense up close like this.

Flushed dark pink at the tip, that little bead of precum catching the light. Skin taut where it stretches up and around the curve.

And yeah, it’s pretty? Like, stupid pretty. Which only pisses you off more because it’s a dick. You shouldn’t be thinking aesthetic right now. You should be—

He hisses.

Literally just from your breath.

Like, your breath grazes the head and he inhales sharp through his teeth, a low sound punching out of his chest that he probably didn’t mean to make.

Your eyes cut up automatically.

And you absolutely, one hundred percent bite back a smirk. Can feel it twitch at the edge of your mouth, creeping in before you catch it.

He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his face. A slight arch of his brow, a ghost of a grin that says ‘don’t get cocky’, which is rich coming from him.

You don’t let the moment stretch too long.

You glance down once more, tilt your chin forward, and—

Let spit fall from your lips.

Slow and steady.

A warm trail that splatters right onto his cockhead with a soft, wet noise you pretend not to react to. The drool stretches in a thin line as it drops, catching and sticking in places before sliding down the shaft, slick and messy in a way that feels weirdly intimate and way too graphic for how not romantic this is supposed to be.

You hear him exhale again—less sharp this time, more like a breath he didn’t know he was holding—and when you glance back up, your eyes meet his.

Big. Wide. Intentional.

Because yeah, you’ve read enough porn. You know this trick. Know the effect eye contact has.

Especially from down here. Especially when your lips are half an inch from his dick and your saliva’s still glistening on it.

And okay. Fine. Maybe it’s a little performative.

But he does it, too. Every goddamn time he’s between your legs, he’s watching you like it’s a sport.

So maybe it’s not just for you. Maybe it’s projection.

It definitely is.

Because the second your spit hits his cock and your eyes stay locked on his, Jungkook makes this—noise.

Not a grunt. Not a moan. Just this tiny sound, like a choked-up breath dragged out of his throat against his will. The kind of sound you’d miss if you weren’t listening for it.

But you are. And you do.

Your fingers wrap around him without thinking. Automatic, almost. Like your hand just knows what to do now. It’s not a tight grip, not at first—just enough to feel the weight of him, hot and heavy and fucking ridiculous in your palm.

You give him one slow pull. A test run. Casual. Clinical.

And his head tips back instantly.

“Ahh—god, yeah,” he groans, voice pitched low and raw like it just escaped him.

You blink. Stare. Something tightens low in your stomach, unexpected.

But before you can fully process the way that noise slithered into your spine and curled up there like it pays rent, he’s looking down again. Immediately. Because apparently the view of your hand jerking him off is not something he’s willing to miss.

His gaze drops to the contact like it’s life or death, pupils blown and mouth slightly parted. He looks wrecked already, and you’ve barely done anything.

Kind of gratifying. Not gonna lie.

So you keep moving. Slow. Measured. A couple more strokes, just to test what rhythm feels natural. Your hand adjusts automatically, finding that friction-slicked spot between too loose and too tight. Thumb brushes the underside near the head, not on purpose, but—

“Yeah,” he breathes. “That’s—”

Pauses. Swallows. Licks his lips like he’s trying not to rush it.

“That’s good, but… here.”

His voice is soft now, like he’s trying not to scare you off. Like if he speaks too loud you might slap his dick and walk out.

And then his hand’s there. His actual hand.

The tatted one.

It swallows yours whole like it’s got a god complex. His fingers are longer, rougher, his palm calloused from guitar strings or camera work or something equally shitty—and it lands on top of yours like this is how. Like he can’t not touch. Like the need to guide is stronger than the need to just sit there and enjoy.

And okay, that’s kind of hot.

He doesn’t even do it weird. No pervy whisper, no ‘lemme show you, baby.’

Just—grips your hand, adjusts the angle, and starts moving it the way he would. His pace. His pressure. His exact rhythm.

He’s demonstrating. Demonstrating. The way he does it.

Which—Jesus. Okay. That’s a thing you’re watching now.

You track everything. How he drags you up to the head and tugs just a bit harder when you get there. Not painful, just… firmer. Intentional. Then down again—not all the way, not to the base. Just past halfway. Controlled. Like there’s a limit he doesn’t cross.

You assume it’s a sensitivity thing or maybe it just doesn’t feel good that far down. Maybe it’s one of those ‘my dick isn’t a joystick’ scenarios.

You don’t know.

But you clock it. Catalog it.

Mental note: no base. No excessive tug. Got it.

He lets go of your hand after a few strokes, slowly, and leans back just an inch—enough to say ‘your turn’. Still watching, though. Like a perv. Like a mentor.

Like both.

You copy what he showed you. Try to mimic the pressure, the pace, the not-too-tight but not-too-flimsy grip. Try to keep the motion smooth even though your brain’s busy yelling ‘are we seriously learning how he jerks off right now? is this real life?’

Apparently yes. It is. And it’s working.

Because he makes this sound. This little hhuhh in the back of his throat, barely audible but very much real. Not exaggerated. Just… a reaction.

You hold back a grin. Barely.

Pride hits low and hot in your chest like you just got an A on a test you forgot to study for.

Not because he said something—but because he didn’t.

That little exhale? That shift in his hips? That subtle fuck, yeah cue without words?

Validation.

Your eyes flick up. You want to see it. Read him.

But he’s not looking at you.

Still staring at your hand. Brows drawn, mouth slack.

And then—

His front teeth catch his bottom lip. Plush, pink, a little too soft for how filthy he is, and he bites. Not hard. Just enough for it to dimple inward and make something flicker behind his lashes.

The kind of flicker that screams overthinking, like maybe the feeling’s a little too good, and he’s trying to ground himself with pain or pressure or… whatever the fuck goes on in his chaos brain when he’s like this.

Then comes the sound.

Somewhere between a hiss and a grunt, like his body can’t decide if it wants to breathe through it or fuck into it.

Rough at the edges, low, weirdly conflicted.

His head dips again.

“Also,” he breathes out, voice crackly and uneven now, “do… do this. Look.”

His hand comes up before you can ask what this is.

Big, again. His palm wraps around yours like he’s your goddamn training wheels. Not even pretending it’s not a tutorial anymore.

His fingers press lightly into your skin, adjusting your grip—less on the full stroke now and more—

“There,” he mutters, repositioning your thumb, sliding it higher.

Right to that spot beneath the crown. Soft little groove. Just barely noticeable unless you’re paying attention.

Which, apparently, he really fucking is.

“You feel that?” he says, voice dipping. “Right under. The… fuckin’—yeah, that. That’s the spot.”

You nod a little, but your eyes don’t leave your hand, now with your thumb angled like a pressure point. Like you’re disarming a bomb with one finger.

His voice drops again.

“Okay, now when you stroke—” his hand moves yours with his, slow and controlled, “—pull up like that, and when you hit the top, tighter there—yeah, squeeze just a little—and your thumb… drag it with you.”

He does it again. Once. Then twice. Demonstrating like this is a team sport and you’re in pre-game drills.

That spot.

That frenulum, or whatever the technical term is.

Doesn’t matter. What matters is how his breath stutters when you pass over it, how his mouth goes a little slack while he watches.

“That’s the shit, Nix,” he says, almost like it’s to himself. Like he’s taking mental notes on his own cock. “That right there.”

Then he lets go again. Fingers slip away from yours, slow.

And he licks his lips as he leans back into the couch, arm flopping over the top cushion like he’s trying to play it cool again, even though he’s still watching you like a fucking hawk.

So. You try.

You mimic the motion exactly.

Same rhythm. Same pressure. Same thumb glide up the underside, and—

“Fuck.”

That one’s not breathy. Not soft. Full-bodied groan. Low and honest, punched out of his chest like his lungs just gave up the ghost for a second.

You do it again. And again.

Thumb dragging against that spot every time you pull up. Your grip tightening near the crown, loosening at the glide down.

He melts.

That’s the only word for it.

His whole body sinks into the cushions like gravity just tripled. Thighs open wider, neck drops back over the edge of the couch, mouth hanging open now like he’s past the point of pretending he’s unaffected.

“Fuck, yeah—that is…” he pants, lips parted, eyes fluttering before he forces them open again, zeroing in on your hand like it’s holy. “That’s fucking perfect, Nix. Jesus Christ, you’ve got magic fingers or some shit.”

Your smirk barely hides itself.

He’s a talker. You knew that. But this? This is next level.

“Fuckin’ knew you’d be good with your hands,” he groans, eyes flicking from your fingers to your face and back down again, tongue dragging across his bottom lip like he’s trying not to say more but can’t help himself. “Just like that, just like that—shit, that’s so fucking good—”

Your thumb twitches tighter without thinking, and his hips flinch.

And it’s so fucking dumb, the way your stomach flips at the reaction. Like you’re the one being touched. Like you got your nerve endings scraped raw by one tiny squeeze.

But there it is—his hips flinching, a twitch so fast you might’ve missed it if you weren’t laser-focused on every damn micro-expression crawling across his face.

His mouth opens for half a second like he’s gonna say something, maybe crack a joke, maybe tell you to go harder—but then—

He chokes a breath.

Like it gets stuck somewhere between his ribs and throat, all tangled up in want.

It is shaky, and it hitches like it costs him something to let it out.

Like just existing through this is work.

And you see it—the way his pupils expand even more, ink bleeding into every millimeter of brown.

He’s not blinking. He’s not moving, not really. Just chest rising and falling way too slow, like he’s afraid any sudden motion might snap this thread thin tension.

You lick your lips before you can stop yourself. Because he’s staring. Still. At your hand, yeah, but also your face now.

Like watching you react is part of the pleasure. Like your mouth is more interesting than porn.

And okay. Maybe you’re a little into that.

Maybe that’s why your hand tightens again. Just a little. Not even on purpose this time, more like instinct. Your thumb swipes over that spot again, light and smooth and mean, and his chest fucking jerks.

Then—

A noise. Escapes him. Not a groan. Not a moan either. It’s like a stuttered-out puff of sound that crackles in his throat on its way up, all gritty and broken, like it got caught in static.

And right after that, so soft you almost miss it, he says:

“Your mouth.”

You freeze.

Your pulse jumps like you’ve been caught doing something wrong. Even though you haven’t. Not really. Just… hand stuff. Just skin and muscle and spit and heat.

But his voice? It’s not filthy when he says it. It’s awestruck. Like he’s seeing a fucking shooting star. Like it’s something to be whispered.

Your mouth.

It echoes weird in your head. Bounces off all your internal walls.

You blink up at him, eyes dragging from the handjob, and you look at his face.

And the expression there?

Jesus. He looks like he’s praying.

Not to God. Not even to you. To the feeling. To the moment. To the idea of your mouth on him.

And for some reason, your voice is already moving before your brain can catch it. “What do you want from my mouth?”

You don’t say it cute. Don’t coo. You’re not flirting. You’re daring. Like if he says something you don’t like, you’ll bite down instead of suck.

He blinks. Laughs, almost. Not like it’s funny—more like it surprised him. The way you said it. Like you slapped him with your voice.

Then, low and kind of incredulous: “What do you think I want, Nix?”

And he grins when he says it. Real slow. Not smug. Not sleazy. Just… real. Like that’s the stupidest question you’ve ever asked and he’s giving you a minute to catch up. To get there on your own. Like maybe you’re the dumb one for asking when the answer’s right there, hard and twitching and shiny in your grip.

You glance up through your lashes because fuck it, might as well lean into the trope while you’re down here. Might as well make it mean something.

And you swear to god—something inside him glitches.

Like his whole respiratory system shorts out. You hear it, barely—a tiny gulp, some micro sound buried deep in his throat like a trapped hummingbird.

Fragile and desperate.

Faint little flutter.

But it’s real.

Like a ‘fuck’ slips out of the space around you. Not even from his mouth. Just—exists.

As if the universe itself groaned.

And you know he felt it too because he looks at you like you just made the sun blink.

His hand lifts again, slow.

Fingers curl gently around your face, brushing the hair out of your eyes—not rough, not fast. Just… precise. Like he needs to see you. Like eye contact is currency and he’s suddenly flat broke.

You don’t move. Just let him. Let his thumb skim your cheek. Let his gaze drag over your face like it’s got weight behind it. Like you’re something he doesn’t want to blink away from.

And then—his voice. Low. Warm. Calm in that way that feels like it’s trying to keep a leash on something unhinged underneath.

“Suckle the crown a bit while you keep your hand moving. Up and down. Not fast, just… keep rhythm.”

You blink.

That phrasing.

Suckle.

What the fuck is he, a medieval warlord?

Still.

Your pulse stutters.

Because he says it like he’s thought about this. Like it’s not just a ‘hey, mouth on cock now’ moment, but something he’s imagined.

Something he’s replayed in his head with specificity.

“Focus on the tip. You don’t gotta go all in yet. Just use your tongue. Like… tease the slit a little. Then suck around it. Not too hard. Gentle. Like you’re figuring it out.”

Your brows twitch up just slightly, but you nod.

Because yeah. Okay. That you can do.

And your hand’s still on him—hasn’t left. Just slick and steady, lazy little drags up and down his shaft with your thumb gliding right under the head like he showed you.

You shift forward. Let your lips ghost over the tip. Let him feel your breath first. Not teasing, not on purpose. Just… checking the temperature.

You feel the tension ripple through his thigh when you finally close your lips over him—soft, just the crown. Mouth warm and wet as it envelops the head, not too much suction yet. Just heat.

And then—yeah. You suckle. Gentle at first. Not a full draw, more of a tug.

His reaction is immediate.

Lips part. Chest jerks up half an inch.

One of those sounds again. Low. Raspy. A curse swallowed before it could hit air.

Your hand doesn’t stop. You keep it moving—slow pumps that glide down, then back up, thumb still catching that spot he likes every time you reach the top.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice low and rough around the edges. “That’s it. That’s—fuck—that’s the perfect pressure. Mmhm. Yeah.”

His words come in stilted bursts, like they’re being dragged out of him against his will.

“Keep… keep moving your hand while—ughhnn—keep sucking the tip.”

You do as he says because what else are you supposed to do? You’re not about to stop now—not when he’s making noises like that, not when his cock twitches every time your tongue flicks over the slit.

But there’s this nagging thought in the back of your mind, this tiny voice that won’t shut up:

Why isn’t he telling you to take the whole thing already?

Isn’t that what most guys want? The whole deep-throat porn star routine? You’ve read enough smut (done it a couple times too) to know how this is supposed to go—or at least how it usually does.

But Jungkook?

He seems… content. Like he’s not in any rush to shove himself down your throat.

Maybe he doesn’t want to rush it? Or maybe he’s just weird like that?

Your eyes flick down to your hand. Analyze the movement. The rhythm. The way your fingers wrap around him, snug and slick, dragging up and down with just enough pressure to make him twitch but not enough to push him over.

You remember how he did it. The angle. The squeeze. The way his thumb skimmed that spot under the head like it was a fucking button.

You mimic it again. Just to see.

And that’s when he exhales. Soft. Controlled. Like he’s trying not to let it out but can’t help himself.

The sound drips from his lips like water hitting a rooftop—quiet, but sharp. A little hiss of breath that makes your thighs clench.

Then—

“Look at me.”

It’s not a command. Not barked. Just… said. Low and even. Like he’s asking for something simple. Like it’s no big deal.

But you don’t.

You kind of… ignore him.

Not on purpose, really.

It’s just—you’re embarrassed now, okay?

You don’t want to look up and see his smug face while you’ve got his tip in your mouth like some idiot who doesn’t know what she’s doing. So you keep your eyes trained downward, focusing on the task at hand (and mouth).

“Nix,” he says again, more pointed this time. “C’mon. Eyes up.”

You want to bite him for that tone alone—like he’s daring you or something—but reluctantly, you glance up through your lashes. More of a glare than anything else because fuck him for making demands right now.

He huffs out a laugh at your expression, shaking his head slightly like you’re hopeless or something equally annoying.

“No, not like that. Like… big. Wide.” He pauses for half a second before adding with a grin: “Make your eyes pop.”

You pull off his cock with an audible pop of its own because what the actual fuck is he talking about now?

Your brows knit together as you scowl up at him, and he looks back at you with those stupid boba eyes of his—round and inquisitive like he doesn’t realize how ridiculous he sounds right now.

“Make them pop?” you echo, incredulous. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

He looks at you. Blinks once. Then shrugs, like he’s just now realizing how stupid he sounds.

“I don’t know, man. Just—make ‘em all wide and cute.”

You stare.

Then scoff. Loud. Disbelieving.

“You want me to look dumb and innocent while I suck your cock? That’s what you’re into?”

His eyes widen. “No—Jesus, no. Not like that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? Because you sound like a creep.”

He groans. “God, you’re always so fucking blabbermouthed.”

“And you’re always so fucking vague,” you shoot back.

He glares at you. “I don’t mean, like—virgin vibes, okay? I mean that look you get. When you’re being a little shit. When you’re pushing buttons and pretending you’re not. That’s what I like.”

You blink. Your mouth opens. Then closes again.

He leans forward slightly, voice dropping. “I want you to suck my fucking cock like it’s all you want, while pretending you’re not sucking my soul through it. That’s what I’m talking about. Not some weird creepy thing.”

“Oh.”

You blink once before pursing your lips thoughtfully again.

“…Okay.”

Because okay indeed. You know what he means.

You hate that you know what he means.

He rolls his eyes, but his cock hasn’t softened. If anything, it’s thicker now. Heavier. The head flushed a deeper pink, veins more prominent. Like he gets off on arguing with you. Like this whole back-and-forth is foreplay.

And maybe it is. He’s already said twice he likes it when you’re mouthy.

Is this what he wants? You pretending you don’t know what you’re doing while you absolutely do?

You take a deep breath before shifting forward again—this time making a conscious effort to widen your eyes as much as possible while looking up at him through your lashes.

Big and round and innocent or whatever. Like you have no idea what effect this is having on him—even though the way his breath catches in his throat tells you exactly what kind of power you hold right now.

And yeah… maybe this is what he wants: you, pretending not to know exactly what you're doing while totally knowing anyway.

So that’s what you give him.

Wide eyes locked on his face as your lips part once more—and then slowly close around the head of his cock again.

And then, your hand moves faster.

Not sloppy. Not rushed. Just—more. More pressure, more rhythm, more confidence. Like your body’s finally synced up with his. Like you’ve figured out the exact tempo that makes him twitch and grunt and grip the couch like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

And he’s feeling it.

Hard (okay that was kinda funny, don’t deny it).

You can tell by the way his thighs tense under your palms, muscles flexing every time your fist glides down his shaft and back up again. By the way his abs jump when your thumb flicks under the head. By the way he’s breathing now—through his teeth, through his throat, like he’s trying not to make noise but losing the battle.

You keep your mouth soft around the tip. Suction just enough to make it wet and warm and tight. Tongue moving in slow, deliberate waves underneath—right there, under the crown, where he’s taught you he’s most sensitive.

And it’s funny, because you can feel it. The way he jerks every time your tongue drags across that spot, the way his cock pulses in your mouth like it’s trying to say yes, that, again, more.

And you don’t stop.

You keep eye contact, too. Big, wide, innocent. Like you’re not doing anything special. Like you’re just here, hanging out, casually ruining his life with your mouth.

He looks down at you, and his face is—fuck.

Wrecked.

Brows scrunched, mouth half open, eyes glassy like he’s buffering. Like his brain’s trying to load the next thought but keeps getting stuck on your lips.

Then he groans.

Low and guttural and sharp, like it got dragged out of his chest with a hook.

“Oh my—fffuckkkk—”

His voice breaks halfway through the word, like his throat just gave up. His hand shoots out, grabbing the back of the couch, knuckles white.

“Fuckin’—god, Nix—”

You swirl your tongue again, slow and mean, and he whines. Actually whines. Like a kicked puppy.

“I’m gonna—” he pants, hips twitching up into your fist, “—I’m gonna bust a fat nut, I swear to god—”

You snort around him. Can’t help it. The phrase is so fucking stupid, so him, and so hot in the dumbest possible way.

He hears it. Groans again. Throws his head back against the couch cushion and drags a hand down his face like he’s trying to physically hold himself together.

“Don’t laugh at me, you little—fuck, that tongue—”

You do it again. That wave motion. Just to be a menace. Just to see if he’ll break.

He does.

"Y-you have no idea," he pants, Adam's apple bobbing frantically as he swallows between words. "No fucking clue what you do to me when you—hnngh—when you stare up at me with those goddamn eyes while my cock's in your mouth."

His voice is all over the place now. Cracked. Desperate. Like he's trying to keep it together but you're not giving him a single inch of relief.

"Angel," he breathes, and okay, that’s a first (but at least it’s not ‘baby’, ew?) "You're gonna make me cum so hard. So fucking hard I might black out."

Your tongue flicks again—right against that sensitive bundle—and his whole body jerks like you've touched a live wire.

"Christ,” he hisses through clenched teeth. "I can't—I can't even—"

You keep going.

Hand stroking faster. Tongue teasing. Mouth suctioning just the tip, just the crown, just enough to make him lose his mind.

"Nix," he warns, voice strained and desperate. "I'm right there. Right fucking there. You're about to make me—"

His cock pulses against your tongue, the tip growing impossibly harder, slick and hot and heavy in your mouth as his whole body gets visibly ready to detonate.

“Nix,” he pants, voice raw and desperate. “Nix, I’m—I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna—”

His breath catches. Swallowed back like it’s too big to spit out. His whole chest stutters with it, like the air’s too thick to pull in, like the pressure’s building faster than he can handle.

“Y’tongue,” he gasps, barely coherent, hips twitching up into your fist. “Stick—god, god god—stick it out f’me. Stick that pretty tongue out f’me, Nix. C’mon—”

You don’t hesitate. You just do it. Mouth popping off the head with a wet little tsk, tongue sliding out slow and flat, glistening with spit and still tinged with the taste of him.

You hold it there, just like he asked.

And he groans.

“Look at—” he starts, but you’re already there.

Already staring up at him with those same wide, round eyes he asked for.

Tongue out, lips parted, face tilted up like you’re waiting for it.

He jerks forward, one hand flying to his cock, wrapping around himself and taking over.

Fast.

Rough.

Desperate.

Like he’s been holding back too long and now he’s got seconds left before he combusts.

“Yeah—ahhh—shit—ah—ah—fuck—”

And then—he breaks. Makes these little grunting, bitten-off noises—like he’s trying to hold them in but can’t. Like every spasm punches another sound out of him. Cums. Hard.

Hot, thick ropes strip across your face—cheeks, lips, chin.

Some of it hits your tongue, sticky and salty and obscene.

It drips down your jaw, slides over your skin in messy, wet streaks, and he’s still going. Still twitching. Still jerking himself through it like he’s trying to drain every last drop.

“Oh my god—” he chokes out, voice cracking. “Oh my fucking god—”

His head tips back, eyes blown wide and mouth slack with disbelief.

“You have the prettiest fucking eyes, Nix.”

And he sounds so, so wrecked while he says it, that you can’t help but believe him.

Like it’s the filthiest thing he’s ever said. Or maybe the most honest.

You don’t know why your chest twists into knots.

You don’t know why his eyes, hazed, dizzy, looking down at you is suddenly one of your favorite views.

But you did it. You excelled at it.

And Jungkook liked it.

That��s what matters.

He gives his cock a few lazy strokes, working the last drops out like he’s wringing water from a sponge, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths.

Your eyes catch on the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone and the way his lips are parted just enough for his tongue to dart out to wet them.

“Fuck…” he mutters. “Fucking hell.”

Another breath, deeper this time, like he’s trying to find his footing again.

“That was fucking amazing.”

You smile—small, sly, the kind of smile that doesn’t need to try too hard.

“That easy, huh?”

He snorts, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back from where it’s fallen into his eyes.

“When you’ve got a mouth like yours? Yeah.”

The compliment shouldn’t make your cheeks warm. It’s just Jungkook being Jungkook, all cockiness and shameless flirting. But still, you feel a flutter of… something.

Pride, maybe. Or just the lingering high of having him completely at your mercy.

You push yourself up from your knees slowly, legs stiff from being on the tile for too long. There’s a moment where you think he might reach out to steady you—his hand twitches like it’s considering it—but he doesn’t. Just watches as you stand and brush your hands down your thighs like that’ll somehow make this whole thing feel less messy.

“Gonna clean this mess up,” you say, already turning toward the bathroom before he can respond.

“Want me to help?” His voice follows you—soft but not hesitant. Like it’s just something he’d offer anyone without thinking twice about it.

You pause mid-step, glancing over your shoulder at him.

He’s still seated on the couch, pants and boxers shoved down his hips, shirt rumpled and sticking to his skin in places. He looks ridiculous and hot at the same time—like someone who just got thoroughly wrecked but hasn’t quite figured out how to pull himself back together yet.

And for some reason—maybe because he asked so easily—you feel your throat tighten awkwardly.

“Uh…” You hesitate, fingers brushing against the edge of the doorway as you try to find the right words. “No. No, I’m fine.”

He doesn’t say anything at first—just purses his lips slightly and nods like he’s accepting your answer even if he doesn’t entirely believe it.

It should be awkward, but it’s… not. Not entirely. Just unfamiliar.

New territory you’re not sure how to navigate.

“…But thank you,” you add quickly before darting into the bathroom like a coward.

When was the last time you thanked Jungkook for anything?

You lean against the door for a moment, eyes closed, trying to process what just happened. Not just the blowjob—that part’s easy enough to compartmentalize—but the rest of it.

Not the banter either, you do that too.

The almost-friendly moment afterward.

It felt… nice. Easy, even.

Like maybe being friends with Jungkook wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Maybe that’s why you step out after cleaning your face, instead of hiding in your room like you normally would.

Maybe that’s why your eyes search for his as you enter the living room.

He’s already sprawled out like nothing happened. One arm stretched across the back cushions, legs spread wide in that annoying way men always seem to take up space. He’s even cracked one of the floor-to-ceiling windows open, letting in a cool breeze that’s slowly clearing out the lingering scent of sex.

Griffin’s curled against his side, purring loudly as Jungkook absently scratches under his chin. The cat gives you a lazy blink when you appear, like he knows exactly what you’ve been doing and is judging you for it.

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes drift to the TV—some car restoration show you don’t recognize playing—before finding their way back to him.

“So,” you start, the word hanging awkwardly in the air between you. “Do you have plans this afternoon?”

He looks up, one eyebrow quirked in mild surprise. “After you get off work, you mean?”

“Yeah.” You shift your weight, suddenly feeling awkward. “I’m done at five.”

Why is this awkward? You just had his dick in your mouth, for fuck’s sake. Asking about his schedule shouldn’t feel more intimate than that.

“No plans.” His fingers continue their gentle scratching behind Griffin’s ears, the cat purring so loudly you can hear it from where you’re standing. “Why? You offering something better than my thrilling agenda of watching YouTube guitar tutorials and ordering takeout?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “There’s this new exhibit at the MoMA I’ve been wanting to check out. Photography thing.”

You shrug like it doesn’t matter either way. Like you’re not actually inviting him to do something that doesn’t involve getting naked.

“Thought maybe you’d be into it. Being a film major and all.”

“Phoenix wants to hang out with me? Voluntarily? Without the promise of orgasms? I’m shocked.”

“Forget it,” you mutter, already turning toward your room. “It was just a thought.”

“Hey, no—wait.” He sits up straighter, disturbing Griffin who gives an annoyed meow. “I’m in. The photography exhibit sounds cool.”

You pause, glancing back at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods, and for once, there’s no teasing edge to his voice. “I’ll meet you after work? We could grab dinner after, if you want.”

“Sure.” You try to sound casual, like this isn’t the first time you’ve made actual plans together. “There’s this place in the East Village I’ve been wanting to try. Nothing fancy, just… food.”

“Food is good. I’m a fan of food.” He grins.

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m done.” You head toward your room, needing to get ready for work.

“Sure, Nix.”

As you close your bedroom door, you can’t help but wonder what the hell you’re doing. This feels suspiciously like the friendship you’ve been so adamantly avoiding.

But maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be the end of the world to actually enjoy his company with your clothes on for once.

Besides, you need to keep him occupied until eight. Yoongi had been very specific about the timing when he texted you this morning about Jungkook’s surprise birthday dinner.

Keep him out until 8. Taehyung and Hobi are setting up. Don’t mention ramen.

And yet, he hasn’t even spoken about his birthday to you.

What kind of person doesn’t mention their own birthday?

The same kind who makes protein pancakes and pretends everything’s fine when it’s clearly not, probably.

You check your phone. 9:15. Plenty of time to get ready for work and figure out how to navigate this strange new territory where you and Jungkook do normal people things together.

Like friends.

The word still feels foreign, uncomfortable.

But not entirely wrong.

goal: 500 notes.

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jubshead · 7 months ago

Text

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐎'𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Paring: Detective O’Connor (hallucinating Agatha) x Reader

Summary: When your mother gets out of town, you grudgingly accept to take care of the town’s lunatic.

A/N: So this is dedicated to this anon, it’s VERY different from what I have written for Agatha so far, but I hope you like anyway!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my native language, so bear with me.

Warnings: Mental instability, Face slapping, Bondage, Dubious consent, Dildo, Teasing/edging

Word count: 3k

Date: Nov 25, 2024

Comments are always welcome and if you don’t wish to be identified, my ask is open!

Masterlist | Taglist | Read on ao3

Tag list: @yourbasicqueerie @harknessshi @hannah-0730 @diorrxckstar @lady-darkswan3 @neverfindmegone @imorynn @its-chickenwing-450 @seaoflittlefires @anyasivy

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

Wanda’s spell had changed Westview.

Aside from the obvious altered psychological state of the citizens, the town's sense of community had blossomed and the shared trauma had brought them together. The witch's magic had left a lasting scar and people were empathetic for anyone affected by it.

Agnes O’Connor, or whatever her name was.

She’s been a good neighbor for the past three years, slightly nosy, but clearly under some sort of mental control. Lately, though, she’s been acting differently. Your mother is one of the people who’s been lending a helping hand. Buying her groceries, visiting to make sure she is eating and bathing, and despite the odd conversation, she has been fine on her own.

Not that your mother would listen. She is invested in being some sort of babysitter and drag you along. You’ve managed to stray from the role, but, when your mother left town for business, you had promised to take care of the town's loony.

The day's warmth gives way to a chilly breeze, the settling sun makes an orange hue in the sky and you try to balance the grocery bag while opening the wood door. Unfortunately for you, the neighborhood has a barter system and today is your family's turn to make sure everything is in order.

Walking in, you take a minute to look around, the place is beautiful and dark, everything matches and you wonder what is Agatha’s doing and what is somebody else’s. You had never stepped foot in the house and it impressed you.

Locking the door behind you and navigating to the kitchen, you set the bag down on the counter and call out.

“Agnes? My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.”

Silence follows your statement.

“Hello?” You say louder.

Fuck. What if she had run away?

Taking a deep breath, you decide to inspect the house before freaking out. Walking back to the entryway, you glance up the stairs and back into the living room. The place appears to be empty and you strain your ears in an attempt to hear any kind of noise. The house seems uninhabited and you conclude that upstairs is the next place to look for her.

“Hello? Anyone home?” You shout uncertainty, taking a step.

Your head is full of worry as you walk up the stairs. You’ve never seen Agnes after her psychotic breakdown, you don’t know what to expect. People from the neighborhood had said she was harmless, but you had no way of knowing. Either way, even if that were the case, it wouldn’t look good for you if you somehow lost her.

The wooden floor creaks beneath your feet and darkness engulfs the hallway. Taking a quick peek at the open doors, you face up the end of the corridor, the place you assume it's the bedroom. Guiding yourself with the moonlight streaming in through the open window, you carefully enter the space. The curtain moves with the wind and you relax a friction, there is clearly no one here.

As scared as you are, you barely have time to process the thought of Agnes' disappearance before feeling an impact against your back. Falling into the bed, you try calming your racing heart and, scared, you quickly turn around to see the back of a figure as it walks and settles into an armchair, turning on the lampshade beside her.

Squinting your eyes against the yellow light that consumes the room, you take her in. Her legs are spread open, she wears a long sleeved shirt with a boner joke saying: “Bohoner family reunion. Pitch a tent.”, black sweatpants finish the look while her hair is pulled down in a ponytail. Her face is stern and she looks like a complete lunatic.

“Sit up.” She commands.

Afraid of an unpredictable reaction, you do as she says.

The cushion feels soft under your thighs as you settle in the mattress. She ranks her eyes over your figure before leaning back, arms crossed over her chest. There’s some kind of hose head in her hip.

“I’m curious. What compelled you to break into the home of a decorated detective?”

“What?” You blurt out immediately.

“I’m not playing games, little girl. You better answer me.”

You fridge under her gaze, trying to understand the mental episode she’s having. Your mother mentioned that Agnes was having some sort of hallucination, but you never guessed this. Does she think she is some kind of cop?

She places her elbows on her knees and leans forward, waiting for your response.

“I- My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.” You explain carefully.

“Don't lie to me.” Narrowing her eyes, she stands up and searches for something in her drawer. “You won’t like the results.”

You glance at the door and prepare to make an escape. Barely having time to place your foot down and run, you feel a hand on your shoulder pushing you down and making you freeze when you sense her breath ghosting against your temples.

“You better not try that. I’m assuming you don’t want to spend the night in the tank.” A glimpse of her hands makes you shake your head, she’s carrying a rope and a silver tape.

“Good.” She stands in front of you and grabs your chin to look up at her. “Now, what were you after?”

You look around for something that might help you in this situation. “I was just bringing you groceries…” You whisper.

“Don’t play dumb.” Her hands squeeze your cheeks harshly.

God, this is the craziest talk you’ve ever had.

“Look Agnes, you might be a little confused. How about I put you to bed and let you get some sleep?” You grab her wrist, trying to loosen her grip.

She slaps you across the face, hard enough to leave a sting behind.

She leans in close and says. “Do you think you have the right to touch me?”

The hit leaves you angry enough to turn and shout. “YOU ARE NOT A DETECTIVE.”

Maybe it’s time to put her in a mental institution.

She scoffs and grabs the rope at her side. “Do you know what we used to do to mouthy things like you back at the academy?”

Your eyes widen and you stay rooted in place, running crosses your mind once again, but you push it aside, it would be worse if she tackled you to the ground. They do say crazy people have more strength than usual.

She stretches the cord out in front of you and smirks, seizing your arms and tying them in front of you. Maybe it would be better if you played into her fantasy.

“I’m sorry, Detective O’Conner.” Your entire demeanor changes and you beg. “Please, it was just a prank, my friends put me to it.”

She has a side smile and doesn't look into your face, completely focused on her task.

“Oh, now you are being cooperative. Scared?”

Indeed, you are.

She crouches and levels her eyes with yours, searching your face for something that she doesn’t seem to find.

“I don’t believe you and I’m not letting you go until I’ve got a satisfying answer.”

She harshly pulls the knot in your wrists and looks pleased when it doesn’t come loose. Pacing around the room and looking at your bound form, you see the engines turning in her head as you feel trapped in a lion’s cage.

Suddenly, she grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you backwards. You crash into the mattress and panic, you definitely shouldn’t have played into her delusion, the thoughts of escaping brushes your mind and you curse yourself for not doing it sooner.

She takes hold of your binded arms and places them over your head as she climbs on top of you. Her knee is placed between your legs and you put your heels on the edge of the bed, pushing yourself up in a vain attempt to avoid the pressure.

“This is what happens when you poke the bear, little girl.” She breathes in your face.

“Agnes, look-”

“IT’S DETECTIVE O’CONNOR TO YOU.” You wince at her scream.

“Detective O’connor…” You try out and continue when she doesn’t react. “There’s no need for violence, we are both adults, I’m sure we can settle this.” You attempt to reason with her.

She laughs at your statement, one of her hands grabs your neck and lightly squeezes.

“I won’t accept any form of disrespect. You’ll be an example for your friends.”

Yeah, okay. Maybe that was a bad excuse.

Her eyes focus on something behind you and she reaches for it. You completely freeze when the corner of your eye catches the sight of a purple dildo held by her. Something inside you stirs.

“You better lick it up, little girl. This is going inside you.”

“WHA-” Your scream is cut off when she shoves the hard object down your throat.

The stiffness settles uncomfortably on your windpipe, making you gag and cough against it, only stopping when she takes pity on you and draws it out of your mouth.

“Do you want me to shove it in right now?” She’s a jerk and lets out a smug grin when you shake your head.

“No, no, no!” You say hastily. “I can do it.”

Seeing your willingness, she places the sex toy against your lips, letting you set the pace for yourself. You take a tentative lick and she raises an eyebrow at you.

This whole situation makes you dizzy. Agnes’s weight is on top of you and you slowly engulf the dildo, licking and coaxing in your saliva. She looks deep into your eyes and holds your tied hands firmly, pushing your propped heels with her feet and making you moan around the object when her thigh presses harder against your core.

Your body is reacting in the opposite direction, the panic settled into a trembelling flutter in your abdomen, the idea of being fucked by her seems more appelling as the time goes by and you wonder how much you really need to lube the dildo with your arousal pooling in your undearwear.

“Yes, that’s it.” She says encouragingly.

She sets a rhythm, leisurely pulling in and out as her lips form a sadistic smile, seemingly taking joy in your predicament as you slowly relax into the mattress, accepting your fate. Her blown pupils draw a groan out of your mouth and you feel drool dripping down your chin.

She leans down and nuzzles your neck, before popping the dildo out of your mouth and eyeing it.

“Good girl.” She praises and you grind against her thigh.

Smiling, she takes away your only form of relief, straddling your waist and placing the purple object sideways in her mouth. The image distracts you enough and gives her time ,with her newly free hands, to grab the remains of the rope and tie your bound hands against the headboard.

She eyes your pitiful position and lets out a breathy laugh, before grabbing your shirt and ripping it in half. Your eyes widen at the action and you suddenly remember that despite the pleasure running through you, you’re still very much in danger.

Ranking her eyes down your figure, she slides the wet dildo down your collarbones and over your covered breast, before reaching your navel. You look up at her with a pleading face, you could no longer tell if it was whether for her to continue or let you go.

“Ag-Detective, please.” You beg and the nickname brings a smirk to her face.

Thrusting your hips up, you try in a vague attempt to smooth your aching core, she grabs your waist and presses her body weight harder against you. Getting close to your face, she ‘tsks’.

“Nah, nah. This is supposed to be a lesson.” Her hand moves up and painfully gropes your breast, pinching your nipple and making you let out a groan.

She rolls off of you and for a second, you think she’s going to leave you there, bound and unsatisfied, completely lost in the situation. That is, until you feel her harshly pull your pants out, along with your panties, humming as she looks down at your barely covered self.

Spreading your legs, she settles between them and grabs the back of your things, pushing them up until your knees meet your front. Your open position gives her access to your core and she looks at it, grinning and running her finger through your wetness.

“It appears someone has a cop kink.” Even in your condition, you have to hold in your laugh.

She’s still talking nonsense.

The discarded dildo appears in her hand once more and you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, she looks into your eyes as she slowly drags it between your folds and circles your clit, teasing you. Torture seems to be part of her enjoyment, you trash and buck into her hand, but the only thing she does is grip your hips to prevent your movement.

She runs the object down your thigh and you feel how wet it is, mixing with the previous stickiness in there and driving you mad as it gets further away from your entrance. Stopping your needy motions, you let out a whine from the provocation before suddenly throwing your head back as she slams into you.

It stretches you and she doesn’t give you time to process the intrusions before she starts to move. She pounds hard, seemingly trying to draw out your pleasure as fast as she can and by the amount of arousal you feel bubbling under your skin, she’s succeeding.

You moan loudly, your shoulders ache from the uncomfortable position and your wrist burns from the material of the rope. Your body shakes with the force of her thrusting and your breasts bounce inside your bra.

“Ag- Please… I can’t.” Meaningless words spill out of your mouth.

She laughs and places one of your legs on her shoulder, going deeper and hitting a spot that makes your vision go white.

“Tell me what you were looking for.” Her face closes off and somehow she becomes more aggressive with her movement.

“Wha-” There isn’t a single thought crossing your mind.

“Why did you come into my house? Tell me right now or I’ll stop.”

“NO.” You shout and throw your head back at the frustration. “I already told you.”

“I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuse.” Her movement slows down and you circle your legs around her to prevent her detachment.

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” You tell her, your mind is muffled with arousal and you feel your climax getting away from you.

“‘Tell me the truth.” She almost screams and stops completely.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, unfulfilled .

Your thoughts can barely connect, your head is spinning and you try to find a justification that will satisfy her enough.

“I WANTED YOU.” You shout out. “I wanted to get your attention.”

You finally settle into an excuse and it seems to please her when she gives you a shit-eating grin, thrusting back into you.

The fading orgasm returns with vengeance, your back arches away from the bed and your entire body tenses up. The purple object pounds harder and harder into you, hitting the right spot every time and making you sob. Your legs tighten around her and your heel digs into her back. The headboard hits the wall and you faintly hear the sound as your mind is overrun with pleasure.

“Detective- I need…” You blur out, the statement being cut off by a groan.

“I know what you need, baby.” Her voice is hoarse, you open your eyes to look down and are greeted by ragged breathing, hair out of place and an open mouth as she takes in your pleasure.

Her free hand comes up to circle your outer lips and you groan, frustrated by the endless teasing. Her finger meets your clit and her other hand adjusts the dildo to keep up the pace with the new attachment.

You close your hands around the rope holding them, throwing your head back as your body meets her thrusts and you grind up against her finger, searching for the edge. All the breath in your body rushes out at once when you reach it, stiffening and trembling against her body. Your hard nipples brush against the material of your bra and your nails dig into the skin of your palm. You go completely rigid and mute before slumping down onto the bed.

Your fingers teak at the aftershocks, you feel Agatha slipping the dildo out of you and her face enters your blurred vision.

“Did you learn your lesson?” She asks seriously, her face closed off again.

You nod vigorously, still bound and helpless, you couldn’t tell what she would do next.

“Good.” She says and reaches up, untying the thick rope from your wrists and adding. “Stay where you are, I’m going to get a wipe.”

Puzzlement fills your mind and you rub your red skin, maybe this would be the perfect time to run, even with your shirt torn and naked half self, but you doubted your jelly legs would take you far. Besides, her mood had changed, she seemed softer and you weren't sure if the change of temperament was her mental health acting up or if she was calmer because of your early answer.

There’s not a lot of time to think when you hear her coming back from the bathroom, towel in hand. Your breath is caught in your throat and you watch her every move, paralyzed. She settles herself on the bed, in front of you, before looking into your eyes and asking.

“May I?”

You open yourself for her once more, she’s already fucked you stupid, there’s no need to be ashamed.

Her knuckles run up your calf and stop in your knee, her other hand placing the white wet material against your thigh and wiping the stickiness in it. You shudder when she brushes your core and wonder if you are catching her insanity by thinking of doing this again.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to use my gun on you.” She lets out a relieved laugh and points with her head at the nightstand behind you.

You turn around and are greeted by a hose head.

#the amount of times I had to stop *wink wink* while writing this one is criminal #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #smut #fanfic #detective agatha harkness #not really #agatha harkness smut #kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #fanfiction #jubshead fics

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starbluud · 4 months ago

Text

— NOTHING BUT ARTERIES AND DIRT (YOUR FLOWERS STILL GROW IN MY VEINS)

CHAPTER ONE. to be loved (what a sick feeling)

PAIRING. prince!beomgyu x farmer!f!reader.

TW. cursing. slight blood and injury. attempted forced marriage. hunting traps. death threats. reader has a little brother named max. poor attempt at british slang/words (im from the us im sorry).

GENRE. fluff. angst. royalty!au. fantasy!au.

SUMMARY. choi beomgyu, the current prince and future king of blue hour grove, craves a change — something with substance. he yearns for something to break the monotony of his repetitive lifestyle, where he’s confined to the castle, preparing to rule for when his father steps down. all he’s ever known are books, proper etiquette, and unbearably dull balls and meetings. just a taste of something new — that’s all he asks.

so, when a chance finally arises to experience the bustling village beyond the tall white walls he’s grown to despise, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. now on the run and new to this unfamiliar world, a certain farmer piques his interest. as he breaks down this shield she has up, she begins to show him what it truly means to live. yet, with the royal family on the hunt for the missing heir, it’s only a matter of time before his dreams come crashing down.

MIXTAPE. soldier, poet, king, the oh hellos. welcome home, son, radical face. king and lionheart, of monsters and men. skinny love, bon iver. michigan, the milk carton kids. dear wormwood, the oh hellos. ghost towns, radical face. featherstone, the paper kites. wasteland, baby!, hoizer. the night we met, lord huron. white winter hymnal, fleet foxes.

NOTES. hello! sorry for taking so long to get this out. i’ve been busy with some things going on in my life and im also working on two other fanfic stories over on wattpad, too. if you’d like to read another beomgyu fic, there’s one over there along with one for eli/hawk from cobra kai. my name over there is just starblud. anyway, updates will be slow and that goes for all of my writing but i’ve been editing this part for a hot minute and decided to just go ahead and put it out. i hope you enjoy!! <3

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— BLUE HOUR GROVE has always been beautiful. It was busy little village inhabited by friendly merchants and full of life, swaddled deep in forested mountains. Small, family-owned stores lined cobblestone streets and laughter was often heard from excited children. The wilderness brought in hearty meals and rivers were lined with passing sailors. Even tunes of distant music got carried through gentle winds and by nightfall, the town would flourish in golden light and joyful chatter. Adults would pile into lively bars and fill their bellies with beer and aged wine. People would grab one another and drunkenly dance under the shining stars, giving the kingdom of Blue Hour Grove a warm sense of community and comfort.

Yet, at the top of the village’s tallest mountain sat a lonely castle. Large brick walls stood tall and watched over by hundreds of roaming guards. Empty foyers remained lonesome, overlooked by giant portraits of the royal family who lived in the silent halls, and marbled floors polished to perfection. An aura of sadness clung to the stale air and slowly began to overtake the comforting smell of old books in the library.

The prince grit his teeth and tried to focus on the words printed on the yellowing paper. It was later in the afternoon. The sky was painted in a mess of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun began to head in for the night. Candles and lanterns around the castle were lit by the busy maids. It illuminated the corridors weakly, the rising moon providing more light than flames ever did.

Beomgyu sighed with frustration, running a hand through soft locks. He shut the book and pushed it away. Through the windows of the room, he watched the village’s oil lamp posts spark up. Distant figures mingled together along the rocky roads and he could hear the faint echoes of laughter.

He stood from his desk chair and made his way over. Brown hues brightened with curiosity as he observed the townsfolk. Underneath it, however, sat a seed of envy. To see people smile with loved ones and create meaningful connections — it caused jealousy to burn like wildfire in his gut. All he’s ever known were the confines of this lonesome building he called home.

Was it even a home? He wasn’t sure, but it was the closest thing to what ‘home’ could be. He had his family there — his mother, father, and brother at times whom he loved deeply, yes, but it never felt like he belonged. He craved sincere relationships with others. He wanted that bond he’s seen between the villagers. He wanted to experience stupid inside jokes, playful drunken banter, to laugh until he cried. These things seemed so normalized to those outside, yet Beomgyu, it was foreign. The only friend he’s ever had was his sibling. Even then, the scarce moments of fun he’s had with him were squandered immediately by his parents. To them, if you had time to relax, you had time to study.

So, to see such liveliness so close yet so far away, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

A sudden knock on the door made him flinch. “Come in.” he spoke. It creaked open before an older woman peeked in. Penny, one of the castle’s maids and Beomgyu’s personal favorite, stepped in.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Highness.” He grimaced at that title. To be called such a thing, as if he was better than any other commoner, he despised it deeply.

“I thought I said you don’t have to call me that, Penny.” He said, voice soft and laced with ease.

“A-Ah, yes, my mistake,” she swallowed thickly, “Beomgyu.” It was almost like she was scared to say it, and quite literally, she was. To imagine what would happen to her if either the king or queen heard her call the prince by his name sent a shiver down her spine.

“Is there something you need?” He asked, pulling the woman from her thoughts.

“Yes. The king and queen request your presence in the king’s office. They said it was an urgent matter.” She relayed, calloused hands laced together in front of her dress.

Beomgyu gave her a small smile and nod. “Okay. thank you. I’ll head there now.”

“Of course.” She bowed in respect before Beomgyu excused her.

He exited his library and went up the grand staircase. He walked through the plethora of sickeningly similar hallways, all cleaned to perfection and lacking any sort of personality. To an outsider, the interior of the castle would be an unsolvable maze of sorts. There were doors upon doors and dozens of rooms, yet Beomgyu knew the route like the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long until he stood at the double oak doors of his father’s study. He knocked gently and stepped in when ordered. The king was sat behind his desk, the queen stood beside him, and prince Soobin stood across.

“Beomgyu,” his father greeted and beckoned him forward. He walked up and stood next to his brother. Soobin offered him a weak smile, hidden from the eyes of their parents. The man sighed. “I apologize for calling you so late, but something important has come up that we need to discuss.” He opened a folder. “Seeing as Soobin has already wed, you are reaching the age to do so as well.” His dark hues met the prince’s.

Beomgyu felt his stomach churn in distaste. “Pardon?”

The man’s eyes narrowed at his son. “You are to be married.” He stated again, this time with more force. “We have many suitors from all over the region headed this way. Come nightfall on Saturday, a ball will be held in honor of such thing. During so, we will determine who we will benefit the most from and have you wed in preparation for when you take my position.”

Beomgyu bit down on his lip harshly, digging his teeth in until the taste of iron flooded his tastebuds. “I do not wish to be married, Father.”

“But you must. For the good of the kingdom, you must do so.” The elder ordered.

The boy shook his head. “I’m only 19, Father. I’m still learning what I’m to do when I’m given the crown and I’m no where near finished with my current studies. For me to marry so soon would be a mistake.”

The king’s aged face hardened, displeased that his decision was seen as a ‘mistake.’ “This is for the benefit of Blue Hour Grove, Beomgyu. As soon-to-be king, you need to put the welfare of the people before yours. Otherwise, the village would fall to ruins and destroy everything our ancestors worked for. Having valuable business relations would aid in the kingdom’s ever-growing wealth and prosperity. This needs to be done.”

“But I’m not fixed to be king for several more years. I do not see why this needs to be so soon. In fact, it would only hinder my preparations.” Beomgyu argued. His hands that were crossed behind his back balled into fists, his nails inflicting crescent shaped wounds into the hill of his palm.

“Hinder your preparations?” The queen gawked. “Son, this marriage would be part of your preparations.”

“How? It doesn’t make sense, Mother. For me to get wed to an heir whom I have no interest in? Whom I have no feelings for? It’s insanity.” The prince’s brows furrowed in agitation. How could they not see the flaws in this?

“It is not insanity. It is business. This is how ruling works. It does not matter how you feel about your spouse. In love or not, you will be wed and if you object any further, you will be locked away once again.” His father warned.

Beomgyu shut up quick, but his molars still gritted together. He looked away and down at his shoes. He felt the king’s sharp stare on his skin.

“You two are dismissed.”

Beomgyu sped out of the room with his brother close behind. He felt a sinking weight on his chest and it only seemed to get heavier as the seconds go by. To be married off? To be bound to someone he couldn’t care less about forever? He wanted to have relationships, but not in this way. Not where everything they had between them is fake and forced. The thought nearly made him sick.

A hand caught his elbow, making him stop suddenly. Soobin stood panting and a deep frown pulled at his lips. “Gods, Beomgyu.” He huffed. He went to chastised him for speeding down the halls, but faltered at the greif written on his sibling’s features.

“Why must I have to do this?” Beomgyu asked, meeting Soobin’s gaze. “How were you so okay with being married off without having a choice in the matter?”

Soobin felt his shoulder’s fall at his question. He paused for a moment, trying to find his words. “Because I was already in love with her.” He answered. “Miyun and I were already conversing way before we were together. We met at one of the balls Father always throws when we were adolescents and kept in touch ever since. It was only luck Mother and Father deemed her the most worthy to wed.”

“That just makes me feel worse.” Beomgyu let out a humorless laugh. “At least you love her. I’m forced to be with someone whom I have no connection with. And all for the sake of being king?” He scoffed. “I don’t even want that damned title anyway. I don’t want to be in this castle. I don’t want to attend any more boring meetings or balls full of stuck up heirs. I don’t want to carry the stress of an entire kingdom on my back everyday. I don’t want any of it, Soobin.”

Soobin felt pity wrap around his heart at the sight of his distressed brother. He understood his anger and heartbreak. Ever since they were children, Soobin knew Beomgyu didn’t belong in the cage that was royalty. There were many times where he caught his younger brother sat at the window of his room or library staring down at the town they’ve never visited. The twinkle of curiosity and admiration was evident in his irises. The boy craved to experience what life had to offer and he couldn’t do that behind these walls.

“What is it you want to do?” Soobin pondered.

Beomgyu swallowed before shrugging. “I don’t know.” He whispered. “Live?” He glanced around. “But this… being in here with so many duties and surrounded by people who scrub the floors we walk on… Meeting suitors and having to deal with those whom think they are better than others that have to work for what they need… This isn’t the life I wish to have.”

Soobin nodded. A pause went by before either of them spoke again. “I see your anger.” He said, subconsciously fiddling with his wedding band. He peeked over his shoulder at the doors they just left from before turning back. He leaned in and kept his voice low. “You don’t deserve to deal with such things that bring you distress, Beomgyu. You’ve always wanted to go out and see what the world has to offer and it’s unfair to you to be kept from that. I don’t want you to waste your life away being miserable behind these walls and married to someone whom you don’t love and care for.”

Beomgyu’s face twisted with confusion. He cocked his head slightly. “What are you trying to say?”

Soobin wet his lips quickly before letting out a breath. “I want you to leave. I want you to travel and find the things you’ve always been searching for. To make friends and cherished memories. To experience life first hand. You cannot do that here.”

Beomgyu blinked at him. “That’s not exactly possible. You are the ruler of Spring Valley. With you gone, there’s no one to take the crown when father resigns. I’m left with that responsibility.”

The eldest boy scoffed quietly. “But you don’t wish to be king. You never have.”

Beomgyu frowned. “I know.” He said.

“Then do something about it. Leave.” Soobin pushed, eyes swimming with plead. “Do this for yourself.”

Beomgyu stared at him for a second. “How? There are guards and maids everywhere and Mother and Father watch our every move. To do so would be near impossible.”

“Near.” Soobin pointed out. “But not completely. It’ll be hard, yes, but we’ll manage.”

“What do you plan on doing?” Beomgyu inquired. A wave of worry drenched him like cold water.

“Don’t worry. Leave it to me, but be ready to run by morn.” Soobin stated. His proposal puzzled the younger prince even more.

“Are you being serious? I don’t want you to get into trouble.” Beomgyu frowned.

Soobin rolled his eyes before offering a small grin. “What would Mother and Father do? I have a country to run. They cannot keep me here without alarming Spring Valley’s authorities. It would bring war between the states and that is something Father does not want.”

Beomgyu’s mouth fell open in shock. “Why would you do such a thing? Why risk the welfare of your kingdom?”

“Because you are my family. The only person in this damned place that gave me the freedom and excitement I once craved. It’s time I do the same for you.” And without another word, Soobin left. He refused to give Beomgyu any time to argue and sped off through the labyrinth of corridors.

The boy stood still in shock before realization hit him like a carriage. With a racing heart, Beomgyu sprinted to his room and locked himself inside. He grabbed a small rucksack from his walk-in closet, barely big enough to carry his necessities, and filled it with a few spare clothes, a mini sewing kit, a handful of gold coins, and a town map (one that Soobin snuck from Father’s office for him when they were kids and he’s kept it ever since.)

He stood impatiently by the window and glanced out. The village was still bright from lanterns and there were only a few people out and closing their shops. The moon now hung high in the starlit sky, baring down on the prince who’s heart pounded with anxiety and adrenaline. He’s never gone against his parents’ word. He done as he was told and hardly ever argued back, so this — running away — is entirely new to him.

However, buried deep underneath that anticipation was a small voice. It muttered softly in his ear: you’ll regret this, you’ll regret this, you’ll regret this.

It made him think. Would he regret this? Running off to learn that the world he’s dreamed of seeing since he was a child could be a nightmare — it made him nervous. Not only would he be putting himself in danger, but the people he meets as well. He’d be on the run for as long as he’s gone, so could he ever truly learn what life is like if he’s constantly looking over his shoulder?

But, as he looks out at the quiet village he’s been so envious of, the need of a difference overpowered any feeling of unease.

No, even if the outside world turned out to be terrible, he would never find it in himself to regret seeing it.

The wait for the sun to rise couldn’t have felt any longer. Beomgyu blinked, eyes still fixated on the kingdom on Blue Hour Grove since it woke hours earlier. Dark circles decorated his smooth skin and was proof of his lack of sleep. He willed himself to stay up, scared he’d miss his chance to escape if he dozed off.

A sudden knock made him jump and rush to shove his bag under his bed. “Come in.” He called, sitting on his mattress to appear normal.

He felt a wave of relief fall over him when Soobin peeked in. His tense shoulders eased and he let out an unsteady breath, pulling back out the rucksack.

“Good. You’re ready.” Soobin said, stepping over. “You’ll head through the cellar. I made sure that no maids or guards are scouting that area and it’ll be dark so be wary. The end of the tunnel will open up into the woodlands out back and from there, go eastbound. The village should be a few miles out.” He ordered quickly. “You must be quick and quiet and do not hesitate. Doing so may ruin everything, do you understand?”

Beomgyu nodded rapidly.

“Okay. Right now, I need you to hide behind the wall of wine kegs at the entrance of the kitchen. It should keep you out of sight. That way will be the shortest route to the cellar and I need you to wait for my signal.”

“What is the signal?” Beomgyu asked. Soobin merely smiled as he lead the prince out of the room and down a set of stairs.

“Don’t worry about that.” He comforted. “You’ll know, and here.” He paused before reaching in his trouser’s pocket and pulled something out. He handed it over, placing the item that held a light weight in Beomgyu’s palm. It was a small pocket knife. “It’s not much, but it’s better to be safe. Now, go and be quick.”

Beomgyu grabbed his brother’s wrist as he went to leave. Soobin paused. “Thank you, Soobin. I’ll pay you back for this. Somehow. I promise.”

Soobin let out a chuckle and gave Beomgyu a pat on the arm. “Do so by being happy. I am, so it’s time you are, too.” He bid. “I’ll see you later, Gyu.” Quickly, he threw his arms around the boy and gave him a squeeze. Just as Beomgyu went to return the hug, Soobin pulled away and ran off.

A burn of tears ached in Beomgyu’s eyes but he willed them away as fast as they came. He’ll see him again, yet he doesn’t know how long that will be. With a sniffle and a deep breath, Beomgyu snuck his way down to the kitchen.

The kitchen was large, packed with pantries full of goods and warm from previously used open fire ovens. Large windows brought in sunlight and reflected off the calm water of washing basins. Usually, the room is busy from maids and cooks preparing meals throughout the day, so to see it so empty and quiet was a shock.

He didn’t question it and hid between the stone wall and alcohol barrels, wedging himself in a corner away from any passersby. The blade he was given was clutched tightly in his palm and his bag hung over his body.

A few minutes pass as Beomgyu waited. What exactly was he waiting for? He wasn’t entirely sure. Soobin never told him what the plan was, so he’s just gonna have to guess what this signal was.

Yet, a rhythmic thump caught his attention. Beomgyu’s forehead creased with confusion as it grew louder and closer. Followed right behind it were the sounds of distant shouts. The prince peeked out slightly, making sure to keep hidden in the dark, and waited for whatever it was to run by.

What he wasn’t expecting was his father’s large black stallion to speed past. It’s massive hooves clacked against the polished floors as it sprinted away. Two guards chased it, but wasn’t having much luck keeping up.

The sight forced out a small laugh. So this was the signal. He had to give it to Soobin: it was quite the distraction.

Another voice shouted from down the hall. “Someone let the barn animals loose!”

Beomgyu was speedy at unlocking the cellar gate and shut it silently behind him. He was instantly swallowed in darkness. The air smelled damp and a chill caused goosebumps to rise to his skin. His shoes grew wet from puddles littering the floor and he could hear the faint drip of water droplets hit the ground. Hands reached out to the rock walls and used them to guide his way out. The rigid stone felt rough against his digits. His chest felt heavy as he made his way out.

It was only a minute or so until he came across a small set of wooden steps. He felt the rotting plank sink under his weight. The door that sat up top swung open and sunlight pooled in, blinding the boy from the sun’s rays.

His lashes fluttered until his vision cleared. A smile grew on his face. All he saw were trees. The forest line sat only a few feet way. A breeze passed by, shaking green leaves and blooming flowers. The sound of rustling branches was like music to his ears. At last, he was here with the world just fingertips away and he never felt so alive.

Until his name was called.

His face fell, much like his stomach that now felt like it sat at his feet. Soobin said it was clear. It was clear. It was supposed to be clear.

He let out a shaky breath and turned.

“Beomgyu? Where are you going?” A familiar voice questioned. Penny stood next to the cellar doors, lawn tools in hand. Her aged, pale face was written with confusion. Her red brows were pinched together, looking at the prince.

“P-Penny?” Beomgyu struggled, feeling a lump grow in his throat. He tried to swallow it, but failed miserably. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mother requested me to weed and water the garden.” She answered. She glanced at the boy’s bag. “Where are you going, Beomgyu?”

He could feel his hands tremble slightly. “Please…” He pleaded softly. “Please don’t tell Mother and Father of this.”

“You’re leaving.” She concluded quietly, tone barely above a whisper.

He nodded timidly. “Y-Yes.” He frowned. “I-I am, but I beg of you, Penny.” He bowed his head, grasping her hand with both of his. “Let me go. I-I’ll do anything, give whatever it is you desire. You can have—“

“Beomgyu,” she interrupted, removing her palm and instead placed it on his elbow. She gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to ease the anxiety pumping through his veins. She gave him a small grin. “There’s no need to worry. I won’t mention anything.”

Beomgyu looked back up, puzzled. “You won’t?”

“I won’t.” She said.

“B-But,” he pondered, chest tightening. “You would risk punishment doing so.”

“I know.” She replied. “Yet I’ve known you long enough to notice your distaste for royalty. You’re young and curious. I wish for you to be happy and I know you can’t find it here. You’re born to learn. You can’t do so without experience.”

“Why would you do such a thing? For me?”

“Because I care for you. Since Prince Soobin left, you are the only other one in the castle to treat me with respect — like we are equals.” She spoke.

“We are equals.” He spoke, feeling his heart clench at her words. “I refuse to be deemed higher all due to a damned title. It is wrong.”

“But in the eyes of royalty, you are, and your beliefs show you are more human than them. Sadly, that outlook isn’t welcome here. That’s why I want to help you.” Penny gave him a small smile. “Respect can get you a long way. I’m merely returning the favor.”

Beomgyu remained quiet, too stunned to form words at how willing the elder lady was. She continued. “I’ll keep everyone away from this side of the castle. It should give you some time to make distance.” She pushed him away, nudging him towards the woodlands.

“But—“

“Go,” she pressed. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.” She gave him a smile, thin lips pulled up with warmth. Without giving the prince a chance to speak, she departed and made her way through the cellar.

Beomgyu remained still and took a breath. He turned around towards the lush trees painted golden from the morning sun. A distant bird called and a breeze flew by, shaking the full branches.

With Penny and Soobin in mind, he sprinted.

“Dammit, Max.” A girl huffed, rolling her eyes at the curly haired child. He turned towards his older sister, freckled face and hands dyed purple. “Are you serious? You ate all the voiletfruits?”

Max shrugged nonchalantly and dipped his stained digits in the small stream. “I was hungry.” He said.

“If you’re gonna wash your hands, at least wash your face, too, kid.” She scolded and pulled out a handkerchief she kept on her. She dipped it in the creek and rang out the extra water, forcing Max to look at her so she can wipe his mouth. “Imagine being 12-years-old and eating like a pig.”

The boy scoffed, but let her clean his tanned skin. “You do the same thing, Y/N. Especially when Taehyun’s mom has him bring over pastries.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, knowing his words rang true. She pulled away and skimmed his features for any violetfruit residue. She gave him an affectionate head flick.

“Hey!” He groaned and rubbed the sore spot.

“Come on,” she stated. The boy followed along, the siblings trudged up the trail leading up to a small house. They could hear the soft mutter of farm animals bellow as they walk by.

Y/N kicked open the screen door and placed the now empty basket on the dining table. She leaned against it with crossed arms. She stared at the boy.

“What?” He asked, taking the cloth from Y/N’s pocket and tossed it with the growing pile of dirty clothes.

“You’re coming with me to check the traps.” She said. That caused Max to whine in protest.

“Why?”

Y/N let out a laugh at his reaction. “Because,” she said as she passed, “see it as payment for not saving me any fruit. You know those were my favorite.”

“Fine.” Max gave in without a fight.

“Good. Now, put on your boots.”

“But we just got home.”

“Yeah, but look outside.” Y/N gestured towards a window. “It’s turning nightfall. If we don’t check the snares and nets, we won’t have food for this week.” She explained.

“Why didn’t you do so earlier?” Max questioned, annoyance written in his scrunched brows. He walked past Y/N and sat on a wooden rocking chair, slipping on a pair of leather work boots.

“Because I was busy with the animals this morning since Yeonjun came down to look at Macy’s bad hoof. Then, I had to weed the garden and bring the fresh produce to the market. After that, I began cleaning on the barn—“

“Okay, I understand. You were busy.” Max sassed.

Y/N reached over and pinched his chubby cheek. “I’m your elder. Watch your tone.”

Max responded with an eye roll but didn’t comment any further. “Can we go? I don’t like being in the woods after dark.”

Y/N sighed and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

The siblings left with tools in hand. Max carried a roll of rope while Y/N had a bow sat on her shoulder, a quiver made from animal hide housing several homemade arrows on her back. She also kept a blade on her belt in case of emergencies.

Checking the traps was easy and setting them back up was just as swift. Y/N managed to catch a couple rabbits from the snares hidden in the grass and fallen leaves.

“See?” Y/N demonstrated, showing the boy how to properly set the trap. “You make sure to keep the rope hidden somewhere along this trail. When food runs through it, it would catch it.”

Max watched closely, mimicking the slipknot his sister made. Y/N smiled when he finally managed to get it right. “Good.” She complimented. “Do you think you could do the ones near the river?”

“Yeah.” Max replied.

“Make sure to avoid the large snare. It’s for bandits and I don’t want to cut you down.” Y/N warned, dusting off the dirt stuck to her pants.

“I know. You tell me this every time we go to set it.” Max huffed.

Y/N propped a calloused hand on her hip. “And each time you manage to set it off. Remember when you got caught that one time? You had nasty burn on your ankle for weeks.”

Max’s cheeks flushed at the memory. “Please stop bringing that up. You know I don’t like it.”

“I’m using it as a lesson.” Y/N clarified. “Watch out.”

“I will.” The child said before heading off, not wanting to stay any longer to deal with his sister’s nagging.

He headed down a familiar path that was lush with greenery. Trees loomed overhead and casted shadows against the golden sunlight. Careful of his footing, he set off toward the sound of rushing water.

Not too far from the river bed, a sudden noise caused him to stop in his tracks. He froze, a rush of anxiety fell over him. He strained to hear. It sounded like someone… struggling. Green hues widened with fear and shock. Did the trap actually catch someone? Was it a criminal? Someone with a plan to rob them before running off?

Max’s jaw clenched and decided to follow the source. A large part of him screamed this was a bad idea and to run the opposite way. Yet, the smaller bit full of curiosity seemed to overpower his logical side.

However, the sight of a boy roughly Y/N’s age was a rather big surprise.

He was strung upside down, dangling a few feet above the forest floor, with his left foot caught in the snare. His pale face was red and only burned brighter the more he struggled to grasp the brown bag leaning against the tree trunk.

The stranger peered up at a twig snapping and met the eye of the young boy.

Max nearly laughed at his previous nervousness. Bandit my ass, he thought.

“Oh,” the man hummed. “Hello,” he greeted with a sheepish smile.

Max remained quiet for a moment. His lack of a response made the captive’s grin drop.

“You’re caught in our snare.” Max pointed out, speaking the obvious.

“Ah,” the male hummed, glancing at his leg. “It appears I am. I didn’t notice it.”

Max let out a breath. It sounded more like a chuckle. “That’s the point of a snare. You’re not supposed to notice it.” He said. “How long have you been like this?”

“I’m not sure. Quite a while, at least. I’m rather surprised I haven’t fainted yet. I’d much appreciate it if you’d cut me down.”

Max’s gaze narrowed. Though he highly doubted this idiot that hung from the branches was a threat, he still remained cautious. “How do I know you won’t do something? Rob me? Shank me? Drown me in the river?”

The stranger gawked at the boy, looking at him as if he sprouted another head. “Why would I do such a thing?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know. Some people aren’t the nicest. It’s hard to tell if a random person on our property is dangerous or not.”

“I’m not dangerous.”

“That’s what a dangerous person would say. Trying to lower my guard, I see.”

“What? No! I just want down from here.”

“And have the possibility of getting stabbed? I don’t know about that.”

“I do not wish to harm you.” The man exasperated. “What could I do to prove I’m not a threat?”

Max pondered silently. He glanced down at the stranger’s bag he was trying to reach for. He could search the man and take away anything that could be used as a weapon.

Max nodded towards the rucksack. “Let me go through that.” He said. “And your pockets. After that, I’ll let you down. Deal?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, that’s fine, but please hurry. I’m getting rather sick.”

Max obliged and grabbed the satchel. He opened it and began to pull everything out. It all harmless, he determined. It was mostly full of clothes and other basic necessities, and even then, it wasn’t much. He eyed a folded paper before opening it. It was a map of Blue Hour Grove. His brows furrowed.

“Why do you have this? Are you a traveler?” Max asked and stood.

The man pondered to himself silently. “I suppose I am. I’m unfamiliar with the village.”

Max hummed in acknowledgment. “Then, why are you all the way out here? Town’s a few miles east.” He said and began to search the stranger’s pockets. They were empty except for the small knife.

“E-East? You said east?” The man looked at the boy with wide brown hues. “Damn,” he cursed.

Max didn’t respond and instead held up the blade. “I’ll cut you down, but I’m keeping this.”

“What? No!”

“Then, have fun hanging there.”

Max turned, ready to leave before the the man called out. “No! Wait, you… you can keep it. Just help me. Please.” He begged.

Max smirked. “That’s what I thought.” With the weapon in hand, he began to saw at the thick rope tied to the tree. It wasn’t long before it snapped, sending the man falling and landing on his back.

The wind was knocked out of his lungs. “That was painful.” He wheezed and sat up with a wince. “Thank you.” He gave the child a grateful smile.

“What’s your name?” Max questioned, closing the knife and clipping it to his belt.

He hesitated for a moment before responding. “Beomgyu. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Max tilted his head slightly. “You talk funny.”

Beomgyu felt his face burn. “That’s quite rude.” He mumbled.

Max shrugged. “Just saying. You sound so proper. No one really talks like that around here.”

Beomgyu blinked and let the words soak in. He did sound strange. “I suppose you’re correct. As I said, I’m not familiar with this place.” He recalled before letting out a sigh. “Thank you for the help, but I believe I must get going. I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He stated and went to grasp his bag. However, just as his fingertips touched it, an arrow flew past. It’s pointed head sliced through the skin of his hand. He yelped and jumped back, cradling his injured digits that began to bleed.

“Max!” A voice shouted. A girl sprinted up to the boy and pulled him behind her. She reloaded, another arrow aimed at Beomgyu’s face. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” She snapped behind her.

“What? He’s not going to do anything, Y/N!” Max shouted back. “I checked him and everything. I even took his knife.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” She cursed, pointed glare still on Beomgyu. He held his hands up in defense, red leaking down his pale arms and staining the sleeve of his white shirt. “I thought I taught you better than this.” Y/N huffed.

“What’re you doing on my property?” She hissed towards the older male.

“I-I do apologize.” Beomgyu rushed to say, tone quivering in fear. “I’m lost and got caught in your snare. I-I didn’t mean to disturb you, honest.”

Y/N scoffed. “Like I believe that shit. Tell me what you’re really doing here.”

“It’s true! My directions got mixed up. I was heading for the village and went the opposite way.” He argued. His heart pounded. Was every commoner like this? He sincerely hopes not.

“Beomgyu’s not lying, Y/N.” Max walked out from behind her and positioned himself in front of the bow, blocking the man on the ground. “He’s got a town map in his bag and the only thing he had on him was a knife and I took it. He’s harmless.”

Y/N paused before exhaling. She dropped her aim and placed the arrow back in the quiver. Then, she smacked the back of her brother’s head.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Are you stupid? Gods, Max, what if he killed you? Or kidnapped you for that matter?” Y/N exclaimed, running a hand through her hair. “He could’ve been a bandit for crying out loud!”

Max rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “But he didn’t. Besides, I’m 12. I can take care of myself. I’m practically a teenager.”

“That is not helping your case.” His sister scolded. “In fact, it’s only making it worse. Now, go back to the house. You’re grounded for being an idiot.”

“Oh, come on—“

“Go, Maxwell, or I’ll carry your ass there.” Y/N threatened.

The kid sighed in annoyance. “Fine.” He gave in before stomping off, leaving the others behind.

Y/N turned to the male. “Beomgyu, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Get off the ground and leave. It’s getting late.” She ordered, gesturing for the man to stand.

He did so with his bag in his grasp. He gave her a quick bow of gratitude, glad she didn’t drive an arrow through his skull. She gave him an odd look but remained quiet.

“Thank you. I apologize once more. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He spoke. “But I’ll be off.” However, as he took a step forward, he flinched harshly and hit the floor again. He hissed in pain.

Y/N came closer and leaned down. Beomgyu’s bloodied hands went to cradle his ankle. The skin was red, blistered and raw, and gnarly to look at. “Ah, rope burn.” She said. “It looks a lot worse than normal. Probably where you were fighting to get down.” She looked up, brown meeting e/c, and Beomgyu had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. “Getting nicked by that arrow doesn’t help either.”

Beomgyu shook his head. “Ah, don’t worry. You were frightened and merely protected yourself.”

“True, but the more you speak, the more I realize you’re a bit stupid.”

Beomgyu’s face fell. “You know, you and that boy are really rude.” He frowned. “I thought you were afraid of me?”

Y/N let out a scoff. “Of you? Bollocks.” She spoke, pulling his pant leg up to look at his wound more.

“Well, I bet I could be well scary.” He argued, a small pout present on his pink lips. “I-If I wanted.”He winced at the pain of the girl’s prodding.

“It’s pretty hard to be scared of someone I could snap in half, much less one who let a child rob you.”

Beomgyu froze at her words. “Pardon?”

“Yeah. Not only did he take your knife, I’m almost certain Max took some money from you, too.” She gave him a smirk. He rushed to grab his bag and open it. He felt his heart sink at the sight of his gold coins missing.

“Why would he do that?” He asked.

“Because he’s a kid?” Y/N replied with a quirked brow. “Kids do dumb things. I know I did when I was his age.” She sighed and sat his foot back down. “We need to get this cleaned or it’ll get infected. Especially since the rope’s covered in dirt. Same thing for your hand. Those arrows aren’t the cleanest.”

“What must I do then?” He questioned, worry laced in his tone. “I don’t believe there is a doctor available at this hour.”

“There isn’t. Besides, Kai’s dad is out of town for the next few days. He’s the only doctor Blue Hour Grove has. It’s best to just get them washed up somewhere else.” She explained and stood with crossed arms. “I can patch you up back at my house.” She clicked her tongue. “And I can get Max to give you your money back.”

Beomgyu’s forehead creased with concern. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty skeptical of my presence. I don’t wish to intrude if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like the idea of you being around, but be lucky I have a guilty conscience. Rope burn is a nasty thing to deal with and even more so if you travel on foot. I’ll do what I can to clean your injuries and dress them and when you’re able to walk again, you’re to leave. No ifs, ands, or buts.” She ordered with a pointed edge in her voice. “And if you try anything,” she squatted back down, the hunting knife from her belt now pointed at his face. He swallowed thickly. “I will gut you and feed your innards to my work dog. Am I clear?”

Beomgyu nodded frantically. “Y-Yes. Very clear.”

“Good.” She said and put her blade back. She offered a hand. Beomgyu eyed it warily before taking it, his soft palm contrasting greatly with her rough one. She pulled him up with a shocking wave of strength, nearly making him fall again. She caught him luckily, and tossed his arm around her shoulder. Her other hand wrapped around his waist.

“You’re surprisingly strong for a woman.” The male commented. Y/N sent him a glare.

“And you’re surprisingly weak for a man.” She shot back. Beomgyu felt blood rush to his cheeks.

“Fair enough.” He muttered.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Come on. It’s too dangerous to be out here at this hour.”

And with that, they headed off.

taglist: @usuallyunlikelyfox @xylatox @the-car-in-ikily

#choi beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu x reader #txt angst #txt x you #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt imagines #choi beomgyu angst #choi beomgyu fluff #royalty au #prince beomgyu

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in1-nutshell · 1 year ago

Note

Heya! I want to try Rescue Bots request. The Rescue Bots encountered a lazy Decepticon scout Buddy sleeping in the middle of the street that is causing traffic. This version of Decepticon Buddy is very chill and relaxed than they should have to their surroundings, even when their life is in danger. When they try arrested the lazy Decepticon Buddy, Buddy just teleported somewhere else to nap. (This Buddy is an outlier. This Buddy can teleport.) A few days later, another Decepticon (Not Buddy) kidnapped the kids. Lazy Decepticon Buddy asked the other Decepticon what are they going to do with those kids, the other Decepticon responds he is going to torture the kids to force them to reveal where the Rescue Bots are, which Buddy did not like that at all. Buddy asked the other Decepticon to hold the kids for them. Once Buddy gently holds the kids, Buddy shielded the kids views so they don't see Buddy shot the other Decepticon dead in cold blood unexpectedly because they will never condone to harming or killing any kids in any way. Buddy contacted the Rescue Bots to come get the kids while Buddy gently comfort the kids. (Bonus: when the Rescue Bots asked Buddy why they joined the Cons, Buddy responds "The Decepticons gave me an energon cookie.") Characters: Heatwave, Chase, Boulder, and Blades. Please and thank you!

Haven't done a Buddy like this, I welcome the challenge!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Con who can teleport protecting Cody and Frankie

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

Buddy is a con.

Well, more like Ex-con.

They used to be in the spy unit thanks to their Outlier ability to teleport.

They could have gotten far in the ranks if it weren’t for their laid-back nature and them not wanting to do much fighting.

So, they left the moment they could and kept a low profile on Earth.

They did find their own safe haven on the Island of Griffin Rock.

It was a nice place to be.

They didn’t show themselves to the public, instead opting to watch them in their everyday lives.

Buddy watching the Burns family playing basketball from the wooded area.

“C’mon Cody… a little to the left and…”--Buddy

Kade blocks the ball which bounces off Cody’s head.

“Ow!”—Cody

Buddy gasps.

Kade puffs his chest.

“Sorry Squirt, but when you mess with the champ—”--Kade

BONK!

“OW!”--Kade

Kade looks down at the large stick that had hit him in the head.

“Who threw that?! Dani! It was you wasn’t it!”--Kade

Buddy had a satisfied grin on their faceplate.

“That was for Cody.”--Buddy

They had been considering showing their identity to the community, but ultimately decided against it in fear of the Autobots or any Decepticon finding them.

Or worse, the community not accepting them and then having to find a new home.

They were extremely surprised to see some Rescue Bots at the unveiling ceremony.

Buddy figured that most if not all those bots were no longer operational.

This was just another reason to keep hiding.

They continued their observation of the community and of the Burns family, leading them to find out about the bots working with the small family as well as their location.

Not that they would ever do anything with it anyways.

Their first encounter with the Rescue Bots certainly was one to remember.

They knew that teleporting for long periods of time and long distances made them sleepy…

And they knew their tendency of taking naps anywhere they could…

Yet here they were taking a nap in the middle of a small street in their alt mode.

This eventually caused traffic and that led to some of the bots to come see what the commotion was about.

Chief Burns and Chase are coming on the scene.

The Chief steps out and goes to knock on one of the windows.

“Hello? Is there anyone inside? This is not a parking—”--Chief

Chase spots the Decepticon symbol and feels his energon run cold.

He quickly comms in Boulder and Heatwave.

“Get the citizens out of the area immediately!”--Chase

“Wow, Chase what’s—”--Boulder

“The subject causing the traffic is a Decepticon!”--Chase

“What’s a—”--Graham

“Never mind that! Boulder! You and Blades get the humans! I’m backup for Chase!”--Heatwave

“On it!”—Boulder and Blades

Boulder and Blades make it record time get the civilians out of there.

“Guys what’s going on?”--Dani

Chase transforms and holds his servos out to Chief.

“Chief Burns, step away from the vehicle slowly. That is a Decepticon and of unknown origin.”--Chase

“A Decepticon?”--Chief

The vehicle suddenly starts transforming as Heatwave and the other bots come.

Chase quickly snatches Chief holding him close.

The Con finishes transforming and stretches.

“Primus, I have got to stop taking naps on this street. There’re too many potholes that I know the Mayor wont…”--Buddy

Buddy looks at the bots.

They slowly raise their servos.

“Hey, I mean no harm and all. Just minding my own business here. Just taking a nap…”--Buddy

Heatwave pulls out some stasis cuffs out.

“Yeah, not happening. Tell Cody I said hi!”--Buddy

POP!

“WHERE DID THEY GO?!”—Rescue bots

“How do they know who I am?!”--Cody

Buddy watching from the wooded area behind them.

“So much for good introductions…”--Buddy

The Rescue Team would be on high alert for the next few days after the encounter.

Meanwhile Buddy just watched from afar everything goes down.

It would be one evening that they would receive a ping in their com.

It was from another Decepticon asking for any nearby Cons to come to their coordinates.

Curious, and bored, they answered the call and went to the location.

To their surprise, the location was underneath one of the many caverns under Griffin Rock.

They walked in and was in shocked what they saw.

It was some drone on a data pad on one side of the cavern. On the other side was Cody Burns and Frankie Greene tied up against the wall.

The kids looked okay, a little roughed up, but nothing else.

Buddy walks over to the other Con as calm as they could.

The other Con looks over and smiles maliciously.

“Finally, another fellow Decepticon.”—Random Con

Buddy just waves, watching the other Con go over to the children and grabs them.

Buddy’s servos clench a bit when they see the kids flinch.

“So, what’s with the humans?”--Buddy

“I’m going to do some good fashion torture session to find where those pesky Rescue Bots are. Then send a message to Lord Megatron—”—Random Con

“Hold on, hold on Pal. First, can I hold them? Never held humans before.”--Buddy

The other Con shrugs and tosses the kids to Buddy, who quickly catches them.

“Fine, but no torture. I’m going to be in charge of that.”—Random Con

Buddy readjusts their hold on the kids and smiles gently at them before whispering.

“Close your eyes and cover your ears. Don’t open them until I saw so.”--Buddy

They snag the ropes from the kids and toss them inside their subspace.

Buddy could just hope that the kids had followed their instructions.

“Hey what are you—”—Random Con

Buddy blasts the Con in the chassis.

They make sure the Con was offline before teleporting outside.

POP!

They open their subspace and gently get the kids out.

“You can open those eyes now kids.”--Buddy

Both kids open their eyes surprised seeing the outside of the cave.

Frankie looks at them accusingly.

“What do you want? And where’s your friend?”--Frankie

“Firstly, not my friend. Secondly, no one will have to worry about that guy ever again.”--Buddy

“How can we trust you?”--Frankie

Buddy just shrugs.

“You don’t have to trust me, Frankie.”--Buddy

Her eyes widened.

“How do you know her name?”--Cody

“I know everyone’s name on Griffin Rock, Cody.”--Buddy

“How?”—Cody

That led to a slightly awkward conversation of how long Buddy had been spying on the people of Griffin Rock.

The kids ended up warming up to the Ex-Con who had saved them after another hour of talking before the three realizing that the others were probably worried sick.

Buddy quickly teleported to the back of the Firehouse after that realization, scaring the bots and humans in the process.

It was an even worse impression than before.

Especially when Heatwave nearly tore down the doors and nearly dropkicked Buddy after seeing Cody and Frankie in their servos.

It took another hour of explaining, reassuring, to get everything out.

And some wielding patches for Buddy’s chassis and helm.

The humans were grateful for Buddy getting the kids out of that situation.

Blades and Boulder were more on the forgiving side than Chase and Heatwave.

Heatwave and Chase were much more on edge with this Ex-Con, but after a bit they realized that they really weren’t a threat.

“One thing I still do not understand. How long have you been here and never alerted anyone?”--Chase

“Yeah, how long have you been here?”--Blade

Buddy stops to think.

They look at Cody.

“When Cody was in those white thingys.”--Buddy

“Diapers?!”—Burns Family

“You’ve been here that long!?”--Heatwave

“And you never did any harm?”--Chase

“Why would I? I like this community and the humans.”--Buddy

“It doesn’t seem like the Decepticon thing to do.”--Heatwave

“Yeah, I’ve been to odd ball out forever. Even my recruitment was ‘unorthodox’ to say the least.”--Buddy

“What do you mean?”--Heatwave

“They had energon cookies and offered them if I joined. I left as soon as they ran out.”--Buddy

“…”—Rescue Team

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #rescue bots x platonic reader #rescue bots #rescue bots x reader

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yetanotherhiddlestoner · 9 months ago

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(MDNI 18+, smut will be eventually happening in this story line but still please respect the MDNI)

(Plus size reader x Negan. In the world of the dead rising, you just happen to fall for the one fucked up person who has no interest in you. And I am aware the timeline doesn't add up but for the story I had to make the timeline longer than a couple months.)

~Thank you to all that read the first chapter and commented, means a lot that you like this story. Sorry for taking so long to post a second chapter, I have at least 2 more chapters up and ready to post when I can.~

(Word Count - 2262 Words.)

~<3~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TWO - I FELL HARD, YOU'LL FALL HARDER.

~<3~-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were out scavenging when the fall of Negan happened. You didn't want to fight anyone, so Rick asked you to go during that time, making your way on a weeklong journey for supplies. You weren't sure what you to expect when you returned home, was it still going to be there, was it going to be taken over by Negan fully or would Rick win this war. You didn't know and you were worried, you were uncertain what you would do it Negan came out the winner.

You approached the gates carefully looking around for the day shift guard. You sighed relief when Daryl popped his head up and smiled at you, the gates opening before you drove your vehicle inside slowly.

"Welcome back you, how was your mission?" Daryl said hugging you tightly. "Was a great success, the truck is full of food, ammo everything I could pick up and stack I did, even managed to grab a little bit of petrol for the car. We should be ok for a couple weeks." You say as you open the door and jump out of the truck. "Well that is good news Y/N but I got some bad news that you may not like unfortunately." Daryl said looking over to the jail cell that was located under the first house on the street. "What?" You look over and don't see anything, was someone hurt, dead or worse. "Rick, well he, kind of let Negan live and bought him back as a prisoner" Daryl says waiting for your response.

You felt yourself become sick, why would Rick do that? "But Y/N he can't hurt anyone, trust us, he is safe and locked away." You walk over to the barred windows; you can hear him whistling before he spots you. "Hello Y/N" Negan says smiling. Daryl comes up behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder offering a small comfort. "You look amazing doll, have I ever told you that? Loving the long hair on you, suits you." You want to believe him, but you tell yourself that he is just doing this to get under your skin, to get a reaction out of you.

"Daryl, doesn't she look wonderful, you are a fucking lucky man to be hers." "We ain't dating." Daryl says to Negan, he lets out a long whistle, "Well shit why not?" Negan probes, feeling a bit of jealousy flowing within him. "We're just friends Negan; not that its none of your business who I date anyway" you say.

While you weren't going to deny Daryl was hot, and when you met him you thought maybe if given the chance you might date him but after a while your love for him turned to more a friendship love and you and him were more like brother and sister. "Let's just get this truck unloaded Daryl" you say pulling him away from the prisoner. Negan watches you go, he takes in how your jeans hug your curves tightly, how your hair flows underneath the bandana you are sporting and how amazing you look covered in knives and guns. This wasn't the same scared girl he rescued years ago, this was a woman who found herself, her confidence and her place and damn he was proud of you. Every day he would watch you work; watch you talk with the men and women of the community and play with the kids on your down time. He noticed the way you smiled when someone said something to you that you found funny and how quickly you were to react to whatever danger that tried to enter your home. Each passing day he sat there silently, admiring you, wishing he could talk to you again, missing your new fiery wit and sharp tongue.

He often found himself wondering if you would have had the same spitfire nature back at the Sanctuary, was it hiding inside you, waiting till the right time to be release. You radiated confidence in everything you did. Negan was somewhat sad that he wasn't the one who bought it out in the first place.

Negan was waiting for his dinner as usual, waiting for Gabe to bring it down but was surprised when you came down those stairs holding the tray instead. He noticed how you kept your head down and quickly passed it under the bars, the sound of it scraping on the concrete breaking the silence in the small room. "Are you going to ignore me for the rest of my life?" Negan asks, placing the tray on his cot. 'Gabe usually keeps me company while I eat." "Yeah, well I am not Gabe and if I had my way you wouldn't be getting anything from our pantry." You snap at him. "Especially nothing I risked my ass for"

"Shouldn't you be happy? If you had stayed with me, you would have been either captured, dead or abandoned again but here you are safe, and sound and I am the one being treated like a caged animal at the zoo." Negan says take a bite of his bread. You glare at him "I would be happier if you had never came here, if Rick didn't bring you back alive as far as I am concerned, you're still a threat to us." "I am unarmed, I have no men, no followers, nothing. I am not a threat." "You could kill a man with your bare hands, I fucking witnessed it once and that is a risk I really don't want to take, but since Rick is leader and he is content with you being kept like an animal then I have no say."

You get up to leave when you hear Negan say, "I'm sorry". You turn back to him, and he is standing at the bars, his arms hanging out casually, staring at you. "What did you say?"

"I said I am sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said back then. You were right, I was scared that I was going to lose it all and in the end I did. To me you were never overweight, you were perfect. You made me feel things that I haven't felt in a goddamn long time. Your smile, laugh, the way you look at me as if the world shone out my ass was why I could start my day, just knowing I could talk to you was enough for me."

"A little late for your "kind" words now don't Cha think? You could be saying this now so I will forgive you and let you go" you say pointing out the obvious. "I can tell you that I will not be the one setting you free" You growl as he gaze softens.

"I am 100% telling the truth. The day after you left, I went to your room to talk to you, when I entered and found it empty I went and searched the entire compound for you, I had Simon patrolling outside hoping you were just trying to prove something to us but when night fell, and you didn't come back I knew I fucked up and then you show up here that day and the feelings I felt seeing you, I can't describe."

"And yet you didn't learn, you did the same thing to Olivia. If you hadn't of said shit, maybe I would still be flying under the Negan radar." "You're right, I didn't learn and what I said to Olivia wasn't nice at all. I hurt you twice without even thinking."

You stand there looking at the once powerful Negan, "You are pathetic, a man like you never learns." You snarl as you get closer to the bars, "You are going to rot in here." You were so close to him; you could feel his breathe on your face. Negan was getting pissed off, he had tried to apologize, something that he never did, and you spat it back at him. He didn't want you to forgive right away but you didn't even give it time to sink it. You were so close, so angry, he couldn't help but get turned on, the scent of you drove him crazy.

He grabbed your arms, slamming you into the bars, you fought against him, but he covered your lips with his and you stopped fighting for a moment. Your lips were warm and soft just like he had imagined. His facial hair tickled your skin as you felt his tongue glide against you closed lips. You pulled away from his grip, using the back of your hand to wipe your lips of his kiss, you stood there staring in shock a minute before storming out of the cell and heading home. Negan watched you rush home, he could see your house from his cell, it was one of his past time favorites, watching you in your room, the silhouette of you always got his attention. When you thought no-one was watching you would sit on the windowsill and have a smoke, or just stare at the stars. Negan would watch you, wishing he could join you, to hear you laugh and smile at him as you spoke to each other.

His fingers touched his lips, remembering how soft they were, he had been wanting to kiss you since the day he found you.

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

The next day Negan didn't see you around the compound, you didn't leave for a supply run, so you had to be in your home. "If you are looking for Y/N she not feeling well today so Rick gave her the day off" Gabe said passing him his food under the cell door. "Is she ok?" Negan asks not in the mood to eat, looking at the tray on the floor. "You tell me, she has never once taken a day off sick and the one time she comes down here and she is "unwell"? Want to tell me what happened?" Gabe ask sitting down next to Negan's cell.

"Nothing happened, she gave me the food and that is it" Negan lies. "I am a priest Negan, think of this like a confessional, whatever you say stays between us." Negan looks at the priest then sits next to him. "I tried to apologize for my past behavior, but she wasn't having any of it. Words got heated and when she got close enough, I grabbed her and kissed her, I don't know why I did that I just had the urge to pull her in, kiss her crazy but then she left without saying anything" Negan confesses.

Gabe looks at the man next to him, he now understands why you stayed home today. "Listen, I know I should not be doing this, but I will. First just I suggest give her time, I'll try and send her down next week to deliver your food, I can't promise anything ok" Negan nods and watches the man leave. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 DAYS LATER

Daryl comes to grab you for a supply run with him. You place you knife and guns on your hip and calf and walk over to his bike, knowing full well who is watching you. "Good morning, Y/N, I heard you have been sick lately I hope you are ok now" Negan says giving you that cocky smile you knew him for. "I don't need your concern Negan." You tie the bandana around your head and lean on Daryl's bike. "I don't want to hear that you have been unwell. Especially since you were the last one to see me before you got sick. Who knows what you gave me with our kiss." You look around and make sure no-one heard him; you storm over to his window. "What the fuck are you doing?" You growl as you kneel down. "I am doing nothing Y/N. I don't want to get sick to." He tilts his head as he looks at you. "You know damn well I am fine." "Which brings me to my next question, why were you hiding and pretending to be sick, surely the kiss wasn't that bad.?" "I was embarrassed ok" That was a lie, but you had hoped he couldn't tell. "You are OUR prisoner; it makes me look bad if anyone finds out about it." "We are adults, we can do what we want, why would it look bad?" Negan pushes you.

"If anyone in this community finds out our past it wouldn't look too good for me or Rick. He is the one keeping my secret about where I come from" You say spying Daryl approaching and you get up to leave. "You want me" Negan watches you turn around to face him again "Don't deny it, that kiss was just the tip of the iceberg. You may have told yourself that you have no feelings, nothing, for me but that is a lie, you want me just as much as I want you." You listen to him carefully and shake your head. " You only want me now because I am unattainable and skinny. You wouldn't be saying that if it was fat me" You leave before he can shout out anything. "Hey Daryl" you say as he hops on his bike, you jump on behind him, hugging his waist tightly as he goes to start the bike, you smirk back at Negan, resting your head on Daryl's back. "Hold on" Daryl shouts as he starts the bike up and rides out the gates. Negan feels the pits of jealously rising inside him.

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#daddy negan #jdm #jeffery dean morgan #negan smith #negan x reader #negan smut #negan x y/n #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan smith x you #negan fluff #negan angst #negan smith x reader #twd negan

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pjberribear · 4 months ago

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Howdy's official design! Before and after fixing him:

Hello, been a while but man, I've been through the storm and out! (Storm I mean in a mental crisis lmao!) Anyways, nothing really different about him but his color palette. I decided to use greens, blues, and a tint of purple for it. The original design was too dull for my liking, it didn't fit the whole bright aspect of "Welcome Home" either. That's the only thing that changed about him, so I hope you like his maniac! He's been in the shed for far too long, time for him to get some air, if he can breathe any... One more thing, no one voice acts him either, I do however, been eyeing this one voice actor who does a good impression of him. But I don't know why but this guy is HARD to contact, I've been through almost all of his social media's and still no response. I hope I'm not creeping him out, I just want to ask him if he can voice act for me. I also, hope he didn't see each of my messages and had been ignoring them the whole time, I would look like a complete lunatic if so, please don't that be the case..

Bye fellows, have a fabulous fine evening! :)

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petalruesimblr · 11 months ago

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Golden Oaks Retirement Home

Sim File Share

At Golden Oaks Retirement Home, we welcome elderly Sims seeking a comfortable retirement. With five spacious bedrooms available for reservation, each uniquely furnished for relaxation and privacy, residents can enjoy a sense of community and support in their golden years. Our in-house clinic ensures round-the-clock care and medical assistance, providing peace of mind to residents and their families. Contact us today to reserve a room and discover the warmth that defines life at Golden Oaks!

Price Furnished: 197,352 Price Unfurnished: 107,733 Lot Size: 40x40 Lot Type: Residential Store Content: Click here CC Used: Click here File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3, Late Night (elevators), Ambitions (door, windows), Generations, Pets, Seasons, Supernatural (curtain cc)

Hello and welcome back to my blog! I'm currently playing in a world where I have a retirement home for all my elder sims. It includes an in-house clinic and a nurse (usually a young adult) who takes care of their needs, such as cooking and cleaning. I decided to create a new one especially for those who enjoys roleplaying and have set this lot to residential to make it playable.

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

Aside from the in-house clinic, I have also included a reception room where clients can inquire or 'reserve' a room. If you aren't into roleplaying, you can always change those rooms as you see fit and I mostly added some décor to those rooms anyway or a bookshelf to keep them busy. There are five bedrooms upstairs, an elevator to make it easy for elders to travel and the rooms can accommodate at least 10 Sims. One of the bedrooms is a VIP suite with its own sitting area, which you can change to add more beds if desired. I also placed a small button in each bathroom that functions as a doorbell (cloned from a callbox from ATS3) and this is intended as a call button in case of an 'accident' or if assistance from the onsite nurse is needed. Due to Tumblr's link limitations, I’ve created another WCIF Pt. 2 and please click the links above or go to WCIF Navigation page for easier access, as it is still listed there. 📣Please note that the store content and CC included in the lot are not included on the download file. My blog is very WCIF-friendly and I will always compile a list for those interested in downloading them separately. I have listed Supernatural above for the packs needed due to one CC mimics or cloned a Supernatural painting as a curtain so it is supposed to close around 6PM. I haven't tested that yet and as it is a décor item, this expansion pack isn't really required just take note of the build items used for this lot to show in your game. There is one CC for which I was unable to locate the original link or find information about the creator. I checked the description of the item in the game itself and the package file but it only shows 'MedicalScales' as the info. As a result, I cannot share or re-upload it without knowing the creator's TOU. For reference, it is shown in the pictures above located in the in-house clinic next to the desk. If anyone knows the creator’s name or has any download links, please let me know in the comments! You can download the ATS3 Digital Scale as a replacement for this item and I know I should have used that but I preferred the old one for this lot. Let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

#petalruesimblr #residential lot #retirement home #the sims 3 #sims 3 lots #ts3 #lots #ts3 retirement home #ts3 download #ts3 simblr #sims 3 download #ts3 community #ts3 simmer #sims 3 screenshots #ts3 screenshots #sims 3 #ts3 retirement center #the sims 3 retirement home #the sims 3 retirement center

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newtthetranswriter · 10 months ago

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Soup, Memories, and Feelings

Word Count: 3949

Paring: Reth x Gn! Reader

Summary: Wanting to make something to show your gratitude for all that Reth has done for you, you end up at the Daiya’s farm. After being told about Butternut Squash you remember a small bit of your past. Deciding what better way to show your gratitude than giving the Chef a meal from ancient Humans, oh and maybe some more feelings are shared.

Warnings: None really, maybe just spoilers for Reth’s story

A/n: Hello people. So firstly sorry I stopped writing for a bit there, my adhd was being crazy and writers block also hit. I also got hooked on playing Palia which is why I decided to write this for the great Soup Boy. Anyways, if you are new here welcome and be sure to check my pinned post for everything you need to know about this blog. Now without further ado enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Waking up in another time with no memories except for my name was such a strange experience. Having to build a new life from nothing was a challenge but luckily I had the help of the villagers in Killima. They all helped me figure out how to take care of myself and be a productive member of their community, not caring that I was human or that I just appeared out of nowhere. Sure they were confused as to how a member of the extinct human race showed up but they eventually just wanted to make sure I was ok.

Many of them took time out of their schedules to help teach me skills I would need to survive. Teaching me everything from foraging and gardening to hunting and carpentry, each skill I learned helped me establish myself in my new home. And even though I was grateful for each and everyone of them for teaching me these skills, there is one person I can’t help but express my gratitude for. Even while working two jobs in secret to insure his little sister got the medicine she needed, Reth still made it a point to help teach me how to cook.

After getting to know him and learning of his secret second job, working for the cartel, all I wanted to do was help him out in whatever way I could. Whenever he was in a pinch because either Ashura or Tish were getting suspicious I would help out, running deliveries or helping make food he accidently promised to make. It didn’t matter what he needed, I was there to help out. But even after weeks of helping him out I still felt like there was more I could do to help him, there had to be something else I could do to make sure he knows how much I appreciate him.

I spent a good portion of my free time brainstorming ideas on how to show my gratitude for the long haired chef. Eventually I settled on making him some food, but I was stumped on what to make for him. I knew it had to be perfect, I also wanted it to be something he hasn’t had before so it couldn’t be just a simple vegetable stew or steak dinner. At a loss for Ideas I head for the Library to look for recipes that might work.

Entering the library I nodded to Caleri in a silent greeting before heading to bookshelves that would most likely hold various different cook books. Grabbing a few I sat down at one of the tables and began to flip through them to see what they had to offer. After spending a few hours flipping through the various books, none of the hundreds of recipes seemed to be what I was looking for. Laying my head into the current book I was looking through, I couldn’t suppress the groan that left my lips in disappointment.

Sitting up from my folded position, I looked around trying to think of an idea on what to do about my dilemma. After looking over the stacks of books that failed me, I looked out the window and watched as Auni ran past. Seeing the youngest of the Daiya family, I was reminded of their farm and how they have a small stall where they sell various seeds and crops. I decided I could look through what they had and maybe get an idea of something to make. Returning the books back to their shelves, I waved goodbye to Caleri as I began heading for the farm.

When I reached the Daiya’s farm I was greeted by Badruu who was offering some gardening advice to another human who had also recently reappeared. Nodding to the farmer, I began to look through what crops and seeds they had to offer this time of year. They had the classic tomatoes, onions and carrots, as well as some other common vegetables but none of them were really speaking to me. Moving from the fresh vegetables I looked to the packets of seeds resting on the table. As I was looking through them I noticed on one of the packets there was a picture that looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place what it was, like I had seen it before but the name of the vegetable was just out of reach.

While I tried to recall what the vegetable was, Badruu came up beside me. “Looking for some new crops to start growing?” He asked, noticing I was looking at the various seeds.

Picking up the small bag of seeds I nodded. “Yeah, trying to get ideas on some new dishes to make as well.” I explained while still trying to figure out why this one vegetable was so familiar to me. “By the way what kind of seeds are these? I don’t think I’ve seen these before.” I asked knowing that Farmer would have the answer I was looking for.

“Oh, those are for Butternut Squash. It’s a hearty vegetable that is great for many different meals. Though it does take quite a while to grow, if you planted it would likely be ready to harvest in about three months.” He explained.

Hearing the name of the vegetable seemed to trigger a memory from my past. Not a super detailed memory but enough that I knew it was from a long time ago. I could see a beautiful golden soup that was creamy and smelled amazing, it was topped with chopped bacon and served with some nice bread. I was also able to recall how it was made and what all was needed for the soup. With this new found memory of a food from my past, I knew exactly what I wanted to make for Reth. Sure I would have to wait for a few months to be able to make the soup but I was sure it would be perfect.

Deciding that I wanted to make the soup from my memories, I smiled to myself. “I’ll take them, thank you Badruu you are a lot of help.” I said handing over a few gold pieces before saying goodbye and heading back to my house.

After reaching my plot, I prepared a small garden plot at the back of my house where it wouldn’t be visible if anyone came by for a visit. I wanted to keep my plan a secret for as long as possible, if everything went according to plan Reth would be the first one to find out about this recently resurfaced memory. Anyways, after getting the plot ready I planted the seeds and watered them. Making sure to put a stake in the soil next to the plot with the bag the seeds came in on it so I knew what was growing there and so I would remember to water it.

Once that was taken care of I headed inside to the small office I had set up for myself. I grabbed a few extra pieces of paper and began writing down the recipe so in a few months when it came time to make the soup I would remember what I needed to do. I also decided that I would write a second copy so that when I gave the soup to Reth I could also give him the recipe. After writing out the recipe twice, I placed both copies in my makeshift cookbook and placed it on the shelf for safe keeping. All that was left to do was wait for the squash to grow and ripen.

Time Skip

As I watched the leaves change from green to varying shades of yellow, orange, and red, I also watched as the squash plants grew behind my house. I made sure to keep a close eye on them, not over watering them and making sure no bugs got to the key ingredient of the soup I was dying to make. Each day the squash was getting closer and closer to being ready, and each day it became more difficult to not tell Reth that I had remembered something from my past.

He had expressed that he hoped that my memories would come back so we could talk about them, and now that I’ve had this memory it was so hard not to run to him and tell him about it. But I wanted the resurfaced memory and the golden soup to remain a secret until I could present him with the soup. So, I held back and regularly checked the squash to see if they were ready.

Luckily after three whole months, the squash was ready to pick which meant I just had to gather the other ingredients and make the soup. After getting the squash cleaned up and placed in my kitchen I made a quick trip into town. I opted to buy the needed ingredients instead of foraging and hunting for them because it would be quicker and easier then refining everything. I bought some vegetable broth and Surnuk meat from Zeki’s and then bought a few apples and onions from The Daiya's farm. Having all the necessary ingredients ready I headed home to prepare the soup.

With all the needed ingredients in my possession, I started on the soup. Roasting the squash until it was soft enough to scoop the meat of the squash out of the skin, cutting the apples and ones, turning the meat into bacon. Once everything was ready I put everything except the bacon into a large pot, mixing together the soft squash and vegetable broth with the onions and apples, creating a thick and creamy soup. Placing the pot on the stove, I set it on a medium heat to get warm and happy.

While the soup began to heat up, I quickly made a simple loaf of bread that would be perfect with the soup. I also prepared the other things I was planning to give to Reth. I made sure to grab the second copy of the recipe I had written specifically for him. During the months that I was waiting for the squash to be ripe, I decided that I wanted to give a few more things. Knowing that most days Reth barely managed to squeeze in a couple hours of sleep between the inn and the market, I made him a new pillow and blanket to keep in the store room to hopefully make those couple hours more comfortable. Placing the pillow and blanket in the basket I picked out for the occasion, I grabbed the recipe and laid it on top of the blanket.

Checking the time, seeing that it was close to time for Reth to be done at the Inn and heading to the store room for his short break, I went to check on the soup. After a quick taste test confirming that the soup was perfect, electing a happy feeling and a brief memory of joy at the similarity to the soup from memory, I grabbed the chopped bacon and placed a lid on the pot of soup. Placing the bowl that held the bacon and loaf of bread on top of the basket in my arms, I grabbed two empty bowls and spoons also setting them in the basket. Looking down I confirmed everything I needed was in the basket and then turned and carefully grabbed the pot of soup off the stove.

When I got into town I took a moment to decide the best route to get to Reth without raising too much suspicion from Ashura or anyone else that may see me carrying the soup. Deciding it would be best to go through Zeki’s shop and into the market than to Reth’s store room, I made my way to the Grimalkin’s store. Carefully making my way into the underground and back up into Reth’s store room.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I entered the room having not run into anyone between my plot and Zeki’s, as well as making it to the store room before Reth finished meeting with Jel and Tish. After collecting my thoughts I began to set up the dinner I had prepared. I carefully cleaned up one of the small tables, pulling a couple of chairs close to the table. After setting up the table I placed the pot of soup in the center leaving the lid on to keep the heat in, I placed the bread and bowl of bacon next to the pot as well. I then moved to place the bowls on the table alongside the spoons I had brought. Once I was sure the table was perfect, I placed the basket with the other gifts under the table just out of sight so as to not completely ruin the surprise.

As I took a step back to admire my work, I was startled when I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the storeroom from the direction of the Inn. Quickly calming my racing heart, I turned to face the door as Reth opened it. It took him a moment to register that I was there, but when he noticed me he just stood frozen for a second. As the room was filled with silence I began to worry that I messed up, but before I could start rambling, Reth finally reacted.

“Hey, Y/n. What’s all this about?” He asked, finally stepping away from the door and making his way towards me, noticing the set table as well as the large pot. “Did I forget a date or something?” Reth tilted his head, trying to remember a date that was never planned.

Seeing the confusion on his face, I couldn’t help but laugh at the hint of fear he held thinking he forgot something important. “No you didn’t forget anything Reth. This is all me, I wanted to surprise you with a nice meal.” I explained grabbing one of his hands as he stood in front of me. The look of confusion was still present on his face so I explained further. “You work so hard, taking care of the inn during the day, then you go down to the Market and spend the night working there. You do so much to make sure Tish is healthy, even if it means putting yourself at the mercy of the cartel, and I want you to know that I see all that you do and I think you are so strong for dealing with all of this. So I made you this dinner and figured we could eat together and maybe chat while you relax before you have to start working again.” I suggested with a smile, nodding to the table behind me.

“You didn’t have to do this for me, Fancy Pants.” He said taking in everything sitting on the table. I just shook my head knowing he would try and brush it off as not a big deal, keeping a hold of his hand I pulled him to the table and made him take a seat in one of the chairs. Once he was seated, he sighed in defeat before becoming more curious about the set up. “So what did you make me?” He asked, reaching for the lid of the pot.

I gently smacked his hand away, shaking my head. “You are not doing anything other than sitting there and letting me take care of you. I said you need to relax and that includes me serving you your dinner.” I informed him before reaching for the lid myself. “As for what I made, It’s Butternut Squash soup.” I told him, sparing a glance his way looking to see if had any reaction to the dish but he just looked confused. “Butternut Squash is a vegetable that is typically in season when the leaves start changing colors, and it’s great for things like soup. This soup was actually really popular this time of year back when humans were still around.” I said pouring soup into each bowl and sprinkling the chopped bacon on top of the soup. “Funnily enough it was one of my favorites growing up.”

As I placed one of the bowls in front of Reth, I watched as the Majiri processed my words. After a second he spoke up. “Wait, you said it was one of your favorites when you were growing up. Does that mean you remembered something?” He was completely focused on the mention of my past before I appeared in Kilima.

I smiled as I took my seat across from him, grabbing a slice of bread to eat with my soup. “Well kind of. It wasn’t a super vivid memory but I remember this soup and how to make it. I also remember how good it made me feel to eat it.” I explained while spooning some of the soup onto the slice of the bread.

Reth also began eating the soup, copying my method of putting some on a piece of bread. “Well at least it’s something, maybe you’ll find more things that trigger memories of your past.” He said, before finally taking a bite of the soup. As he took in the flavors of the soup I couldn’t help but hold my breath waiting for his reaction. After a few seconds a smile spread across his face. “This is some of the best soup I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something because I’ve had a lot of good soup.” I could hear the pure joy in his voice as expressed how much he liked the soup and I couldn’t hold back my own wide smile.

“I’m glad you like it.” I said, looking down at my own bowl of soup and began eating again to try and hide the slight blush at the compliment.

After the brief exchange, we both focused on eating. There was little said between bites, both of us just enjoying the other’s company and the warm meal. Once we had both finished eating, I set the bowls to the side before reaching under the table for the other things I brought. Seeing me reach for something Reth raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What are you doing now Fancy pants?” He asked, trying to look over the table as I made sure everything was in place in the basket.

“Well, I didn’t want to just give you soup, so I made you a couple of other things.” I said raising the basket and placing it in front of him.

I watched as his eyes went wide, surprised by yet another gift he did not expect. “You really didn’t have to. The soup was more than enough.” He tried to deflect.

Shaking my head I thought for just a second before speaking. “Well, how about you think of the soup as a thank you for doing so much for everyone else, and you think of these gifts as a thank you for helping me.” I offered hoping he would understand, but he just looked at me confused. “Reth, even while you were busy with the inn and your debt to the cartel you have taken time to teach me how to cook. But not just that you’ve taken the time to become one of my first friends here. Not to mention how you stole my heart.” I explained with a gentle smile.

I watched as his look of confusion was replaced with a look of shock, that then morphed to what I could only describe as love. “Well I am a criminal so I’m pretty good at stealing things.” He said with a light chuckle. “But seriously I think you stole my heart first. You also didn’t have to do all this for me.” He looked up at me, making eye contact.

“You’re right I didn’t have to do any of this.” I said before grabbing one of his hands. “But I wanted to. I wanted to make you this dinner, I wanted to give you these and I wanted to spend the evening with you. I didn’t do it because I had to, I did it because I wanted you to know how much I love you.” I watched as heat rushed to his face, turning it a slight magenta.

He quickly tore his eyes away from mine looking back to the basket, clearly flustered by my confession. “Thank you. For everything really.” His voice was quiet but I could tell he meant it. He just wasn’t used to such strong displays of affection. After a couple more moments of silence, he looked back up at me. “I love you too.” He said making eye contact with me. Sure we had given each other our pins, to show that we were serious but this was the first time we uttered the words out loud. I couldn’t help but let my smile grow at the words that meant so much to the both of us.

Taking a moment to just enjoy the peaceful silence, I looked towards the basket that held the hand made pillow and blanket before looking at the small clock on the wall of the store room. Seeing that there was still a couple of hours before Reth had to be down in the market, I started to stand up, earning a confused look from the chef in front of me. “Don’t worry I’m not leaving. I just thought you might want to try and sleep a little bit before you have to be in the market.” I said, grabbing the pillow and blanket and turning towards the couch. “I’ll stay awake and keep an eye on the clock so I can wake you up before you have to go down there.” I said after placing the pillow against one of the arms of the couch.

Reth seemed to process my words before standing up and making his way to the couch. But when he sat down he didn’t move to lay down. “Would you lay with me?” He asked quietly. It was clear from his voice that he meant exactly what he said. There was no hidden meaning he really just wanted me to lay down with him.

After a moment of shock not expecting him to ask for me to lay with him I moved to the couch with him. “Of course.” I said sitting next to him. The couch was rather small but we managed to make it work. After a few moments of awkward adjustments we finally got to a position that was comfortable for both of us. I was laying on my back tucked as close to the back of the couch as possible, while Reth laid on his side next to me. It took a few words of reassurance but he eventually agreed to rest his head on my chest while I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him in close.

Once we were both comfortable it wasn’t long before Reth fell asleep tucked close to my side, head resting above my heart and arm thrown over the top of me. True to my word, I stayed awake watching over him and keeping an eye on the clock. Seeing him so peaceful and truly relaxed for the first time in a long time I couldn’t fight back my smile. I was glad I could offer even a moment of comfort for him after all the struggles he’s been through in his life. I also knew that even though I wasn’t from this time and I had no memories of what life was like before I awoke in Kilima, I would never hope to change how my life turned out.

(dividers by @/cafekitsune)

#x reader #newt writes #palia x reader #palia reth #reth x reader #x gn! reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader #reth x gn reader #palia soup boy #palia game #palia

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word-wytch · 7 months ago

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✨ Life Update ✨

Hello everyone,

I have not been active here in months and wanted to fill you in on what has been transpiring in my life. All very good things, but it has undoubtedly taken my attention away from fandom and writing and into the more physical, tangible world -- a therapy for me that has been necessary on my creative and personal journey.

Back in October my coworker found a stray kitten that I fell in love with at first sight, but my home was a mess so I spent 3 weeks cleaning and organizing and getting it cat-ready while she fostered him. Over this time I discovered how therapeutic the act of cleaning -- something I had always seen as a tedious chore -- truly was. I began to look forward to the satisfaction of wiping away years worth of dust and grime, how I could lose myself in the moment and relish in simple, physical action, and delight in the finished result. In reality, all that really needed to change was my attitude and my relationship to cleaning. It has become like a therapy to me, and I was able to fulfill a dream of hosting a dinner party for friends after years of construction on our very old house prevented us (my partner and I) from doing so.

This is Munkustrap (aka Munk, Munko, baby kitty) named after my favorite and hottest cat from the musical Cats.

Anyway he's literally a perfect angel (and sometimes a poopyhead) but as he is a 6 month old kitten, he requires a lot of my attention. My days now begin and end with feeding and playing with him, and the physical interaction has been so welcome and therapeutic.

In my other real-world endeavors, I have been devoting quite a bit of time to another beloved artform, which is songwriting. In my day job I work at a nonprofit youth arts organization and have been training a new receptionist and also teaching songwriting and performing at the organization with the kids in my class. I have also been active in the dance company I am a part of as well.

It has become vitally important for me to devote time to engaging with my local artistic community, so I have been getting out in the real world and attending local shows. My community is small and my voice and presence in it, as all our voices are, is important. Just as our voices are in online communities, however large or small.

Though I have prioritized my physical world over my virtual one in the past few months, I have still been peripherally engaged, keeping a pulse through close friends and discord servers. And I have been writing, though not as often as I used to. It is not the center of my current life situation and that is ok.

I do intend on continuing and completing DSSCTM, though I am unsure of the timeline on that. Right now I am more focused on being rather than doing, but I sense that when I return to the realm of writing I will do so with a renewed sense of excitement, passion, and joy.

I love you! 🎢💕

#updates #personal

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waddles-ex-machina · 8 months ago

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Hiiii! So, I just started interacting with the fandom I realized there's a lot of Johanna x Kaisa shippers (Sketchbook is the name ship?), and I wanted to know what's the appeal of the ship cus it never occurred to me to ship them lmao

Anyway, all in good faith! Thank you if you answer it, but it's fine if you don't!

Hello! Welcome to the fandom!

That’s a totally fair question, I’ve been a sketchbook shipper for years so to be honest shipping them is just second nature to me now, but let me uhhh try and remember some of my (and the rest of the fandom’s) reasoning. gonna put this under a cut bc it got kind of long I’m sorry 😭

Soo my favourite reason and the thing I never shut up about is that Johanna and Kaisa fulfill VASTLY different roles in Hilda’s life and in the show itself - Johanna is coded to be this very safe stable character for Hilda who isn't all that into her adventures (I know she breaks out of this image later in the show, but it’s still a big part of her character. like. for the most part she just wants some peace at home with a cup of tea please) and Kaisa is there specifically to enable Hilda’s adventures and point her at the dangerous thing. and character dynamic-wise, this is just. very funny. POV you’re a single mother just trying to see her child to the next birthday and the weird lady at the library keeps giving her books that can raise the dead. they’re at such odds by design that it sets up a ton of potential for how they could start off on the wrong foot (enemies to lovers babeyy) or have to try and meet each-other in the middle. and they’re both involved enough in Hilda’s life that it really feels like only a matter of time til they get thrown together by one of Hilda’s shenanigans

also, design and personality-wise they have an “opposites attract” kind of vibe I think? for instance Johanna is outwardly very friendly and a bit of a people-pleaser, but takes absolutely no shit when Hilda is in danger, and Kaisa puts up this dark mysterious persona, but deep down is quite insecure and anxious (and also more caring than she lets on - you can tell she’s also got a bit of a soft spot for Hilda when the kid isn’t actively trying to steal swords) so it’s fun to imagine how Johanna and Kaisa’s personalities could play off each-other when they have such different outward appearances but are more similar deep-down.

Theres also some fun angst reasons off the top of my head:

Johanna has had absolutely nothing but bad experiences with magic and Kaisa is an actual witch, and is partially responsible for some of those experiences (tide mice, etc). you can spin like 1 million scenarios out of this and people already have and it's great bdhsgdjh

Johanna has spent most of her life being abandoned by the people she trusts (her parents, Anders) and Kaisa has been shown to (unwillingly) shut people out and withdraw for fear of not being good enough. You could read them as both having difficulty trusting and maybe being able to help eachother through their insecurities together

to steal a very good point I saw @the-hilda-librarians-wife make a while ago, they’re both outcasts in their respective communities - Johanna struggles to fit in with the other parents and isn’t shown really having any friends in the show, and Kaisa gave up being a ‘proper’ witch to be the keeper of the books, and the other witches clearly look down on her as a result. They lead vastly different lives, but do have similarities that they could connect over and support each-other through.

ALSO - now we know Johanna is also magical and lost a part of herself from having her memory wiped - there is that potential for them to find the things that they’ve been missing in eachother. Kaisa deals with all kinds of magic shenanigans as her day job and could arguably do with some peace and someone to lean on, but she isn’t shy about magic/danger/any other weirdness. Johanna has an adventurous side that was repressed along with her childhood memories for years that still feels very distant to her. They could help bring these things out in each-other and bring a bit of balance to each-other’s lives.

And, coming back to what I said about them having different roles in the show, it’s just very fun to picture them as a co-parenting duo for Hilda. normal mom & chaotic mom. Hilda would be absolutely unstoppable

Finally, imo Kaisa is absolutely a lesbian (years ago I made a joke post on here saying smth like “did the Hilda team know they were making a wlw icon here” and someone from the team replied with “yes” JDKHSJ) and I’ve been in the fandom long enough to know the effect that Johanna has on those, I rest my case 😌

I hope that explains it kind of!! also if anyone else has any other points to make for why they like the ship feel free to add on!!

#in conclusion I think these two characters are DEEPLY interesting and I choose to explore that by making them kiss 😌#two birds one stone babey #sorry this reads like war and peace I hope the answer is kinda helpful though!#even if you don’t personally vibe w it thanks for being nice abt it! sooo many ppl aren’t #and also sorry it took me a while to answer this i was (predictably) busy with. sketchbook week #ask #sketchbook ship #kaisanna #Hilda the series #Hilda sketchbook

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thereal-caramelcoffeecountess1 · 3 months ago

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((ooc post))

hello. i am up at 11:44 at night to say this:

these saiki k rpers. IHHDKDBDKDBDJ AAAAA you guys are so cool 😞😢😢😢😢😭😭😭hrkdjskjdjdjf

i’ve never been so accepted into a community like this, you’re so so sweet and kind and fun! i’ve always yearned to be apart of a kind little community and this really feels like that space, these sweet people have treated me with such kindness and softness i- bshhdjfbkv.

i seriously understand why there are so many blogs and so many of them keep making ooc posts like these cause oh my sawakita they are just so AMAZING. thank all of you for being such kind and hilarious people, i feel so at home when i talk with you all or when i get the sweetest asks<3

to be honest ive never rped as an oc in a whole blog circle so i was scared to, you know, make THIS as my first one 😭 but thank you for all the kindness, really, i feel so welcomed :]

so anyways, shout out to probably the kindest people on the internet, you’re all so wonderful <3

sawakitas blessings to you all!

#((ooc post))#really #thank you guys so much #you’re all so <3 fr #tdlosk rp #maeko naegi #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k #tdlosk oc #saiki no psi nan #dark prince #saiki kusou no psi nan #oc #appreciation post

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sweatervest-obsessed · 2 years ago

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In Your Dreams, Whatever They Be - Part 1

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (uses she/her pronouns)

WC: 11,223

TW: Alcohol, violence, stabbing, boats, spiders, sarcasm, jealousy, trauma, trauma bonding, blood (and lots of it), nightmares, Vecna, mentions of death, smoochy kisses, mentions and flashes of past traumas, Billy Hargrove gets mentioned, brief allusion to second base, graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions in general. If I'm missing any please please please tell me and I will happily add them!

A/N: So this was supposed to be a quick and easy 4k one shot, and now I'm in a two parter, rewatching the series to try and make it as accurate as I can be. I forgot how himbo Steve really is. It takes place starting with s4 e5, and it goes to s4 e7 or 8, I don't remember. This is based off of my favorite song of all time, and the fact that they used it in this show makes me so unbelievable happy. I hope y'all enjoy this one! any and all constructive criticism is welcomed and wanted!!!

Part 2

“What’s going on in there?” Steve gently rapped on your head with his knuckles, “hello? Anyone home?”

He watched as your eyes shifted back into focus, looking at him.

“It’s nothing Steve.”

“Yea and I’m the queen of England.”

“No need for the attitude,” You grumbled, sitting up, attempting to get off the boys bed before

this turned into a full blown thing with interrogations and prodding in places you didn’t want Steve to see at the moment.

He softly said your name, grabbing your wrist and rubbing his thumb over it. “Will you please talk to me?”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact. A soft inhale and exhale to remind yourself to calm the tears before giving Steve a smile.

“I’m seriously okay Steve. If it was something that was actually worth anything, you’d be the first person I told.”

He contemplated your answer, studying the way you wouldn’t look at him. “Pinky promise?”

You looked over at the clock on his night stand before jumping up and dusting off the proverbial dirt from your thighs.

“Actually, I, um, I have to go—Steve. Um. I’ll see you later!” You quickly grabbed your bag off the ground of his bedroom floor and quickly made your escape down the stairs and out the front door.

Steve flinched as it slammed shut and sat there, pinky still outstretched wondering what the actual fuck just happened. You never ever ditched him like that, let alone ignored a pinky promise.

You, on the other hand, were suffocating. The room had suddenly become too suffocating and Steve—sweet, lovely, kind, perfect Steve immediately noticed, and you just couldn’t let him go poking where he didn't need to be.

Your headaches had started to come back, but it was nothing new considering your period was about to start anyways. And the last thing you wanted to do was make Steve all worried about some stupid little headache—

“Oh for fucks sake.” You grumbled again before turning right back around on the porch and storming back into his house again.

Steve had just made it down the stairs when he collided with you in the hall, the door slamming shut a second time.

“What are you doing—-“

“We made that stupid Fucking New Year’s resolution for a year of no poor communication. So. I’ve been having headaches.”

“…..headaches?”

You nodded and ran a hand through your hair.

“Yeah.” You whisper, now suddenly feeling a lot less confident about the situation.

Steve was silent, his mind racing a million miles an hour. Out of all the people in the world, he absolutely downright refused to let you become the next mangled body. He had seen Eddie’s face when he relieved what Chrissy had gone through, and he had seen Nancy after they had discovered Fred; for fucks sake he was there when Max was levitating in the cemetery. He couldn’t lose you. He seriously couldn’t lose you. Because he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if you weren’t with him. He’d loose his fucking mind—that’s what he would do. He’s become some crazy old man like Murray or—-

“Steve.” You took his hand in yours and narrowed your eyes. “Are you listening to me?”

Steve shook his head and squeezed your hand. “I said, I usually get them the week before my period, and they’re right on time. But with the whole….”

Steve nodded and looked at your hands together, eyeing the ring you wore on your pinky finger—a pinky promise to him that you always wear.

“But.” You yanked his hand a little bit to make him focus back up on your face. “Because of everything going on I just didn’t want you to freak the fuck out. But that’s what’s been on my mind.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “Yeah…yeah okay I just…”

“I know.” Even when you could potentially be in true, real danger, you managed to stay level headed, or at least put up a really good front; it’s what Steve admired most about you, and simultaneously loathed about you.

“I know everyone is at the Wheeler's house but do you want to make them come over here?”

Steve squeezed your hand in response to your question, his voice still gone. Somehow snatched away with the rest of his mind from the moment he realized you could be taken from him.

“Okay, do you want me to call them?”

Steve was a very physical person. He showed his love through actions—getting an eyelash off your nose, buying your favorite flowers, and so forth. But he truly showed his appreciation for someone through small touches; a hand on a shoulder, the squeeze of a hand. But when Steve pulled you into a hug, you were a little surprised. He may love small actions of touch, he rarely was one to give hugs or full body contact, even to someone he has loved for a long time. The boy was getting more and more self conscious ever since the Fall of King Steve and the Bullshit of Nancy Wheeler.

“Steve I promise I’m okay I promise.”

“But what if it’s not just any headaches…” he whispered into your hair, tightly holding onto you, terrified to let you go.

“The second I start getting psycho visions or freaky nightmares, you’ll know okay?”

“Y-yeah.” He sighed, just holding onto you for a bit longer. You rested your head on his shoulder, forehead against his neck, and slowly started to sway with him, trying to drag his mind away from the pit he was dragging himself into.

He complied, still drowning in ‘what-if’s’. He listened as you started to softly mumble a song to yourself as the two of you stood in the foyer of the Harrington Household, sunset peaking through the windows.

“Stars shining bright above you, Night breezes seem to whisper I love you, birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me.”

Steve focused on the sound of your breathing, the beating of your heart, the low hum of your voice.

“Say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me right and tell me, you’ll miss me”

“I should be comforting you.” He grumbled, as you continued to sing and sway.

“While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.”

“What’s the name of the artist again?” He whispered

You stopped short and looked up at him, taking only half a step back knowing Steve might lose his shit if you stopped being in direct contact with him.

“Steven Harrington this is only my favorite song of all time, and you don’t know which version I like the most?! Jesus, you’d think my person would know that.”

“Okay but that doesn’t answer my question.” His heart fluttered a little bit when you called him your person.

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

Just as Steve went to sass you back, the phone rang, making him jump. Steve stared at it while you were looking at him, watching him flinch every time it rang. “You gonna answer it, or just stare at it.”

“Well….”

“Steve.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“It could be important, Stevie.”

His insides started melting as you called him that. “I really don’t want to.”

The phone stopped ringing and he smiled cheekily at you before taking your hand and bringing you out towards the patio, sliding the doors open with ease.

“What are you…”

“I want to keep dancing with you without any distractions.”

You blush a bit and shake your head.

“Okay hot shot. Show me your moves then.”

“Only if you promise to keep singing.”

The both of you stepped out onto the patio and closed the sliding doors behind you. He brought you around the pool to the small yard behind it, offering his hand once more.

“You, Steve Harrington, are something else.”

He slid his arm around your waist and took your hand in his. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He whispered, kissing your head.

“Depends.”

“On what.”

“Stars fading but I linger on dear.”

You shrugged. And started swaying again, resting your head on his collarbone.

“Still craving your kiss.”

“Oh you crave my kiss huh?”

You rolled your eyes and continued singing, smiling up at him.

“I’m longing to linger till dawn dear, just craving this.”

Steve cheekily kissed your jaw, causing you to smile and squeeze his hand.

What the two of you missed was the consistent ringing of the Harrington Household phone, that stopped ringing after the fourth or fifth attempt.

“Sweet dreams, till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me.”

Steve took the opportunity to spin you around, interrupting your singing. Your laugh was music to his ears, besides the actual singing you were blessing him with.

“Stars fading, but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss.”

Steve leaned down and kissed you softly, interrupting your song. You smiled and kissed him back, tasting your cherry chapstick on his lips.

“You stole my chapstick, I knew it.” You mumbled before swiping your tongue against his bottom lip.

“Nuh, uh.” He whispered back, moving his hand to your jaw, pulling you a little closer to him.

You were interrupted by the screaming of Steve’s name and the pounding on the front door.

The both of you jumped apart, hearts pounding. You looked at Steve while he turned and looked towards the inside of his house.

The both of you heard the strings of curses from a small army when nobody answered the door, followed by yells about where he kept the spare key, and why was it locked because it was never locked Steve let go of you, much to both of your dismays, before moving towards the slider, only to be interrupted by a “are you SERIOUS Hanginton?”

Dustin’s head had popped over the fence near the edge of the woods, scaring the shit out of both of you.

“What the hell Henderson!” You yelled, stumbling back into a chair. Your heel caught on the side, and the metal left a little gash on the top of your foot as you fell into the lounger, the definition of ungraceful. You let out a yelp as you collapsed

“Shit, Shit, are you okay??” Henderson yelled, attempting to jump over the fence, and only failing slightly.

Steve rushed over to your side, panicking since the last time there was blood near his pool, well….

You were examining the gash, taping it lightly and flinching at the sting. But then you saw Steve and immediately switched gears into calming Steve down, completely ignoring the blood dripping down your foot.

“Steve. Hey.” You put your hand on his shoulder but Steve was freaking out. His eyes were wide, and his breathing was erratic. “Handsome, look at me.” You whispered to him, taking his jaw, aware of your audience.

You loved touching Steve, and he loved touching you, in every way each other's minds could think of, but the two of you tried really hard to not be super all over each other in front of the others. It wasn’t that you were hiding your relationship per se, you both were just private people when it came to your relationship. You were both taking it slow, wanting to make sure everything was just right, earning trust and figuring out one another without the influence and nosiness of your beloved friends. They knew you had at least kissed a couple of times, and were official enough to hold hands in public, but what they didn’t know was that you had been dating each other for over a year now. In fact, you were sure this was it for you—your endgame. You felt such an all consuming love for him, and he knew it too. He was terrified of the ways you would go to bat for him, which is why the sight of your blood near his pool sent him into a slight panic attack. But your touch sent a little shock through his system and he looked up at you, eyes wide and a little manic, lips parted.

“I’m okay. We’ll just get a bandaid or tw—“

The next minute unfolded to be one of the most overwhelming both you and Steve had experienced. First, Henderson had finally scaled the fence and fell over it with a thud and a loud yell. Then, Nancy shoved open the sliding doors, which meant the rest of the kids, and Robin were probably in tow. Dusting had managed to run over to you and started to freak out about your foot, panicking outwardly like Steve was panicking inwardly.

Nancy finally made it over to the both of you, but only looked at Steve.

“Steve? What the fuck! Where the hell have you been? Y/n wasn’t answering her phone and so Max and Lucas went over to her house—“

“Nance…”

“and her mom said she was at work but she hasn’t been at work because I was just there and she didn’t take over for me and——“

“Nancy.”

You squeezed his hand.

“And then you weren’t answering your phone and we called so many ti—“

“Holy shit what the fuck happened to your foot!?” And there was Robin, kindly interrupting Nancy’s ramble.

Nancy whipped around and looked down at your now slightly blood soaked foot. It was seriously nowhere near as bad as it looked, but because you had been free bleeding trying to help Steve and then everyone burst into the backyard, your foot looked worse than it was.

“Oh my god!” She squeaked out, thinking back to Barb, and looked at Steve. She noticed his panic and decided it was her responsibility to fix it.

“Hey Steve?” Nancy knelt down next to him, which made you inhale sharply. Nancy had been….well. Ever since Jonathan had moved to California, she was a bit all over the place, and everyone knew it, including Nancy. Her emotions were running wild, and she had been eyeing Steve again. You were far from jealous, knowing how much Steve loved you since he reminded you over and over and over again. But there was something about the way she was eyeing him, the way she reached out to him, that made your trust waiver—not in Steve, Never in Steve, but maybe in Nancy.

Steve caught the tail end of your inhale, and looked up at you, his eyes still not focusing a hundred percent but he was trying for you.

“Can you go get some bandages for my foot Nance?” You asked, squeezing Steve’s hand again, trying to ground him while also trying to politely tell Nancy to back the fuck up. You looked over at her and gave her a smile, as if to say that you got the whole Steve situation under control.

She eyed your hands before nodding, and heading off into the house. As she had walked into the house and up the stairs, Robin corralled all of the kids mumbling that the show was over. Dustin put up a little bit of a fight but Max and Lucas had dragged him inside and closed the sliding doors. All of the teens did their best to pretend to not look out at the couple on the patio, whereas Robin was casually trying to not stare at the two of you through the kitchen window. Everyone was extremely curious about the secretive couple.

You squeezed his hand again. “Steve. I need you to listen to me. I’m okay. It’s just a cut on my foot.” Your other hand came up and slowly took his other hand, hinting that he should be next to you on the lounger.

Steve obliged, mind still far away, panicking to no end, conjuring up the worst endings he could possibly imagine.

You gently took one of his hands and placed it on one of the pulse points on your neck.

Robin had snatched Nancy from exiting the house, shushing her as she tried to justify going back onto the patio. And even if she managed to get through Robin, Dustin and the others would not have let her through anyways.

Robin had shared a look with Dustin, examining the scene before them. Almost no one had ever seen Steve this vulnerable, and actually no one had witnessed the two of you have such an intimate moment together, collectively making everyone in the house question whether or not they knew either of you at all.

You were taking slow breaths, letting Steve not only feel your pulse beneath his fingers, but also your breath. It caused him to slowly start to match your pace, chest moving slower and hands stopped shaking. His eyes started to focus in on you again, the hint of a grateful smile ghosted across his lips before it fell under a frown of complete self deprecation.

“Shit, baby I’m so sorry.” He whispered, not moving his hand from your neck quite yet. “I-I just…it reminded me of…”

“I know, I know.” You whispered. “But it’s just a small cut, and I’ll let you give Henderson the talking to of a lifetime, once I know you’re back with me, yeah?”

Your eyes had been monitoring his, watching for when he was fully back in the present. Steve nodded and placed a quick kiss on your forehead. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, I’m here all week.” You teased, before sighing and looking down at your foot. “It’s definitely not that bad but I do want to clean off my bloody foot.”

Just then, Nancy made her way back onto the patio, with very upset Dustin trailing behind her. Dustin looked so guilty, and so apologetic, and Nancy looked….upset? Mad? Jealous? Whatever it was, Nancy was doing a good job of making it not as important as fixing up your foot.

“Oh thank you so much Nance.” You smiled at her, only faltering slightly when she only responded by giving you a tight lipped smile, dropping the first aid kid on the chair, and walking Back inside.

You and Steve looked at Dustin who just shrugged. Whatever it was would have to wait.

“So why were you people hunting me down?”

“There’s been another….” Dustin looked down at his feet, and Steve took one of his hands and put it on the kids shoulder.

“Okay.” You breathed out, taking the medical kit in your hands and digging through it to find all the necessary things to clean up your little wound.

“ Y/N, I’m really sorry. I-I didn’t mean to—you know. It was a total accident.” Dustin gushed at you and you just smiled in response to him.

“It’s all good Dusty Bun.” You joked at him, while the kid tore himself into pieces, feeling fucking awful.

“Shit happens. It’s okay. It’s not like you snuck back here with the intent to injure me….unless.” You smirked at him, letting Dustin’s cheek turn bright red and he shook his head vigorously.

“No. No. I would never do that to you—“

“She’s joking Dustin. It’s okay.” Steve tried not to laugh at the poor boy, watching as his face fell into a slightly more comfortable expression.

“Dustin, can you go and round everyone up in the Living Room, so we can talk about everything?”

Dustin nodded and started to run off before he stopped and turned towards you again. “Promise you’re okay?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, kid. I’m all good.” You took your finger, crossed your heart with it and lifted it in the air. “Steven Harrington as my witness.”

Dustin cracked a smile before going back inside and trying to round up everyone into the Harrington's living room.

Once you had properly bandaged your cut, you sighed and cast a quick glance at the patio doors, noticing only Max and Lucas lingering, but still giving you all the privacy they could with a glass door. But Lucas was solely focused on Max, making sure her headphones for her Walkman were sitting just right on her head.

You turned and kissed Steve, soft lips on his. “Are you okay?” You whispered to him, letting him lead the kiss, giving him the control he needed to regain in that moment before facing the troops.

Steve gently swept his tongue across your lip, allowing him to deepen the kiss a bit more. He sighed so prettily into your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I will be, yea. I just….” You nodded and pulled away from him. Steve glanced over at Max, noticing the headphones and his face fell flat. He had been the one to hold her close when she collapsed outside of Billy’s Grave after floating in the air. And suddenly it was you he was cradling, unconscious.

“What’s the artist?”

“What?” You gave him an incredulous look, turned and looking where his gaze was set on Max. “Oh Steve, I don’t think—-“

“Please.” It was so soft, and pleading. Your heart broke as he looked back at you.

“The Mamas and The Papas.” You said softly, tucking a loose strand of his hair behind his ear.

“Dream a Little Dream of Me, right?” He squeezed your hand once more as you nodded.

“Alright.” He sighed and kissed your head before getting up. The two of you could rest when you’re dead, you figured. You stood up with him and brought the first aid kit back in with you.

Once everyone was back in the living room, the rest of the day was a whirlwind. Lucas was telling you about the fact that Carver and his teammates were hunting down Eddie and anyone who tried to help him.

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At some point you found yourself stuck in the back of Nancy’s car. Then, you found yourself stuck in between an argument between a mother and his son about Skull Rock.

“Yeah well it wasn’t popular until I made it popular, alright?”

You snorted at that one, while Steve turned towards you, slightly horrified about admitting that in front of you. But you knew King Steve, and it wasn’t like you were unpopular. You were one of those people that managed to fly under the radar by being on everyone’s radar. Nice to everyone simply worked best, especially when it meant you got to kiss and tell without it ruining your life. You smirked at Steve before turning to Dustin.

“But he’s right though Dustin. It’s over that little hill, on the right, past the two trees.” You slowed down to break the news to Dustin, Max moving to catch up with you, both of you snickering to one another while the rest of the gang looked at you, seriously doubting their knowledge of you at all.

“Stop gawking Harrington, and move those legs. Let’s roll.” Steve fixed his pace and trudged ahead, eager to prove his best friend wrong.

You and Max just observed the two. You had been Max’s babysitter since she moved to Hawkins. She was definitely too old for one, but her mother insisted, and she would have much rather spent time with you than with Billy. She was your little sister, your everything, the Dustin to your Steve. You were the one who got her so addicted to Kate Bush in the first place. So when Steve had told you about Max floating into the air, you almost caused several accidents driving from your house to the Wheeler’s, where Max was being kept safe.

The two of you were giggling about the bickering between the two idiots when you heard Steve and Dustin ahead of you.

“Bada Bing, Bada Boom, There she is Henderson. Skull Rock, in your face man.” Steve pushed past the both of you, a shit-eating grin on his face. “In your stupid, cocky little face.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, Yeah, even when it’s staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it. You just can’t admit that you’re wrong, you little butthead.” Steve smugly stared up at the rock.

Two boots landed on the ground, right next to Dustin. “I concur. You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

Dustin started jumping up and down before rushing Eddie into a hug. “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.”

“Yeah, me too man.” Eddie mumbled, looking over at the rest of you wearily. You watched as Steve and Eddie interacted like some sort of divorced parents in the parking lot of a McDonald’s before deciding to ease whatever tension the two of them had going on.

You smiled and waved at him, “Oh my god, is that the serial killer Edward Eddie “The Freak” Munson, leader of the Hellfire Satanic Club,”

Max let out a snort, before trying to cover the giggle seeping out of her mouth.

“You’re funny there princess, you know that?”

“Oh I do, Edward. How are you.” You mumbled, patting his back, while you eyed Dustin, who was losing his fucking mind over his compass.

Steve was not the jealous type, or he liked to pretend that he wasn’t. You were a kind person to every single person you met; somehow every single person in the world knew you, and yet nobody had a vendetta against you (to his knowledge) or anything awful to say about you. But it was moments like these, when Eddie called you Princess, or got a little too close, where he would start to tense up.

“Better now that you’ve brought yourself, and also some food.” He hastily grabbed one of the paper bags from Nancy and grabbed one of the flasks filled with water, drinking almost all of it.

“When I got to shore, I tried calling you guys but uh, my walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently. I ran.” A sardonic smile spread across his face, and he shook his head, looking down at his hands.

“Do you know what time this was, the attack?”

“No i -i- I know exactly what time it was.” Eddie takes the watch off his wrist and tosses it to Nancy. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing to get soaked.”

“9:27.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Same time our flashlights went kablooey.

“Which means what exactly?” Steve chimed in.

Nancy sighed, looking down at the watch in her hands before tossing it back to Eddie. “That surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”

“Well, we’re one step closer–we know how Vecna attacks.” You mention, watching Dustin pace back and forth.

“And where he attacks from.” Lucas added on.

“So now we just need to sneak into his layer in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Max sighed, crossing her arms.

Robin mumbled quickly, “If he even has a heart.”

“A stake is he like a vamp–is he a vampire?” Steve’s eyes widened.

“Oh Steve, babe.” You sighed, pinching your eyes.

“Itt was a metaphor.” Max scoffed in reply to him.

Eddie looked up from the ground and towards Max. “Uh bullets work on him right?”

“I say we chop his head off.”

“That’s great Lucas.” You muttered, not fully believing this conversation was happening. Steve on the other hand looked at Lucas with a “What the fuck” type of look.

“Yeah I’d say all of the above, but we can't do any of that until we find a way into the Upside Down.” Nancy sighed.

“We need El to get her power back.” You nodded in agreement with Max.

“Everything was wayyyy easier. We had this girl, she had super powers–”

“Superpowers, yea, you mentioned her.” Eddie cut off Steve with a nod before peering over at Henderson.

“Hey uh, Henderson’s not cursed is he?”

Steve shook his head. “Cursed, no no, he’s fine. Mental? Absolutely.”

Just then Dustin raised his arms to the sky, turned to Steve and Screamed the word Boom, at the top of his lungs. Everyone flinched at the loud sound, but your head had started to bug you the second you had found SKull Rock, and you weren't one to say anything, but Dustin screaming at the top of his lungs definitely wasn’t helping.

“Bada. Bada. Boom.”

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And just like that, the day sped up again. Your head continued to bug you all the way to the lake. He had noticed that your head started bugging you halfway through the walk to the shore, holding you hand and quietly whispering the lyrics he remembered from the song earlier, just to you. It made your heart melt a little, just how much he cared for you. It was a bonus that it calmed him down in the process.

“What is Mordor?” He whispered to you, watching as the shore grew closer.

You laughed softly and shrugged. “There's this book series called Lord of the Rings.” You answered back to him. “And the heroes leave The Shire to go to Mordor to stop the big bad.”

Steve let out a little “huh”, and nodded. The little green monster known as jealousy came back full force. Of course you would know what Eddie was talking about. Of course that was something else Eddie had over him. “And you’ve uh, read this series.”

“Yes Steve. All four books.”

“Did you like them?”

The questions surprised you. It’s not that Steve didn’t like the things you liked, or didn’t care about what you liked, but this was an interest that you simply hadn’t mentioned because it didn’t seem in his wheelhouse. “Ye-Yeah…why do you ask?”

You looked at him with a curious smile on your face, and Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. If both you and Butthead up there like it then…”

You stopped and kissed Steve on the cheek. “You’re adorable Steve.”

Just then, Dustin sprinted forward, yelling about the fact that something was happening. Eddie managed to save him from stepping into the lake, when Steve ran up ahead.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” He huffed and turned and looked back at you, exasperated.

“Yea. I thought these woods were familiar.” Eddie’s tone was flat, and disparaging.

“Lover’s Lake.” Robin sighed, staring out at the water.

“This is confounding.” Dustin muttered, looking back and forth from the water to his compass and back again.

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max looked over at you.

Nancy spoke next, “Whenever the Demogorgan attacked, it always left an opening. Maybe Vecna’s the same way.”

“Yea, only one way to find out.” You grumbled, also not exactly happy to see the lake.

Eddie pulled back a tarp to reveal a little boat, definitely not big enough to fit all of you. Once Eddie and Steve had gotten the boat in the water, Robin climbed over the two of them. Eddie went next and helped Nancy get into the boat as well as you. All four of you looked at Dustin, who tried to get onto the boat.

“Hey, Hey, you trying to sink us?” Eddie shoved Dustin's head back a little and shook his own. “The boat holds four people, tops. okay?”

“It’s better this way, okay?” Nancy walked over to try and comfort Dustin.

And you agreed. “You guys stay here with Max.You keep an eye out for trouble.”

Dustin was flabbergasted. “You keep an eye out for trouble.”

You gave him a look considering he just snapped at you, but he only continued.

“It’s my goddamn theory.”

Robin leaned over. “You heard Nance and Y/N.”

Dustin just rolled his eyes. “Who put them in charge?”

“I did.” Robin sassed back, watching as Dustin tried to process everything that was going on.

“Compass.” Nancy held her hand out as a very, very upset Dustin reluctantly placed the compass in her hand.

“Hey. There ya go.” Steve threw the backpack at Dustin before pushing off of the shore with the boat, jumping in at the last second.

“You said Four!”

Steve whispered a “sorry” to him as the group began to paddle out towards where Patrick died.

Robin smiled at them, “Bedtime at nine Kiddos.” in which Dustin just flipped her off. Robin just stood up and waved, “Miss you already.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

As you all sat on the boat,slowly paddling through the darkness of Lover’s Lake, when suddenly Nancy yelled out. “Woah Woah Woah, slow down guys, slow down.”

All of you leaned in and looked at the compass, it was spinning in circles, no actual direction.

All of the sudden the walkie lit up and spoke: Guys what’s going on. Come on guys, talk to me, what’s going on.

Robin picked up the call, still staring at the spinning dial.

“Uh Dustin your compass has gone from wonky to Wonky with a capital ‘aah!”

“Steve, what are you doing?” Nancy’s voice reached your ears, and everyone immediately snapped their heads towards the boy who was starting to undress.

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out.” He pulled off his other shoe and sock. “Unless one of you three can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years then…It’s gotta be me, no complaints. Alright.” That last section ws slightly more aimed towards you than anyone else, but you just stayed silent.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I do not wanna go down there.” Eddie looked around at the water uneasily before taking one of the flashlights wrapping it in one of the plastic bags they had brought. It was better than nothing.

Steve pulled his shirt off, and that’s when you caught Nancy staring. This time, you were a little more upset at her openly staring at Steve’s half-naked body. Robin looked between you and Nancy and made a little face, deciding to wait to ask any and all questions to you once Steve was gone.

“Hey.” Eddie handed him the flashlight. “Good luck.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks.” Before looking at you and giving you a small smile, meant to be an apology.

Robin pulled a cigarette from out of Eddie's mouth, mumbled a “gross”, and chucked it into Lover’s Lake.

Steve stared straight ahead psyching himself up.

“Steve?” You couldn’t help yourself.

He looked back at you. You had a horrible feeling about this. Yet you held your tongue because there was no way that Steve “The Hero” Harrington was going to risk anyone else’s life, and trying to talk him out of it was like trying to convince the sky to turn purple—it wasn’t going to happen. All you could offer him was something to maybe calm his nerves.

“Be careful.”

You all sat there, each of you doing your own thing to not think about the fact that Steve was under the water.

“Where are we at Wheeler?” Robin asked, bouncing her leg up and down, glancing from Nancy to the water and back again.

“We’re closing in on a minute.” Nancy responded with a slight air of worry.

“Come on Steve.” You mumbled, still watching the water. Robin placed a hand on top of yours and gave you a small smile, just trying to provide at least a sense of comfort even though her best friend was down in the depths of Lover’s Lake.

When Steve popped up, you all jumped. Eddie yelled slightly with an “Oh Christ!” But you immediately reached your hand out to him, which he was more than willing to reach for.

“I found it.”

“You found it?” Nancy piped up before Steve smiled, trying to regain his breath.

“I found it. Yeah I found it.” He smiled, and unlike the rest of this day, the next thirty seconds seemed to go by in slow motion.

Steve was hanging off the edge of the boat, still trying to regain his breath before he would climb into the boat, still holding onto your hand with his own.

“Dustin, you’re a goddamn Einstein. Steve found the Gate. It was right where you said it was.”

Steve was panting. “It was pretty wild. It’s more of a snack-sized gate than a mama gate.” Reference Robin from earlier. “But still, it’s pretty damn big.”

Steve’s head was pulled under the water. All of you moved towards him, trying to get him onto the boat. He resurfaced, a concerned look on his face.

Just as he reached for you, Steve’s face dropped, and he was pulled under. Nance, Robs, and Eddie all yelled out his name, screaming for him to come back. You immediately pulled off the jacket you had been wearing and dove straight into the water, no hesitation. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie then started screaming your name. Your new white converse had been covered in mud and now they were soaked in murky water as you swam for your life to get to Steve. You watched as he was pulled into the gaping portal beneath you. You watched as he was dragged through the water with ease. You swam faster, pushing through the gate not even ten seconds after Steve.

Your lungs were burning. You fell to the ground with a hard thud, groaning as you tried to ignore the large bruise that would be all along your thigh and shoulder. All of this while trying so desperately to breathe but the air was suffocating. You managed to stand up, and looked around for Steve. Red lightning struck above you both, maybe five hundred feet apart.

That’s when you heard it, the screeching. Your eyes managed to locate Steve before they were moved to the sky as the creatures started to surround the both of you. You watched as he ran towards something on the ground and picked up an oar, hitting one of the bats that swooped down on him. You ran towards him, picking up a second oar, and started batting, fighting your way to each other.

Then, you saw Steve get swiped off his feet. A bat around his neck, and two others circling, ready to go in for the kill. Steve kept trying to swipe them off but was starting to fail. He let out a blood curdling scream as his body convulsed on the ground beneath your feet.

Your blood ran colder than Lovers Lake. You ran towards him, listening as he screamed your name, crying out helplessly for you as they tried to feast on his abdomen and while one was slowly strangling him.

Anger and panic filled your body up to the brim as you came closer to him. You hit two home runs before you slammed the oar down on one of the bats, eating away at Steve’s stomach, and blood splattered up and across your entire body. You’d be pissed about your clothes if you weren’t already so enraged at the thought of the pain Steve was in. There was blood scattered across your face, and you could taste it on your lips. Dustin might have called you badass if you weren’t so fucking terrifying.

You didn’t notice as Nancy, Robin, and Eddie barged through the portal, and immediately started beating the shit out of all of the remaining bats that tried swooping down on the group of you.

Instead, you continued bashing in the body of the bat next to Steve. Robin had started watching you, slightly scared of the force you used to bring the oar down onto the bat. But all you could see was Steve. His mouth was open but no sound was coming out as he struggled to breathe, trying to pull the bat's tail away from his neck. You gave it one final blow to the head and watched its body give out beneath you.

Just as you went to thwack the head of the bat suffocating Steve, something wrapped around your ankle. You dropped to the ground as the bat swiftly pulled you down, bloody oar out of your grasp.

Robin and Nancy were to take care of the bat that was strangling Steve, Eddie continuing to swing at any bats in the air he could.

“Nancy behind you!” She turned around and thwacked the bat that came at her before she delivered one final blow, releasing Steve’s throat as it went limp.

A blood curdling scream left your lips as one of the bat’s bit down into your thigh. All you could see was white and red and all you could feel was white hot pain. The teeth tore through your flesh like butter, and it might have had some sort of venom dripping from its teeth because the exposed flesh felt as if it was melting off your body.

Steve had managed to rip the bat off of him, and tore it in half with his mouth, willing to tear the bat limb from limb, but then he heard you scream. Steve always assumed he would freeze because in his nightmares he would watch as the dogs tore you limb from limb, or as a demogorgon dragged you into the depths of the upside down, and he would freeze watching as he let you die.

But not this time.

His body raced towards you, ignoring the sharp rocks and fuck else that would stick into his bare feet. The adrenaline in his body caused him to pick up the oar you were dragged away from and bash the head in on the bat digging its teeth into your thigh. You were screaming, you were screaming for Steve. His mind clouded with rage as he broke the oar in half and stabbed down, impaling the bat and leaving it stuck to the ground of lovers lake.

There were tears streaming down your face, as Eddie and Robin helped pull you up and away from the dead animal laying next to you. A sob escaped your lips as you put some weight on your right leg.

“Jesus Christ, Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie screamed at the sky, still trying to hold you up.

Steve’s breathing was labored as he stood above the bat’s bloody carcass. He heard another sob escape your lips and immediately snapped his head towards you, but just as he took a second step towards you, the screeching of bats over head caused all of you to look up at the sky.

“Shit shit shit.” Eddie muttered, looking around trying to find a spot for cover.

“There’s not that many, we can take them.” Steve huffed, still running purely on adrenaline and spite.

Another bellow of screeches came from the sky across the barren lake.

Nancy ran over to you and gently squeezed your shoulder, luckily the one that wasn’t bruised. “We need to find cover. Now. Can you make it if Eddie and Robin help you?” Her eyes search yours, simultaneously checking for your inevitable concussion based off of the way you dropped to the ground earlier.

You just whispered out Steve’s name, eyes starting to close.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me. He’s okay. He’s alive okay? I need you to stay with me for just five more minutes, okay?” Nancy was starting to freak out the more you drifted in and out of consciousness. She turned to look at Steve, who was shutting down on his own, his own adrenaline starting to wear off.

“Eddie, Do you have Y/N?“ Nancy practically shoved Robin towards him while wrapping your arm around his neck while he supported you. “The more people that help her the better.”

Steve had reached out to help but Nancy shook her head, “ I need you to focus on finding us Skull Rock, and not collapse while holding her. Got it?”

Steve stared at Eddie, his frame supporting you, and huffed before nodding.

Once everyone had secured their position, you all quickly made their way towards Skull Rock, well as quickly as you could possibly be. Eddie spent the whole time whispering how proud he was of you and how badass you looked and how good you were doing while walking, all of the encouragement and little jokes you needed to stay awake and push through the pain to get to get under the rock. While Robin was freaking out about Rabies, which was so extremely helpful of her, thank you robin!

Once you had all taken cover from the bats, you leaned against the wall, just trying to breathe again. That’s when Steve started to lean on the wall, and eventually collapsed to the ground.

“Steve?” Nancy immediately stood up and made it to him in record time.

You would have turned bright green if you weren’t starting to pass out on your own.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He grumbled, slowly sliding down to the ground.

“No no no, you’re losing blood. Shit.” Nancy had ripped her skirt to provide some bandages for Steve.

“Steve?” You mumbled before, your legs gave out, Eddie managing to catch you.

“Shit Shit shit.” He started panicking and looking at Robin, who in turn started panicking again.

“Nancy!” Robin yelped, kneeling down next to you trying to keep you awake.

Nancy took one look at you and turned back around to Steve who was trying to get up and reach for you. “Steve, I need you to stay still.” She turned back to Eddie and Robin. “You need to rip her jeans!”

“No no no, hey. Stay with me. I need you to stay awake Y/N.” Robin whispered, squeezing your hand. All she could think about was dying by animal bite, which was so not comforting for any one involved.

Steve gasped as Nance tightened the bandage. Once it was secured he scrambled over to you.

“This is going to hurt baby, I’ m so sorry.” He mumbled to you, before gently taking the places where the Bats had broken through and ripped the jeans, creating one short leg. He pulled the bloodied pant leg down, trying to avoid the gushing wound on your leg. As quickly as he could, he tore up your jeans and started using it to wrap up your thigh, causing you to moan in pain anytime he would come near it, which resulted in a string of sorry’s coming from him.

You managed to take a look at Steve, covered in makeshift bandages and Eddie’s vest. If this were any other time, you’d make a quip to only him about how hot he looked but instead all you could do was slur his name and keep your head tilted back against the rock, doing your best not to pass out from the pain.

“Shhhhh baby it’s okay.” He whispered, as you whined again when he tightened the bandages.

All you could do was whimper and lean your forehead against the rock. At least it was cool to the touch, providing some relief for you. Your breathing was becoming more and more labored as the minute passed, and all Steve could do was whisper to you as it happened.

“I cant…” you mumbled to him, the first coherent words besides his name that you uttered since the boat. “I’m so tired.”

Steve shook his head. He finished tying the bandage before placing one of your hands on his pulse point, and his hand on your own, refusing to let this happen.

“Fuck. No no no. Y/N hey. I need you to stay awake, pretty girl. Come on.” His voice quickened and his eyes quickly flitted to Eddie and Nancy and Robin.

“We have to. We have to go. Now. She can’t.” Steve was trying so hard not to cry, and was barely making it through a full thought before the next one came. “Fuck. How are we.”

“Steve, I don’t know if she–”

Nancy had never been scared of Steve before, but the look he sent her made it clear that whatever thought she had should not be said out loud.

“We need. To find. A way out.” He said through gritted teeth, listening to your breathing get slower than he’d like.

You hear him call your name once, and then twice, and then the next four hours of your life are all a blur.

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You awake on Nancy Wheeler's couch in the Upside Down, while Steve is screaming into the abyss at Dustin.

Your head is pounding and you groggily go to sit up, but immediately get hit with a wave of nausea. As soon as you do make it up you keel over and start coughing, dry heaving really.

All four heads snapped in your direction, and Steve dropped the Lite Brite on the table, rushing over just as you start to feel the bile in your throat.

Steve quickly dragged over one of the stupid little trash bins that Mrs Wheeler kept around the house that the Upside Down had magically decided was necessary, and placed it in front of your face before grabbing most of your hair.

His efficiency was appreciated since you started to vomit into the trash, your head pounding and your throat burning.

Once you had thrown up everything in your stomach, plus what felt like your actual stomach, you gagged a bit on the air in your throat.

Steve was rubbing your back and mumbling soft words while you were still hunched over.

“Morning Princess.” Eddie called from the dining room, and while you didn’t have the energy to give him some choice words, you did have enough energy to flip him off quickly.

Steve shot him a look but Eddie only let out a chuckle at your antics. Clearly the brink of death suited you well since your sense of humor and your attitude were still intact.

“Why were you yelling at a lamp?” You eventually managed out, voice hoarse and almost completely gone. Robin had come over with a water bottle they had found in the fridge of the neighbors house.

“I thought you were gonna die.” She whispered to you, in which Steve turned his glare towards her instead.

You gratefully took a sip of the water, swallowing it before it immediately was rejected by your stomach, which causes you to vomit it back up into the trash bin.

You winced at the sting on your throat, and Steve winced because that wasn’t a good sign.

“Thanks Rob.” You send her a quick, but soft smile. She quickly took your hand and squeezed it, knowing that was all she was going to be able to say without starting to cry. “If you….well. I think I would’ve had to kill Steve because he would've been so unbearable.”

Which causes you to giggle slightly and nod. “I can see that happening.”

“Guys!” Nancy yelled over, giving you a very relieved smile, “we’re heading to Eddie’s Van in ten. There's still the kids' bikes at the house still so we can take those.”

Steve stood up and had a lot to protest but you just pulled his hand, causing him to look at you. “Steve. Really, I’ll be okay. We just need to get out of here.”

The others dispersed, getting ready to leave, letting you and Steve have a moment to yourselves.

Steve sat back down next to you and kissed your hand. “I—, you looked so hot beating the shit out of that bat.” He joked, causing you to muse a smile at him. “I know right. Sexiest murderer around.” You jested back.

“You….” Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat and let you see the tears building up in his eyes. “I—“

“But I’m all good. I promise. My head still kind of hurts though. Guess we’ll have to play period, concussion, or Vecna.” You tried to joke, but Steve just sent you a glare.

You sighed, and what you did next was for mostly your benefit, partially for Steve’s benefit, and slightly to piss off Nancy who was pretending like she wasn't watching you both from her kitchen alongside the other two.

You kissed Steve. It was simple, and quick, but mostly it was reassuring.

He hummed slightly before letting you pull away. “Even after you ripped a bat to shreds with your mouth, you still taste like my fucking chapstick.” You laughed softly before looking down at your legs. You were no longer in your jeans, but in a pair of Nancy’s shorts. Your leg had been bandaged a lot better, but you knew the second you got back into the real world, you would need to get the disinfection of a lifetime.

“Does Nance have any alcohol?”

Steve gave you a look. “I don’t think now is the time to start drinkin–”

Much to Steve’s chagrin, you stood up. A groan left your lips as you put weight on your bed leg. “Hey Nance? Where does your dad keep the good stuff.”

She looked up at you before running off to go get exactly what you needed.

“It’s going to numb the pain Steve, and I love you, but right now, I need to not feel my thigh so I can ride a stupid bike over to Eddie’s stupid van.”

Steve shook his head and stood up. “Look, Y/n,” he sighed. “I really don’t want to fight but–”

“Then don’t, Steve. This is not your call to make right now. Just. I need you to trust me okay?”

Steve huffed. “Fine.” before he walked off into a different room.

Nancy slowly came in with a bottle of scotch from her father’s liquor cabinet. “Hey…”

“Shit, Nance. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” you mumbled, sitting back down on the couch.

She shook her head and sat down next to you, uncorking the bottle and handing it over. “How…How long have you guys been together?”

You took the bottle, and took a swig, letting the liquid burn your throat. “God this is awful.” You coughed and laughed a bit with Nancy as she cracked a smile. You offered her the bottle and she gladly took a swig.

“I would also like to know.” Robin piped up, moving and sitting on the floor in front of the both of you. Once Nancy took a swig, she handed it to Robin.

“Oh, fuck. It’s uh…What is it, March?” The girls nodded and you sighed. “A year, give your take.”

Both of their jaws dropped. “I’m sorry what!” Robin’s eyes were wide open. “Since when!”

“Since like February of 85 Rob, get it together.” You took the bottle from her and took another swig.

“Holy shit.” Nancy mumbled, realizing she needed to reevaluate her entire life at this point. “Why didn’t you tell anybody?”

“Well, we had just started dating, right, and we wanted to take it slow really try not to fuck it up, ya know?” You took another swig before handing it back to Robin. “And we were gonna tell everyone but then Starcourt happened and uh. Getting the shit beat out of you by Russian thugs, and being forced into taking a truth telling serum really makes for complicated relationship updates to your friends. And Steve had just graduated and was really trying to figure his shit out—I don't know. Honestly, it never came up, nobody asked.”

Robin took a swig and shoved the bottle into Nancy’s hands. “Well I thought he was just pining after his best friend, who is waayyyyyy out of his league if I’m being so honest right now.”

“Thanks Rob.” Steve mused from the doorway, leaning against the side of it while Eddie just stood there, arms crossed.

“You guys started partying without us I see.” Munson interjected, with a smile on his face.

Robin turned bright red before shaking her head. “Steve I—”

“Don’t apologize. I mean she is quite literally so out of my league, it’s a miracle she even likes me, let alone loves me.”

You sent him a wink, while Eddie and Robin passed a look between the two of them. Nancy just took a slightly longer swig of the alcohol.

“We need to get going.” Nancy mumbled, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

“Is she okay….” Steve whispered to you, coming and offering you his hand to help you stand up.

You shook your head. “She’s been going through a lot lately, and I think she’s trying to figure out all of her feelings. She’ll be okay.”

He kissed your head before looking at the others in the room. "Let's get going then, shall we?"

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Your head was throbbing. It felt like it was split open. One moment you're standing with Steve, watching Nancy climb up the rope, the next you're falling through the air. With a sudden thud, you land on the ground, and scream out in pain. Your leg was so fucking sore, and your whole body ached as you stood up.

You look around and realize you're back in the parking lot where the mall was. You see something laying on the ground further away, watching as the vines around you pulsed. Slowly you took step forward and then another before you left out a gasp. There was Billy, lying just how you remembered him, on the ground. His body was covered in vines and a slug slowly started to crawl out of his mouth. You stumbled away from him, trying not to sob, looking around for anything.

Do you remember what you did, y/n?

You look up towards the sky, trying to find where the voice was coming from. Flashes of your last moments next to Billy as he died in your arms while Max watched.

Or have you already forgotten.

Flashes of Steve’s lips on yours, Max floating in the cemetery.

When I kill someone...

Another of Max sobbing into your chest, Billy's screams in your ear, Steve’s hands on your body.

I never forget.

The Mind Flayer stabbed through Billy’s chest. Blood poured out of his mouth as he looked at you.

Suddenly vines started to over take the parking lot, from all sides. You spun around, panicking, trying to find a way out. You ran past a few cars, ignoring the shocks of pain through your system. Once you had run far enough away, you realized that it was no longer the parking lot of Starcourt.

You were suddenly standing on the staircase of the dilapidated old Creel House. A clock ticks, floating by you, as you slowly start to descend, eyes frantically moving back and forth. Your chest was starting to close up.

I see you've been looking for me Y/N. You were so close. So close to the truth. How was old, blind, dumb Victor.

You reached the bottom of the stairs, and spun around slowly, still trying to locate wherever he was.

Did he miss me? I've been meaning to check back in, but I've been busy.

You look to your right, and there's Chrissy's mangled body, vines clutching it. Her jaw was wide open, her eyes were gone, and you could see the snapped bones.

So very busy.

You watched as a door formed in front of you, the Creel House, except it was brand new. You watched as the little girl walked by you, claiming the house was a fairytale.

You stared at the gaunt little boy in the corner of the foyer, eyes dark.

He watched you back, and your whole body shivered. You slowly followed him through the house, watching as he made his way to the bathroom, and took off the grate. You turned away once you realized what he had been holding in his hand, unable to face something you so grotesquely hate.

Suddenly a boy went past you, and you followed him into the attic. He had created this sort of altar, filled with candles and little jars filled with Black Widows. He was just a child.

You wandered down the stairs, and watched the boy watch the clock in his foyer. The ticking of the clock rang in your ears, and all you could do was stare at this boy. The anger festered and festered and festered.

A shrill scream caught your attention as you turned around, suddenly in the yard, watching as the young boy caught and tortured a bunny. Its screams rang out as he reached out, not touching the animal, and slowly started to destroy it. Your chest was heaving as you ran back into the house, slamming the door closed, not wanting to see another moment.

You watched as a crib, covered in fire, rocked itself in the fireplace, infants screaming all round you. The fire lit uo Henry’s face, eyes closed, moving back and forth underneath his lids.

Suddenly, as you turned around, you heard music. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice rang through the halls.

Stars shining bright above you.

You let out a strangled sob. This was your favorite song. The family sitting at the table was formally dressed up. It must have been a special occasion for all of them to have looked so cleaned up for a family dinner. The Radio started moving between stations even though no one was touching it, but Henry was looking at it.

The lights started to flicker. The radio couldn’t hold down a station. Everyone was suddenly on high alert, trying to figure out what was happening. Your voice was stuck in your throat as you watched the mother float up into the sky, her bones shattering and splintering as her eyes bled. She landed on the table with a thud, causing you to jump back. Vecna has a sliver of blood draining from his nose. You watched as he murdered his sister, and then moved onto his father. Lights flickering. Radio shattering. But then he collapsed on the ground. His father was quickly arrested and blamed for the murders of his wife and daughter.

You watched as this boy was subjected to the tortures of Dr. Martin Brenner. You watched as he was tattooed, branded, with the mark of 001.

“See? Not so bad. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Doctor Brenner said, looking at 001. “Is there Y/N.” His head turned towards you and you took a step back.

Why Don’t you take a seat.

And you ran, You sprinted as quickly as you could to get away fromBrenner, from Vecna. The hallways were filled with the dead bodies of guards, the screams of the children held hostage, the lights flickering. It was carnage. The blood smeared against the walls caused you to just freeze. You tried to run the other way. You tried to run as far as you could.

Steve was screaming in your face. He had both of his hands cupping your cheeks begging you to come back to him, to stay with him. His heart was racing. All he could see were your eyes, rolled back into your head, your body just unresponsive. It was his worst nightmare come true. He screamed at the others to hurry up, just shaking you and begging you to come back to him.

“Please Y/N, fuck. Please, stay with me. Come back to me. I can’t–you need to come back.”

Erica had run into the other room trying to help the rest of the team speed through all of Eddie’s tapes. “Steve says you need to hurry!”

“Yeah no shit!” Yelled back Dustin, while Max screamed that they couldn't find anything useful.

“Seriously what is all this shit.” Robin was just throwing tapes, trying to find the right one.

“What are you even looking for!?” Eddie yelled back.

“Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, Beatles. Music We need MUSIC.” She yelled at him.

“This IS MUSIC!” Eddie screeched back.

You were running as fast as you could through the damp hallways. The walls were never ending and they were painted in blood, so much blood. You had to maneuver around bodies, all the while looking behind you, trying to out run Vacna. Your eyes were stinging from the air of the Upside Down, and your lungs couldn’t keep up. The exit had been nailed shut, covered in boards. Your panic was setting in as you looked around, trying to find any answer. You kicked and pulled at the boards until one came loose. As you got your hands around the second one, a voice came from behind you.

Y/N.

You slowly turned around, shaking. There he was. Vecna was slowly stalking towards you, like a predator watching its prey.

What are you doing? It’s not time for you to leave.

You clutched the door handle, praying to whoever out there that would listen to help you. You keep yanking on the wooden plank. Another one came off as you started to yell. The third one was looser but refused to budge. He kept coming closer to you.

Now that you’ve seen where I’ve been.

And closer.

I would like very much to show you where I am going.

And closer.

You managed to get the final one off before you shoved through the doors, using all of the will power you had left. But suddenly you were no longer in the hallway, it was the same room you had just been looking into.

Dr. Brenner stared at you, eyeless. “Take a seat y/n.”

The lights flickered out, and all you could hear was your breath, terrified to even move.

When the light’s came on, you realized you were strapped to the table. The straps were pulled so tightly, you were starting to lose feelings in your fingers. You struggled against them, unable to be freed. Vines had wrapped around your legs, chittering away as you started to cry, thrashing around, trying to get out of the chair. They were slowly coming up your arms, getting tighter and tighter. You couldn’t move. Vecna was across from you, stalking towards you once more. You couldn’t get out, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t–You couldn’t even think straight. He kept coming closer, and closer and closer. You tensed up, letting out a whimper as he slowly leaned in.

I want you to tell Eleven. I want you to tell her everything you see.

His claw came up over your face and flashes of lights filled your minds. Steve dead in your arms. The town cracking and being swallowed whole. The clock tolled. Your friends screaming your name as Vacna took them one by one. Splits in the earth throughout everything you knew and loved. You screamed out, struggling against him. Another clock chime. More death. More Destruction.

Tell Her.

“No!” You screamed back at him, tears streaming down your face as you continued to struggle. Max dead in your arms. Lucas laying on the floor in front of you. Robin tore to pieces. Cracks in the earth. The clock tolls again. Vines covering your home.

Tell Her Everything.

You scream at the top of your lungs as his claw presses against your face.

You inhale and suddenly stumble back away from Steve’s grasp, tears start to stream down your face, as you collapse to the ground. Steve immediately catches you.

“Woah woah woah. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He cradles you against his chest, as you struggle to breathe, panting and sobbing. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here.”

You stare up into Steve’s eyes, paralyzed, and for the first time, Steve doesn’t know what to do.

#x reader #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington x reader fluff #Steve Harrington x reader angst #Steve Harrington oneshot #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanart #steve harrington fandom #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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chlorinecake · 2 years ago

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Love On A Leash | 심재윤 𓇢𓆸

summary • You offer to dog-sit Jake’s energetic pet border collie as a means to get closer to him. But how will he react when he finds out you forgot to feed her while he was gone?

pairing • next door neighbor!jake x reader • word count • 3.6k genre next door neighbor au, fluff • warnings language, jake and reader have a minor argument, suggestive themes, kissing

YOU FELT LIKE cursing your mother for making you do this.

It was currently 7am as you stood outside your next door neighbor’s front porch with a basket of assorted muffins in hand. The gesture was supposed to be a housewarming gift on behalf of your 'humble community,' your mother tasking you with delivering the treats while she got ready for work although she was already running late.

Your dilemma had nothing to do with her act of kindness, but everything to do with the very moment your dangerously lovesick eyes landed on your new neighbor, Sim Jake.

It goes without saying that he was good-looking, and attractive guys were no more to you than kryptonite is to superman; a crippling weakness. You were already whipped for Jake as is, creating a file filled with all of the things you either learned or observed about him over the past two weeks.

You hadn't even been standing at his porch for 15 seconds before your feet struggled to stay put, tempted to abandon ship and just tell your mom that no one was home.

Maybe he won't even answer, you tried comforting yourself.

What kind of a 20 year old guy would be up this early, anyways?

The door knob twisted as a muffled yawn met your ears, the door creaking open to reveal none other than Jake himself.

He was dressed in his pajamas, sporting a severe case of bedhead that he somehow pulled off.

“Hello?” He said with a groggy yet friendly accent.

“Hi! I’m your next door neighbor's daughter, ____. Here's a welcoming gift from our family to yours,” you forced a smile, handing him the basket.

“Wow, this is really sweet of you guys,” he thanked with a toothy smile, but you stood awkwardly.

“My name is Jake, by the way," he said while giving you a handshake, trying to break the tense physical barrier.

"Glad we could finally meet," you returned, "My mom talks about your family all the time. All good things, of course."

“Yeah, apparently she and my dad knew each other in high school… but now I’m curious. How much do you know?”

“Well, I know you’re from Brisbane and recently moved here for college! Oh, and you’re a huge dog lover, especially of golden retriever’s, like the one you have? Hmm, aren’t you an athlete? I think I’ve seen you in a tracksuit befo-”

“Those are all things about me, silly, not my family,” he giggled, running a hand through his locks.

Buzz.

Jake set the basket down on the table behind him, reaching in his pocket to analyze whatever just popped up on his phone screen. You wondered if he had a girlfr-

"Hm," he hummed, taking a step back into his house.

"I should get going now. Thanks again for the gift! I hope to see you around more often.”

“Well, its not like we can really avoid each other, anyways,” you said, drawing his attention to the brief distance between your two houses.

He blushed at the realization, "Give me a break, ____, I’m not usually up this early. And for the record, Layla’s a border collie!" He exclaimed before closing the door.

Updated Mental Note: (1) Jake’s dad knew your mom in high school, (2) Jake isn’t a morning person, (3) Jake’s dog is a border collie [confirmed].

Surprisingly, that interaction wasn't nearly as painful as you expected it to be.

Jake was chill.

Attractive, yes, but somehow, you survived. Trailing back from his porch to your house, you walked inside to find your mother fastening a pair of heels around her ankles before standing up to meet you. “How do I look? Is my hair okay? Wait, tell me, what did they say about the muffins?”

“You look great, mom! And their son answered, but he said he really appreciated it.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Alright, sweetie! Duty calls! I’ll see you at dinner!”

“See ya,” you waved before closing the door.

JAKE’S DAD HAD started giving him a hard time concerning the dog. After summer, Jake was busy most of the time with soccer practice and school, and so with two working parents, it was hard to keep up with Layla’s random outbursts.

“You either find someone to watch her or she’s going to the pound!” His dad scowled while picking up a few pillows that Layla chewed holes into. “She’s been with us for years, and even now after the move, Dad! We can’t just give her up for acting like a dog! She’s getting used to this change, too,” Jake argued back while sweeping up a pile of kibble she knocked over.

“I hear what you’re saying, but make sure you consider what I’ve said. I’m not sure how much longer your mother and I can take this.”

A few minutes after their conversation, Jake decided to go and play catch with Layla in the front yard.

“Come here girl, come here! Stop? Sit? Good doggy,” he praised, ruffling the fur on her back before giving her a treat. You were walking home from the bus stop when Jake pointed to one of the tennis balls Layla forget to fetch which you ended up tripping over, the books you were carrying now joining you on the pavement.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay!?” Jake said running over to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you spoke for your physical being as emotionally, you were an embarrassed wreck.

He helped you gather your textbooks and journals, “You’ll probably wanna put these in here.” He smiled, handing you the bag he used to carry Layla’s outdoor toys.

“No really, it’s alright, Jake. I should’ve brought my backpack with me.”

“No, I insist. Think if it as payment for the muffins,” he encouraged, neatly putting the books in the bag before tying it closed. Layla was busy bouncing around the two of you, trying to get Jake’s attention. A glint of playfulness sparkled in his eyes.

“Wanna try throwing the ball?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. Last time I tried something like that, I ended up having to replace a few things I could hardly afford.” Jake laughed at your honesty, taking your hand in his before closing your fingers around the ball. “Just give it a shot. Prove me wrong,” he winked.

You looked down bashfully, giving in while warming up your shoulders, “You might wanna stand back a bit unless you like getting hit in the balls.”

He giggled again, walking back a few steps, “You’re being too hard on yourself, silly! Just throw it!”

Taking a deep breath, you launched the tennis ball an impressive distance away from you, the excited cream dog chasing after it. “Holy shit! You’ve got the arm of a pro, ____!” Jake exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“Now, when she comes back, you give her this treat.” “With my hand?” “Of course! Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”

In a matter of seconds, Layla was already running back to you, dropping the drool-covered ball from her mouth before eating the dog biscuits from your hand, the texture of her tongue tickling your palm. “Good girl,” Jake chirped as he met you and Layla on the ground.

“How’d you come up with her name?”

“Layla? Hmm. I’ve never had someone ask me that before,” he admitted, moving to sit crisscross applesauce. “Let’s see… when I was a kid, my inspiration was pretty corny.”

“Corny can be cute sometimes,” you smiled.

“Well, when my family adopted her, she didn’t have a name yet. One of my favorite songs back then was Eric Clapton’s “Layla,” so I figured that’s what she’d be called.”

“Aww! That’s adorable!”

“You probably think everything I do is adorable.”

It was like a cat caught your tongue, leaving you speechless at his comment.

“Kidding,” he smiled, nudging your shoulder before a sad look waved over his features.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “It’s my dad. He wants me to get rid of Layla.”

“But why? Isn’t she like family to you?”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he thinks she’s only become a burden now that I’m not around as much,” he frowned, watching Layla chase herself around a tree. “The pound’s not a place for a dog like Layla.”

You sat in thought, thinking of ways to comfort Jake that didn’t involve touching him. Then it hit you.

“I can dog-sit her for you.”

His eyes widened in shock at your offer, resembling a cute puppy, “You'd seriously do that for me? Do you have experience?”

“Obviously,” you scoffed dishonestly, “look how comfortable we are with each other. I’m a natural at this.”

“Wow, I really appreciate this. I’ll pay you fifteen dollars per hour starting tomorrow from 11am to 3pm, and then-“

“Jake, I don’t want your money," you giggled, not even realizing that your hand rested on his exposed thigh, "I just wanna help.”

He smiled, “Okay, then. But if you ever feel like backing out, don't hesitate to let me know! Trust me, I won't be disappointed, Layla can be a handful.”

“Gotchya,” you replied, tossing another tennis ball for his dog to fetch, “How should I contact you?”

“Uhhh, I’ll just give you my phone number. Do you have a pen with you?”

“Yeah, right here,” you said, handing him the pen from your pocket.

Jake wrote his number on your wrist. “Perfect,” he chirped, rubbing a thumb over the writings.

“I’ll text you my schedule and everything once I hear from you again, see you around, neighbor!”

“See you!” You returned, both of you going back to your respective houses, the bliss of each other still fresh on your faces.

TO YOUR LUCK, your first day as a dog-sitter was going swimmingly well so far. Jake outlined a simple list of things for you to follow while he was away, tasks ranging from dog-walks to bathroom breaks making up most of the next few hours of your day.

Before Jake left, all you could remember was him saying something about a bag of dog food either in the fridge or pantry, but you were too distracted by the grey sweatpants he wore to successfully pay attention. So, you improvised by intuition.

What would I eat if I was a dog, you asked yourself, searching for any cooked proteins in Jake's fridge, only to find a pack of bacon bits.

Hmm, this could work.

Layla was waiting for her meal patiently by her empty feeding bowl as you moved to explore the pantry, pulling out a few marshmallows and graham crackers to add to the mix. Pouring the contents into her bowl, you gave her a few head scratches before she dove in, munching up every last bite.

"Looks like I've created a culinary masterpiece," you smiled, "I'll call it "____'s Canine Trail Mix," approved by the likes of Sim Layla and many more."

JAKE SHOWED UP about twenty minutes later, greeting you before asking about Layla.

"Everything went great," you beamed, taking him to the couch she laid tiredly on.

“What’s wrong with her? Did she just wake up from a nap?”

“I don't know, I just got out of the bathroom.”

“Did you walk her?”

“Of course, for two hours like you said.”

“Hmm. Did she play with her toys at all?”

“A little bit, but she didn’t seem interested after eating."

“Maybe you gave her too much food. How many scoops of kibble did she get?”

“What?" You asked, initially confused at the mentioning of kibble until you remembered what Jake was trying to tell you before he left: Layla gets 2 scoops of kibble for lunch with a few sausages from the fridge.

“How much food did you give Layla?” He repeated.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed her.”

His jaw dropped, “You’re joking.”

"Well, I did feed her, but I forgot about the kibble. I gave her a bowl of bacon bits, graham crackers, and marshmallows instead."

Jake paced back and forth, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "What kind of a person with 'dog experience' decides to feed them marshmallows of all things? A whole ass bowl full?”

"I'm not following," you admitted timidly.

"Connect the dots, would ya?" He spat, trying to control his breathing.

"How was I supposed to know dogs can’t eat marshmallows?"

"Dog's don't eat common human foods, ____, that’s a no-brainer! I thought you said you had experience with this kind of thing," he frowned, meeting Layla on the couch to comfort her aching state.

You kept your distance from him, "I lied to you, Jake. I’m an amateur when it comes to this stuff."

He scoffed disappointedly, "Why would you lie about something like that, ____?"

"I- I just…I wanted to help you! You seemed really upset about the whole thing with your dad and I- it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

"Well, for future reference, lying never helps."

You swallowed the dryness that grew in your throat, "I’m really sorry, Jake. Is there anything that I can do to help? Maybe get her some medicine?"

"No, ____, you’ve done enough already. I’ll see you around."

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you simply grabbed your things and walked towards the door, the sounds of Layla's guttural wrenching making you cringe in shame and disgust.

Updated mental note: (1) Dogs can’t eat marshmallows, (2) Lying never fixes situations, (3) Jake probably hates you now [pending confirmation]

IT WAS A few days after the dog-sitting situation when you were studying on your front lawn, completely mesmerized by the view of Jake as he worked out in his garage. You felt guilty for ogling after everything that happened, but you couldn't fight your hormonally induced urges.

He was pushing out his third set of bench presses, fluffy brown hair framing his cheekbones. He screwed his eyes shut from the intensity, biting his lower lip as he tried to push through the resistance of his fatigue arms.

He glanced over quickly as sweat started to drip in his eyes. You stared back at him like a deer in the headlights at the realization that you’d been caught peeking. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, struggling to handle the weight. “__-____?!” He stuttered your name breathlessly, losing his grip. “JAKE!”

You ran faster than your legs have ever carried you, adrenaline kicking in as you slid the left weight off of the rod, jumping onto his lap to avoid the iron disc from smashing your foot. “Ugh,” he groaned in relief as you reached to slide the other weight off, unintentionally pressing yourself into him.

That sound might replay in your mind forever.

Gripping the rod in your hand, you looked down to see both your own and Jake’s veiny hands holding onto the pole for dear life. Then you looked down, realizing that you were sitting straight on his bulge.

“Oh my God, sorry!” You yelped, leaping off of his sweaty frame. He giggled at your apology, feeling embarrassed himself but for different reasons.

“It’s alright, ____, you probably just saved my life there,” he said, now sitting up on the bench. He gave you a look before continuing. “Why were you stalking me?”

“Me? I-“

“I’m not upset, or anything. Did you wanna tell me something?”

“No, I was just… I didn’t mean to-"

Layla's barking from inside the house cut you off mid sentence. You were just now noticing the pink paint stains on his shirt, a few drops decorating the private area of his sweatpants.

Similarly to a puppy, Jake forgot all about what you were just talking about, getting up to fix the equipment. “You’re really fast, y’know? What other secret athletic talents do you have?”

You smiled awkwardly, “Well, if you ever tried tickling me, I might become a professional kickboxer.”

Jake laughed at your joke like he always did. You swore that if he blessed your ears with his beautiful laugh one more time, you might explode.

“Maybe you should spot me sometime,” he said, fastening the ring weight back on the rod.

Your eyes fell to the paint stains on his paints. “I’m sorry?”

“Spot me. Like when I’m weightlifting. You seem pretty keen to watching out for me, anyways.”

You could feel heat rushing through every part of your body. “Of course, anything for a neighbor,” you smiled, trying to redirect his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

Layla barked even louder this time, Jake sighing before heading to his garage door. For some reason you followed him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m washing white clothes, so if you have anything light colored on, throw it in the machine,” Jake’s mom yelled from the kitchen at the sound of him entering the house.

“Alright,” he called back, taking off his sweaty white t-shirt and tossing it into the washer. He reached over to press a few buttons on the machine, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement. He trailed from the washroom, you still following closely behind.

“It’s a maze in here,” you said, marveling at how big his house was.

“I feel the same way sometimes,” he giggled, taking your hand in his to guide you.

You just remembered that he came in here to look for Layla, so you listened out, trying to help him find her.

“Oh,” you said, stopping Jake in his tracks as you pointed to a four legged shadow running around underneath a closed door, “she’s right here.”

He turned, “What? How’d she get in my bedroom?” Jake walked towards the door, twisting the handle to reveal Layla chasing her tail in a circle.

“You’re so silly, Layla,” he smiled, running a hand through her thick blonde fur. “She’s doing such much better now,” you commented, meeting Jake and his dog on the floor.

“Yeah, she was totally fine after getting that stuff out of her system. Don't worry, though, she told me she forgives you," he smiled.

"And what about you?"

"Of course, ____. I don't think I could over hold a grudge against you."

Layla hopped on your lap, licking at your hands. You would’ve been grossed out if it wasn’t Jake’s dog. Her tongue tickled your palms as she panted in excitement, “I wish I had this much energy on a daily basis,” you beamed, Jake returning a grin himself.

“I think she just really likes you,” he replied. “With all of those kisses, you must taste pretty nice.”

“Maybe you’ll have to try sometime,” you said, not even realizing how suggestive your comment was. Jake grabbed a random tennis ball from the floor before tossing it out of the room, “Go fetch,” he ordered, Layla chasing after the ball.

A sparkle twinkled in his eye before he lead your face towards his by your chin. He noticed that you looked nervous, but decided to take his chances and kiss you anyway, all of your nerves melting away at the softness of his lips. You felt his hand grip at the side of your neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Kicking your foot, you closed the door slightly, falling on your back for him to take the lead. His lips broke from yours with a pop as your cold hands snuck around his bare waist. He hummed at the feeling, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

His breath was so hot against your skin, sweet sounds escaping your mouth from all the action. That’s when you two heard Layla trailing back to his room, returning to the positions you were sat in before Layla left. She barged through the door, slobbery tennis ball between her jaws as she dropped before Jake. “Good girl,” he cheered, fluffing at her fur.

You felt the aftermath of your kiss like a wave, exhausting yet refreshing.

You felt Jake.

His kiss was like water, crashing and roaring, yet emotional and gentle. You couldn’t tell, but he still felt a wave that hit him, too.

He felt you.

Your hands modest and shy, yet your lips eager and passionate.

Layla barked for what sounded like her loudest one thus far. “I’ve gotta go walk Layla,” Jake said, sounding happy yet simultaneously like he’d rather be doing something else. Fastening a leash around Layla's collar, he trailed out of his room. You reached on his dresser and grabbed a shirt for him to wear on his way out.

His mom was no longer in the kitchen, but you decided to be polite anyways. “Bye, Mrs. Sim!” You could hear her returning the salutation from some part of the maze-like house, making your heart feel warm. Jake walked through garage and stopped at the driveway, having locked all the doors before exiting the house.

“Thanks for stopping by, ____,” he smiled, flashing you a look so intense, you might fall over. “Anytime,” you returned, handing him the shirt you’d been carrying. You don’t know when it happened, but you didn’t feel awkward in front of his shirtless frame anymore. “Aww,” he giggled, “I didn’t even realize I was still shirtless.”

He was so puppy-like that you couldn't help but adore him. Layla starting running, Jake loosing grip of her leash while distracted by you. “Layla!” He called after her before running to catch up himself.

“I gotta go now. Bye, ____!” He yelled as he ran after his excited dog. “Bye, Jake,” you called out while waving, even though he didn’t see you.

You walked back to your house, talking your shoes off at the front door before heading upstairs to your bedroom. You knew you didn’t wanna leave Jake's side yet, but you had other things to work on at home in the meantime.

Things like sharing with your diary that you and Sim Jake just kissed.

𐂯‎ This piece was created to mark TODAY, my official first month on as a Tumblr creator!!!! Thank you all so much for reading this piece! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it :3

𐂯 Feel free to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

𐂯‎ Taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @yngwife @sussyjake @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @stinkoscope @03sunoos @4imhry @rickysblkgf

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