#but he's desperate and scared and thinks he's out of options

[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary_ He pushed you away some time ago. You forgave him, but Miguel realizes intentions don’t mean much and he wants you back.

Warnings_ age gap! (I’m 20, Miguel is around 28-31, bear with me), angst, fluff.

A/N_ this is The Craving from Twenty One Pilots, I loved the new album. and imgonnagetyouback from Taygod Swift, BOTH IN MY MIGUEL PLAYLIST🩷

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

_____________

Waves of silence crash all over the Spider Society. Miguel O’Hara had just told Miles Morales that he had to let his father die to protect canon. Your guts twist in an odd feeling, you feel a bad omen. The chase had been tough, your insecurity playing with your head as you knew Miles had the right to choose his destiny.

Canon had been fair with you, offering you light problems compared to others. So you wished every spider had the same destiny as yourself.

Now seeing that Miles was gone thanks to the “Go Home Machine”, you couldn’t let Gwen to follow the same path.

“Miguel… you can’t send Gwen home. She’s vital for this.” You say quickly stepping up against the man who was intimidating the sixteen-year-old girl.

“I don’t need more problems than we already have. I restate… she’s a liability” Gwen pleads you with scared eyes. You gasp, running out of options to calm the angered man.

“You gave me a second chance too, I was once a novice like her” Miguel huffs, looking at you with much impatience.

“Yes, and you learned from that, never committing an error again.” Gwen is picked and caged inside the machine, she starts panicking and you too. In an act of desperation, you grab Miguel from his forearm, making him turn to look down at you. His crimson-red eyes stare at you with such hostility that you know you have to be careful to choose the right words.

“This is not right. You are not thinking clearly. Miles and Gwen deserve better” Your gaze moves between him and Gwen, hoping Miguel would agree and let the girl stay.

“Miguel, please…”

“THIS IS ABSURD, Y/N!… CANON HAS GIFTED YOU WITH MUCH LUCK, YOU CAN’T EXPECT EVERY PERSON HERE TO RUN WITH THE SAME FATE. BE REALISTIC, RESPONSIBLE, AND INTELLIGENT FOR ONCE!” As he attacks, Gwen is gone. Another round of silence invades the place, but this is worse. Your eyes open in shock after hearing Miguel.

He can’t be fixed. He won’t change. It’s time to go and follow what you think it’s correct.

You eye Jess and Peter, they seem like they have some things to say but remain quiet.

Miguel finally looks delicately at you and notices your eyes are watering. The awkwardness is very loud, your blush letting everyone know you are embarrassed.

You won’t say anything about it. You just look back at Miguel for a second, before opening a portal in your gizmo, doing the same as Hobie Brown did; quitting.

“I really thought you would get it…” Your gizmo fell to the ground as you disappeared, the screen of it cracking and leaving Miguel a little stunned by your decision. He sighed, knowing he had screwed it, but confident that his intentions were correct.

That night, after a quick patrol, when you returned home, you took a quick shower to wash away all the pain and bitter taste of the day you had. But when you came back, there was a little present wrapped in newspaper that wasn’t from your earth. You unwrapped it, revealing a homemade gizmo. You grabbed the little note attached.

We need you

-Hobbie

You would do things right. And you didn't care if you had to fight with old friends or colleagues. Especially Miguel.

…

The seasons had changed so fast. By the time summer ended, the leaves were already drying and many people had left, by winter and the snow falling over, others came back. But you stayed the same.

You had the same suit, with upgrades and chrome instead of golden details, but it was the same. Your earth was well controlled, with no sign of the villains that used to terrorize your city. All the smiles you offered were the same. All the laughing with Peter B. Parker, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, and Miles was the same. Yet, something had changed between you and Miguel O’Hara.

The man knew the perspective people had of him would change after the events of last summer when he put the lives of Miles and many others at risk. He let his fears win and while he tried to protect everything, he was only pushing it towards the edge, dooming the fate of the multiverse. You were on his side at the beginning, claiming that canon was sacred and couldn’t be changed. But the image of Miles, his face full of fear and anxiety, unsure and terrified of his future. He was a kid, he had no idea of anything. He made you question if canon events could change. Either way, the kid was more than enough to draw you worried. Destiny could be wrong, so you decided to help Miles. Your decisions had consequences? Yes. The moment you left the building of the Spider Society, you started to miss everything. In your mind, you were almost assured Miguel didn’t care about you, but deep down, your heart said the opposite. Ending with a drift that seemed invisible at the beginning. But now, a year later, it was more than clear.

The change was something you could get used to. Your work remained the same, with Jess and Peter. B Parker. Your missions only turned more fun with the addition of Miles and Gwen permanently returning like you. Gatherings at Peter’s each Saturday remained the same. But all the awkwardness of the spiderverse invaded you when Miguel O’Hara came into the picture.

After all, you two had gone on a date the day before you met Gwen at her earth while capturing the Renaissance vulture. He asked you out, and you said yes. It was a lovely afternoon and he even visited your home. What started as a mentorship from him, blossomed into a friendship and then as a “almost something”. Which hurt worse.

It all started with you walking away. Briefings were cautiously heard by you, even staying after for further questions. Jess asked you to hand the mission details to everyone when Hobbie and Miles came to talk about a concert you were going to with Gwen and Margo when Miguel came and started asking about a new gizmo coming soon. Everyone noticed you grew quiet and soon after you were gone.

Then, you stopped asking to go on missions with him, Ben, and his usual party. When you were recruited, Miguel was annoyed but pleased to have you along. It happened that one day, you blew things off accidentally, making him extremely angry. Your web shooter failed and you almost missed it to save a baby. Nonetheless, you quickly were ranked higher thanks to your abilities.

All of your friends could see how your small friendship with your boss had suddenly evaporated. And Miguel couldn’t blame you. After all, he was the one yelling in your face when you argued in favor of Gwen when she was sent home. Miguel could remember he almost made you cry, leaving you completely embarrassed in front of everyone. He felt terrible seconds after you left, but he soon went to the earth of Miles with Ben and Jess. Eventually, when the man learned you were silently helping the kid and the ones who had left his side, he didn’t say anything. In the final moments, Miguel knew he had to side with the teenager and help to get rid of The Spot. And when the chaos was over, he wished he had the right to celebrate it with you.

The aftermath changed him, over the months, he even thanked you for trying to make him see the reality from the beginning, and he apologized. But that night, he understood that you had forgiven him, but remained hurt.

Either way, Miguel had to deal with the consequences of his acts and sort the way things would work for the sake of everyone’s canon. Yet, in the middle of the night, he constantly remembered you.

Out of nowhere, Miguel O’Hara was accepting that he missed you. And acknowledging that fact, only made him accept he had some feelings towards you. Which scared him for sure. But after losing his daughter, almost losing all he had built for spiders like him, after feeling so isolated, Miguel lounged to have a partner. He craved the love of someone. And had found it. He just wished he had done things differently.

Jessica knew Miguel so much that she easily solved the mystery. On a random Monday, she bombarded him with questions that soon made Miguel spit out he was attracted to you. She suggested the man slowly try to talk to you. Nothing was lost, there was hope. The woman had her theories about you never getting over that crush on Miguel. She often had caught you staring at him, staring too much for later to avoid him. Jess knew you were protecting your own heart.

“Miguel?” She asks.

So there he was, Miguel was sitting in the cafeteria, taking a big bite of his empanada de picadillo. He could taste the shredded beef, potato, carrot, jalapeños, and mushrooms freshly mixed with spices.

“Yes?…” The insides of the empanada are burning his tongue and he doesn’t mind.

“I asked if you assigned today’s missions?” He nods. With a quick glance at his surroundings, he huffs at the sight of the hamburger with the face of his mask still being served. The cafeteria is full and he hates all of the voices speaking at the same time. He has to wear sunglasses because the place is full of light, and it hurts his eyes. Why is everyone still eating a hamburger with his mask on the bun?

“Are we lunching here because perhaps you want to see when a certain female spider appears?” Miguel rolls his eyes. Some days, he loves Jess and knows about his feelings for you because she grants him free therapy. But other days, he hated it because Jess knew how to mess with him. Like now…

“Oh…Hi y/n!” Miguel looks at Jess panicked, but soon feels relived that his sunglasses are dark enough to cover his blown wide eyes. You appeared there. Upside down, of course, Miguel notices how your hair hangs freely, and he isn’t sure if it’s longer, or it’s just the gravity.

“Hey, Jess. I just came to drop this file with Miguel. Lyla said he wasn’t in his office” You say calm. He notices you have your mask on, but you’re definitely not looking at him. He takes the folder from your hand and stays there looking at you. You seem awkward but remain relaxed.

“That’s from my morning patrol, you asked for a report. I’m leaving with Hobbie and Pav now…” you add. And you can see how Jess keeps glancing back and forth between you and Miguel. Was she hiding something from you?.

“Okay… guess I’m leaving now…” you only sigh when no one answers.

“Get back safe, please,” Jess says as you are already far away from them.

“Thanks” you answer without looking back. Soon you open a portal at the entrance of the cafeteria and you’re gone. That’s when Jess comes back to her friend, side-eyeing him.

“Really? You couldn’t even say ‘thank you” or “good luck”?” Miguel sighs, dropping his empanada and relaxing his shoulders. He knew he had to say things to you to get back to normal.

“I know… I just… I don’t know how to start this” Jess smiled. In the end, even when Miguel was a 6’9 tall man with the title of founder of the Spider Society and creator of the Gizmo, he was a silent and certified emotion avoider.

“She forgave you for last summer and all. But this is now, she’s also awkward about you. She’s also unsure if you want to talk to her…” Miguel leaned closer, interested and equally anxious.

“She said that?” Jess shrugged while taking a bite of her French fries.

“It came out very vaguely. But for sure she’s also a mess for you”

“What? Did she also say that?” Jess giggles at him, only sipping from her soda.

“Maybe you could start sending flowers or letters, Romeo” Miguel huffs, wondering if his friend actually knew something or not.

Jess wanted to lock you two in a room and hopefully, when she opened the door, Spiderman 2099 would have a prospective lover.

…

With another college semester ended and a driving anxiety, summer was a relaxing time for you to spend in your room. Painting your toenails, you were singing at your CD player playing one of your favorite songs. Your family was gone, so you could be letting your feet dry walking upside down in your ceiling. Suddenly, your gizmo beeped and it was a deleted message from Miguel. You frowned and almost screamed. Probably he sent something to you by accident and then he deleted it. But you had an omen. So you called Jess, she answered with a long and mean “what?”, she must’ve been watching some movie with her husband.

“Miguel sent me a message and proceeded to delete it before I could read it?” You didn't mean to sound so fast and desperate, but you did.

“Slow down, girl. But… he deleted it?” Actually, she had been sleeping, her toddler being a little bolt that demanded a lot of her time even with her husband there.

“Exactly… Odd, Right?”

“Coming from Miguel? Sure it is. But… I think it’s time you try to talk to him too, y/n. Maybe he’s awkward about what happened last summer and doesn’t know how to approach you” Jess wants to scream that Miguel likes you too, but she can’t ruin it.

“ I feel like Miguel doesn’t even care I distanced myself from him. But when I see him, my heart starts beating so fast, and my hands sweat.” She laughs and lets out a long “eww”.

“You hide it very well. But you’re very cold, it doesn’t help. I have to admit you also might need to try….”

“Jess, I’d end up bursting out that I’m in lo-“You immediately stop, Jess lets out a surprised groan.

“MISS Y/N, YOU LOVE HIM?”

“Goodnight, Jessica” You go straight to bed, ignoring the deleted message and everything regarding Miguel.

But Jess and her questions keep popping up in your head.

Could it be possible that you were actually in love with Miguel?

…

“So my teacher said my essay was lacking everything, it was marked with red all over,” Miles says walking beside you, both of you are done for the day with the missions. You were almost infected by some poisonous lizard that was haunting earth-2407.

“Did you actually make the corrections?”

“I did-“ you side-eye him.

“Well, not all of them but-“ you two are just walking around with no destination secured. So when you two pass by the training center, Miles literally pushes you towards the stairs that lead to the balcony of said center. He gestures to you to keep hushed before turning to see the couple speaking; Miguel and Jess.

“We shouldn’t be hearing them” you remind him, not wanting to get caught, especially by Miguel.

“Jess banned me from the 10th floor because I was disturbing everyone. Gwen was with me and she received no punishment, bro” the teenager whispered. At sixteen, Miles had grown impossibly taller, almost like Peter B. Parker and Noir. Even Gwen was taller, everyone was taller. But at least you weren’t the same height as Penny or Peter Porker.

“Maybe because Jess is training her yet?”

“So? That’s nepotism” You want to laugh but he shushes you again. So you turn to see Miguel and Jess training.

The man was extremely sweating and Jess too. You never reached the same level of training simulations as them, thinking it was unnecessarily violent and fast-paced.

“Keep Gwen and Miles out of my lair. I’m tired of catching them trying to make new suits from themselves”

“They don’t even know how to work the machine, relax” the woman bites back.

“So? It’s annoying”

“It’s also annoying that I have Lego Spiderman and y/n printing random pictures at my office” The mention of your name makes you blush, remembering the print of Peter B. Parker with a big red font saying “Have you seen this man in your dreams?” It was very funny among the coworkers and every time Peter saw it, he would start complaining from all the bullying he had to endure.

“Don’t get y/n on this. I can’t even stand her now” You swear you can feel your heart shattering. Miles turns to look at you, encountering your sad expression.

“Y/n…” the boy tries to soothe you, but you just shake your head.

“I think I’m going home, Miles” you whisper to him, leaving soon after.

Your eyes water as you walk away from the training center, many fellows stare confused at your sadness. But you ignore them as you open a portal towards home.

And when you are in the safety of your earth, you are not ready to go to your pillow to cry. So you start swinging between skyscrapers and buildings just to clear off your mind.

You knew it was a mistake from the beginning to start developing feelings for Miguel O’Hara. Then he invited you to that damn date. Such a fun day till he had to yell in your face that you were privileged and shouldn’t be stupid ignorant. Now he seemed to have left the issue behind, after his apology. And you forgave him, even letting your feelings for him float around. But if he didn’t want you back at the society? Why did he call? Why did he offer the gizmo again?

He was an asshole.

Meanwhile, Miles stayed a little longer, hearing more of the conversation.

“Just tell y/n to stop using my printer” Jess pleaded.

“Nah, I won’t tell her,” Miguel says smirking. The woman training with him rolls her eyes annoyed.

“Just because she’s your impossible crush doesn’t mean she can have the privilege to print stupid things at my place” Miles gasped, thinking what Jess said was a joke.

“You can use my printer, so I don’t have to say anything to my girl,” Miguel said and Miles was officially shocked. He had to tell you everything the next day.

…

Two days later, the overheard talk is somehow forgotten. Miles tries to mention it occasionally but you brush him off. You have your head centered on Mayday, the two-year-old toddler walking beside you across the hallways of the Spider Society. Peter completely trusted you to leave his child with your babysitting.

“Where did you leave your ribbon, Mayday?” The little girl giggles. She has a dress of flowers and sneakers, making her look very adorable with her long disheveled hair.

“Don’t know” she babbles. Peter would be mad since it was the third pair being lost in the week.

Mayday clumsily waddles, giggling as you keep searching around for that ribbon. Even though the floors are mysteriously always clean and shiny, you can’t see the damn ribbon.

When you walk slightly away from the little girl to look down on a bench, you hear a little yelp from her and when you turn back, you see Mayday on the floor and then she starts crying.

“Oh fuck me…” you whisper, running to grab the kid and start calming her. You carry her in your arms as you sit on the bench.

“It’s okay, Mayday. It was only a little slip, but you are okay” She starts hearing your voice and her cries turn to sniffles, feeling protected when you hug her and gently brush her hair.

“Daddy won’t like looking at you crying. He wants to see you laughing and happy. You are fine, see?” The kid nods brushing away the tears.

“Now give me a smile. You were very brave!” mayday smiles brightly and you chuckle.

“That’s the Mayday I know!” The kid laughs at your way of entertaining her. When you turn towards the hallway to see if Peter is back, you almost drop Mayday again.

Miguel was there, looking at the interaction.

“I found the ribbon,” he says walking towards you and the girl. His expression is very neutral, and you can’t see the way Miguel’s hand is shaking slightly.

“Miguel!” Mayday greets the tall man with a smile, asking him to be in his arms. They both had grown closer. After all, Miguel had been around Mayday since she was born. You appeared when Mayday was 10 months old.

“Hey, kid” you let him take the girl, then you accept the ribbon from his free hand. You barely touch him but your lungs are dry and your stomach is a mess like a powerful tsunami. Nonetheless, your face shows the contrary.

“Thanks. Peter was growing annoyed by how many ribbons this little girl had missed.”

“I know. And you handled very well the situation back there…” he admits, recalling the little slip of Mayday. Miguel sees a little blush in your face, it lights up his hopes.

“Thanks…” you awkwardly say, standing up to try to reach the little girl.

Miguel leans slightly to let you tie the ribbon on Mayday’s hair and he’s able to smell your perfume of figs and brown sugar. He also sees the little golden seashell pendant hanging on your necklace. He smiles when he realizes you are avoiding his gaze. And when you’re done, both stare at each other, with many questions, but silence reigns. Both of your hearts racing with a tormented passion.

“Y/n… I feel like we need to talk about-“

Miguel grows quiet when Peter appears running in the middle of the hallway.

You don’t even catch what he said, you turn relieved to see Peter was back.

“Oh boy, we are late for her passport appointment. M.J.’s gonna kill me” You giggle at his drama. Miguel is still there behind you, he rolls his eyes making Mayday laugh.

“She will understand. And thanks for the ribbon, Miguel” The little girl is back in his father’s arms and you quickly start following them, too nervous to stay with Miguel alone.

The man just stays there seeing how you leave, and he sighs, taking a long breath. His intentions are not enough. His little efforts are nothing to reach you, it makes the craving he feels to be corresponded by you even bigger.

As for you, you feel a great heartache. Half of you feel very nervous, because it seems like some days Miguel wants to talk to you, and other days he wants to say he’s tired of you. What a confusing and fucked up situation.

…

He gives two steps forward, like five steps back. Miguel is standing at the entrance of the terrace in the building of the Spider Society, debating whether to go and talk to you or not. He even prepared a few things to say, hoping to not scare you away, more than you already were. While he knew he couldn’t just scream out he was in love with you, he could try to mend the breach built between you two.

It’s getting late in Earth-928, and a lot of spiders are leaving their home. It’s Saturday and a lot of them have plans with their families, partners, and friends. Miguel is set to have another lonely weekend doing some patrol. But for now, he’s still there, watching you seated on the rooftop of the building, eating some chicken and avocado tacos from the cafeteria. Miguel wants to laugh when he catches a glimpse of some avocado dropping from your taco. You set the plate aside and look down, letting out a little “yikes”, Heaven knows what or who would end up getting a piece of avocado from the sky.

He’s not ready. Miguel curses himself for being a big overthinker. He’s able to fight the most callous and evil villains from different dimensions. But he’s unable to say “Sorry, I was an asshole. Can we try it again?… Oh, and I love you”. Perhaps it was his anxiety or panic, but Miguel swears his gizmo beeped, so he walks away, going down the stairs, feeling his heartbeats returned to normality.

Each step he takes is filled with greetings, comments, warnings, notices, and more from different spiders. He sends spider plushie and Penny to work in a minor anomaly and finally, he closes the door of his office.

There’s a mess of papers around. Miguel suddenly remembers someone… Gabriella. He’s happy that his trauma is slowly fading away. He was officially healing and had accepted his daughter had also forgiven him. Miguel could rest knowing his errors were sealed.

And just as he was about to play some of the recorded memories he had, Lyla appeared.

“The whole gang is coming” she blurted out with her usual cocky smile.

“Tell them I’m busy, Lyla”

“But they’re already here” The AI had a new pair of fucsia heart sunglasses and coat. Which seemed to have made her more stubborn. Miguel sighed, turning off his monitors.

“MIGUEL!” the man heard the annoying voice of Peter B. Parker and sighed. When he turned around, he saw the whole club; Peter without Mayday, Hobie, Pav, Margo, Miles and Gwen.

“What is it now?” he looks down at them from his platform and is already irritated by their presence. Even after a year of changes, they were a group of teenagers and Peter.

“Well… uh-“ Gwen starts, but soon pushes Peter forward, encouraging him to speak up instead of her.

“Uh… Miguel, we know you hate us for wandering about your private life and we respect it. But we feel like you need to talk to y/n about her position here.” As Peter talks, he has Miguel’s whole attention.

“And why is that?” He sounds reluctant, but he grows anxious.

“She said she doesn’t feel the same as it was when she was recruited. That you confuse her with your behavior towards her” Margo answers for Peter, with a better choice of words, of course.

“As the leader of this team, we just want you to remind her that she’s welcome and that you want her here. Because you want her here, right?” Peter adds, Miguel crosses his arms.

He needs you, actually.

“I’m not sure I’m the most adequate person to tell her that,” Miguel replies.

“Oh, you have to be kidding. She heard you and Jess. At the training center…” Gwen speaks again, Miguel is shocked, even terrified of you hearing you were his girl.

“How much?” Miguel asks with that well-known tone of anger and fully intentional intimidation.

“Well…” Peter said.

“HOW MUCH?, POR DIOS!” Miguel yelled exasperated.

“She left when you said you couldn’t stand her,” Miles confirmed to him, making him sigh. Trying to get you back was only getting trickier than expected.

“Yeah… I don’t think chicks want to be neglected twice” Hobie speaks for the first time, mocking Miguel.

“Hobbie, not helping here” Margo scolds him whispering.

“At least I’m trying to pull one out” Miguel fires back making everyone bite their tongue to avoid laughing. Because Hobbie Brown didn’t have the best history search with girls.

“Hey no, stop. The point here is that you need to talk to her. I accidentally heard everything” Miles speaks up, walking forward toward Miguel.

The man only pinches the bridge of his nose, cringed that the teenager had to listen.

“I’m pretty sure she feels something too” Miguel hated that Miles had to be a wise kid, frequently reminding him of his errors and making him realize there were always other options.

“She must hate me.”

“No, y/n just needs to know how you actually feel” Gwen encouraged him, and unconsciously, Miguel was being pulled towards the exit.

“I couldn’t speak to M.J. for a very long time after we divorced. And I had nothing to lose, I just knocked on her door with some flowers. Look at us now… y/n will know too” Miguel thought Peter could be the goofiest man he ever met, but he was his friend. So maybe he could accept his advice.

“Va pues, don’t know why I’m listening to all of you” huffing, Miguel and the group were out, except for Hobbie, who stayed behind stealing things from Migue’s lair.

…

When you open your door, you gasp shocked. Miguel is there, he’s wearing a sweater that fits him a little too tight but nice, dress pants, and tied shoes. You rarely saw him without his suit. But that isn’t all, he has a pretty bouquet of lilies in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He says and you are already making a pout.

“Miguel…”

“Let me finish, please.” He interrupts you, so you nod, stepping out of your place.

“I’ve made some mistakes, but as the son of a mother and… and-“ you start giggling and Miguel is red like a tomato.

“Let me guess… Peter gave you a speech to say to me?” Miguel tilts his head.

“Yes and… I-… mierda. See, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to leave the Spider Society. I need you. And I still feel guilty for last summer. But if you give me another chance… I swear that I will give you more than I take away” You nod, smiling. Miguel sighs relieved. To his surprise, you grabbed him by the sweater and pushed him towards you to give him a big kiss on the lips. He reciprocates immediately, smiling in between.

“I’m in love with you” he admits, his forehead kissing yours.

“I’m in love with you too, Miguel” As both of you kiss again, chants and applauses start. When you step away from Miguel, you see your friends there, passing past you and Miguel to step inside your home.

You are extremely confused.

“We were here the whole time, FYI,” Margo says as Miles, Gwen, Pav, and Noir pat your back and step inside.

“I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to have a double date. You two, M.J. and I” Miguel rolls his eyes at Peter.

“What did I miss?” You ask Miguel. Not that you mind that your friends literally invaded your home, but it was just weird.

“They wanted to help me”

“Aww, we have such good friends,” you say smiling.

“They’re not my friends. I just tolerate them” he is lying of course. You grab his hand, your cocky smile making him feel so happy. He’s still processing what just happened, he can’t believe he officially got you back.

“Oh shut up, of course, they are our friends”

“What about you and I?, Are we more than friends?” You blush at his questions. He grabs you by the waist to prevent you from going inside the house.

“Not so fast, bonita”

“I don’t know. But I’m eager to be your lover”

Now Miguel was turn to get blushed.

_______________________________

[tired-fandom-ndn]

I love obsessed oisin but I can't help but imagine quieter but equally obsessed adaine, pouring over ancient and probably cursed books looking for forbidden rituals to make oisin a full dragon or forcing him to adventure until he's a high enough level to get true polymorph to be a full dragon so that he can live as long as possible with her. seeing her grandma kissing the skull of the dragon she loved the most and imagining she won't even get a tenth of the time they had together before she's doing the same with oisin, unless she takes matters into her own hands

Anon, I ADORE this.

I love obsessive and creepy Oisin with Adaine being into it, but Adaine also being obsessive and creepy in her own way? Perfect, amazing, they're a match made in hell.

She's so much subtler about it than Oisin is, but she grew up with the awareness that nothing in the world belonged to her and then, later, that she would outlive the people she loved so she clings to everything she has with the desperation of someone who knows how easily it can all be taken away. I think, in this scenario, Adaine would've already been looking into how to extend lifespans, part of her desperately hoping that she cold crack that kind of magic and convince her friends to stay by her side.

Reconnecting with Aelwyn lessened that desperation a bit, with the assurance that she won't be completely alone as the centuries pass, but she would stil absolutely jump at the chance if any of her friends showed even the slightest bit on interest in that. With Oisin though. . . . . .

Adaine knows he's the one, the person she wants to be with forever. She spent much of her childhood listening to her grandmother wax poetry about her late wife and Adaine feels echoes of the things her grandma talked about in her relationship with Oisin, that sort of intense and burning love that makes everything else fall away. In her visions of her future, he's the one with her, the father of her children, her soulmate. And she also sees him grow old, scales getting rougher and duller while she stays young, and she knows that they'll only have a few decades together before she's alone again.

Decades. 50, maybe 60 years at the most. Adaine thinks about the thousands of years she has ahead of her and the idea of him being just a brief moment in her life is. . . devastating.

Instead of just accepting that that's her lot in life, Adaine does what she does best and starts researching. She looks into every possible way of expanding lifespans that she can think of, chasing even the tiniest lead, unearthing ancient manuscripts to pore over and looking into both "acceptable" magics and the most taboo spells possible. Deals with demons, blood sacrifices, whatever, there's no line she won't cross if it keeps Oisin by her side.

Most of her leads ended up being dead ends or methods that had to be taken off the table for one reason or another, either because they wouldn't work like she needed or because the risks were too high (like a lich ritual). Something like him changing into a true dragon would definitely be an option, but I think Adaine would only consider it if there was a way for him to be able to switch forms. She loves Oisin, loves the way she fits in his arms and loves being able hold his hand and even loves his dorky glasses. She doesn't want to completely change him.

For this AU though, since you brought up Grandma Abernant, I think she'd have her whole family's thousands of years of research into this exact topic at her disposal, her grandma more than happy to help Adaine's quest and getting the best magic users in their family on board. The fact that many of them have mortal loved ones means that pretty much everyone is eager to help.

Adaine would do her best to hide all this from Oisin, because she (ironically) doesn't want to freak him out or scare him away. Joke's on her though, once he finds out (by finding her notes in her tower or seeing correspondence from one of the other wizards she's working with or even when she breaks down after a particularly rough night and tells him everything), Oisin is fucking THRILLED and puts 110% behind helping her. He'd always known that their time together was limited by his own lifespan and though he always wants her to be happy, the idea of leaving her widowed and then her finding love with someone else is enough to make him spit lightning and rage worse than when he had the shatter-star; knowing that she wants him just as much as he wants her is a weight off his shoulders. Even becoming a full dragon is on the table as far as he's concerned, though obviously he'd prefer something a bit less. . . incompatible with Adaine's own body.

With the two of them, and their many contacts and their families' wealth and hoards of knowledge, they'll figure it out eventually :)

[chaos-and-sparkles]

I yearn to talk about my Dracula!Holmes au, and the universe has seen fit to give me free will and internet access, so talk i shall.

Listen. Hear me out just hear me out.

We literally have Johnathan motherfucking Harker whose written POV we read Dracula from for like a solid half of the book, right. Well, no more, he's John Watson now babeyyy, a retired army man now gainfully employed as a lawyer who's off overseas to act as estate agent to the strange and eccentric client who has expressed interest in moving to foggy London... Count Holmes! [insert jazz hands]

Instead of being Evil(tm) and plotting to take over London or whatever, my guy is just Autistic. Also riddled with ADHD and in desperate need of some enrichment in he goddamn enclosure. He will also in fact be trans, because. Of course. Vampirism as a metaphor for queerness and the social ostracization that follows as a punishment and having inherently queer narratives intertwined in them etc etc... anyhow! Count Sherlock Holmes, vampire detective!!!

(I do also want him to be aroace, or aroacespec at least, but I'm willing to negotiate for the Johnlock and the Johnlock alone.)

Mina Harker here is of course the one and only Mary Morstan, although it is clearly a lavender marriage, because we aren't cowards in this household and so Mary gets to be gay with her Lucy equivalent here, just as god intended. I haven't decided who her Lucy equivalent will be yet but this au is still young (technically I've been going insane about it in my mind for like a month or two but whatever) and there's no reason we can't make up an OC for her Lucy.

John Watson, resident gay doctor lawyer, of course, is smart enough to realize the enigmatic Count Holmes' vampiric secret within like one adventure, but he sure is going to have a slow burn of realizing just how gay he is for said enigmatic Count Holmes. We, of course, get to witness this tooth rotting bullshit firsthand as we read his diary entries and some later letters to Mary.

And instead of being one long gothic horror narrative, it's just adventure of the week with your friendly neighborhood crime solving vampire, the various other mythical creatures who do said crimes, and Just Some Guy.

Just, every Sherlock Holmes adventure adapted into this au with other supernatural elements. The guy from the Red Headed League is a local villager being bamboozled by a leprechaun, the Silver Blaze thing is about a kelpie. Everyone including Sherlock was operating on the assumption that Irene Adler was a siren, but actually she was just a regular human, and instead of unlearning misogyny (bc I don't see trans vampire Sherlock living so long through changing times and society and being sexist), Sherlock has to learn not to underestimate the intelligence of humans.

Also, he's just really excited to have this new human, John, living in his castle. So curious, too, about humans, he has sequestered himself from them for such a long time and John seems like a very interesting one. He's probably the first friend Sherlock has had in a long time, too.

Also. Instead of being warded off or harmed by garlic, to Sherlock, garlic is just the vampire version of cocaine. He just gets high as fuck off garlic. Could live on the stuff. And the reason people think he's warded off by garlic is just because he was seen getting high off his ass, turning into a bat, and flying away in loop de loops upon consuming garlic one (1) time. And everyone thought it's his weakness. And he never bothered correcting them bc Why Would He. He's basically getting free cocaine left and right from villagers who are scared/wary of the supernatural Count Holmes and only go to him when there's no other option, and it's no bother to leave people he's not investigating alone.

I genuinely do think cocaine!garlic addicted Sherlock has so much comedic potential, it really is so beloved to me. Just imagine, if you will, an extremely put-upon John Watson caring for Batlock who has gotten high off his ass and refuses to stop flying into his own antique chandelier.

I was also thinking that it would be funny to have Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner in place of Dracula's sexy vampire roommates or whatever those three were lmao (I couldn't think of a third character, sorry)

Also. Obviously. Van Helsing has got to be Moriarty, by virtue of opposition. I do think their whole deal has a lot of potential to be very funny and entertaining also. I am also considering it might be fun to have Lucy's other suitors be the Scotland Yarders, like Lestrade, Gregson and what have you, but that risks missing out on the very fun possible dynamic of "Sherlock being exasperated with the dumbass out of their depth Yarders he keeps helping" raised to like the hundredth degree so. I honestly would like people's thoughts on that.

Anyway so YES, Dracula au please and thank you. Maybe with endgame QPR Johnlock? Yes? Please? Queerplatonic husbands Johnlock is my shit.

In conclusion: THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK <3

[pharawee]

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Alastor's character "arc"/spiral in this AU:

"Vox is my amusing little pet project and I'll move on from him when I'm done (I actually really value Vox's company)" →

"Vox is my rival now, but in a funny, pathetic, one-sided way (I'm actually really bitter about how our friendship ended, hate the person he's become, and can't stand the idea of him ever fully moving on from me)" →

"I've fixed Vox and now everything is fun again! (This was a mistake, now I just miss both our friendship and our rivalry)" →

"I'm going to continue making this situation exponentially worse for everyone involved because... I feel like it? (Please don't make me have to think about any of this, I'd rather die and take everyone else down with me than self-reflect)"

[justporo]

okay but can we talk about this: when halsin tells tav he wants her (and Astarion) but you're in a relationship with Astarion so when you go talk to him about it he asks "But answer me one thing, this isn't because haven't.... you know... in a while" because oh boy my heart, just the thought of what must be going through his mind

See, this is also what I was thinking about and I would have loved there to be an option to just listen to Halsin's proposition (because he's a national treasure and just so damn pure) but then be like "listen, you honour me, so thank you, but no thank you. I'm with Astarion and I fear there's no more space in my heart." And then go to Astarion and talk about it with him and reassure him that there is only him for you. And because I would have liked that, I'm gonna write it out in a drabble: Astarion / GN!Tav (You)

"First in my heart!"

"You wouldn't believe the talk I just had with Halsin..." You say as you saunter over to Astarion, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. What Halsin had just proposed had majorly thrown you off your game - who would have thought the archdruid had it in himself to be so... forthcoming?

Astarion looks up from his book with raised eyebrows but catches your meaning in a heartbeat. He throws his head back and starts laughing. "No way, I was waiting for that to happen actually", he says and puts the book down, then crosses his arms over his chest as well, mimicking you.

Your brows furrow: "How did you..." Astarion lowers his head a little and stares at you. "You must've been blind to not notice the stares he's thrown you since he joined our jolly party. The man's basically a dog barking and salivating at the dinner table that is you - waiting to devour whatever he gets." You blush hard, too stuned to speak and your mouth just falls open - no way this had been actually a thing others had noticed before tonight. But also - can you just hear the slightest strain in Astarion's voice?

"And on top of that", Astarion scoffs "the guy can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts'. I bet he'd outlaw clothing if he could." The impression Astarion makes of Halsin is incredibly on point, he laughs, seemingly waving the druid's adavnces off but... you see that the laugh doesn't reach the vampire's eyes fully.

Still you are dumbfounded by the developments of the evening, your mouth basically only closing and opening as if you'd been turned into a fish.

"Astarion, I wouldn't...", you finally get out but get immediately interrupted again by the spawn who starts to ramble on about how he doesn't mind, how he'd actually be interested to know how it goes down - and also if Halsin would shapeshift in the bedroom...

And what had been your suspicion from the moment you had started to tell Astarion was now clear for you: no matter how much Astarion would actually be open for you to share the bed with someone else even though the two of you are in a commited relationship - it wouldn't actually be fine for him. Maybe not exactly out of jealousy, but because he is actually insecure albeit he'd never openly admit it. Because he actually does care very much about his relationship to you and is so deeply scared to do anything that will break the spell. So scared actually, he'd rather let you share the bed with someone else despite not being fine with it.

And that makes your heart break because no one should feel forced to do that, right? But luckily for the vampire, you're decision had already been made. More so, there hadn't been a decision to begin with.

"But let me ask one thing", Astarion finally says, his eyes wide now, face open and vulnerable "it's not because... you know... we haven't... in a while?" His eyes almost seem to widen more while desperately waiting for your answer. Even though he doesn't move you can see the fear and nervousness in his posture that is just too tense for his usual nonchalant manner.

Your heart breaks into a thousand pieces: "Oh, Astarion, I'm not... asking for your permission to get nasty with Halsin."

The vampire's face drops completely, his arms fall down limply at his side. You see how shock and hurt start clouding his face. He helplessly opens his mouth: "Oh..." His gaze lowers from yours, flitting around everywhere but your face

Your eyes widen - that is not at all what you meant. "No, no, no, Astarion" - you rush to him and grab him by the shoulders. "No, you didn't catch my meaning. What I'm saying is, I'm not asking permission because there is nothing to ask for. I would never consider being with someone else." His gaze snaps back to yours - his eyes not yet free of worry and hurt.

You lick your lips, desperatly trying to show him what you feel for him. To show him that the reason you hadn't noticed Halsin's interest in you was because you only had eyes for him. And to make sure he knows there will be no one else: "Astarion, you are first in my heart. No, more even, you are the only one in my heart like this - there's no space to share." And because you feel that your feelings might completely overwhelm you, you wrap your arms around the vampire, holding him tightly.

"Oh", Astarion makes again - but this time in a much different tone. He hugs you back, burying his face in your hair.

After a while you lean back and look into his eyes before pressing a kiss to his lips that makes him sigh dreamily. "I'm sorry I doubted you", he whispers, his face still vulnerable. "I'm sorry I made you doubt me", you reply and give him a warm smile.

"Also", you say and grin at him "I think I already had a date with a bottle of wine, a book and a vampire for tonight." Astarion grins back at you and unwraps one of his arms to motion towards the pillows in front of his tent: "Let's not make the bottle wait any longer then."

[hopelessdazai]

✿ 》 To Hold or Be Held?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; writing witj this many characters was scary . pls ignore any typos or errors or mischaracterisation im learning. reblogs appreciated!!

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Nikolai, Fyodor, gn!reader ( fem terms in fyodors and mentions of boobs in nikolais parts )

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; fluff, cuddles, all those nice things, nikolai being nikolai, possible mischaracterisation

dazai

dazai doesn't have a preference. he enjoys both being held and holding you for the same reason. when he's holding you, he's holding on tight - part of him is still scared you're gonna leave him if he gets too comfortable. and if you're holding him he always finds himself melting into you, his hands shakily gripping at your clothes as he smothers himself against your chest. he adores how your hands find his hair and comb through it. if he puts all his weight onto you, you can't go anywhere, right?

".. 'm sorry .. don't get up, just five more minutes. I'll be good ..- you're warm .. 'm sorry.. "

chuuya

chuuya prefers to hold. be adores the feeling of you in his arms, it makes him feel like he's protecting you from the known - blanketed by his strong embrace. he traces 'I love you's on your back knowing you're too comfortable and sleepy to know what he's writing - his thumb writes his name into your hip when you think he's just rubbing circles. little possessive things like that, just to quietly manifest that you stay with him. he can press a gentle kiss to the top of your head and tease you for being so clingy ; even though he's holding you tight too.

".. you need the bathroom? .. you can hold it, jus' stay with me for a while longer .. I love you .. pretty thing you are .."

atsushi

atsushi prefers to hold. while he won't ever deny being held, usually he finds himself pulling you on top of him to keep you in his embrace while he takes a nap. your head on his chest and his arms resting around your waist, while he gently purrs to soothe you to sleep with him. he hasn't been able to take solo naps since you've been around - and he knows you enjoy resting with him too, anyway. so what's the harm when he tugs you over to the detective agency couch and asks you to take a quick break? you've both been working hard , after all.

"let's have a quick break, okay? we can stay finish everything later .. you're gonna exhaust yourself out, sweetheart .. just 10 minutes .."

akutagawa

akutagawa prefers to be held. he'll never admit it to anyone, especially not to you. but you can see the way he relaxes and sinks into you when you wrap your arms around him. the way he takes a long exhale and his shoulders deflate as your hand traces a certain spot on his back. he likes listening to your heartbeat, he likes knowing you're alive and with him for who he is - and not what he can do. he's still learning to love and to trust, but it's a little easier when it's by your side. he hopes you wont leave him, he'll work to impress you as he grows.

".. what? no, I'm not falling asleep. you're imagining things. you .. mm .. can you do that again ?"

nikolai

nikolai doesn't have a preference. he's like a big dog, despite his size he'll absolutely lay himself on top of you and nuzzle into your chest. if you have boobs then he won't be moving for a while, so kiss your oxygen goodbye. whenever he wants to hold you, he's not really one to ask ; he'll just drag you over onto him or use a portal to drop you into his lap, then he's clinging to you and whining desperately whenever you try to leave. he's just big and clingy, but can you fault him? he finds you so comforting.

" .. where are you going? no! you can't leave .. do you not love me anymore ?.. why do you wanna leave !.. just stay with me .. thank you .."

fyodor

fyodor prefers to hold. if neither was an option, it'd most likely be that. but he regularly asks you to come sit on his lap while he works. a small whistle as he turns his chair, patting his thigh - and he'll wrap an arm around you to keep you close. he's not too affectionate, and too much touching before your marriage repulses him. but he'll learn to deal with these little moments for a while - it gives him his energy back and helps him with a little push to finish his work so you rest together.

" .. зайчик .. come here. no, I'm not finished. just come. don't be disobedient , now .. there we are. good girl."

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part three

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, firefighter!joel, reader feels anxious for a bit, feelings, fluff, the miller brothers line dancing (that deserves its own warning bc whew... anyway), the cowboy hat rule!!!, slight smut (joel and reader get touchy and rub up on each other, making out, fingering), no use of y/n.

word count: 5.6k

synopsis: joel invites you over for a barbecue, and you end up unexpectedly meeting sarah while also rekindling with someone from your past. it isn’t until you talk about joel aloud to someone who isn’t your sister that you realize how deeply you feel for him.

a/n: thank u to @endlessthxxghts for letting me brainstorm about this chapter, and giving me the cowboy hat rule idea... ;)

You were nervous. 

Nervous as hell. 

The slightly anxious part of you wanted so desperately to back out of today’s plans, but you promised Joel you’d be at his place. 

He was throwing a barbecue at his house and had invited you, and originally, Sarah wasn’t supposed to be there. Her friend got sick, so she ended up staying home. 

You hadn’t known Joel for more than a month at this point, and the prospect of meeting his daughter and being introduced as the “woman he’s been dating but not quite his girlfriend” terrified you. 

The last thing you wanted was for Sarah to dislike you, because you couldn’t bear the thought of the one person in Joel’s life who’s opinion mattered most to him not being very fond of you. 

Joel said she’d been okay with him dating and only wanted to see him happy, but wasn’t it too soon? The last thing you wanted was to wedge yourself between the father-daughter duo. 

Then again, your feelings for Joel had hit you full-force, and you were in it with him—for him. You’d cried to your sister over the phone about being scared of feeling things too fast, but she reassured you: if you know, you know. 

Nobody has ever made you feel the way Joel makes you feel. Your thoughts may’ve been repetitive with what you felt, but that’s how you knew you were so sure about him. He was a breath of fresh air in a place full of smoke (no pun intended). 

You were just worried what Sarah would think. Some might think it’s ridiculous to let a fourteen-year-old’s opinion matter so much in this circumstance, but that girl was Joel’s whole world. Her opinion of you mattered and could quite literally make or break your relationship with Joel. 

You’d be devastated if it didn’t work out. 

You nervously tapped on the steering wheel as you stopped at the last stop sign before turning onto Joel’s street. 

The quaint neighborhood just outside of the city was chalk-full of cookie cutter homes, looking like it belonged in a friendly neighborhood magazine. 

Several cars were parked in front of his house, but he’d texted you to park in his driveway beside his truck. It was sweet that he saved that spot for you. Another truck was parked in the driveway as well, and you assumed by default that it was Tommy’s. 

You grabbed the tray of cookies out of the passenger seat after you’d gotten out and smoothed your sundress to straighten it out. Joel said everyone at the firehouse loved your cookies, especially him and Tommy, so you made them as a surprise to bring for a dessert option today. 

Nerves coursed through your veins as you made your way up the front steps of his porch, ringing the doorbell. The chime went off in the house with a muffled “I’ll get it!” coming from the other side of the door. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and you were met with a smiling Tommy. 

“Hey there sweetheart, c’mon in.” He stepped aside and you thanked him as you entered the house. It was your first time over, so you took a second to take in your surroundings. 

Many family photos clung neatly to the walls, the leather couches in the living room adorned with quilted blankets, an array of DVD’s scattered around the entertainment center, a well-worn but gorgeous coffee table that sat atop the huge area rug, and the mantle above the fireplace full of trinkets from past trips and a few of Sarah’s soccer trophies. 

You smiled as you took in the scene before you, really admiring how cozy the home looked. It looked lived in and well loved, and it was all very much Joel. Simple, yet homey and functional. 

“Ooh, are those the same cookies you made for us back at the firehouse?” Tommy motions to the tray in your hand, bringing you back to present time. 

“They are. Thought I’d surprise you and Joel with these again.” You laugh as Tommy’s eyes light up, leading you to the kitchen. 

“Don’t blame me if these are all gone by the end of the night. You should give your recipe to Sarah. She loves to bake.” He groans as he takes a cookie from the tray, biting into it. 

You have to stifle a laugh at his genuine reaction. You knew your cookies were decent, but not as good as the Miller brothers made them out to be. 

“Speaking of, where’s your counterpart?” You teasingly ask, too shy to go into the backyard and introduce yourself to the array of people chatting and having a good time. 

You didn’t do too well in new settings, so it would take you a little while to warm up. 

“Ah, he’s cookin’ on the grill.” Tommy jerks his head toward the sliding glass door that leads out the backyard, and you follow in his footsteps as you walk up to the main man of the gathering. 

“Oh Jooooeeellll,” Tommy calls out with you in tow, “Found your girlfriend for ya.” He teases, and your heart skips a beat at that. You’re just dating the man. It wasn’t anything official yet, and somehow it just seemed so fitting. 

Joel didn’t correct Tommy either, which you took note of as his gaze averted to yours. A smile immediately spread onto his lips and he pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead. You took a second to study the contrast of his tan skin against the white linen shirt he was wearing with the first few buttons undone, and the Raybans that sat comfortably on his face. You held in a groan, because fuck he looked so good, once again. Does this man ever look bad? 

“Hey baby.” 

Your face heats at the public display of affection, but it dawned on you that he was never trying to hide you or keep you a mystery like you were doing to him. 

Well, your sister knew about him of course, but everyone else in your family didn’t have the faintest idea. They were too overbearing sometimes, and you wanted to be official with Joel before you even said a word to anyone about him. 

“Hi handsome. I brought some cookies but left them inside. Thought I could surprise you again with them.” You grin at him, and he smiles as he pulls you into his side. 

“I’m gonna let you two lovebirds have a moment to yourselves. Gonna go find my lady and introduce you to her.” Tommy pretends to tip an invisible cowboy hat and sends a wink your way. You huff a laugh and shake your head at his wit. 

“He always that charismatic?” You question, and Joel laughs. 

“It’s even worse when he’s drunk.” He rolls his eyes, and you bury your smile in his bicep. You wrap your arm around his back as you watch him work the grill, flipping hamburgers and chicken that are seasoned to perfection. 

“‘M glad you could make it today, darlin’. Was startin’ to miss ya real bad. Those twenty four hour shifts kick my ass, I tell ya.” He sighs and gives your body a light, playful shake. 

“Of course, Joel. I missed you too.” You gave his shoulder a kiss before Tommy called your name to avert your attention to him. Your eyes flit to the woman he has his arm wrapped around, and your eyes widen in shock. 

“This is my girl–”

“Maria?” You interrupt Tommy, and her smile spreads wide. 

“Oh my god! Hey you! How long has it been?” She’s laughing as you two embrace each other while the Miller brothers give each other a confused glance. 

“Four years I think? How are you?” You grin, separating from her, holding onto her forearms. 

“Wow I can’t believe it’s been that long. I’m great! Just dealing with this guy over here,” She juts her chin over to Tommy, and his eyes flicker between you two. 

“Sooo you two know each other?” He asks, and you both laugh in unison. 

“We used to work together at the same company. Our cubicles were across from each other.” Maria explains, and you nod along. 

“Well I’ll be damned. Small world!” Tommy grins, patting Joel on the back harshly. Joel glares at his brother and rolls his eyes, turning back to the grill to take the food off and place it into the foil pans next to him. 

“Dad, is the food done yet? You hear a voice call, and you stiffen up immediately. Maria notices your change in demeanor and gives your arm a squeeze of reassurance, which you exchange for a weak smile. 

A curly-haired girl with bright green eyes comes into view. He turns to look at her and nods, motioning to the foil pans. 

“Lemme fix you up a plate. But first, I want you to meet someone.” He says, and he holds his hand out to you. Maria releases your arm so you can step forward and grab Joel’s hand, and Sarah’s bright green eyes meet your gaze. 

“This is the woman I’ve been datin’. Darlin’, this is my daughter Sarah.” 

You extend your hand to her with a sincere smile, hoping she didn’t pick up on your nerves. 

“Ah, so you’re the woman my dad can’t stop talking about!” She laughs, flashing you her gorgeous smile. 

“Oh really?” You quirk an eyebrow up and look at Joel, nudging him playfully. 

He raises his hands in defense, “Guilty as charged.” You huff a laugh at Joel and shift your gaze back to Sarah. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you as well.” 

“Do you mind if I steal her for a second, dad?” Sarah asks, and you can’t help but feel extremely anxious. You genuinely don’t think a fourteen year old has ever made you so frazzled with nerves like this before. 

You follow her to the lounge chairs by the pool, taking a seat across the one she sat in. 

She slaps her thighs with her hands, a small smile evading her lips. 

“So,” She starts, seemingly collecting her thoughts. “This isn’t some ‘what are your intentions with my dad’ intervention, I promise. But, like, I really hope you’re serious about him.” She looks at you with apprehension in her eyes, and you’re a bit taken aback by her words. 

You could’ve guessed this was coming. Judging from what Joel has told you about their relationship, it was only fitting that she’d be so protective of him.

“I’ve seen him get hurt before. Not just by what my mother did, but with other women, too. I honestly think you’re the first woman who didn’t skip out on him after finding out he has a kid.” 

“That would never make me run. Your bond with your father is something that’s so strong, and I would never want to come between that. I can promise you that your dad has a better chance at breaking my heart than I do breaking his.” 

“He won’t. He’s a good man and he deserves someone kindhearted like you. I can tell you are. I’m glad you two found each other. I haven’t seen him this happy and relaxed in… a long time.” Sarah laughs, and you can’t help but smile at her admission.

“I pinky promise I’ll treat him great. He’s a real special guy, and I like him a lot.” You hold your pinky out to her, and with a beaming smile, she hooks her pinky with yours and gives it a little shake. 

“I know. It’s just nice to finally see him getting his feelings reciprocated back to him. Most women only romanticize the uniform he wears and not the person he actually is.” 

“Well, I gotta say, they all definitely missed out on an amazing man.” And part of you was thankful for that, which is something you didn’t want to admit aloud. 

Because if it weren’t for those women in his past that didn’t work out with him, you would’ve never had a chance with him. You glance over at Joel, and he was chatting with some other guests. You couldn’t help admire him and his calm, happy demeanor. 

As if he senses you looking, he turns his head in your direction to meet your gaze and winks. You offer him a soft smile before turning back to Sarah. 

“They are, but something tells me you’re here to stay. Not saying that to like, I don’t know, scare you off or anything, but you and him really do make a nice couple.” 

“Actually,” You huff a laugh and glance over at him once more, “He hasn’t asked me to be official or anything yet. I am here for the long haul, though, and I want you to know that I respect you and your relationship with your dad. I wouldn’t ever want to overstep any boundaries.” 

Sarah groans and huffs, rolling her eyes as she looks over at Joel. “This man, I swear. Want me to yell at him for you?” The mischievous glint in her eye tells you she would actually do so. 

You shake your head with a laugh, and she puts her hand on your shoulder as she leans forward. 

“Also, you don’t need to worry about overstepping. It’s… nice having someone else around. I appreciate you saying you respect our relationship, though. Dad was always apprehensive about bringing women over because my opinion means so much to him. You’ve got my approval in the bag, though.” 

“I appreciate that, Sarah. I’m sorry if meeting me was too soon or awkward for you. I wasn’t expecting to exchange pleasantries today.” She grins and waves her hand between your bodies at your words. 

“Nonsense. I’ve been pretty excited to meet you, seeing as you have my dad crushing like a teenage boy again. I just want him to be happy, and I know he is with you.” She throws her arm over your shoulders, and you immediately reciprocate the hug. 

Admitting to Sarah that you were in this for the long haul even shocked you. It’s not that you didn’t want to be, but your love life in the past hasn’t exactly been to your liking. Joel is different, though, and seeing that he has people in his corner who love and care about him tells you that they’d go to great lengths to protect him. 

It was crystal clear that both of you wanted whatever was going on between you two. You were apprehensive to put your all into it. 

You’ve been known to pull back when things got serious. It was a defense mechanism to protect your heart and peace. 

You knew you were falling, but the million dollar question still remained: would Joel catch you? 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Sarah separated herself from you. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” She says, and she coaxes you to follow her back to the grill where Joel and Tommy stood. 

“Everythin’ good?” Joel asks, slinging his arm around your shoulder. You nod and offer him a smile. 

You were about to go after you plated your food, but Joel shook his head and gently pulled you back to him. 

“Uh uh, where you goin’?” He has a goofy grin on his lips as he pulls you in, giving you a kiss. You can’t help but laugh against his lips and gently push him away. 

“There’s people here, Joel!” You playfully tsk, and he squints his eyes. 

“What, I can’t kiss my girl?” 

My girl. The phrase made butterflies swirl in your stomach and heat to rise to your face. 

“Never said that, but technically, I’m not your girl yet.” You quirk an eyebrow at him. 

Tommy laughs and nudges Joel, “Damn brother, you haven’t asked her to be official yet? Hell’s wrong with ya? Hop to it!” 

“Coming from someone who didn’t settle down until like a year ago. Shut up you little shit.” Joel huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Was watin’ for the right one! Then this beauty changed my life in the best way possible and put me in my place,” Tommy pulls Maria into his side, kissing her cheek. She rolls her eyes and nudges him playfully, walking back into the house before Tommy points at you. “‘N this missy right here is gonna do the exact same for ya. Don’t be ‘fraid to put him in his place, sweetheart, he needs it.” Tommy howls with laughter as Joel glares at him.

“So fuckin’ dramatic.” Joel mumbles under his breath.

“So what, you don’t want me to put you in your place?” You’re enjoying seeing him squirm a little as your hand traces circles over the white linen that clings to his back. 

“Nah, it ain’t that. You can put me in my place anytime, baby.” He winks, and you immediately pick up on the innuendo behind his voice. 

“You’re fighting with fire, Mr. Miller.” You murmur to him, and his hand moves down to your ass to give it a subtle, playful squeeze. 

“‘S my job, baby.” 

“Don’t think this is one you can put out.” You wink at him before walking away to join Maria in the house.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” Maria situates herself on the couch with a glass of wine. You sit down next to her and tuck your legs under yourself, smoothing your dress out before leaning your head on your fist. “How in the world did you and Joel become a thing? What happened to that one guy that you used to tell me about?” 

You laugh at her enthusiasm toward your love life, inhaling a deep breath before diving into the story about your shitty ex and all the stupid trust issues he gave you. He really did a number on you, which is why you were so content with being single and thriving. You told Maria that you kept your guard up to protect yourself and your heart, because the last thing you wanted was to give your all to someone once again, only to be burned. Maria put her hand on your knee as a reassuring smile spread across her lips. 

“Honey, I can promise you that that man standing out there has it bad for you. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been seeing each other. I can see it in the way he looks at you,” Your gaze trails out to the backyard as Joel sips on a beer, talking with Tommy and a few others who you presume are the neighbors before Maria’s voice pulls your attention back to her, “Joel is a good man, and despite the way you both have been hurt in the past, you still both found each other and gave this,” She waves her hands to gesture between you and him, “A chance. Lord knows that man could use a good woman like you in his life.” 

You felt the sting behind your eyes immediately. Maria’s words were nothing short of assuring, and she smiles as you wipe your tears with a small laugh. 

“Baby, just because you finally got the flame on your candle to burn bright again, doesn’t mean he’s going to dim yours. His is finally strong on its own, too. I know that you’re so independent and you’ve been used to it for some time now, but let his flame make yours even stronger. You can be stronger together.” 

And you knew she was right. The clarity blindsided you, but you got your answer: Joel would one hundred percent, undoubtedly catch you. 

-

A few hours later, the sun had started to set and the neighbors went back to their respective homes, leaving you, Maria, Tommy, Joel and Sarah left. You and Maria insisted you help clean up even though Joel and Tommy both told you it wasn’t necessary. You both waved them off and got everything put away and washed in less than an hour. 

Maria refilled her glass of wine as you poured yourself one and both went to settle back onto the couch, Joel and Tommy in tow. Sarah came running down the stairs and up to Joel, a pleading look strewn across her features. 

“Kelly invited me over to a night swim and slumber party. Can I go? Please?” She had a hopeful look as she clasped her hands together to shake them, silently begging Joel to say yes. 

“I thought she was sick?” He asked, running his hands over the stubble on his chin. 

“No dad, Sasha is the one that’s sick.” 

You tried to stifle a laugh at her ‘duh’ tone, so you just bit your lip and stared at him. He sighed and looked at you, his demeanor changing in the slightest. 

“Sure, but please check in with me every few hours or so. Do I need to drop you off?” He asks, resting his beer bottle on his thigh. 

“Thank you!” She throws her arms around him, and he grunts as he returns the hug. “No, Kelly’s mom offered to pick me up. She can drop me back off tomorrow, too.” She says, and before Joel can get another word in, she rushes back upstairs. 

Joel sighs as he leans back into the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Teenagers.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. You pat his thigh and lean into him, giving him a smile. 

“Well now that it’s just goin’ to be adults, why don’t we get the real party started,” Tommy wiggles his brows, and all three of you look at him in confusion. “‘S a joke, people. Sheesh. How ‘bout some music, though.” He connects his phone to the speaker sitting on one of the shelves, playing a mix of late 90’s and country music. 

Joel finds himself leaning into you as one of his hands slips below the hem of your dress, drawing circles into the skin of your thigh. His touch sends a shiver down your spine and he looks at you with a quirked brow, clearly pleased with your reaction to his touch. 

You got turned on so easily now. It wasn’t fair. Just one look alone from the older Miller brother could have your panties around your ankles in milliseconds, and you truly weren’t above begging him to touch you. 

The smug smirk on his face told you he knew it, too, but you both agreed to take things slow. You couldn’t even remember why you agreed to such a thing, because the tension between you two had been through the roof since your date at the fair. You truly didn’t know how much self restraint you had. 

Maria’s laugh had ripped through your thoughts, earning your undivided attention. 

“No way. I don’t believe you.” She says, laughing at Tommy. 

“‘S true! Joel and I are a couple ‘a Austin’s finest line dancers.” Tommy shrugs, looking over at Joel. 

“Those days are long over, brother.” Joel groans, leaning his head back onto the couch. 

“Bullshit. Betcha still know how to dance to Brooks & Dunn.” 

“Even if I did—”

“C’mon cowboy, show us what you got.” You tease, and Joel shakes his head. 

“Mm mm. Won’t do it unless you ladies do it with us.” He negotiates, and your eyes flit to Maria who smiles upside down and shrugs her shoulders.

“Wouldn’t hurt to learn.” She says, and you nod in agreement. 

“It’s settled then.” Tommy slaps his thighs, standing up and offering his hand to Maria. Tommy tosses Joel his Stetson off of the coat rack which Joel catches with ease, putting it onto his head as he grins at you, offering his hand to help you stand up. 

“Hey dad! Kelly’s mom is here– oh god, are you and Uncle Tommy line dancing again?” She groans, and Joel holds his hands up in defense. 

“Uncle Tommy coaxed me into it and these lovely ladies here wanna learn. Not my fault.” 

Sarah rolls her eyes and looks between you and Maria. “Good luck with these two knuckleheads. It was nice to meet you!” She says as she heads for the door. 

“You too!” You call back. 

“Text me when you get there, please.” Joel calls out to her, and she says ‘kay!’ before the front door shuts behind her. Tommy plays the familiar tune of Boot Scootin’ Boogie, and Joel stands next to him before they start to dance in sync. They both hold on to the front of the waistbands of their pants where their belts would presumably be as their footwork syncs up perfectly. 

You and Maria watch in awe as they move together effortlessly, mentally noting the moves they’re repeating. Maria nudges you and you look at her with a shit-eating grin on your face. 

“Girl, are you seeing this? Got damn near ten degrees hotter in here just watching my man dance.” 

“Tell me about it. If Joel and I weren’t taking it slow, I’d probably jump his bones right now.” 

“More power to you. I couldn’t do that even if I tried my damndest.” 

“Trust me, it’s hard. Especially when he looks like… that.” You stare at Joel as he lets the familiar movements flow through his bones, dancing on beat to the upbeat song. He looks at you and shoots you a wink, making you bite your lip to hide your smile. 

“C’mon ladies.” Tommy waves you both over, and you both join in with them. It takes a couple of tries to sync up with Joel, but you’re eventually moving with him. He takes your hand and spins you, pulling you into him as he presses you flush against his chest. 

You smirk at him and pluck his Stetson off of his head, putting it onto yours. Joel moves his hand to the small of your back, causing you to practically grind into him while you dance. You bite your lip and bat your lashes as you can feel the tension in Joel’s body that desperately needs relief. He shakes his head with a chuckle, leaning in as his lips brush your ear. 

“Ever heard of the cowboy hat rule, baby?” His voice is raspy and low. He noses at your jawline before leaving a kiss below your ear, pulling his face back into your view. 

You shake your head no, and as the song ends, he gives Tommy a look before intertwining your hand with his to lead you upstairs. 

“Joel—” You start, but as soon as you step into his bedroom, he closes the door and locks it. He cages you in between both of his strong arms, hands resting on either side of your head as he pops his knee out. It’s dangerously close to your aching cunt, and if you moved forward just a bit, you could easily grind yourself onto him. 

The thought was tempting but your mind went blank, the close proximity between you both making your head spin. 

“The cowboy hat rule,” He starts, leaning down to kiss your neck, “Is when a lady takes a man’s cowboy hat off of his head n’ puts it on herself. Means that the lady wants to be with the man and essentially wants to do more with him.” 

“M-more?” Your breath catches in your throat as his hot tongue glides over the warmth of your neck. You’re beginning to pant harder, hands twitching at your sides, aching to touch him. 

“Mhm.” He slots his thigh between your legs, and you can’t help the soft moan that bubbles in your throat at the delicious friction. 

“Had a whole romantic thing planned in my head on how to ask you to be my girl, but fuck baby, I can’t wait no more. I know it ain’t been long, but I really want you to be mine. ‘N I sure would love to be your man.” 

Your brain starts to function a little better, so you bring your hands up to cup his face. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your lips, Joel mirroring you. 

“Don’t need fancy. Just need you, baby. I’d love to be yours, Joel.” 

And he steals a searing kiss from you, arms wrapping around you as he moves you both backwards toward his bed. He takes his hat off of your head before setting it on his dresser, sitting down on his bed as you follow suit and straddle him. His hands hold onto your thighs, teasing you as they move underneath the hemline of your dress. 

His lips separate from yours and he buries his face into your neck, kissing and licking your soft flesh as he grabs a handful of your ass. You can’t help but grind yourself into him like last time, the carnal desire for him shredding through you as your self-restraint dwindles down to nearly nothing. 

“I-I know we said slow, but baby, can I touch you?” He asks, and you fervently nod your head. Your thoughts were so jumbled that you couldn’t be bothered to form a coherent response. Your senses were all-consumed by this man under you—your boyfriend. You smile at the thought before your jaw goes slack when his hand moves your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick folds. 

You bite your lip to stifle the whine that shoots through your chest, heart leaping into your throat. You knew it wouldn’t take much for you to come undone if Joel kept teasing you the way he did. 

“Shit, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet. This all for me, pretty girl?” He asks, his Southern drawl as thick as honey, darkened eyes meeting yours. 

“Yes.” You cry, rutting your hips against his fingers.

“Can I?” He asks, prodding the tip of his fingers at your entrance. You nod once again, gripping onto his shoulders as you begin to leave kisses across his neck and collarbone. He slides a finger down to the knuckle in you effortlessly, and you can’t help but nip at his neck as the sensation courses through your body. 

His one finger alone could reach places yours never could, and it made you dizzy. He slipped another finger into you, the stretch stinging in the slightest as you rocked onto his hand. 

“So fuckin’ tight, baby. There you go.” Joel guides you as he begins to move his own fingers, curling them in your warmth. He was hitting that spot that you could barely ever reach, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your head fell back, panting his name repeatedly as you felt the coil already tightening in your core. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, hm? My girl is so gorgeous like this, gettin’ herself off on my fingers. Look like a fuckin’ angel, darlin’. Such a good girl.” Joel praises you, and your head snaps up as your eyes meet his. He has a devilish smirk on his lips as you thread your fingers through his curls, smashing your lips to his. He groans into the kiss and picks up the pace of his fingers, your arousal now dripping down to his wrist. He felt your pussy clench around his digits, and he was coaxing you to come undone. 

“That’s it baby. Can feel ya, I know you wanna cum. Give it t’me.” He says, and he swallows your moans in a kiss as the band snaps in your core, body convulsing as you ride out your orgasm. 

You’re breathless as you slump against him, kissing his neck repeatedly as you try and catch your breath. 

He slowly slides his fingers out of you and you moan at the loss of fullness, gaze meeting his once again. He slips his fingers coated in your arousal into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you. He leans in to kiss you, and you can easily taste yourself on his tongue. 

“So fuckin’ sweet. Can I taste all of ya?” He asks, and you don’t even think twice before you nod. He flips you around onto the bed, kneeling onto the floor as he hooks both of his fingers into the waistband of your panties. You’re about to lift your hips so he can slide them off of you when a sharp knock on his door sounds. 

He groans and sits on his haunches, forehead falling onto your thigh. You giggle and sit up, running your hands through his curls. 

“What, Tommy?” Joel calls out, and Tommy laughs on the other side of the door. 

“Jus’ lettin’ ya know Maria ‘n I are gonna stay in the guest bedroom. The hell are you doin’ in there?” 

Joel gets up with a grunt and stalks toward his bedroom door, unlocking it before swinging it open.

“None of your goddamn business. That’s what.” Joel rolls his eyes, and Tommy raises his hands in defense. 

“Shit, my bad!” He looks past Joel and winks at you, and your face heats up immediately. 

“You have five seconds to get out of my face before I beat your ass. Fuckin’ cockblock.” Joel grumbles, glaring at his brother. 

“Fair. Carry on. Wrap it before you tap it!” He turns on his heel and trudges down the stairs, and Joel turns back around to look at you, face beet red. 

“Ignore him.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Noted,” You pat the spot next to you and he rejoins you on the bed. “Now where were we?”

tags: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg ; @pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin

divider by @saradika-graphics

[prettiestlovergirl]

DISCONNECTED

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; semi-public sex; teasing; almost getting caught; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it); oral fixation! reader; family friend! luke castellan.

concept: going on vacation to your family's beach house with your favorite family friend. song: disconnected by 5sos.

a/n: oh how i love family friend luke castellan. also, sex in a bikini. that is definitely a plus. for pool house context, i'm imagining one like slightly smaller than the one in the OC. this is supersuper unedited. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

when your mom informed you that the castellan's were joining you guys for your yearly spring break trip to your family's beach house, you'd been fucking ecstatic.

you played it cool in front of your mom, of course. just smiled and said it sounded fun, you couldn't wait to see them again and catch up. you had to play it cool, telling your mom you were looking forward to catching up with mind-blowing sex was not an option.

unfortunately for you both, you hadn't gotten a moment alone. there was always a sibling or parent interfering in every single private moment the two of you had.

until today, that is.

you had resigned yourself to having an orgasm-free vacation, deciding to instead spend as much time as possible in the pool, the cool water acting like a giant cold shower.

you got up early, hoping to relish in some of the silence at the pool without any smaller kids running around. you figured you were the only one awake, so you had no issues wearing one of your smaller bikinis.

you'd been in the middle of placing your sunglasses on your face when you suddenly felt two hands wrap around your waist. you yelped in surprise, hand flying over your heart when you heard a familiar laugh in your ear.

"jesus, luke! you scared the shit out of me!" you huffed, smacking his chest roughly while he continued to laugh at your surprise. god, you didn't realize how much you missed his laughter against your skin.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry." luke grinned, pressing a quick kiss behind your ear before he went on. "let me make it up to you?" he hummed suggestively, hands lightly squeezing your hips.

"knowing our luck, someone's gonna wake up right now and cockblock me." you grumbled, biting your lip as he started pressing soft kisses along your neck that made you shiver despite the april heat.

"then let's go into the pool house. no one'll think to check there first." he hummed, nipping at your skin hard enough to make your breath hitch. you finally relented, just nodding your head. you didn't trust your voice not to come out all breathy.

luke led the two of you to the small pool house, locking the door behind you before pouncing almost immediately. his lips met yours in a hungry kiss, drawing out a desperate whine from you.

it had been far too fucking long since you'd had his lips on yours like this, it had been pure fucking torture having him be so close for this past week and be unable to touch him.

your hands roamed all over his bare chest, desperate to feel every inch of his skin, feeling for any new scars or marks he'd gotten since the last time you'd seen him.

"fuck, i wanna take my time with you, but there's no time." he murmured against your lips, groaning softly against you. you tightened your grip on him, gently grinding your hips against the bulge in his swim trunks.

"s'okay, don't care, just fuck me." you moaned, relishing in the feel of his skin against yours. he grunted as your hips rolled against him, quickly pushing you back towards the white chaise lounge in the center of the room.

he helped you lay back against the pillow, not once pulling his lips off of yours. he'd waited far too long to bruise your lips with his, he didn't plan on breaking until he absolutely needed to.

you laid against the pillow, one leg bent up on the chaise lounge while the other hung off the side so you'd be spread open for him, just like he wanted.

luke moved one of his hands down, slipping it under the fabric of your bikini. he rubbed his finger over your entrance, moaning at just how fucking wet you were for him already. it was certainly good to know you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

finally, he broke the kiss and you whined as he pulled away, despite the fact that you were now practically gasping for air. "need you to hold this to the side, baby" he told you, panting lightly before pressing his lips to your throat.

you brought your hand down, pulling the small strap of fabric covering your aching pussy to the side and holding it there. he ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips, taking another mental picture of how fucking gorgeous you looked all spread open for him.

if he had it his way, he'd just bury his tongue in you right then and there, but there was no time. "never gonna get tired of this sight." he informed you, his free hand bringing his throbbing cock out from his swim trunks.

he lined himself up to your glistening pussy before thrusting inside of you, drawing moans out of you both on impact. your back arched against the chaise, mouth open as you felt the delicious sting of your walls stretching to fit him.

you'd think that after the amount of times you two had fucked, he'd fit without much of a struggle, but alas, here you were. "fuck, baby." luke groaned, hands moving back to grip your hips tightly.

"fuck, luke, give me your fingers, need to muffle." you moaned, eyes focused on him while he started to thrust into you. he did as you asked, releasing the grip on your hip with one hand and letting you grab hold.

he started thrusting fast and hard, your eyes squeezing shut as you moaned out before bringing three of his fingers into your mouth. you sucked and swirled your tongue around the digits, making him groan as his eyes watched.

"god, you look so fucking hot like that." he grunted, his pace picking up more as you looked at him. the feeling of your cunt gripping him like a vice and your tongue coating his fingers in your saliva spurred him on.

"harder" you moaned around his fingers as he fucked you, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. your voice came out muffled and wet, drool and spit slipping down chin as he moved faster into you.

you let out more muffled moans, hips bucking up to meet his every thrust as he fucked into you. your foot stayed up on the tips of your toes, body buzzing with the attention it craved for so long.

luke's eyes were fixed solely on where you two were joined together, watching the way his cock got lost amongst your soaked walls again and again.

your arousal created a thick, creamy white ring around the base of his cock that he fucking relished in. he just couldn't take his eyes off you, the way your pussy clenched every time he moved out and fluttered when he shoved back in.

"fuck, g'na cum!" you moaned, mouth hanging open with his fingers still in your mouth. he started fucking into you even faster, wrapping your bent leg around his waist to go even deeper into you.

"hold on just a little longer, baby, fuck, just a little longer" he grunted, grip on your body tightening so he could fuck into you harder, getting close to cumming himself.

"shit, shit, fuck!" you cried out as your legs quivered around him until you finally came, drenching his cock in your pussy juices and creating a loud, wet slapping noise as he continued to fuck you rough and fast.

"oh, fuck, c'mon, fuck, cum for me, luke, please, want to see you cum" you moaned out, your hips bucking up once again to meet his thrusts and take him in deeper to help him get closer.

"oh, fuck, do that again" luke demanded, eyes closing as you bucked your hips up again to meet his thrusts until he quickly pulled out of you.

he wrapped his hand around his cock, fisting it immediately before cumming on your stomach with a groan. "fuck, babe..." he panted, the two of you slumped in silence for a moment.

he pulled his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva trailing behind them as he swiped them through his cum on your chest. wordlessly, you pulled his hand back up to your lips, cleaning the cum off his fingers while he watched with rapt attention.

he'd been about to say more when he heard the doorknob start to jiggle. "luke? is that you?" your dad's voice called, snapping you instantly out of your dizzy post-orgasm haze. you quickly grabbed your towel, wiping your chest off.

"yeah! what's up?" luke called, looking at you with wide eyes as he started to quickly put his dick back in his shorts. "have you seen y/n?" your dad questioned, making your eyes widen.

"uh.. yeah! yeah, she went down to the beach like twenty minutes ago. wanted some alone time, i think!" he lied, biting his lip gently. "oh, alright."

he waited until your dad's footsteps trailed off before letting out a sigh of relief. "shit, that could have been bad." he murmured, glancing back over at the door.

you let out a giggle as you slumped back down against the chaise lounge, biting your cheek to try and stop your smile as he glared at you.

"so, now that he's gone... round two?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[lees-chaotic-brain]

For You (Gojo x Reader)

What if you were sealed instead of Gojo?

CW: Shibuya Incident spoilers, angst, not canonically accurate (just roll with it for the plot it doesn't have to make complete sense), swearing, so much angst

Part Two | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

Gojo knew that you were strong. He wouldn't have fallen in love with you out of fear if he didn't trust completely in your ability to return to him.

But that was before.

Before the shell of someone the two of you once knew and loved appeared.

Before he allowed himself to be distracted for a split second.

Before you noticed what was happening and shoved him out of the way.

Before you stood in front of him, hands bound behind your back, body rendered immobile.

"Well, this is an interesting development."

Not-Suguru clapped his hands together.

"Oh well, this will do too. Actually, we just managed to nab the strongest's only weakness: his love."

"Who are you?"

You snarl, glaring at your former friend.

"Why, I'm Geto Suguru. Don't you remember me? I'm wounded."

"Bull. Shit."

All Gojo can do is stare blankly at you, and pray that this isn't happening. That one of his worst nightmares isn't playing out in front of him.

"I know damn well that Suguru would never go out of his way to hurt us. He may have hated non-sorcerers, but even at the end he held no hostility towards us. So I'll ask you again. Who are you?"

"Satoru."

Gojo jumped a little, but quickly smoothed his expression over as you used one of your techniques to communicate telepathically with him.

"You need to run."

No! He wanted to scream. There has to be another option.

You continue taunting and yelling at the creature inhabiting your friend's body, and Gojo realizes that you are desperately stalling for time.

"Listen, I know you don't want to. But right now, you can't do anything for me without putting yourself in serious danger. I'm expendable."

Not to him, you aren't. For you, he would tear apart the world with his bare hands. For you, there wasn't a risk he wouldn't take. He has to find a way out of this. For you. Because there was no world where you were fucking expendable to him.

"You need to run! Now! I don't know how much time you have, but I know you can make it outside. You are the strongest after all. Run. Regroup with the others."

He knows that what you are saying makes logical sense, but he still can't wrap his mind around it.

Then you spoke again.

"No one should be allowed to take youth away from young people. That's what we agreed, right? So go. Do it for our kids. Protect their youth. For them. For our dream. For me."

Quietly, oh so quietly, he says something.

"I'm scared."

He admits, so quiet you can scarcely hear him.

"I'm not."

Your tone is gentle and loving.

"You aren't abandoning me forever. This is only temporary. I know that no matter what happens, you will get me out of here. Not because you're the strongest or anything. Because you love me, and I love you. And nothing can keep us apart, 'kay?"

Moving as much as your restraints would allow you, you turn your head the tiniest bit so you can look at him.

"Go. Go save our kids. I believe in you. I'll see you soon my love."

Holding back tears, Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive did the unthinkable.

Turning away from you and speeding up and out of the train station was the hardest thing he ever did, and will ever do.

But he did it.

For your many (unofficially) adopted children.

For your shared dream.

For you.

Always for you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This physically pained me to write, but it was taking up WAY too much of my brain space lol. Let me know what you think, and feel free to send in any requests you have!

[loveshotzz]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

My Favorite Customer

Summary: You’ve been buying weed from your new dealer for a few months now. Always leaving it in your mailbox while you’re at work, you two never cross paths until one Friday night when you come home early.

word count: 3k

Warnings: None really besides some kissing at the end. This just a little meet cute with our favorite weed dealer. (Not meant to be a series, just a fluffy one shot) mentions of weed obviously.

A/N: I missed Eddie and this idea came to me based off my real life of buying weed from my weed man for over a year. Have yet to come face to face with him, but there’s always weed in my mailbox when I need it lol. For my twin @boomhauer and thank you @superblysubpar for helping me find my Eddie voice again.

Lifting up the lid of your mailbox, the smirk that tugs at your lips can’t be stopped when a fresh bag of weed sits inside, his usual hand written note attached making your face hot. You look both ways before snatching the eighth quickly scuffling back into your apartment like you were hiding a pound of cocaine and not just enough green to last you a few days.

It had been like this for a while with Eddie. You’d call him up by the number given to you from Robin who swore up and down that he was the best.

You remember thinking his voice was cute the first time you heard it, and you started to wonder if he thought the same after the third call. A flirty edge hidden behind his words every time he’d pick up and realize it was you.

“Ahhh my favorite customer.” He’d tease starting to get these calls multiple times a week.

It wasn’t your intention to never meet Eddie, it’s just how it always seemed to happen. That first time you talked he could hear the desperation in your voice. The stress from the move here and starting your new full time job fresh out of high school, he could tell you needed to relax. Rattling off times he could come by, none of them ever lining up to match with yours.

“You got a mailbox or somewhere I could stash it?” He finally gave in after exhausting almost every other option.

“You’d do that?” You couldn’t help but be embarrassed by the obvious excitement in your voice and he just laughed.

“If the money’s there sweetheart, why not?” The nickname made your heart skip a beat biting your lip to try and hide your smile.

You don’t even know what he looks like.

So this is how it started playing out after that, you’d call with your order and he’d make you blush every time he’d kick the flirting up to ten.

Instantly comforted by his mellow voice, you found yourself looking forward to those few minutes so much that you weren’t sure if the amount you were smoking was from stress or from just wanting to hear his voice again. Then he started adding little notes to your deliveries and now you were almost positive it was the second.

His sloppy handwriting started appearing on each bag with the word ‘favorite’ always scribbled at the top.

Cheeks heating up the first time it showed up, you couldn’t stop trying to imagine what he looked like. Too scared to ask Robin, you knew she’d just follow your intrigue with a line of questioning of her own.

Settling for the vague faceless man you’d conjured up in your clever mind. You let the memory of his voice be the thing that secretly encouraged the movements of your fingers between your thighs every night.

—

Friday morning had you waking up with a smile, your stash low enough to do the thing you’d been thinking about since you hung up the last time. Taking a deep breath you dialed his number that you now had completely memorized. It only rings three times before his voice fills your end of the receiver.

“Is this who I think it is calling me this early in the morning?” The grin in his voice is evident when he answers.

Shuffling your feet nervously, the smile on your own face was starting to make your cheeks hurt.

“Do you always answer the phone like this?” You wonder if he can hear yours too.

“Only if I know it’s you.”his tone sends a shiver up your spine, legs pressing together on their own accord.

“And how’d you know that it was me Eddie?” You draw out his name sweetly, silently squealing when you hear the hitch in his breathing from it.

“Because sweetheart, you’re the only one who calls this early for weed.” catching the way he almost whispers the last part, you hear a gruff voice in the background.

“Boy if you don’t leave soon!”

“Sorry, is that a problem? I just wanted to catch you before it was too late.” The urge to crawl in a hole is strong as you slap your palm on your forehead.

Your eagerness to talk to him becoming more than obvious, the man yelling at him in the background definitely wasn’t helping your new bashfulness.

“Pshh are you kidding me? I love it. Get to start the morning off talking to my favorite girl.” He lays his response on thicker than syrup. Your palms start to sweat noting the way he didn’t say customer for the first time.

Your embarrassment subsides for a split second before the voice from before cuts in again.

“If I get another call that you were late again, boy I swear to -“

The line shuffles on the other end and all you can hear is the sounds muffled arguing before another loud rustle, his voice returning with more irritation in it than you’d ever heard before.

“You want the usual?” He’s short when he answers and you know it’s not supposed to be directed at you, but you can’t help but squirm.

“Y- yeah if that’s okay?” You didn’t mean to give yourself away by stumbling over your words, but when you do Eddie makes a quick recovery.

“More than, listen you have a good day at work today Sweetheart. I really gotta go, but check your mailbox when you get home.” Hanging up before you get a chance to finish saying goodbye you hear Eddie yell “I”m leaving alright?!”

——

Work was exceptionally slow for a Friday night, the unexpected thunderstorm that rolled through killed any possibility of a dinner rush. Cutting you less than half way through your shift, your giddy excitement couldn’t be contained. Friday evenings had become non-existent since you started at Enzo’s. So when the opportunity to actually have one came around you couldn’t turn it down. Stopping at Family Video on your way home, Robin helped you pick out something she swore was good while you did your best to ignore the eyes her friend Steve was giving you.

Strumming your fingers against the steering wheel while you listened to Kiss a little too loud, the heavy rain turned into something less than a light drizzle as your tires splashed through puddles. Planning out your evening alone you didn't even think of what this could mean as you pulled into your parking spot hours earlier than normal.

Too caught up in trying to land the notes to I Was Made For Loving You, you didn’t see the van parked in front of your small complex. Head in the clouds with the possibilities of the night mixed with your bad habit of looking down when you walked, you didn’t see who was right in front of you. The sound of the voice you’d been daydreaming for months about cuts through your mumbled singing. Stomach dropping to the floor when you hear

“Son of a bitch.”

Freezing in place, your eyes slowly trail up towards your front door. Standing at almost six feet tall was a curly haired metal head. Mumbling profanities as he struggled against the lid of your mailbox, his jacket looked caught on something. Broad shoulders covered by a battle vest adorned with a giant Dio patch, you still couldn’t see what his face looked like as he struggled with the sleeve of the leather jacket beneath. Taking in his ripped black jeans and scuffed white Reebok’s, your heart was already threatening to beat out of your chest. If his face was cute, you knew you’d be fucked.

A few more violent tugs of his arm, he finally breaks free as your mailbox creaks dangerously close to coming unhinged off the brick wall. His zippers jingle as he shakes out his wrist, flipping up a ring clad middle finger he chuckles proudly to himself before turning around. Big brown eyes meet yours like a deer in headlights, so cute they punch the air out of our lungs.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Brows furrowed under messy bangs his eyes go from your stunned face down to the keys in your hand with your VHS tape before he takes in your frame. Catching the way they linger just long enough to still be polite. He meets your shocked stare as something clicks in his head. A dimple filled smile pushes past his plush lips, yours threatening to do just the same at the sight.

“Eddie?” Surprised you were able to get his name out of your mouth, his face seems to light up even more as his suspicions were confirmed.

“That depends.” Rocking on his heels he crosses his arms over his chest “Favorite, is that you? Cause boy, you’re even cuter than you sound.”

Blood rushing to your cheeks hearing your nickname in person like this, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth at his compliment.

“That depends.” Looking up at him from under your lashes the dimples in his cheeks deepen at your response.

Twirling one of his curls over his lip, you notice all of his rings “What if it’s your favorite weed dealer?”

Cuter than anything you could have conjured up in your mind you were silently scolding yourself for not meeting him sooner. Straightening your shoulders a little you take a few strides closer to him, watching as his eyes don’t try to hide as they take all of you in.

“I’m sure you call all the girls that, but yes it’s me Eddie.” Smiling bigger than you can help, it’s his turn to take a couple steps closer.

“Nah, that nickname is just for you sweetheart.” Standing close enough to catch hints of corner store cologne trying to cover up cigarette smoke, everything about him made your brain short circuit. Looking down at the movie in your hand his eyebrows raise in disbelief before meeting your eyes again. “Alien?”

“Robin suggested it to me for my unexpected night off.” Flipping it over in your hand to read the back, you could feel his stare on your face rather than on the tape. “Ever seen it?” glancing up at him, he doesn’t try to hide what he was actually looking at.

Nodding, he grins down at you “Buckley’s got great taste.”

Catching the double meaning in his words an electric current that could light up all of Hawkins dances between your bodies. Static vibrating from your fingertips, you couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped between your lips.

The raindrop that hits you between the eyes is jarring, you blink fast before more start a slow and steady decent splattering all around. Raising a large hand up to try and shield his curls he looks annoyed that Mother Nature was cutting his time short.

“I hate to deliver and dash sweetheart, but I don’t wanna keep you in the rain.” Doe eyes taking in your face like he was trying to commit it to memory he moves to step around you.

Panic rises and constricts around your chest as you watch his retreating form, biting the inside of your cheek you work up enough courage to do something you’ve never done. Make the first move.

“Doyouwannwatchitwithme?” Words jumbled together and almost yelled as they fell out of your mouth, your mumbled nonsense stops him dead in his tracks. Turning around, having his full attention like this was making it even harder.

“Come again princess?” The new nickname threatens to send you six feet under when you feel your knees shake. Clearing your throat you gather whatever confidence you can muster under the intensity of his stare.

“Do you want to come watch this movie with me?” Using it as a makeshift umbrella you start walking backwards towards front door “I actually just got this pretty good shit delivered you should try it.”

The smile that breaks across his face is infectious, feeling it in the way your lips stretch so much it makes your cheeks hurt.

“Oh yeah? I mean if you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, that guy’s got the best shit in town sweetheart.” The laugh he pulls from you, he swears it makes your face glow. “I’d be honored favorite, I thought you’d never ask.”

—-

Your living room lays in a blanket of haze from two joints successfully smoked, touches lingering more and more as you two passed them back and forth. Half way through the movie you were giggling through cupped fingers leaning into him as you both sank deeper into the cushions of your couch. His bad jokes and over the top commentary kept you both laughing with shoulders pressed together for support. Neither one of you making any effort to move when you both finally calm down.

Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you were mesmerized by how handsome he was this close. Your stare following the curve of his round nose to the fullness of not one but both his lips, a light sheen coating them from being freshly licked. The sharp planes of his jaw lead you to the thickness of his neck, catching the silver chain that disappears into his shirt.

Time is an illusion in your foggy brain - especially under his spell, losing yourself trying to remember every curve and scar on his face you stare long enough to to get caught. Chocolate eyes connecting with yours, the corners of his lips tug up and like looking in a mirror yours do you.

“Hey favorite”quiet enough for just you to hear, there’s a soft rasp in his voice from all the smoking.

“Hey Eddie”biting your bottom lip, his eyes watch the way your teeth scrape across the silk of it.

Leather creaking loud enough to hear over the sound of the movie and the rain outside, he drapes his arm over the back of the couch. The dip pulling you deep into the warmth of his chest.

“Is this okay?”for the first time you see a hint of nervousness in his eyes as he tries to read the expression on your face.

Nodding you slide a tentative hand up his chest feeling his muscle twitch under your palm, looking up at him you repeat his own question.

“Is this okay?”

His hand reaches up to cup the side of your face, the weed helping you melt into his touch as the pad of his thumb traces your cheekbone. Searching your eyes for any sign of protest he nudges his nose with yours. The heat of his breath fans across your parted lips as your eyes flutter closed completely overcome by him being this close.

“Sweetheart, if I’m reading this wrong please tell me now.” Your top lip brushes with his bottom when he asks the question and you think you might combust if you don’t close the gap.

Tilting your head just enough to get what you want, your lips move together like it was something they’d been doing for years. Each lazy drag setting your skin ablaze.

Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip he quietly asks you for more. Granting him access to something you’re sure you’ll never deny him, you don’t hesitate to let him deepen the kiss.

Tongues meeting each other in the middle, they battle for dominance as your fingers find their way into the thickness of his curls. Tugging slightly, you smile into the kiss when a groan erupts from deep in his chest.

With the rest of the world long forgotten, the two of you stay like this for longer than you can keep track of. Hands exploring curves and grabbing hips, it almost becomes too much when you nip his bottom lip.

Eddie’s the one who breaks away reluctantly when the need for oxygen becomes too much, and his body starts to react a little too strongly to your touch. The screen on the TV had gone blue long ago when the movie ended, leaving your dark living room in its pale bright light. The coloring of it all hitting his face just right.

Nudging his nose with yours he leans his head back against the cushions of the couch. Chocolate eyes looking at you through half closed lids, a lazy smile spreading wide across his kiss swollen lips.

“We should probably stop, and I should probably go.”jutting his bottom lip in a pout he catches the disappointment you try to hide flash behind your eyes. “Not that I want to, I just actually had other stops that I was supposed to make tonight, but it’s not like I was going to say no to you inviting me to hangout.”snorting like that was the craziest thing he could ever imagine, his face lights up when he earns a laugh from you.

“Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed if I was them.” Using his chest to try to push yourself up with your hands, he stops you from getting too far. Collecting your lips one last time, he only lets you pull away enough for your noses to stay touched.

“Besides having a few more drop offs, I’m hoping the next time I kiss you like that is after you let me take you on a date?”catching the nerves in his voice, you couldn’t actually believe he thought you’d say no.

“Bold of you to assume there’s going to be a next time.”raising a brow you do your best to remain straight faced as he narrows his eyes at you.

He brushes his lips lightly against yours again before asking “there’s not?”

Giving in almost instantly you add pressure pushing yourself closer, chuckling as he pulls away, you stop trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to spread across your own face.

“Fine, you caught my bluff.” Huffing in mock annoyance, this time he lets you push yourself up.

It still takes another thirty minutes for Eddie to work up enough willpower to get off the couch, your easy conversation and pouty soft lips making it a near impossible feat.

More stolen kisses and stumbled words fill the empty space on the walk to the front door followed by even more before he finally goes. Sweet just like the nickname he gave you, he couldn’t wait to make you his.

——

taglist: @munsonology @munsonmunster @elthreetimes

[chimielie]

yeah, you might want me to drop dead (but i don't even care)

summary: Atsumu x F!Reader. atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: he thinks you're hot when you're angry. you would categorize your relationship with atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

word count: 2k

cw: miya atsumu's degradation kink (it's still sfw he's just not subtle), suggestive at the end

a/n: another resurrected fic from the drafts. walk him like a dog, bitch, walk him like a dog

Miya Atsumu was a player known for his thirst for blood. Like his brother, who termed the all-consuming need to dominate their opponent hunger, he relished in complete fucking annihilation. He was hardly soft off the court, too: few of his peers could withstand his cutting humor, his teammates couldn’t understand how he hadn’t scared off his fan club, and he had crushed a few hearts beneath his heel in his time.

He’d met his match in the natural enemy of heartbreakers: his university’s resident maneater.

“Hey!” Atsumu calls your name, lengthening his stride to catch up to you. You grimace—he can barely see your side profile now, but oh, you’re slowing down so he can catch up. Unusually considerate.

Oh, no, there’s just a clog in the artery of the crowded hallway, halting your escape.

“Hi,” he sing-songs, stretching the word out several extra syllables. 

“Good morning, Atsumu,” you say tightly, drawing up your shoulders so your arm won’t brush his bicep in the limited space. “I was hoping you’d died, since you weren’t in lecture this morning. Better yet, maybe someone buried you alive last night and you hadn’t dug your way out yet.”

“You went with the option that doesn’t kill me! You care,” he says happily, and takes a moment to bask in it. “I was actually at a volleyball game, you should come to one sometime, I’m pretty good at it—”

“I’d rather walk in traffic, ‘Tsumu,” you shoot him a wide smile that makes his knees feel weak and wobbly and shove your way straight through the crowd of people, leaving only an uncaring ‘Scuse me! in your wake. 

A lot of people would categorize your relationship with Atsumu as complicated. Atsumu is not one of those people.

Atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: many moons ago, you and he had been in a few of the same classes and shared some mutual friends—mere acquaintances. He hadn’t known you very well. In fact, he’d thought you were cute, which he now knows you aren’t. A few minor catastrophes he wasn’t privy to later, you had come to verbal blows with some loser in the middle of the quad. You’d later found it rather embarrassing. Watching you eviscerate him, though, Atsumu had experienced a fear like never before. If he was bloodthirsty, you bathed in ichor. 

He would always remember the look on your face as you dealt the final blow and turned away, walking with a straight back right toward him.

Atsumu, who had never seen anything quite like the look of controlled rage on your face as you took that man apart. Who wasn’t sure why the sound of you doing your damnedest to instigate a fight made him shiver despite being all too warm inside. Who was looking up at you from his seat like a puppy, desperate to see you don your war paint again.

You walked past him, because of course you did. You weren’t pulled by the same magnetic force he was, focused on him like he was suddenly fixated on you. You were barely acquainted with him and obviously going to your friends for moral support and ice cream and whatever it was people did after one of them basically tarred and feathered someone in the town square. He was merely a bystander along the path you strode.

Of course, the very action of totally ignoring his existence cinched it: he was hooked.

You would categorize your relationship with Atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

You’d tried to ignore him. He was persistent, though, and he just pushed and pushed and pushed until he crossed the line. It was exhausting.

Except that you kind of loved fighting with him.

You couldn’t help the adrenaline rush it gave you, the way he seemed to light a fire inside you no one else could and keep it burning hot. It was almost like a release to debate him, the way some people boxed or listened to heavy metal to destress. The feeling of victory never failed to put a sparkle in your eye and a cocky smirk on your lips; sometimes, you felt like he was stepping back and letting you win.

This continued in perfectly pleasant vicious and sometimes bloody antagonism for the course of forever until a few months ago, when Atsumu had begun the new and inimitable torture of flirting with you. It was horrible and it was weird and you had no idea what kind of mind game he was playing, but you certainly intended to find out. 

Atsumu, for his part, had recently realized that he likes it when you smile so much more than when you scowl. He likes it when you flutter your lashes instead of staring flatly into his soul, hoping to yank it out and set it aflame. He likes it when you say nice things to him, which has only happened once, but was very nearly a second sexual awakening and thus monumental.

He does not like it when other men flirt with you.

“Your pencil is broken,” Osamu notes, glancing down at his brother’s clenched fist. “You’ll get splinters.”

“What? Oh,” says Atsumu distractedly. “Yeah, I’ll do it later.”

Your laugh rings across the library, the warm glow of a fireplace instead of the burning fires of hell you share with Atsumu. His grip slackens, and his twin takes the opportunity to prise the pulverized writing utensil out of his hand. This kindness goes unnoticed as the guy, that’s how Atsumu’s thinking the word in his mind, low and mocking, guy, says something to you that makes him instinctively kick Osamu in the shin.

“Ow! Douchebag!”

“Sorry, reflex,” Atsumu apologizes.

“Do you want to go with me?” Asks the dickhead you’re talking to.

“To ice cream? Sure,” you reply, and you don’t even sound like you’re being sarcastic. What the fuck? There’s a long pause while the jagoff scuffs his shoe against the floor, a red flush coming over his face while you stare slightly past him with your trademark stare. But your lips are slightly turned up.

The expression haunts Atsumu on his walk back. Your smile was so pretty, sweet and soft. You never smile at him except mockingly. 

“At the risk of sounding like I care,” Suna says. “Are you okay?” 

“If I killed someone, would you help me get rid of the body?” Atsumu says, staring straight ahead.

“No,” Osamu says, “he’s finding out about human emotions and he’s coping very badly.”

Atsumu is ignoring you. As quickly as his interest (his desire to piss you off) had flared up, it had disappeared seemingly overnight, which was fine for you. It was great! You had booted the most annoying man in the world out of your life and replaced him with a perfectly nice guy. Your life was coming up roses.

Except it was driving you insane. You had your phone out, held an inch below your desk, leaving the perfectly nice guy (what was his name? You hadn’t saved it in your contacts and you weren’t sure why) on read as you stared across the room at the faux-blond.

He was chattering to another boy who looked bemused and patient; probably another volleyball player. You were half-convinced this was part two of his ploy to get under your skin; he was playing the unpredictable game.

As you try to bore a hole in his brain with your eyes, you see him glance back at you for a second, just a second, and that’s it. You slam your palms down on the desk, shooting up from your seat, trying not to make eye contact when a few other students turn and look at you because of the noise. He still won’t look directly at you as you make your way to his seat.

“I just remembered I have to leave,” says Atsumu’s friend—Aran, not that you care what his friends are called—picking up his bag. “I have to go be anywhere else right now.”

“What,” Atsumu whines as he books it away from the two of you. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah,” you snap, folding your arms in front of your chest. You’re not sure why you’re so angry, just at the look of his melting chocolate eyes and hunched shoulders and pouty lips. Ugh. He’s the worst. “You’re avoiding me. Why.” The question sounds more like a sentence or maybe a threat.

“I’m not doing that,” he defends weakly. “Maybe I just got tired of looking at your face.”

“My face is fucking precious, okay,” you argue, “you should want to look at it all the time. Idiot. What’s wrong with you?”

“I do—I mean, what? What’s wrong with you?” He returns, and there’s the familiar snap and sting that you like so much. “You don’t even like it when I talk to you—”

“I don’t!”

“So why are you mad now that I’m not?”

“Because—” You struggle for reasoning. You can’t find it. Something strange and huge is crawling its way up your throat.

“Because, uh, um,” he mocks you, and you almost sock him. “Make up your mind! I was trying to be nice to you, even though it’s fucking boring!”

“I don’t want you to be nice to me!” You shout, and then curl over, your face nearly in his lap as almost everyone else in the room turns to look at you. One of the library workers shushes you loudly. “It’s—you’re right, it is boring. Everything else is fucking boring. I like it when you bother me, ‘Tsumu, okay?”

“Okay,” Atsumu says, eyes widening, leaning away from you as you seem nearly on the verge of manic combustion in front of you. “Then—I’ll keep doing it?”

“Will you?” You sit up straight and look him squarely in the eye. He gulps, unsure what he’s being asked. Something is fluttering in his stomach, but he’s hesitant to trust it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and it feels like so much more than a confession.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you say, in the same deceptively soft tone. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not if I kiss you—” You grab his face before he can finish talking and smash your lips onto his, first hard and like you’re trying to bully your way into his mouth, then a little sweeter, a little more tender. “First?”

“I win,” you say smugly as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“Please leave,” says the librarian. 

You live alone, which is amazing, because if Atsumu were to see his brother or teammates right now he might commit felony battery. In your apartment, which is full of trinkets Atsumu wants to examine but can’t because he’s very busy staring at you, you shove him onto the couch and sit on him. Sort of like you’re wrestling, but not at all.

“If we’re goin’ out,” he says, “we are going out, right?”

“Yes, ‘Tsumu,” you say, and your smile is as bright as the stars. He clears his throat and prays his voice doesn’t crack.

“Good. Uh, if we’re goin’ out, does that mean you have to start bein’ nice to me?” 

“I’ll be nicer to you,” you promise.

“Oh.” His tone is almost disappointed. 

“Or,” you lean down, and he almost chokes on his own inhale. “I can date you and be mean to you at the same time,” you say into his reddening ear, your breath hot and your smiling lips barely, just barely brushing his skin. Atsumu makes a squeaking noise that can barely be understood. “What was that?”

“Yes, please,” he says fervently.

You bite his earlobe teasingly, and he finds that really nice, actually. The nicest.

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.7

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f. rec), fingering, spitting, dirty talk, praise kink, petnames (good girl, baby), anything else lmk. ch. 7 synopsis: minhee comes to you with the missing pieces of information you need, leading you to find the courage to speak to sunghoon, hoping you can reconcile. wc: 14.9k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! this chapter is filled with plot and answers to questions so i am hoping it all makes sense. again, thank you for the love on the last chapter! next week is the penultimate chapter so everything is starting to tie up so please enjoy <3

Scanning the next customer's shop, your shoulders are heavy with sadness. It’s not ideal to be working the day after you just lost the love of your life but reality doesn’t stop for your problems. If you weren’t in desperate need of the money, you would have just neglected to show up.

You haven’t slept, your eyes are a darker shade than before, and the smile you couldn’t stop plastering over your face the past couple of months is non-existent. 

Last night, you went home just like Coach Lee had instructed but you don’t know if it was the best idea. The journey home with your mum was filled with her yapping about how true love never existed and how she knew his plan was this all along. There was no sympathy from her, not a surprise considering her face yesterday looked like she just won the lottery. 

Minhee, on the other hand, sat silent, fizzing from head to toe. Honestly, you expected him to be fuming since Sunghoon was the factor in your current drift from one another, however, you did expect an undertone similar to your mothers gloating; he should be telling you ‘I told you so’ but instead he seems less boastful and more resentful. 

"Your total comes to £54.35," you murmur in a monotone, extending your hand for the payment from the elderly woman. As she counts out each pound coin, you find yourself retreating into your thoughts once more, replaying the events over and over again.

Sunghoon looked so sincere when he told you it wasn’t him on the recorded phone call. The biggest question that twirled in your mind was how your mum got the audio in the first place. Sunghoon's assertion that he was only friends with Jay and Jake, who wouldn't betray him, seemed plausible, he hadn’t ever mentioned anyone but them in all the times you have spoken. So, who could have provided it to her?

That’s what you should have questioned when you had the chance, instead of letting your mind loop in on itself and confuse you to the point you didn’t even hear Sunghoon out. 

You want to reach out and ask him to meet you but it wasn’t just you that got hurt yesterday.

If there’s one image that’s sticking in the forefront of your brain right now, it’s Sunghoon’s face when he found out you lied to him. Perhaps you should have questioned everything then, considering how shattered he appeared. Someone who set out to betray you wouldn’t look so devastated that you hurt them, would they?

You're also gripped with anxiety that getting in touch with Sunghoon would make things worse and he'll reveal Minhee's actions to the National Board. It scares you to think of your brother losing his chance to skate and being disqualified from competition. 

Space might be just what you all need.

But finding that space is proving to be a challenge when your mind is consumed by these thoughts incessantly. You feel utterly overwhelmed, your mental state crumbling, leaving you feeling helpless.

The old lady hands over the money, and you mechanically carry on with your shift.

Once it's over, you contemplate your options for where to go next. Normally, the rink would be your refuge, but it feels too loaded with memories right now. Rina's occupied with her anniversary date with Allen, leaving you with no one else to turn to. The library, despite being open 24 hours, holds no appeal; the idea of sitting in silence, trying to study, feels like torture.

With a tired yawn, you realise there's only one place left to go: home.

______

Kicking off your shoes at the door, you trudge up the stairs, each step feeling like an effort as exhaustion weighs heavily on your limbs. The lure of your bed grows stronger with each passing moment as if it's calling out to you louder with every step.

You notice that your mum's bedroom light is off, signalling that she's already asleep, while Minhee's room emits the usual blue glow of his computer screen. If it weren't for the ache in your heart, this could easily pass for a typical Wednesday night.

Entering your room, you're greeted by an unexpected sight. It's not as you left it; the bed is neatly made, your stuffed toys lined up by the pillows, your desk reorganised the way you like it, and all your clothes tidily put away. Someone has cleaned for you, a rare occurrence unless you're sick.

The one prominent feature of your newly organised room is the gleaming glass trophy on your windowsill. It stands proudly, displaying your achievement to everyone as they enter the room. 

This had to be Minhee’s doing, your mum would never go to these lengths.

Unfortunately, the award just serves as a memory to Sunghoon rather than yourself. It was the night you became officially his, the night you threw all guilt and caution to the wind so you could claim him as yours. 

Taking the trophy, you toss it in your top drawer and shut it roughly, not caring about the damage you could cause it.

With no energy to shower, you change into pyjamas. It’s a bad idea to slip into one of Sunghoon’s hoodies but as it envelopes you in warmth on the cold night, you don’t think about it twice. The smell of him still lingering as you put up the hood punches you in the chest. You miss him, it’s as simple as that. 

As you sink into the welcoming embrace of your bed, the weight of the day gradually begins to lift from your shoulders, only to be replaced by a hollow ache that settles in the pit of your stomach. Closing your eyes, you attempt to banish the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind and drift into sleep.

You toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but your mind refuses to quiet down. Images of Sunghoon's smile and the warmth of his hugs dance behind your eyelids, taunting you. Every time you close your eyes, it's like you're transported back to happier times. 

For what seems like hours, your heart and brain fight with one another, much like the night before. Your heart aches to be with Sunghoon, to trust him completely while your head rationalises the evidence presented to you by your mother. 

Just as you begin to resign yourself to another sleepless night, a soft knock at your door interrupts your thoughts. Minhee's concerned voice cuts through the silence, drawing your attention, "Y/N? Are you still awake?"

With a frustrated huff, you turn your back to Minhee, a silent declaration of your anger and hurt. Acting this way may seem childish, but this is how you’ve always acted towards him when conflicts arise between you, like you regress back to being kids.

Minhee sighs, walking to the edge of your bed before helping himself to a seat beside you, “You don’t have to speak to me but you can listen.” He looks down at his hands, wondering how to broach the situation, the words aren’t coming so easily, “I…I know I did something really shitty, okay? I shouldn’t have fucked with his skate like that, Mum just…” 

When he pauses, your intrigue is piqued and you twist your head to look at him. You can see his internal battle whether to tell you something or keep it to himself. The rooted anger towards your brother grows a little, “This is the only opportunity I’m giving you to explain yourself,” you warn him with a hidden urge for him to continue.

He breathes out slowly, his voice carrying the weight of a burden, "Mum just put so much pressure on me to win, like all she’s spoken about was how I need to place first,” his words quiver slightly, a reflection of the self-doubt flooding his body.

It's astonishing how one woman can make both her children feel so worthless.

As you turn to face Minhee, his expression mirrors the familiar blend of anguish and self-doubt that you've seen on Sunghoon's face countless times. It's a painful reminder of the weight their mothers' expectations have placed upon them.

"Mini, you could easily beat Sunghoon at Nationals. You didn't have to listen to Mum," you offer, your voice laced with both empathy and frustration.

The issue has never been Sunghoon or Minhee; it's always been their mums.

Minhee takes a deep breath, steeling himself to reveal the truth that he's been carrying with him all this time, "Listen to me," he begins, his voice tinged with bitterness, "Mum needs me to win."

Your confusion deepens, leaving lines of bewilderment etched on your face as you struggle to comprehend his words, "What?" you ask, all tiredness suddenly leaving your body.

"The odds of me winning aren’t in my favour, so she put on a bet. She'll get shit tons of money if I win. She put basically all her savings into it, all my money too," his jaw clenches as he recalls the conversation they had.

Your confusion escalates further as Minhee's revelations continue to unfold before you. "Since when was Mum into gambling?" you ask, the disbelief evident in your voice.

Minhee sighs heavily, his frustration palpable as he struggles to find the right words, "There's so much you don't know about her, Bubs," he admits, his tone tinged with regret, "The gambling isn't even above board. It's all underground-type shit with high rates. I swear I didn't know anything about any of it until she guilt-tripped me into going along with her scheme."

There was no denying your Mum was a little secretive, especially after your dad left, but this is not anything like you could have imagined. You had always wondered where your Mum got the money to support Minhee’s skating but his brand deals were good enough to keep you all afloat, so you just presumed it was that.

Minhee sees you calculating in your head and decides to continue, “Once she told me, I started practising like crazy, I trained almost every day just to be in with a chance but she wasn’t confident enough so she told me-”

"To break Hoon’s skate," you finish his sentence for him, the pieces of the puzzle snapping into place with a chilling clarity.

You knew something was off that morning - the way your Mum was extra harsh on him, telling him to make sure he ‘gets it done’. It was such unusual phrasing that you should have clocked on to it sooner.

This is exactly why you didn’t want to tell Sunghoon about it. You wanted to get to the bottom of it all because you were filled with suspicion from the get-go. The thought of your own mother putting Minhee in a position like this fills you with a mixture of anger and disbelief. 

“Why did you go along with it? If she doesn’t get the money, that’s her problem, no?” you query, trying to tie every string of this situation together for your own peace of mind.

Minhee sucks his teeth and looks away from you, “You know how much effort and time she put into my career, she sacrificed everything for it, her old job, money, even the breakdown of her marriage was because of me. I owe her this.” He’s withholding some information, using this as the sole his sole reason for helping, but there is more to it, you can tell that much.

Your chest fills with hurt as you speak, “The divorce wasn’t your fault, Mini. Mrs. Park started that rumour and it drove Dad to leave. That has zero to do with you. Plus, she pushed you to go professional when you were a child, you didn’t exactly beg her to let you compete. You owe her nothing.”

You know for a fact it’s her words that have made him believe he is the route of all her problems. If only you paid closer attention to what was going on, maybe you could have counteracted her venom with something, anything, to help him believe he wasn’t tied to her like this. 

Taking one of his hands, you scoot closer to him, the warmth of his presence a balm to your troubled soul. Resting your head on his shoulder, you feel the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. "You should have told me, Minhee. I could have helped you."

He shakes his head before encircling an arm around your back, pulling you closer to him as if seeking solace in your embrace, "I wanted to protect you. She would have dragged you into it as well if she could," he confesses, his voice tinged with regret, "I regret it. I wish I just didn’t let her manipulate me into doing that to Sunghoon. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I saw him at the rink that day we were doing the peer reviews."

It shocks you to hear him say that, considering he’s usually cursing the boy's name every time he was forced within 10 feet of him.

There was one thing that didn’t add up though, “Wait, if mum put the bet on, wouldn’t the bet be just to beat him? Why did she try and knock him out altogether with the skate? Surely that would cancel out the bet and she wouldn’t win the money?” you query, hoping your brother has the answers.

He shakes his head, “She never wanted him out of competition, just to injure him enough that he wouldn’t be able to compete to his usual standard, y’know? I would be in with a chance of beating him then,” he tells you, stroking your side, “It was touch and go for a minute, I don’t know what she would have done if he couldn’t compete.”

Underneath your head, you feel his shoulders tense up again, causing you to lift your face to look at him, concern etched into your features. "Is there more?" you ask, dreading the answer but knowing you can't avoid it.  He knows more than he is letting on, you can tell.

“Look, I’m going to say something that sounds so batshit crazy, okay, but you gotta believe me,” he says, his tone urgent, “And you know I’m not Sunghoon’s number one supporter, so you know I wouldn’t lie to make him look good.”

"Oh my god, Mini, just tell me, please," you plead, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

"The phone call was fake," he confesses, gingerly meeting your eyes as you give him a look of astonishment

Your mind reels at his revelation, struggling to comprehend the implications of what he's just said, "Fake? How? Don’t tell me you were a part of this too?"

“Fuck no, I was as shocked as you were,” Minhee protests, taking a deep breath before divulging what he knows, “I went searching after it all didn’t add up. Like, who the fuck records conversations like that in the first place, never mind sending them to Mum?”

You have to agree with him, the question also did come to your mind once you calmed down.

As he takes out his phone, Minhee's expression darkens with seriousness, his fingers tapping across the screen to reveal a series of emails. He shows you the correspondence between your mum and someone named Soohyun, highlighting the transactions and agreements outlined within.

"She paid him money to use some sort of AI to make it sound like Sunghoon was saying all that stuff about you and your relationship," Minhee explains, his voice laced with disbelief and anger, "It was one last attempt to fuck with him before the competition. She really needs that money, Bubs."

Shock courses through you, a tidal wave of disbelief crashing against the shores of your consciousness. The realisation sinks in slowly, each email adding another layer to the intricate web of deceit woven by your mother, "I-I can't believe this," you stutter, struggling to process the enormity of what he's just revealed.

Minhee gently takes the phone from your hand, returning it to his hoodie pocket with a sigh, "I know. It's like something out of a bad TV show, but it's true," he admits, his tone heavy with resignation. As his hand finds yours, a sense of solidarity washes over you, his touch offering a small measure of comfort amidst the chaos.

"To be honest, I had kinda knew it was fake," Minhee continues, his words slow and measured, "Don't get me wrong, I was livid at the idea of anyone using you that way. But on the drive home, I realized, this is Park Sunghoon we're talking about. He wouldn't dare to do that to you."

Confusion clouds your features as you furrow your brow, struggling to make sense of his words. "Huh? What are you talking about?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Minhee's expression softens as he meets your gaze, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "He liked you for so long, like for years. You were just so oblivious to it," he explains, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "If he has the chance to date you, he's not going to take it for granted, and certainly not use you just to mess with my head."

As Minhee's words sink in, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you. Memories of Sunghoon's lingering glances and subtle gestures flood your mind, painting a picture of unspoken feelings that had gone unnoticed for far too long, "Do you know he asked me for permission to date you when we were like 15 maybe? I can't really remember exactly…but anyway, I told him to get lost," Minhee adds with a wry grin, his words punctuated by a hint of nostalgia.

Now this was new information. All you knew was that Sunghoon had knocked you back when you asked him out about that age.

“I had my reasons.”

His voice echoes in your brain as you recall what he said at the ice rink on your first date as an official couple. All this time, you had believed Sunghoon's rejection was solely his decision, unaware of Minhee's influence behind the scenes, “You told him to say no to me? Did you know I was going to confess?” Anger rises within you, not real anger but the one that siblings have for each other when one steals the remote control or eats the leftover food they were saving.

"Whoa, yeah, okay, but you have to understand I was protecting you. I don’t even know what Mum would have done back then if you started dating him, especially because it was so close after Dad left," Minhee's voice is laced with remorse as he hangs his head. "I know I had no right to tell him to leave you alone, but…"

The anger in you subsides as you see him slump a little.

"You're the most important person in my life, Y/N. You're my little sister, my best friend," he continues, his voice trembling with emotion, "He took championships and brand deals from me, fine, but if he took you away from me, particularly back then, I think I would have died." He avoids your gaze, his admission laden with shame at his insecurities.

His words weigh heavily on your heart, the depth of his love and fear for you leaving you speechless, “I’m your sister, Mini. He could never tak-”

“Hasn’t he?” His interjection silences you, “You stopped coming to my practices, we don’t hang out anymore, it’s like I barely see you,”

His words strike a chord, piercing through the haze of your own emotions. Suddenly, the gravity of his words sinks in, and you realise the toll that recent events have taken on your relationship with Minhee. You were so caught up in yourself that you hadn’t factored in how the distance would affect him. 

Being caught up in your newfound relationship, you inadvertently left behind the one person who had always been there for you, the one who needed you the most. Guilt washes over you as you realize the depth of Minhee's loneliness and isolation in your absence. You and Minhee had been each other's rock for so long, but now, it feels like you're drifting apart, and you can't help but feel responsible.

A heavy silence envelops the room, thick with unspoken regrets and untold truths. You feel the weight of Minhee's gaze upon you, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"I... I didn't realise," you murmur, the words catching in your throat, "I didn't mean to drift away from you, Mini. I just... I got caught up in my own guilt, and it was easier to avoid you altogether."

Minhee listens quietly, his understanding washing over you like a soothing tide. His empathy is palpable in the gentleness of his gaze. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position. I guess I hadn't realised that trying to keep you from him was actually doing the opposite of what I thought it would," he admits, his voice filled with remorse. Bringing you closer to his side, he rubs your waist in a gesture of comfort. "I pushed you away and blamed it all on Sunghoon."

"You'll always be my number one, Mini. You don't have to worry about that," you assure him, offering a heartfelt smile in return.

If there were such a thing as twin flames, you and Minhee would surely be just that. In every universe, you both burn together, facing every trial and tribulation that comes your way. You're deeply thankful to have him as your brother.

“Did he actually like me this whole time?" You can't help but beam at the thought of the Ice Prince harbouring feelings for you all these years.

With a groan, Minhee pushes you away playfully, "Ugh, yes. He would NOT let it go either. Even asked me if he could take you to prom," he recalls with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“PROM? He wanted to take me to my prom?” You squeal at the thought, imagining Sunghoon awkwardly mustering up the courage to ask Minhee for permission to take you to prom. It's a surreal image, but one that fills you with a strange sense of warmth, “I had no idea he was that into me back then,” you idly play with your hair, trying to stop yourself from reverting back to your 14-year-old self as you imagine Sunghoon crushing on you too.

Minhee shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Probably just desperate, to be honest," he teases, earning an annoyed gasp and a few playful slaps to his shoulder. "Ow! Look, just because I’m not against you dating him anymore doesn’t mean I want to hear you gushing over him, okay?"

Your eyes widen in surprise at his revelation. "You... you aren’t against it?" The words feel fake as if you've stepped into an alternate reality where Minhee's acceptance of your relationship with Sunghoon is not only possible but welcomed.

Minhee sighs, raking his fingers through his hair, “I’m still not happy that you lied to me about it, and I am not his biggest fan,” he starts, eyes pointed at you with annoyance, “But he makes you happy and that picture you accidentally sent me was…well he clearly loves you,” It burns him to say it, you can see it in how his mouth cringes, “And after everything that’s happened, maybe I should let go of some of the grudges.”

You might have to clean out your ears to make sure you’ve heard correctly. 

In one swoop, you hug him tightly, “Thank you, Mini,” You hadn’t realised the weight that you had been carrying all over your body regarding this whole secret boyfriend situation, but it’s finally gone.

“Don’t thank me just yet, you need to make up with him first,” Minhee says, “That should be easy though.”

Ah, there was that little hiccup, “It’s a little more complicated than that,” you say sheepishly as you scratch the back of your hand. Your brother stares with questioning eyes, “When we argued at Belmore I might have accidentally told him you broke his skate and that I knew,” your shoulders rise as you speak, face spreading with awkwardness and guilt. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Y/N. Why would you tell him that?!” He is exasperated by you, his hands rubbing up and down his face to exhibit his frustration with you.

“It slipped out! Come on, I could have told him well before yesterday. Give me some credit,” you argue back.

Both of you stare at each other, and the room’s silence quickly fills with your outburst of laughter. The tension dissipates as laughter bubbles between you, the weight of the conversation lifting momentarily. Despite the gravity of the situation, there's something strangely comforting about being able to find humour in the midst of it all.

"Okay, okay, fair point," Minhee concedes, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "But seriously, you need to sort things out with him, if he tells the board I’ll never be able to skate again,” you look at him incredulously to which he just laughs, “Yeah, I am aware of the irony, okay? Just please sort it out. If not for me, for yourself.”

Nodding, you cross your fingers, “I will.”

“I love you, Bubs,” Minhee stands and kisses the crown of your head, smiling in relief that he has his best friend back, “Tell him if he hurts you for real, I’ll break his legs next time.” Your mouth hangs open as he walks away shrugging.

The weight of the situation settles over you once more, but this time, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. You just hope you can fix this. 

______

You find yourself standing at Sunghoon's doorstep, your hand poised to knock, yet inexplicably frozen in place. Why has the simple act of chapping on his door suddenly become so daunting?

A nagging voice echoes in your mind, whispering doubts about whether he'll even care, convinced that the damage has already been done. The weight of the colossal secret you've kept from him bears down heavily, compounded by the regret of not believing him when he insisted the audio wasn’t him.

Yesterday, confusion clouded your judgment, leaving you unable to think clearly, grasping onto every detail at face value. But amidst the chaos, you failed to afford the same trust and belief in his earnest pleas and declarations of love.

Now, the fear grips you tight: What if he doesn’t want to mend things? What if, because of some senseless scheme concocted by your own mother, you've lost the love of your life?

But you’re a big girl, you have to face this no matter the outcome.

With that mindset, you finally chap the door, breathing out slowly as you do so. The nerves sit in your throat as it dries out, the idea of losing him was just inconceivable.

The door swings open to reveal Jay, clearly just awake. His hair is sticking to one side and he hasn’t bothered to put on clothes, boxers being the only thing keeping his dignity. You suppose turning up to the flat at 6am on a Thursday would grant some disturbance.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jay asks, one eye still closed.

“I need to speak to Sunghoon,” you try to convey the urgency in your voice but it comes out breathlessly. You hadn’t realised you were holding in the air until you spoke.

Jay's sigh echoes in the room, his gaze drifting upwards as he considers your request. "I don’t think it’s a good idea, Y/N, he's kinda pissed," he cautions, his tone tinged with concern.

You understand Jay's apprehension, but you can't let the rift between you and Sunghoon deepen any further. The longer you both remain trapped in this mess, the harder it will be to mend your relationship. Time might heal some wounds but it won’t fix them.

“Can I just talk to him? I need to explain,” you plead, tapping your fingers together, you avoid his judgmental gaze. 

Jay's response is swift, his conviction clear as he defends Sunghoon's character. "You didn’t actually believe your mum, right? Like anyone with a clue can see how much he loves you. He wouldn’t do something like that," he states, offering a comforting gesture by rubbing his shoulder slightly. It's evident that Jay is trying to rebuild Sunghoon's image in your eyes, a testament to the unwavering bond between him and his best friend.

As you stand there, you can’t explain your thoughts during your fight with your boyfriend because you still can’t make sense of them yourself; however he was right, you should have seen his love past the lies of your mother.

Nodding with a hint of shame, you admit, “It was all just too much to process, and I handled it poorly. But I have to fix it.” Despite the weight of your guilt, a steely determination underlines your words.

Jay sees it, he understands you didn’t want to hurt Sunghoon the way you did. Maybe he’s a bit more understanding of your own grief because his best friend neglected to mention that you lied to him about Minhee and his skate. 

When Sunghoon arrived home, Jake and Jay greeted him eagerly, anticipating news from his check-up. However, their excitement quickly turned to concern as Sunghoon stormed in, slamming the door behind him with such force that it caused shelves to rattle.

Concern etched across their faces, his friends inquired about the situation with genuine worry as Sunghoon recounted the events involving your mother and the recording. However, he purposefully omitted any mention of the skate. He didn't want to tarnish your image in the eyes of his friends with his own anger-induced bias. He understood all too well that they might harbour animosity toward you for your deception, and the mere thought of it was unbearable to him.

So he didn’t bother to spill it, still protecting you even amidst his fury.

"I heard him leave this morning. I think he went to the rink, like he usually does to clear his head," Jay offered, unsure if he should disclose this information but feeling a strong intuition that both you and Sunghoon needed it.

Your expression softens with gratitude as you look up, "Thanks, Jay," you say, appreciation evident in your voice.

As you begin to turn, preparing to make your journey back to your side of town and into Belmore, Jay's voice suddenly pierces the quiet morning air, halting your movements, "Wait there, I'll give you a lift," he calls out, his offer catching you off guard.

Before you can even muster a response to decline his kind gesture, Jay is already striding purposefully back to his room to get dressed.

Left standing alone in the tranquillity of the early morning, the absence of Jay's presence allows your mind to wander freely. You had prepared yourself to talk to Sunghoon at this very moment but now you have a whole 40-minute drive to contemplate his reaction all over again. It’s scary, the idea of this being the end of you both.

When Jay finally emerges, dressed and ready to go, he motions for you to follow him as you both make your way to his car. You don’t know why he’s doing this but you’re thankful for the saved time, the time to get here was already long enough, never mind making the same painstaking journey back.

The drive begins in silence, the gentle hum of the engine merging with the rhythm of your own racing heart. Jay's quietness feels unfamiliar, a subtle shift in the energy between you since your last encounter, though not entirely unexpected.

With some courage, you figure talking to Jay might help you later on when speaking to Sunghoon, “I think deep down I knew he didn’t say it.” 

It’s a simple confession but one you had to say out loud.

Jay spares you a quick glance before keeping his attention on the road, “He’s doted on you, like literally obsessed with you. Do you not see that, or?” There's a hint of irritation as he speaks. He can’t fathom why you would ever believe one shitty phone call rather than your boyfriend who would drop the world at your feet if you asked. 

He hasn't witnessed every facet of your relationship, but from what he has seen, he can't help but envy it. He longs to experience the kind of connection Sunghoon has found with you, hoping to find someone who reciprocates his feelings in the same way. What frustrates him about the situation is the apparent disregard you show for his best friend's love. It's as if you fail to grasp the profound depth of Sunghoon's affection, while there are others out there yearning for even a fraction of such devotion.

You angle your body to face him before speaking, “I know. There was just a lot going on and…you should have heard it, Jay. It sounded so fucking real,” you almost plead with him to see your side.

Even Sunghoon had mentioned how authentic the audio sounded, so Jay knew what you were talking about. He simply nods to acknowledge you, his expression showing understanding, “What was it then? How did she do it?”

"Some AI guy. She hired him to grab snippets from Hoon's interviews and make the audio," you tell Jay, omitting any mention of the gambling or other family drama

Jay's eyes widen in surprise. "Damn, seriously? She stooped that low?" he says, his astonishment visible in his tone. All you can do is nod, aware of how absurd and unsettling the situation is, "AI is so fucking scary, man," Jay says, shaking his head in dismay.

You agree wholeheartedly, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of the lengths people would go to manipulate technology for their own agendas, "It’s so bizarre," you murmur, still trying to wrap your head around the whole ordeal.

The silence that settles between you both now feels different, no longer heavy with tension but rather mutually comforting. Each of you understands the gravity of the situation and the complexities it entails. 

In this shared moment of understanding, surrounded by the quiet of the morning and Jay's silent support, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, in stark contrast to the turbulence that has plagued you since Tuesday. If Jay understands your side of the story, perhaps Sunghoon would as well.

Pulling up to Belmore, Jay stops the car at the entrance, “Y/N,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “You’re good for one another, and Jake and I like having you around, so fix this, yeah?” 

You nod, determined and empowered by his words, “I will.”

_____

As you step onto the rink, your eyes lock onto Sunghoon, gliding with so much velocity that it sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a pang of worry, knowing he's pushing himself to the limit, risking injury once more. As you approach, beads of sweat glisten on his face, his hair clinging to his skin, a visual confirmation of your concerns.

He propels himself into a jump, the sharp sound of his skate slicing through the air, reverberating across the arena. However, his landing isn't smooth; his ankle bends awkwardly, causing him to fall onto the ice.

"Sunghoon, be careful!" you call out, running to be by his side. Ignoring the impracticality of your footwear, you shuffle onto the ice and kneel beside him, "Are you out of your mind?"

Much to your dismay, Sunghoon’s ankle is thumping, a superficial heartbeat pulsing through it. He might be able to go back on the ice but he’s over-exerting himself. He doesn’t look at you, focusing on his ankle, but he also doesn’t push you away, letting you undo the bandage to assess the damage. 

Seemingly, his ankle is okay, nothing torn or hurt beyond what was already there, the bruise from a few weeks ago dying into a faded yellow, a promising sign but it still pains you to see.

Standing up, you offer him your hands for support but he shrugs you off, opting to stand on his own and skate over to the exit of the rink, “What are you doing here? Come to mess up my other skate?” His tone is sharp and accusatory, indicating that he’s still angry.

“It wasn’t me and you know that,” you defend yourself, slowly walking behind him trying not to slip.

You both successfully make it off the ice, Sunghoon plonking himself onto the bench outside. Going back to his ankle, you kneel and start the process of re-wrapping the bandage tightly, again with no protest from him. Hopefully, that’s a better sign of forgiveness compared to what his voice is suggesting.

Carefully, you discard his skate to the side and gather the bandage, your cold hand sparks a jolt in Sunghoon as you hold the start of the wrap to the back of his ankle. You take your time to eliminate any cause of discomfort which for the most part you succeed in. 

“You kept it a secret, Y/N. Lied to my face,” he says through gritted teeth which you don’t know if it’s from anger or pain, possibly a mixture of both, “Everything wrong in my life seems to be because of your family.” The words sting because you know it’s true. As much as you would love to be excluded from the accusation, you know he’s right.

“I know,” You say lowly, putting all your attention on his ankle. 

Looking at you, Sunghoon sighs, his body heavy with mixed feelings. Just looking at you now he wants to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is okay, that he forgives you, but he can’t do that without some sort of explanation. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks softly, staring at you as if trying to reach into your brain and pull the answers out himself.

Adjusting the bandage with a gentle twist, you offer your explanation, “Honestly, I thought I was protecting you. You had so much going on; not knowing if you would make nationals, the argument with your mum, there was just never a right time.”

Sucking his teeth, he nods, “Feels like you were protecting your brother.”

“I was, in some ways. There was something so strange going on I wanted to try and figure it out before I told you. I wanted an excuse so you wouldn’t blame him for it,” you explain your thought process to him but he won’t get it, not unless he was you in that situation.

Yet, to your surprise, Sunghoon grasps the sentiment perfectly. Protecting your brother is second nature, ingrained within you, even on the first day when everyone discovered they would be combining the rinks, you tried to protect him from doing something stupid. 

The only thing he doesn’t understand is why Minhee did it.

“Did you ever find an excuse for him? Or can I blame him for this?” he points to his ankle with his other foot so you see it. You haven’t looked at him once since you started to tend to his injury.

“You can blame him for it,” you start, pausing your actions as you wonder whether you should tell him what transpired, why Minhee did it, “Minhee…My mum put him up to it, to get you injured for Nationals so Minhee had a better chance of winning.”

“Shit, okay.”

Knowing Sunghoon, he’s trying to piece it all together to save you the explanation, but this is far too complicated for him to work out on his own, “This is going to sound so crazy, but I need you to listen. My mum is struggling to make ends meet and she got into some gambling scene. She put loads of money for Minhee to win, specifically to beat you and if she wins, it’s like thousands of pounds, enough to get her out of the debt she’s in. I don’t know how it works but it’s shady. She didn’t trust Minhee to get the job done on his own so…” You trail off, hoping he’ll put the puzzle together now.

Taking the safety pin, you secure the wrap and pull down his trouser leg, yet, you still don’t look at him, scared of his reaction. If you were in his shoes, you would not believe anything about what was just said.

But unlike you, Sunghoon knows what crazy sports mums are willing to do for their kids to succeed, his mum being a prime example, “Y/N, seriously, you should have told me.”

“I didn’t find out about the whole gambling thing until last night when Mini told me. Sunghoon, please believe me when I say he didn’t want to do it, he just…he thinks he owes our mum like he’s the one that put us in debt for chasing this dream, that he’s the reason for a lot of things outwith his control.”

“Sweets,” Sunghoon breathes out, grabbing your chin, forcing you to finally look at him, “I get it, I mean, I’m not particularly chill with it since my career could have ended but the way Minhee is feeling, I do understand.” 

His eyes hold yours like they’re hugging you, trying to pull you from your worries and somehow it works. You feel a little lighter, his hand now etching its way to your cheek to cradle it. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, seeking his comfort.

“I’m sorry, Hoonie,” you state solemnly, angry and hurt that he was just a pawn in your mother's game, the relationship between you both strained because of her and yet you were the one apologising on her behalf. 

You’re sorry for your own mistakes, but nothing was as bad as her tricks.

Sunghoon offers you a small smile, ushering you to sit next to him on the bench so he isn’t looking down on you. The symbolism of you feeling lesser is evident to him and he can’t stand it.

He turns to face you as you take a seat next to him, his hand resting comfortingly on your leg. “That phone call, I didn't say all that. That wasn't me, you have to believe me" he begs you to trust him.

"Yeah, I know," you respond with a bitter scoff, recalling the manipulative tactics of your mother. The skater's expression shifts to confusion as you continue, "My mum did that too, another thing that’s going to sound even crazier than breaking your skate."

You recount the incident with the AI recording, detailing your mother's desperate attempts to win her bet and her willingness to destroy your relationship in the process. With each sentence, his bewilderment deepens, his eyes widening and narrowing, and his mouth opening and closing in disbelief.

"Wait, seriously? It was AI?" he interjects once you've recounted every bizarre detail.

As he grapples with the revelation, you seize the opportunity to provide some comfort, gently wiping the sweat from his brow and pushing his dishevelled hair back from his face. The tension seems to ease from his features.

You pout at him, the weight of guilt settling heavily in your chest. "I'm really sorry for not believing you when all of this came out," you admit, your voice tinged with remorse.

He reaches out to take your hand in his, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, "No, no, Sweets, it's okay," he reassures you, his tone soft and understanding, "She even gaslighted me for a second,” he suddenly starts to chuckle, “I thought my biggest worry was people making those ‘If Sunghoon sang Chase Atlantic’ AI TikToks.”

You laugh with him, knowing what he’s talking about. One day he came to you and showed you a video of him singing Slow Down which creeped you out and impressed you all at once. 

The moment of laughter dies down, the break in tension creating much-needed relief for both of you. This whole scenario is so fucked up it’s hard to believe, you’re just thankful Sunghoon is so understanding.

“What about Minhee?” he asks suddenly, passing the confusion to you, “Like, how is he in all of this?” 

Sunghoon’s concern for your brother, whether big or small, makes your love for him pound in your chest. Even after everything, he was still asking about Minhee which meant he might not hold a grudge, and more importantly, not go to the board.

Is it selfish to think that right now? To still be concerned about Minhee’s career?

Your boyfriend sees your eyes twitch, his telltale sign that your mind is racing, “Sweets?”

He breaks your thoughts, “Oh, he’s uh, he’s just stressed I think. I need to properly speak to him at some point and figure out what he wants to do,” you shake off the idea that Minhee won’t get to achieve his dream, scared that you might manifest it by accident.

Sunghoon nods, sighing deeply as he sheds any of the weight that was held over him. He wishes you would have trusted him when you heard the audio, but he does understand. Sometimes, he can be too understanding and he knows this, but it’s so easy to forgive or find reasoning for your actions.

Which will help you with your next request.

"Please don't go to the board," you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. It takes every ounce of courage you possess to voice the plea, but you know you have to ensure your mother hasn't irreparably damaged Minhee's chance at the Olympics. You need to see him succeed - he deserves it more than anyone.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he smiles, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, "I won't, I promise. For you though, only for you."

The weight that's been pressing down on your shoulders suddenly lifts, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief. You almost cry at how patient and understanding Sunghoon is, you wonder if you’ve ever met anyone like him before.

There’s a comfortable calmness in the air, his nose nuzzles against yours as he smiles contently, happy to have you back beside him. The past two days felt like weeks. It made him realise just how important you are to his life. He can’t live without you and never wants to be apart.

“So is Minhee…cool with us?” he asks gingerly.

Your face lights up as you lean back, “Actually, he’s completely fine with it, well, he said he still doesn’t like you but you make me happy. That’s all he wants.” 

Minhee and you will forever prioritise each other's happiness above all else. These recent events have underscored that sentiment, even if it took some time to fully grasp. Ultimately, you both want nothing but the best for each other.

Sunghoon appears genuinely surprised by your declaration, his eyebrows shooting up, "Really? No resentment or anything?"

"Really," you confirm, observing his reaction closely. "He... he actually told me about forbidding you from seeing me all those years ago," you add, realising his astonishment at the news about your brother being on board with your relationship likely stems from the years of Minhee pushing him away from you.

Flushed, Sunghoon shuts his eyes, “No, he didn’t,” he winces at the idea of you finding out about his long-term crush on you.

“He did. Told me how you begged him to let you take me to prom too,” you gloat, a massive triumphant smile on your face, “You loooved me all those years ago, you have to admit it now,” you joke and his face turns even redder. 

Typically, Sunghoon is being chased, so to have this hanging over his head in your relationship, he knows you’ll never shut up about it. He will admit though, that the look of delight on your face is almost worth the embarrassment.

“Okay, yeah. But blame Minhee for making us miss so many years together, okay? He was shit scary back then. I thought he was going to skin me alive,” Sunghoon recollects asking him if he could ask you out to the cinema, an innocent tiny date and Minhee, the scariest 14-year-old there was to ever live at that point, well to Sunghoon anyway, practically ripped his head off.

Prom was a mistake, he was simply asking if you had a date to prom. Yes, he was going to ask you if Minhee said no, regardless of what your brother would say, but the fire in Minhee’s eyes wasn’t one to be messed with and by this point, he was a gym-attending 19-year-old with an extra protective layer over you. Enough said.

You giggle and take his hand, offering him a sympathetic smile, “He was scared to lose me.”

"Who wouldn't be," he responds without hesitation, his tone serious and sincere.

His immediate reply catches you off guard and you do a double take, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice.

Sunghoon wasn’t just saying it; he was petrified at the thought of losing you, especially after your mother's deceitful phone call. The look of betrayal on your face had cut him to the core, a pain he never wanted to inflict upon you. He loved you too much for that.

As you process his words, you realise there's a deep emotion behind them that you hadn't fully grasped before. Sunghoon's admission hangs heavy in the air, revealing a vulnerability. Your heart clenches with empathy, knowing that his dread of losing you is deep. You softly squeeze his hand, silently expressing your empathy.

You felt the exact same way about him - terrified of losing one of the people who means everything to you.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, your voice full of regret, "I never want you to feel like you're going to lose me."

Sunghoon's gaze softens as he meets your eyes, a flicker of emotion dancing in the depths of his own. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against your knuckles, "I know, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with reassurance, “I’m not letting you go anyway, you’re stuck with me now.”

You laugh, shaking your head. There's a silent vow between you both to cherish and reassure each other whenever you have to, “Can we start again?” 

“Yeah, of course, Sweets.” He plasters a genuine grin on his face, elated with the idea of putting all the negativity and lies behind the relationship and starting fresh.

You stretch out your hand, teeth showing as you smile, “Hi, I’m Y/N Kang. I’m your biggest fan.”

Sunghoon’s heart pounds loudly, you are his fan but to him, you’re more like an extractor fan. If you don’t have one of those, things go rotten and that’s exactly what it felt like without you. He needed you to such the poison and pain from his bones, he selfishly needed your love to make him feel alive. 

He wants to provide you with that same feeling.

Taking your hand he smiles widely, mirroring your enthusiasm, “I’m Park Sunghoon. I am your biggest fan.”

________

The bleacher seats are your makeshift study space, textbooks and notes scattered haphazardly around you as you bury yourself in preparation for the looming winter exams. The chill of the air contrasts with the warmth of your determination; you had an award to uphold after all.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend is focused on a different kind of preparation. With just four days until nationals, he's dedicated himself to ensuring his ankle is in peak condition. Despite having twisted it just a few weeks ago, he's pushing himself hard, determined to perform at his best on the ice. When he pushes himself a little too much, you’re there to pull him back, or rather nag him to be careful

You steal glances at him whenever you can. Despite the injury, he moves with a fluid grace, his dedication evident in every precise movement. If you didn't know better, you wouldn't even guess that his ankle had been injured at all.

As you bury your nose in your books, a sense of admiration washes over you. His resilience and commitment inspire you to push through your own challenges. Granted, yours is a little less intimidating, the exams you’ll take will be confined to a week inside a study hall whereas Sunghoon is skating in front of thousands and being broadcast on TV. 

Lost in your studies, you're suddenly jolted back to reality by a soft tap on your paper. Glancing up, you're met with a warm smile from your boyfriend, his eyes twinkling with affection, “You’re so serious when you’re focused,” He laughs, leaning over the barrier of the ice rink. 

“Are you done?” You ask enthusiastically, hoping to get out of here and get the dinner he promised you 3 hours ago; your stomach wasn’t prepared to be denied food for so long that it started to speak to you about an hour ago.

"Just about, baby. You wanna go for Italian?" Sunghoon suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His suggestion makes you smile; you've been raving about gnocchi for the past two days, and he's clearly been paying attention.

As you agree, his grin widens, and he leans in close, "Great, I'll go get changed and be right out," he declares, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Leaning over the barrier, Sunghoon puckers his lips in anticipation of a kiss to which you gladly oblige, pressing your lips to his in a sweet, lingering kiss. The brief moment of affection leaves you both with a warm, fluttering feeling in your chests. With a final smile and a promise to meet you outside, he disappears to change, leaving you to gather your books and laptop.

Packing the last of your highlighters into your bag, you hear the entrance door open. Peeking over the seats, you see a familiar face walking down with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and earphones in.

"Minhee?" you question, hoisting your bag onto your shoulder before walking over to him. "Mini?" you call out louder, ensuring he hears you.

Your brother jumps a little, clearly not expecting to see you at the rink. "What are you doing here?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Sunghoon's taking me for dinner. I was just studying while he trained," you explain, hoping to alleviate any concerns he might have.

Your reasoning earns a thoughtful hum from Minhee. It's still strange to talk about Sunghoon so casually with him, especially after keeping your relationship a secret for all those months.

"Is he here?" Minhee glances around, searching for any sign of Sunghoon.

"He's getting changed," you reply, nervously biting your lip. Despite Minhee giving you the green light for dating, there's still a lingering apprehension about them being in the same room together, especially after "skate gate," as Sunghoon dubbed it in an attempt to lighten the situation.

There is still some part of you that dreads them in the same room together, apprehensive to what they’ll do. Minhee is overprotective of you and Sunghoon is, well, he’s got a wrap on his ankle thanks to your brother. 

Suddenly, the door to the dressing room swings open, and Sunghoon emerges, looking refreshed and ready for your dinner date. His expression is bright, his tunnel vision for you renders Minhee nonexistent to him. It’s not until he gets closer that he notices your older brother.

Once his eyes shift to Minhee, Sunghoon’s smile falters ever so slightly. He also doesn’t know how things will pan out but he knows he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“Minhee,” Sunghoon nods towards him which Minhee returns, “Are you training tonight?” You appreciate the civilness your boyfriend is trying to engage in, you know he’s doing it for you but hopefully, later on, he’ll do it because he and Minhee are actually getting along.

You can only dream of the day.

“Yeah,” he says sharply but there’s a wave of something in his eyes, something that happens when he’s thinking, “Actually, since you’re here can I talk to you? Privately,” Minhee glances at you as he says privately, indicating that he no longer wants you in the conversation.

Sunghoon looks to you for approval which you grant him obviously, hoping he’ll tell you what Minhee wants during dinner, “Sure. Coaches office is free,” he suggests, pointing with his head.

Your two boys stride over to the office and lock the door behind them.

Now, you could eavesdrop, and make sure no one throws a punch, but you’re trying to be optimistic about their relationship, so you leave them be.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself to trust in their ability to handle the situation maturely. After all, both Sunghoon and Minhee care deeply for you, they wouldn’t want to make this any more uncomfortable for you. 

Fighting the urge to pace, you take a deep breath and try to distract yourself with thoughts of the upcoming dinner. Maybe you’ll have a glass of wine with dinner tonight, and try something new. You could get dessert if you convince Sunghoon to cheat on his meal plan for a night. 

Who are you kidding? All you can think about is what is going on in that office, no attempt at distraction will help you now.

It’s increasingly difficult for you to resist chapping the door and pestering them to let you in on the gossip. What could be so important they couldn’t talk about it in front of you?

15 minutes pass but it feels like an eternity as you anxiously await their return. If one of them comes out with a black eye, you’re ditching them both, leaving them high and dry. You really hope it doesn’t come to that.

Finally, the door to the coach’s office swings open, all limbs and eye sockets intact, which is a good sign at least; however, their expressions are unreadable as they walk towards you. There's a subtle shift in the air, something lingering between them, though they try to maintain a facade of normalcy.

"Ready to go?" Sunghoon asks, his tone gentle as he kisses the top of your head lightly.

You nod and look between both of them, “What did you guys talk about?” There’s no grace of subtlety when it comes to you and your curiosity; you know it has something to do with you, you just wanted to know what.

Minhee and Sunghoon exchange a knowing glance before your brother answers, “Just giving him some brotherly warnings…right?” he says it so casually but his tone is cryptic. You know there is more to it than that.

Linking your fingers with his, Sunghoon grips your hand tighter, offering you some reassurance amidst the swirling thoughts in your mind. He knows you're probably considering every possible conversation they could have had.

"Nothing to worry about, Sweets. Minhee was just swinging his big brother ego around," Sunghoon says, his voice gentle but firm. There's a playful twinkle in his eyes that eases your nerves, if only slightly.

Rolling his eyes, Minhee sighs, "Whatever, Park. Remember what I said, yeah?" he tries to pass it off as banter, but there's a serious current weaving through his voice, catching you off guard.

Sunghoon nods in acknowledgement, a silent knowing between them, "I got it," he replies, his gaze locked on Minhee with a sense of respect and understanding. This newfound dynamic between Sunghoon and Minhee is unfamiliar, and you can't quite decipher whether it's a positive or negative development. 

"Enjoy your dinner, Bubs. Make sure he pays," Minhee points to Sunghoon before waving you both off and heading to the changing room.

As Sunghoon pulls at your hand, leading you out of the arena, the silence hangs heavy between you. He doesn't offer an explanation so easily, much to your dismay. 

"Your brother is a shark, can I say that in the most respectful way?" Sunghoon finally speaks up, breaking the silence with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You chuckle softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, he's super protective," you acknowledge with a touch of pride in your voice.

"He really is. He’d do anything for you…" Sunghoon trails off, his expression thoughtful. You want to ask what he means but you resist the urge to pry further.

"Are you guys okay? You didn’t fight or anything?" you venture tentatively. 

Sunghoon offers you a reassuring smile, his eyes warm with sincerity, "I think we're besties now," he quips, trying to lighten the mood. You can't help but smile at his attempt to ease your worries, "C'mon, let's go eat, I'm starving," he suggests, kissing you quickly as you reach his car.

You are grateful they managed to have one discussion without throttling one another, even going as far as to make lighthearted jokes and playful jabs.

Baby steps, you suppose.

_____

Emerging from the restaurant and making your way to Sunghoon's car, your face radiates with laughter, tears glistening in your eyes.

"Did you genuinely believe she was asking for your autograph?" you tease, barely able to contain your amusement.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “Baby, it isn’t that funny. She literally ASKED me to sign it.”

“Yeah, the bill because you used your card,” as you say the words, another heaved laugh comes out, “You were so confident to think she was your fan.”

Crossing his arms, Sunghoon huffs playfully, feigning annoyance, but he can’t stop the smile from creeping on his face as he looks at you. With your face so bright and that beautiful song of your giggles, Sunghoon can’t stop looking at you, admiring you in this moment.

As your laughter subsides, you catch him staring at you intently. "What is it?" you inquire, noting the uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, devoid of its usual sarcastic pout in situations like these.

"I just love you so much..." he trails off, halting by the passenger door of his car, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "The thought of losing you was terrifying."

Sunghoon understands that you've both overcome the misunderstandings and manipulations caused by your mother, and you're in a better place now. Yet, the prospect of almost losing you because of it still haunts him.

You pout at his words, bringing your hands up to stroke the apple of his cheeks gently, “I hated it too. You’re so important to me, Hoonie,” you whisper, eyes softening at his words.

The months you’ve spent with him have been the best of your life, you could never deny that. Your relationship with him hasn’t been easy, interference from too many outside parties threatened to ruin it all, to rip you from your soulmate, but you will never let it happen again.

You place a timis kiss on his nose, “I promise that nothing will ever take me away from you again, okay?” you look at him with sincere eyes, hoping he truly listens to your promise.

He nods, closing his eyes with a serene smile, his graceful hands enveloping yours, imparting a comforting warmth. Foreheads touching, he savours the moment, soaking in the palpable connection between you both. He just wants to feel your love.

Never in Sunghoon’s life did he ever imagine finding love like this. Although he always knew he loved you, he didn’t know how intense his feelings were until suddenly you weren’t there anymore.

He smiles, eventually opening his eyes to look at you, your gaze holding nothing but love, “Will you come back to mine?” he asks as though this is the first date and he’s testing the waters to see if you’re interested.

“Actually,” you smile, pulling away from him slightly, your hands trailing down to fix the collar of his coat, “Minhee went out with Jungmo and my mum’s recently been going out at night so…”

Sunghoon's heart skips a beat at your implication, "Are you inviting me over?" he asks, his ears buzzing with anticipation.

You nod, a hint of nerves sneaking through as you bite your lip. "Yes, if you want to."

Considering the offer, he weighs the options carefully.

On the downside: it's a risk with your mum potentially returning home soon, the early morning departure could be awkward if he encounters your brother, and there's the potential for discomfort in the morning.

On the upside: it's a shorter drive to your place, he's curious about seeing your room, and it's the only location where he hasn't fucked you yet.

"Alright, let's go for it," he grins, the allure of the last pro eclipsing the rest.

Sunghoon opens the door for you and you settle into your seat and fasten your seatbelt while he slides into the driver's seat, starting the car.

As the car glides down the dimly lit streets, Sunghoon steals glances at you, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flickering in his eyes. The anticipation within him builds with every passing moment, the silence between you thick with unspoken desire.

With a playful smile, you break the tension, "Why do you look nervous?"

Sunghoon chuckles, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, "Not nervous, excited,” he corrects you.

You eye him up and down, “Okay then, why are you excited?” 

Sunghoon lounges back as you hit a red light, taking the chance to look at you, “It’s like I’m entering enemy territory, like on those video games Jake plays all the time. I’m entering the red area, risking my life while I got on stealth mode,” he explains, getting even more giddy as he speaks about it.

“Hoonie, no one else will be home, I’m hardly sneaking you in.”

“Shhh, it’s no fun if you put it that way,” he chuckles, placing a hand on your thigh, “When I forward roll into your entrance, leave me be,” he plays.

Luckily for you, when you both arrive, Sunghoon refrains from spy rolling into your house like he’s an elite operative. Instead, he is waiting to be invited in like Stefan Salvatore.

“Baby, come on in, nothing gonna bite you,” you giggle as you take off your shoes.

Following your orders, he walks in and takes a look around the familiar entranceway. Nothing has changed since he was last here, just before your ceremony; aka, he’s noticed not one of your award pictures has taken pride of place next to your brothers. 

You hadn't shown your mother the pictures, nor did she inquire about how it went. Her indifference was something you had learned to accept, albeit reluctantly. It wasn't the ideal situation, but like Sunghoon, you had found solace and love in other places where your mother left a void

Coming to that acceptance was cathartic.

You lead him up to your room, a bright smile on your face. It was surreal to have this opportunity to have him amongst your creature comforts, like finally all the pieces of your life have come together.

Sunghoon stops you as you go to reach for the handle, “Wait!” he rushes out. Inhaling deeply as he jitters around like a boxer about to walk into the ring, each little jump and hand tremor making you laugh. You would mistake it for nervousness again if he wasn’t beaming at the door like an idiot 

“Will you calm down, this isn’t anything spectacular, It’s just my room,” you shake your head, looking at him as he continues his jumps of glee. Nothing you could say to him would stop him from acting like a child on Christmas morning, “You’re such a dork,” you snort, placing your hand on the handle.

Before opening the door, you mentally hope you tidied up before meeting him today. To your relief, the room is cleaner than you recall, albeit with a stray sock and some shoes strewn where your wardrobe is. You signal for Sunghoon to come, and he enthusiastically skips inside, looking about with inquiring eyes.

His attention moves across the shelves filled with books and trinkets, the cosy bed with its assortment of plushies, and the desk cluttered with papers and pens. Sharing this space with him creates a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, as well as elation among you both. Having him here feels like you can finally call this your home.

Sunghoon's smile widens as he takes it all in, his eyes sparkling with delight, "This is nice," he remarks, his voice soft with appreciation. 

You nod, feeling a surge of happiness at his reaction, "I'm glad you think so," you reply, watching as he moves further into the room, exploring every nook and cranny as if it holds some secret treasure. 

Just looking around your room is giving him further insight into your life. As your boyfriend, he knows a lot more than most, yet, seeing your soul laid bare in these four walls is opening him up to understand you deeper. 

From the 2 minutes he has spent in your room, he has just found out that you collect far too many earrings, your favourite highlighter to use is pastel pink, you had an emo phase that you neglected to tell him, and you’ve been to 4 fan signs for TO1. It’s tiny, insignificant details, but Sunghoon wants to know it all.

His eyes happen to fall on a picture of you and Minhee when you were kids, “I remember this!” he exclaims, fangs showing as he twists the picture to show you as if you don’t see it literally every morning, “This was the Youth of Skating competition when we were 13,” he reminisces.

"Wasn't I just adorable?" you remark, playfully cupping your cheeks and flashing a wide grin as you try to mimic your younger self captured in the photo.

With a laugh, Sunghoon gently sets the frame back on your desk, nodding in agreement, “The prettiest one in the crowd by far,” he murmurs in a soft tone, mirroring your joy. It's as if your face radiates sunlight, and he basks in your vibrant glow.

Closing the distance between you, he replaces your hands with his own, leaning in to kiss you. His lips are tender as they meld with yours, his touch gentle as he affectionately squishes your cheeks, “You’re still the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

Your heart quickens as he whispers sweet nothings into your mouth, his words mingling with the gentle exploration of his tongue, "I don't buy it," you tease, playfully pushing his hands away from your red cheeks, "You'll have to prove it to me," you challenge with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A playful smirk dances across Sunghoon's lips as he accepts your challenge, his eyes sparkling with determination. With a soft chuckle, he gently captures your hands in his, intertwining your fingers as he pulls you closer.

"Oh, I intend to," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. Leaning in, he presses another lingering kiss to your lips, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, he trails his lips along your jawline, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses in his wake. 

He takes off his jacket, tossing it on your desk chair all the while he’s nipping at your neck. As his hands swiftly remove his t-shirt, revealing his sculpted bare chest, your eyes are drawn to the faded hickeys scattered across his skin. You had really done a number on him a couple of weeks ago, the purple still tinting his pecks. 

Before you can fully appreciate the sight, he bends down, effortlessly scooping you up, his lips showering kisses all over your face. Your breath catches at the warmth of his touch sending a flush to your cheeks, "Sunghoon," you gasp, feeling his urgency mirrored in your own desire.

Laying you gently on the bed, his chest pressed against yours, he trails his hands up and down your body, igniting flames of longing with each touch, "I know, Sweets," he murmurs, his voice laced with possessiveness, "You want me to fuck you, yeah? Prove to you that you’re the most gorgeous girl?"

“Yes,” you huff out desperately.

“Then be a good girl. You can do that for me, baby, can’t you?” he whispers into your neck, licking a stripe up your vein.

His words dance down to your pussy, arousal pooling between your legs as you eagerly nod in agreement. His confidence mixed with his praises only fuels your desire, the promise of being his good girl setting your pulse racing.

In a flurry of movement, his trousers and boxers are discarded, and he wastes no time in removing your jeans and underwear, leaving you bare and exposed to his hungry gaze. As he kisses up the tender skin of your inner thigh, his proximity to your centre sends waves of anticipation coursing through you.

“My beautiful girl, you’re all mine,” Sunghoon’s voice is low and smooth like butter.

The vibrations from his words send a jolt of need straight to your core, the ache for his touch almost unbearable. As he teasingly presses a delicate kiss to your clit, you whimper in longing, your body yearning for the fulfilment only he can provide.

His hands slide up to the top of your thighs, holding them down and apart as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. A shiver of anticipation courses through you as your hips instinctively push up, yearning for the touch of his mouth where you need it most.

Sunghoon responds with soft, warm kisses across your core, each one sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Then, with deliberate slowness, he traces his tongue upwards, sending a shudder of delight through you as he explores every inch of your pussy.

Kneading your hands through his hair, you grip tight as you beg for more and Sunghoon has no problem granting your wishes, kitten-licking your slit as he laps up your wetness. 

When he is going down on you, he is like a man possessed but now it’s much worse. He hasn’t tasted your essence properly since the breakup/makeup. Your boyfriend doesn’t like to go too long without your taste on his tongue, so here he is making up for lost time as he lays his tastebuds flat against your cunt, savouring every drop of you.

You pull his head back by his hair, eliciting a moan from him as you do so, the sensation of each strand being in your command causes his dick to jump in, “Fuck, Sweets,” he hisses, licking his lips clean as he looks up at you through hooded eyes, “Tell me what you want.”

But he already knows what you want, because, without your answer, he’s gathering saliva in his mouth before spitting it on your throbbing pussy, his fingers lathering you in it, “Go on, tell me,” he mutters onto your clit, digging his teeth onto it just enough for you to buck your hips onto his face.

“Fingers, Hoonie, I want your fingers. Please,” you plead, holding your hips up to his mouth in a desperate attempt to get some release of your friction.

“Not only are you gorgeous,” Sunghoon’s fingers find their way to your entrance, circling it teasingly, “You’re my obedient, perfect girl.”

Sunghoon smoothly slides his fingers inside you, opening you up and filling you with a sweet sensation. His attention never leaves your face as he looks for your reactions, making every movement pleasurable for you.

He sees your lips falling wide and your head cocking back in ecstasy as an indication to continue. His fingers hook into you, gliding back and forth in a smooth and luring pace that matches the rhythm of your desire, and caressing you just the way you like it. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure through your body, creating a fire of passion that becomes hotter with each enticing movement.

You're a moaning mess as Sunghoon expertly finds your sweet spot, thrusting his fingers harshly as he works it with precision, "Let it all out, baby," he encourages, his voice sending your head into a tizzy, "Show me how I'm making you feel."

His words alone could send you tipping over the edge, but it's the sensation of his tongue flicking your clit and the gentle suction that has you screaming his name loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. Sunghoon doesn't stop you, revelling in the melodic sound of his name falling from your lips like a symphony of desire.

"That's it, angel, you're doing so good for me," he praises, his words only spurring you on further. The two fingers inside you continue their relentless rhythm, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with each delicious stroke.

Your hands instinctively push him further into your cunt as you ride his face, Sunghoon's skilled ministrations bring you closer and closer to your climax, and his tongue and fingers dance in perfect rhythm, driving you to contentment with each delicious motion. The overwhelming sensation clouds your thoughts, leaving you lost in a haze of pleasure that makes your mouth water with anticipation.

With a final, electrifying thrust of his fingers and a gentle nibble at your clit, you hit the edge of release, your chest and tummy tightening. And then, with a guttural moan that bounces throughout the room, you finally succumb to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in its wake.

Sunghoon continues to worship you with his mouth and fingers, guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm with tender care and devotion. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered word of praise only serves to deepen the connection between you.

He sucks and swallows your juices, smiling as he does so. Your walls have trapped his two digits inside you as you squeeze him tight, “Baby, relax for me,” he kisses up your stomach in an attempt to get your body to yield but your orgasm is too intense, “Shh, Y/N, breathe out for me beautiful,” he whispers as his face meets yours.

Opening your eyes, you see his gentle smile and etch a blissful one onto yours, his adoring gaze instantly rippling through your bones, helping your muscles to unknot themselves. The power he has over you is crazy.

"Told you I would prove it," Sunghoon chuckles softly, pressing a peck on the tip of your nose as he finally frees his hand from you. Shaking your head with a satisfied smile, you exhale deeply, prompting him to tilt his head inquisitively.

"Oh? Have I not done enough?" he questions, his expression filled with amusement.

"Nope," you reply smugly, popping the 'p' for emphasis, "You could do more to prove it."

Sunghoon feigns contemplation, his lips quirking to the side in mock thought, "I see, hmm…" he muses, his gaze scanning you from head to toe before he suddenly sits you up and onto his lap, taking your useless top off.

His favourite playthings are now sitting directly at eye level and Sunghoon feels spoilt for choice of what one to show attention to first. Left has always been his favourite, there wasn’t a particular reason as to why, he just instinctively went for it every time.

Before he can delve his mouth to attach to your perky nipple, you surprise him by gripping his shoulders with one hand while the other strokes his cock between your bodies. In reaction, his shoulders and back hunch over, his head now buried between your mounds. 

Your slicked hand pumps him at a vicious pace, yet the gentleness of your hand causes no discomfort. After all these months together, you know how he likes it, fast and rough with extra attention to his tip; so that’s what you do, after every fourth stroke you swipe your palm over his head, the soft skin now tinted red with need.

“Sweets,” he murmurs between your breasts, his tongue licking the valley like a helpless dog, “Let me be inside you, fuck I need it so bad,” he almost whimpers as you squeeze him.

Part of you wants to keep going and tease him but your heat is leaking for him, crying out to be stuffed by his cock. 

You lift your hips and guide him to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him, “Jesus,” you hiss out, his cock stretching you much wider than his previous fingers.

The pace you set is deliberate and unhurried as you savour the feeling of his thick shaft piercing into you, battering your cervix each time you slam down onto him. Sunghoon groans at the way your channel is enveloping him, moulding around him like a perfect fit. 

With each withdrawal, the tip of his cock catches on your entrance, teasingly, before he plunges back in, eliciting desperate pleas for more from your lips, "Hoonie, please, faster," you beg, your desire driving you wild.

It’s time for Sunghoon to take charge, his hands clasp around your back as he pulls you further into his chest, gripping onto your skin as he goes at you relentlessly. He delves so deeply inside you that the sensation becomes overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and need. Sunghoon's hand moves from your back to brush against your overstimulated clit, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to writhe on his lap, "Sunghoon, please," you whimper, your voice laced with desperation.

"What is it, baby?" Sunghoon's voice, soft-spoken and tender, stands in stark contrast to the force of his thrusts, each one pounding relentlessly against your core.

"Close," you gasp out, the intensity of your impending climax threatening to overwhelm you once again. If it were any other time, you might feel embarrassed by how quickly you're reaching the peak of ecstasy, but you know Sunghoon would understand. And he does because he feels the same way. 

Both of you have tangled in sheets for long enough that you both know one another’s body like the back of your hands. That, added in with the withdrawals, of course you were both cumming quickly. Neither of you particularly minded since it wasn’t exactly a hindrance but rather served as just another notch to add to the endless list of climaxes you could potentially have. 

The day that one orgasm halts your sexcapades for the night, is the day Ghostface will stop being hot. Never.

Sunghoon spits on your folds, his movements primitive but intentional. His fingers rubbed saliva into your delicate skin, focusing their attention on your swollen clit, pushing you to the verge of your high. These sensations are almost too intense to take, with his rough touch on your bud and the power of his cock ramming into your walls battering you in the most delicious way possible.

The other hand on your back trails its way to your left hand, clasping it in his as he intertwines your fingers, kissing your knuckles as he stares at you, love shining through, “I love you so fucking much,” he whispers out, his hips faltering slightly as he declares his adoration for you.

Nodding, you bite your lip, prying your eyes open to look into his, “I love you too, Hoonie,” you confess back to him, hips also losing their rhythm as you struggle to focus on anything other than the coil in your stomach.

You bring your lips to his hand, mimicking his earlier actions, “Cum with me, Sunghoon,” you whisper into the back of his hand, your lips parted as you suck in a deep breath, ready for release.

Your body convulses with pleasure as waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in their wake. Sunghoon holds you close, his touch gentle yet possessive as he guides you through the aftershocks of your climax with tender care.

Sunghoon kisses you hungrily, his lips engulfing yours in a passionate embrace as your words push him over the edge. With feral zeal, he releases his seed in you, the white strands of his desire flying straight into your depths and blending with your own release.

Your bodies melt together in the heat of passion and you both cry one other's names along with a stream of curses, lost in the throes of pleasure and need. Sunghoon punctuates each passionate proclamation with two simple utterings of "I love you," ensuring that his words are conveyed sincerely

As you come down from the euphoric high, you find yourself enveloped in Sunghoon's embrace, his love and adoration surrounding you like a warm blanket on a cold night. In this moment, with him by your side, you feel truly complete, knowing that you are loved and cherished beyond measure.

Laying you down, Sunghoon, slides out of you gently, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, “Sweets, where is your bathroom?” he asks but you’re still too fucked out to comprehend his question, leaving him to figure it out on his own, “Stay here, baby, I’ll be back,” he instructs, putting on his boxers and tucking his semi-hard cock into them. 

Leaning an ear to the door, Sunghoon assesses if anyone magically came home while you two were going at it like animals. The silence he hears elicits relief into his body as he opens the door, confident no other member of the Kang family will see his practically naked figure.

Opening a few doors through trial and error, he stumbles into Minhee’s room. The curiosity within him leads him to look around, hand searching for the light. Once he switches it on, he sees exactly what he was expecting, a clutter of mess placed in every corner. It’s similar to his room, decor-wise, but there’s one thing that he notices, standing prominent on Minhee’s nightstand. 

Sunghoon reaches for the picture of you at 3 years old, sleeping next to your older brother, hugging one another tightly. You’re wearing matching pyjamas and smiles with no cares in the world. He knows your bond with Minhee is strong, stronger than most siblings; he thinks perhaps that’s why it was so easy to forgive you for lying to him. Seeing this picture now only punctuates his thoughts.

And after his conversation with Minhee today, he knows you would both do anything to protect one another.

“What are you doing in here?” you ask, hugging him from behind. Your eyes stare at the picture in the frame and you laugh, “Oh my days, Minhee and I were so young back then,” you fondly pout.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your shoulder, “I was looking for the bathroom to get you cleaned up but I came across his room,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing your shoulder.

“Hmm,” you acknowledge, taking the frame and placing it back on the desk. You pause your motions as you look around his desk. It had been a long time since you had been in your brother's room, possibly 2 years, but you don’t remember all of the clutter on his worktop.

Picking up the paper fortune teller, you can't help but laugh at the whimsical relic of your childhood, "I didn't know he kept all this stuff," you say wistfully, your fingers tracing the faded creases of the paper. Memories flood your mind as you recall the countless hours spent crafting these simple yet cherished treasures with your brother.

Your gaze then falls upon the painting, a colourful masterpiece that holds a special place in your heart despite its simplistic charm. "And look at this," you remark, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "I remember making this in nursery. It was supposed to be a house, but I’m clearly no Picasso," you chuckle, the memory bringing warmth to your heart.

Putting it back, you see the picture you sent him from your award ceremony, sitting proudly next to his mouse, “He printed this out?” you ask no one, “I thought this would be the last picture he would want to see every day.”

The picture didn’t just represent your achievement, it represented the lies you sat in for months without Minhee knowing. This picture was amongst the bunch that had you and Sunghoon sitting happily in love, an accidental click that exposed your deceit. 

Sunghoon kisses your temple, “He’s proud of you, baby,” he says, trying to ease your tense shoulders, “That night, sure, the aftermath was a shitshow. But you still achieved something amazing, and he’s proud.”

His words lighten you a little, a smile creeping on your face as you put it back. Shaking your emotions away, you look up at your boyfriend, “Let’s get out of here, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” You push him out of Minhee’s bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“While you’re up,” Sunghoon follows you, hand in yours, “Why don’t we just take a shower?” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

You roll your eyes and open up the bathroom door, “Fine, but only quickly, last time I started to shrivel up like a prune with how long you kept me in there,” you joke, turning the light on. 

Sunghoon smirks, “I promise, I’ll be quick,” he leans down to your ear, “I’ll just make sure I go at you rough and hard, hmm?”

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

[moongreenlight]

Said my piece about stalker!soap but how could I forget stalker ex boyfriend!ghost????????????!

Cw: Creepy crawler behavior. Stalking. Breaking in.

Maybe you should stop listening to true crime podcasts at work.

It feels entirely silly. You’re surely working yourself up over nothing, but some mornings you wake up and have to explain-away the way that your toothbrush is in the wrong spot or that there’s a lunch packed in the fridge that you can’t remember putting together yourself. There’s pictures on your phone that look like your dark bedroom that you’re pretty sure you didn’t take yourself. Maybe you accidentally took it on the way to bed? While you were getting up to use the bathroom?

You talk yourself blue in the face explaining it away well enough that you convince yourself your flat must be haunted. It seems almost logical? Better than any of the alternatives you can come up with if nothing else.

You live with the infrequent tweaks and changes to your surroundings. Lights on you shut off. Doors open you left closed. Your laptop charger going missing when you were certain you left it on the desk.

You almost go so far as to get a motion-activated light to plug into the outlet by your bedroom door, but you convince yourself against it after wandering the aisles of a drugstore with it in your cart long enough for an employee to start following you around. You toss it back on the wrong shelf and buy a packet of sweets you won’t eat in an attempt to not look like you were casing the joint.

But then it picks up. Gets more serious. Windows being opened while you sleep. Strange creaking of floorboards that are too loud to be the building settling. Your bed being made when you get back from an outing you had to rush out the door for. Massive men’s sweaters showing up in your in-unit dryer. The trash being emptied while you were at work. It gets so bad that you stop staying at home because it’s simply too creepy.

It’s the kind of fear that settles in the craggy parts of your brain. Seems silly if you think about it too hard the same way being scared of the dark in your closet after watching a horror movie does. Being scared of a potentially haunted apartment doesn’t really convey the severity of the situation when you try and talk about it with people.

You stay with friends. Couch surf as long as you can until you cannot possibly force people to take you in any longer. And when you’ve exhausted all other options, you find yourself texting Ghost for the first time in months.

Hey.

It’s hours before he responds. Not unusual. And instead of him texting back, you see a phone call block out the video you’re watching on your phone from a very well-lit spot in the living room. Also not unusual.

You pick up, but it takes you a few seconds to choke out words around the sudden lump in your throat.

“Forget how to answer the phone?”

He sounds irritated -again- not unusual.

It’s quiet where he is. Sounds like maybe he’s in a smaller space. His bedroom or his car? Though you couldn’t imagine him out at this hour of the night.

“Sorry. No. I- sorry.”

Shifting from his end. The static of fabric brushing past the microphone. A hefty sigh.

“Sorry.”

“You said.”

“Uh- I don’t really know how to ask you this, it’s- silly. I don’t know. Are you- um- busy?”

“S’half one in the morning.”

“It was a better time when I texted.”

It’s hard not to snark at him.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. I’m not busy.”

You’d love nothing more than to hang up on him, but you stayed up the entire two nights before because you couldn’t find anyone to come stay with you and you were getting desperate.

“Could you come over?”

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 4 - Nightmares Too

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“You wanna get out from under there?”

What sort of question is that? Of course, you don’t. You’re going to live here now. You’re never leaving this tiny, cramped space till you rot away and die. The stained underside of some IKEA desk was your new home.

Well, since your actual home was seeming less and less like an option. Which kinda sucks, because you’re feeling surprisingly possessive of your stuff. You don’t want fancy dresses or bubbly champagne, you want your ratty couch and the neighbour’s cat that liked to visit in the middle of the night. Your mother was right, you were the type of person to never be happy no matter what. You could appreciate the food, though.

Shaking, trembling, knees clutched to your chest, you look up. Slowly, because you’ll probably piss yourself if you don’t.

Now that you weren’t holding his hand, the vigilante known as Red Hood was much, much scarier. He was sitting on the carpeted floor with you, but he still somehow looked incredibly menacing. You preferred his old look, honestly. The helmet had less ‘grim reaper’ vibes. The hood and metal face mask made him seem like a cyborg assassin, or something equally terrifying. He was terrifying.

Still, you could appreciate the insane sort of hilarity of this situation. The notorious crime fighter and crime committer was sitting here with you, crossed legs, twiddling his thumbs away. You press your face into your hands, laugh, and then scream. The sound is muffled, but he probably still hears the exciting new phase of your breakdown.

“Don’t…” your voice cuts off, you have to think before you can manage to speak again, “Don’t you have something better to be doing?”

His giant shoulders shrug.

“I’ve got time.”

Did he? You don’t know how long you’d been up here, how long you’d been sitting here either. You’d fallen asleep, despite your desperate fight not to, so it could be anywhere between 10 to the next day. Had you missed midnight? God, you hoped not.

That stupid little ritual is what convinces you to leave. Not common sense, not the Hood, not your desperate desire to get home and sleep. No, it’s the image of your mother’s tired smile, the city in the background as you wish her another happy birthday after a long day of work. It’s a memory you’re not willing to give up, even if you technically already made your wish.

You’d lived this awful day twice. You got to blow out your candles twice, too.

Slowly, surely, you climb out from under the desk. Red Hood is quiet, careful. He doesn’t move apart from a subtle shift in his hood, suggesting he’s watching you. He’s acting like you’re a wild animal or something, like he might scare you off, or might prompt you to attack.

If he tries anything, you will. It doesn’t matter that he could snap your neck like a twig. Maybe he’s right to act that way, you’re feeling pretty feral right now. Half giving him your back, you turn the monitor for the computer on. It’s Wayne property, so you think you technically have some right to it. It’s not like you’re going to hack it or anything, you just need it to-

11:48.

“Thank god,” you sigh, relieved. Still, you’re not out of the woods yet. You needed at least a lighter, hopefully, a candle and a desert of some kind too. There were lots of cakes downstairs, if you felt you could do it. Big ‘if’ there. The mental breakdown was still well underway. And not everyone could dodge a punch like Red Hood could. Knowing you, you’d probably get sued for millions if you accidentally snapped at some poor rando.

Let’s start small. You wrench open the office’s drawer and start rooting around. You find lots of things, a Wayne Enterprises-themed stress toy, a kid’s drawing of them and their parent holding hands, and a surprising amount of hand cream, but no lighter. You slam the drawer closed and move to the next one.

“Hey, what are you doing?” his voice rumbles out, and your head snaps around.

You look down. Right. This is probably illegal. You were rooting through someone else’s private property. Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this, but it was definitely the first time you’d done it in plain view of a vigilante.

Crap. You hadn’t thought. That was your entire night, summarised.

“Uh, this is… Do you have a lighter?” you ask, wincing. You don’t really like the mask he’s wearing. Apart from being so intimidating, you’re shaking like a wet chihuahua, it’s also impossible to tell what he’s thinking through it. The domino mask, the metal face mask and the voice changer completely hid any emotion. Full coverage and all.

The helmet probably would’ve made that even harder. You’d still prefer it. This guy's creepy.

“You smoke?” he responds, slowly but surely getting to his feet. You back up quickly, pressing yourself to the wall of the cubicle. Red Hood pauses and then moves even slower. He’s careful not to frighten you any more than already.

This was all really strange. One of the strangest things that had ever happened to you. And you might’ve woken up this morning in an alternate dimension. Or something, you had zero clue what was going on. God, you really wished you’d paid more attention in science class. You’d thought Mr Gregory was crazy, but he’d gotten the last laugh.

“I don’t,” you clench your sweaty fists tight, “Maybe I should.”

“Don’t get started, it’s impossible to stop,” Red Hood says, digging into his pocket for something. You freeze, but relax again when he hands you a scuffed metal lighter.

Holding it close to your chest, you whisper a thank you to him. He nods his head in acknowledgement.

This was really weird. You couldn’t say it enough.

“I hate you,” you state because you sort of have to. Even when he’s being nice to you, helping you. It’s an obligation. You have to make sure that despite the show of good faith he was offering, you were certainly feeling no such thing.

“I figured,” he replies, which like- What the fuck? Does this make absolutely zero sense to anybody else? You’re not sure what about your panic-stricken tears and desperate hand-holding made you seem hateful, but you could work with it.

Maybe all the feelings you push down are starting to show. You ignore how worried that makes you because you’ve had enough for today. Today was more than e-fucking-nough.

You were going to find a cake and a candle, and you were going to make your wish. Again, because life sucks. You were going to finish this horrible day again because life sucks. And hopefully, you’d wake up tomorrow… tomorrow, not today.

You weren’t sure if you would. Life sucks, right?

You look the Red Hood in his creepy glowing red eyes and say, “I think I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

There’s quiet between you two for a moment. You think he’s staring at you, trying to figure you out. He knows you hate him, but you’re… well, you’re too tired to be angry right now. You just want to go to sleep. You just want this damn day to end. Tomorrow you’d go back to hating all the vigilantes of Gotham with a fiery passion, but today…

Well, you wouldn’t call it peaceful, whatever this situation is. Maybe it’s understanding. He seems understanding, for some reason. You don’t really want to think about that.

You just wanted to hate him. It was easier that way. Then you didn’t have to hate yourself so much.

“I’m going to go find some cake and a candle. It’s my birthday and I haven’t made a wish.”

Red Hood nods, “I could eat.”

That wasn’t an invitation, but whatever. Guess you’re blowing out your candles for your twenty-first with… this guy. Better than yesterday, which was with nobody but yourself and your trashy TV. Or, well, the first today.

You really think you are losing your mind. Whatever, whatever, let’s worry about it later.

After one of the most awkward and uncomfortable elevator rides of your life, squished into a corner as Red Hood took up the lion’s share of space, you find yourself back on the first floor. It’s chaos. The gorgeously decorated gala is now in rubble, and people are rushing around with the sort of fear you’d expect after the fucking Joker showed up.

He wasn’t here, which was good. It was important to focus on the good.

First responders flit around the space, checking the people who seem worse for wear and the rich bastards who think they’re more important than the service workers who are cut or bruised. All the food tables have been knocked over, the waste of it making you upset. Of course the Joker wastes food, he’s gotta be the evilest man on earth or something. It’s not just the interior that’s been destroyed, either. The giant gothic windows have been shattered inward, and broken glass covers the entire floor space. Red and blue lights flash through the gaping holes, bits of glass still attached to the stone sending it cascading across the walls.

You look down. You’re missing your shoes.

“You can’t walk on that,” Big Red says, which like, duh.

“I know that,” you mutter, looking around for another way. Ah, good, there’s a staff entrance over there, which you think probably leads to the kitchen-

“I could carry you.”

You give him a disturbed look and he shrugs. Pointing to the ‘staff only’ door, you wish you had the strength to tell the guy to fuck off. He feels like a babysitter or something.

“I’m going in there.” ‘Please don’t follow me.’

He follows you, because of course, he does.

Lucky for you, the staff entrance leads straight to the kitchen. Even luckier, there’s absolutely nobody here to witness you lose your mind. There are also lots of dishes waiting to be served, already plated and perfect. This is a professional kitchen, but it was your birthday so you have to assume they’d have had candles or a cake prepared.

You walk through the giant kitchen, and Red Hood hangs back. He leans against the doorway, crossing his tree-tunk-esque arms and glowering. Nowhere can do a scary hero like Gotham can. He was really messing with your vibe, which wasn’t all that great in the first place.

Your eyes rove over the platters, head snapping back when you spot a tiny set of confectionaries at the back. Cupcakes, three in total. They don’t match the rest of the other high-quality foods, but you know they’re the ones you want anyway. You hope this didn’t belong to someone else, and promise to pay them back… somehow. You’d write a note or something, leave your number behind.

You were rich now. You’d have preferred the lottery instead of all this. What’s the saying, ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’ You’d certainly been begging.

It’s a struggle to reach the back of the counter without knocking any of the other food. You grab the plate, lift it up and over, and then set it back down on an empty stretch of countertop.

You look over the three cupcakes, trying to pick one. There’s one that’s a dark raspberry pink. A pink that’s a little too dark, actually. Almost… reddish. You glance over your shoulder at the devil lurking behind you, wince, and decide you’re going for the blue cupcake. You think this might’ve also been one of Sam’s favourite colours. It would’ve been at some point, at least.

Now, candles. This might be the hard part, but it’s the most important one. Again you start rooting through some stranger’s property, and Red Hood just watches silently. It’s weird. This whole situation is weird. You’re tired and confused and you’re half convinced you’re dreaming it all, but… but you’re definitely starting to think this might be real.

And that’s fucking scary. So, back to candle hunting. They had to have some, it was your birthday. Maybe, you were pretty sure. Somehow the worst day of the year had happened twice because God knows you had some shit luck. You’d really like some solid answers, instead of just ‘maybe!’. And for some reason, you really didn’t think you’d be getting them anytime soon.

Ah, shoot. You found your candle. It’s one of those giant ‘Happy Birthday’ cake toppers, all loopy and connected words. Your cupcake is way too small, and your candle is way too big. Well, you’re nothing if not resourceful. When you bend the candle, the wax snaps easily under your grip. You’re left with a capital ‘H’ and under that the ‘B’ and little ‘i’ and ‘r’ from the beginning of birthday. Good enough, you suppose.

You stick the crumbly, glittery monstrosity on top of the stolen cupcake, and swipe the lighter again. The letters sag to the side, and you nudge them back into balance.

You glance down at the ovens, reading the bright neon numbers. 11:57.

You wait, flicking the lighter open and closed. The metallic click, the rhythm of the movement, it settles you a bit.

“Why are you waiting?” Red Hood pipes up, breaking that comfortable silence. At least he doesn’t come any closer, still lingering half in the room, half not.

“It has to be midnight,” you answer, wishing him away. This is your thing. You didn’t want anybody here for it, didn’t want anybody else’s presence tainting this piece of your mother’s memory. You were greedy for it, not eager to share.

You were sharing today. There’s a part of you that wants to scream and rant at the man who for some unknown reason simply will not leave, but you imagine your mother’s frowning face, and you can’t do it. She’s the angel on your shoulder (nagging, nagging, nagging) compared to your usual devil-inclined self. She was always insisting you needed to be a better host, be nicer to people. Maybe make more friends. And after she’d gone, you’d tried, you really, really had.

But Red Hood was an altogether different matter. Everything they were, everything they represented, was an altogether different matter.

You were obsessed with the Waynes. And in a different, more bitter, spiteful, malicious way, you were obsessed with the Bats, too.

You weren’t going to be friends with Red Hood. You hated him, despised him. Mum always said you needed to get better at forgiving people. You disagreed, but just… maybe just for today, you wouldn’t make him leave.

You could glare at him, though. You felt that was fair enough. He ignores your narrowed eyes like a seasoned professional. Bet he’s had a lot of people hate him. Bet he deserves it.

“It’s 11:59,” he tells you, and you stop glaring at him to light the candle.

The light is weak, barely able to touch you. Still, it’s strong enough to get rid of those tiny glimpses of red and blue police lights, to keep away the darkness for just long enough. You sigh into the light, absorbing it into yourself. You’d always thought the world was too dark, and you hated winter when you’d lose the sun. So like you had to hate the dark, you had to love this light. This tiny little candle, burning away.

“What’re you gonna wish for?”

You stare at the flickering flame. It twitches back and forth. Casts light into the kitchen. Mesmerises you. It’s barely alive, and you’re about to put it out before it can even start. It could’ve been some great fire, some city-destroying blaze. And you’re going to kill it. Kill it before it can kill you, can kill everyone here. Kill it before it could have ever hoped to live, to thrive.

Just a baby. Just a little, little baby.

It doesn’t deserve it. That never seems to matter. It never mattered before.

“The Joker to die.”

You exhale, blowing the light out and sending the kitchen into darkness. When you manage to find the light switch and turn it on, the room is empty. It’s just you, your cake, and your tears. Your hands clench, and then you realise you’re still holding it.

You still have the Red Hood’s lighter. He left without it.

Well, finder’s keepers, right?

-

You’re shaking in the back of the ambulance, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders not enough to keep out the Gotham night’s chill. You don’t really remember how you got here, to be honest. Everything’s pretty goddamn blurry. You were talking to a vigilante, a red one. Not down here, staring up at the Wayne Tower. You remember his face in the shifting candlelight. Did you blow out your candles with him? That was a fucking crazy thought.

And now the Bruce Wayne has a hand on your shoulder. You don’t remember when he arrived. He’s talking with the paramedic, chatting over the top of your head. There words are going in one ear and out the other, it’s alien for as much as you can understand. You want to shake his hand off, you don’t want anyone touching you right now. Especially not a stranger.

Even if it was a guy you had owned a fan Twitter for. Those were the darkest days of your past. Even more so than the time you’d totally thought about jumping in front of the Gotham subway. You’d only not done it because you’d have felt bad for wasting other commuters' time. What were you doing? Ah, right.

In the end, you don’t shove him off, because you don’t know if you can move other than blink. Even that’s against your will. Your eyelashes are fluttering randomly, eyes flicking around the interior of the ambulance. You’re barely conscious. And you doubt you’ll remember any of this later, either. You can feel the memories slipping away, the drain at the back of your mind sucking up the fear and bad thoughts and leaving you blank and empty. Numb, safe, but numb.

The paramedic’s mouth moves. You don’t think she’s talking to you, which is good. You can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. She does some final checks, and then she’s off to the next person.

The two of you are left to silence, to watch the rest of the world in its chaos. You feel like there’s a barrier, a pane of glass, between you and the other people here. Like your TV screen, really. The paramedic goes to a woman and her son. The woman seems fine, but the son has a long gash on his arm. She’s screaming, he’s crying, and the paramedic is handling it all with calm professionalism. You wanted to start screaming too.

You glance at a man in a suit yelling at another first responder, spittle flying into the air with his rage. You think he’s one of the ones you saw earlier in the ballroom. His suit is still perfect, and he doesn’t have a speck of blood on him. Even his hair is still perfectly brushed and coiled.

You looked like a drowned rat in comparison.

“…Are you alright?” The question breaks the silence, and you slowly turn to look up at Bruce.

Well, that’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard. You thought Bruce Wayne was supposed to be brilliant. Maybe he’s just feeling bad because of the new trauma he’s gifted you tonight? It wasn’t his fault. As most of your mental health issues stemmed from, it was the Joker’s fault.

“No,” you answer, and he nods stiffly. Great chat.

He huffs out a sound of frustration, lifting the hand on your shoulder. Immediately, some of the tension in you seeps out. You hope he doesn’t notice. You think he probably does.

Someone calls out your name. Your head turns to the crowd. They call out your name again, this time closer, and you call back. You’re sort of surprised when a crying Jeanine pushes out of the throng of people. She’s a mess, her hair out of her pristine bun, her suit missing its jacket, and her glasses cracked. Seems she didn’t have a very nice time either.

You look down. She’s also missing her shoes. It’d be kind of gross, walking around on Gotham’s streets barefoot, if you could manage to give a shit. You’re still restarting, however, and all energy is going towards not crying again. You’re failing. Awfully bad, at that.

Whatever. Gotta try.

Panting, Jeanine places her hands on her knees, “I’m so, so sorry.”

It takes a moment for you to load the words through your Windows XP brain, but when you do, you’re more confused than you were a second ago.

“What? Why are you sorry?” you say, for a second imagining Jeanine as one of the people that attacked you.

“Because you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t… hadn’t forced you to come…” Jeanine’s voice trails off, a look of horror on her face. Ah, she’s noticed Bruce. Apparently, she’s quite afraid of the man. You feel a sense of camaraderie towards the woman. God knows how many times you’d worn the exact same expression talking to one of your own bosses.

And then, well, then you usually got fired. It’s not looking good for her.

“Mister Wayne! I didn’t see you there, apologies!” she says, straightening her shoulders.

“Jeanine, it’s good to see you. Are you well, have you checked with the paramedics yet?”

“I have, Sir. Thank you for worrying about me,” Jeanine answers, with a healthy dose of hero-worship in her voice. You can’t judge, you’d be staring all starry-eyed at Bruce if you weren’t falling asleep where you sat. Apparently, traumatic experiences make you sleep. Who would’ve thought?

Like you hadn’t experienced this scenario a thousand times before. First time with fucking Bruce Wayne standing right next to you, though.

“Of course, I would. You’re one of my people,” he says, giving her a warm smile. Jeanine physically sags with relief at his words, because it sounds like she’s probably not getting fired tonight.

Bruce gets a notification on his phone, hums, and then slides it back into his pant pocket.

“Jeanine, we’re going back together to the manor tonight,” Bruce continues. Also, you were? Nobody mentioned that to you, and certainly nobody asked you about it. Well, fuck what you want, right? Who cares if you desperately want your cramped apartment in the Narrows, you’re getting shipped off to the fucking Wayne Manor of all places.

You just go along with it. Just go along with it. Wayne Manor probably has lots of nice, plush beds, and you’d kill for a pillow and some ambient rain sounds right now.

Bruce looks off to the side, where Tim is on the phone. They make eye contact, Bruce nods, and then turns back to the two of you.

“I’ll be right back. You two stay here, do not go anywhere,” he commands, king of the castle.

There’s quiet between the two of you. Jeanine squirms under your gaze, obviously guilty. You think back over her words, and then you groan.

“Jeanine. Jeanine, did I not have to go to this fucking party?”

Jeanine is quiet. She’s too fucking quiet.

“Jeanine?” your voice is shaky, and you have to bite the inside of your lip to force yourself not to tear up again. It was getting kind of embarrassing, honestly. You did not cry this much. Usually. This was not a usual day, of course. You’d been Ground Hog Day-ed into another reality… you think.

“No, Ma’am, you didn’t need to go. You’re… you used to be a Wayne, and even if you’ve parted from the name, you still have the power that comes with that. You did not have to come tonight,” she says, sounding remorseful and afraid. And maybe she should be.

If you had as much power as she said, you could probably fire her. You press your hands into your face.

“I thought you said you’d quit if I didn’t go,” you grind out, digging your fingers into your eyes, clawing into your already ruined makeup.

“I was lying, Ma’am. As I always do. I’m sorry,” she apologises. None of this makes any sense, and neither does she. Why would she lie? Why is this normal? What is the new normal, and how are you supposed to hide if you don’t know how to blend in?

You realise that you’re falling into old habits instinctively. That maybe you should say something about all this, or at least that you have some weird form of amnesia. You don’t, though. You’re scared, you’re far too scared.

“Well how- I thought you were serious this time!” you cry out, stuttering over your own lies, flinging your hands from your face. Jeanine winces at you. It’s probably the dried mascara running down your face in black rivulets, making you look like an odd mix between a raccoon and a banshee.

You’d seen your reflection in the ambulance’s side mirror. It had almost been as scary as the Joker’s goons. Almost.

“…Please, please don’t fire me,” she begs, her hands clasped tight in front of her.

You realise you probably should for an admittance like that. This was too complicated, this woman and her non-existent relationship with you was far too complicated. You also realise that whoever ran this stupid body before was very used to Jeanine’s baseless threats, and it wouldn’t be at all fair to her. And she seems quite desperate for this job. Which really doesn’t make much sense, because she seems quite important, and she’s working for you, someone else who seems quite important.

God if you fucking knew. You were quickly discovering you didn’t know shit.

“I won’t, just… just don’t say anything about this to anyone, okay? I’m…” you sigh, uncertain what to do, what to say, “I’m having a hard time.”

“Thank you, thank you so, so, so much. I’ll pay you back, I won’t do it again, I’ll do whatever you ask me to-”

“That’s enough, please. I just… I’d like some quiet,” you cut her off, closing your eyes and shuffling back in the ambulance. You cut yourself off from the rest of the world, hide your head behind your knees, and try to ignore the flashing lights and yelling voices. The ambulance shifts weight slightly as Jeanine sits beside you. She’s not too close to feel uncomfortable, just toeing the line.

Bruce comes back, looking over the two of you. He seems sombre, but you’re not sure why. Is it the entire night? Did something bad happen again? Is it just how miserable the two of you look? You don’t care enough to ask.

You just don’t care.

You tune out of their conversation again, even knowing it might be important. When Jeanine leaves, and Bruce invites you to a black car, you follow silently. He opens the door, and after a moment’s hesitation, you follow him in.

He knocks on the panel separating the two of you from whoever’s driving the car, and like a well-oiled machine, the car pulls out of the traffic and the paparazzi and out onto the street. Must be nice. You bet Jeanine is going to have to walk home.

Ah, wait, you’re one of them now. You’re one of those ‘must be nice’ types. Weird. You kept forgetting, somehow. Even with Gotham’s prince sitting next to you. Weird.

“I want you to stay at the manor for the night,” Bruce says, and you nod, barely listening. You’re barely conscious, far too tired to understand the implications of the words he was saying. If there were any, like you said, you couldn’t tell.

You’re watching the city go by, the light streaming past in a blur of colours. You rest your head in your hand, your elbow on the armrest. Even with you pressing your face to the glass, you can’t see the sky. The buildings stretch too high. And even if you could, it wasn’t like you’d see anything aside from some late-night flights. The Gotham light pollution and the smoke-filled sky would see to that.

Bruce doesn’t say anything else after that. You’re grateful for the quiet.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and maybe in some act of self-harm, try to remember what happened tonight. Try to pick through your thoughts, and understand whatever happened. That man… that horrible man. He disappeared into thin air. Gone, just gone.

And your world had changed. You’d gotten richer, more powerful. And yet, and yet… you knew this feeling. You knew this weakness. You knew what it meant when you looked in the mirror and you saw something barely alive.

You knew what grief looked like.

You want to rip out your own hair and chew off your own skin. It didn’t make any sense, and you felt crazier and crazier by the second. And none of it made sense, and yet, you had the worst feeling. An omen, a dark cloud. Something worse than the Joker, something that made even less sense.

Even in this life, were you alone? That wasn’t fair. That didn’t make any sense. That didn’t make any sense at all.

Your voice is quiet in the car. Her voice is quiet in the car.

“Do you know where my Mum is?” a little girl asks the big, strong man, her tiny body dwarfed by the black leather of the car. She’s out of place, out of time. She doesn’t fit here.

She doesn’t think she ever has.

The big, strong man, the hero, stays silent, his face hidden by the darkness. The little girl sobs, cries, wails. She wants her mum back. She wants her family back. And now, she wants her life back.

All have been stolen from her.

Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was dead. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were dead. Maybe this was another world, and both you and her now have to navigate another lonely place. At least you’d do it together, hand in hand.

It didn’t matter. You knew where you needed to be.

“I want to see it.”

You need to see it. You grasp desperately at Bruce’s arm, nails digging into his expensive and ruined suit. Begging him, pleading him.

He says something. You think it’s a ‘what?’

“I want to see their graves. I want to see my mother’s grave.”

Bruce’s face darkens, and you’re too tired, too exhausted to tell what emotion flits across it. You wonder if it’s the same desperation you feel. But it confirms it. They’re dead. They’re still dead. Despite everything, despite the entire world changing for you, the most important part had been forgotten.

They were still dead. And you were still here. Alone.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, but for tonight, you need to rest,” he promises you, and your hand releases. You watch your palm hang limply in your lap, and for a second, it doesn’t seem like your hand. Bruce starts speaking again, this apologetic, pitying tone. You can’t stand it. You can’t stand it one bit.

And in the rudest, most cowardly thing you’ve ever done, you cover your ears like a child.

The rest of the car ride passes in a blur of colour and sound. You’re in Gotham, driving away from the Tower, you’re at the edges of town, passing over one of the bridges, you’re driving through New Jersey’s countryside, passing green fields and old buildings. You go by the iron-wrought gates of Wayne Manor, up the alley’s winding entryway, and finally, the car rolls to a stop in front of the stairs.

To Mr. Wayne’s credit, he doesn’t open the fucking door for you again. You get to stumble your way out on your own two stubborn legs, swaying drunkenly, sickly. He waits for you at the stairs, and you ignore the arm he offers you. He’s just as blindingly irritating as his son.

Didn’t you like these people? You would again in the morning, you just needed your hate. It was the only thing keeping you going at this point. Pure rage was fueling you as you climbed those steps. You’re panting, but you don’t really know why. They’re not that tall.

You feel weak. You feel so, so weak. And you hate it. You’d worked so hard to be free of it, even when you longed for it like a toxic ex-lover, you’d pushed it away. And now it had it’s fangs wrapped around you again, and again, you’d have to climb out of hell.

Today, it was more literal. Tomorrow? God fucking knows. People were literally vanishing from thin air, Pete’s sake. You’ll try, of course. But god fucking knows.

A butler opens the door, and Bruce enters. Once you follow in, the butler closes the door behind him. This time, you really do try to hear what they say. It’s impossible. You concentrate, but all you get for your hard work is a headache. Tomorrow, you’ll try again tomorrow.

The butler rushes off, something important and butler-y to be done. You really didn’t know what butlers did. You couldn’t imagine what their jobs were other than cleaning and cooking. Accounting? Did butlers do accounting?

“I need to handle some things. Will you be able to find your old room alright?” Bruce asks, interrupting your increasingly inane thoughts.

You blink, at him stupidly. Because you were stupid. You had a brand to keep.

“Yes,” you lie. You don’t really know why you do. Some odd mix of self-protective instincts, exhaustion-induced delirium, and also a deep desire to be alone. You really, really wanted to be fucking alone.

“Goodnight then,” Bruce says, he pauses like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. He’s done that twice now, you think. Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re worth the effort. He’d be right.

You watch his back as he strides off into the darkness of the manor, leaving you shivering in the empty foyer. Your expensive ballgown is tattered, grimy, and worst of all, bloody. You want to get out of it. And then you want to sleep.

The click of his dress shoes fades, and you’re left wondering what the fuck you’re going to do next. Could you just start storming into random empty rooms? Where would you find any clothes? You were not going to sleep in this dress, no way.

So, you start up the grand staircase and start storming into random empty rooms. You find studies, bathrooms, and bedrooms. None that seem like anyone lives in them, of course. They feel like fancy hotel stays, the type you see online and sigh about.

The house, no, the manor, is quiet. Empty. It feels haunted, honestly. It probably was, a building this old and important. And it wasn’t like you didn’t know about Martha and Thomas Wayne. You didn’t think any Gotham native didn’t know about them, about the tragedy that had struck them.

It made Bruce seem like someone real, someone like you. Because if even the billionaires could get shot in alleys in Gotham City, it made more sense when the poor folks died. Like you were all human like God didn’t play favourites.

But, let’s be honest, you’d prefer to be an orphan in a mansion than the Narrows. Bruce Wayne had time to heal after what happened to him, for you it was from the frying pan to the fire.

The orphanage you’d been in for two years before you’d turned eighteen and been kicked out had had a very strict hierarchy. Probably still did, you never went back to check. It was technically a foster home, but the ancient sign beside the front door spoke differently. ‘Gotham Orphanage - Founded by Alan Wayne 1878’, the mark of the Waynes even found there. You used to touch the sign every time you went past it like it was some odd good luck charm. You still owe that sign your first successful job interview. Like you didn’t touch the copper plate every damn day, including every day you’d failed another interview.

And, well, it was Gotham. It wasn’t a good place. It had long been cemented in your mind that those theories that Gotham was cursed were true. That there wasn’t any other explanation.

You pause in your musings when you find a room that actually looks like it might be lived in. A long time ago, you think, from the dust covering the shelves. When you check the closet, you find men’s clothes, also untouched. You hope whoever lives here doesn’t care if you steal their shit, because you certainly don’t. Oh wow, this bathroom is gorgeous. The tub is gigantic, easily able to fit a group of at least six, maybe more. Still, you want to go to sleep more than you want a nice soak, so you go for a quick shower where you get rid of all… all the blood.

You watch the red run down the drain and are brought back to much simpler times.

Even as one of the older kids, you were still new blood. You hadn’t made any friends when you tried to defend the younger, weaker kids, either. The foster ‘parents’ who didn’t let you call them anything other than Mrs and Mr Hemming didn’t care about any abuse that happened under the house, as long as it wasn’t visible. You’d done this ritual before, but it actually had been your blood. It hadn’t hurt as much as this did, for some unknowable reason.

You weren’t a fighter. The very few punches you did take, you never hit back. Not like you had tonight. You’d been terrified the Hemmings would kick you out, stop feeding you. Still, you never moved, either. Never let the others take their anger out on the younger kids. You couldn’t do it. And now, looking back on it, your fear of the Hemmings retaliating was stupid. They’d needed the funds the foster caring gave them, and they were always trying to take in more and more kids.

They were empty threats. You were a terrified child. The what-ifs didn’t really matter anymore.

And maybe you were a bleeding heart type, like the other kids had said. Maybe you were gullible, naive, and a pushover. Like you hadn’t been through all the bullshit everyone else had. Like you being nice and hopeful and all those things that got you picked on weren’t all deliberate choices. One day, all the anger and rage you had would bubble over. It would destroy you and your life in a catastrophe, not unlike the one that took your family.

You’d already pushed it down so many times. Waking up today, in a different, unfamiliar world, had probably just made it worse. As always, you ignore it. It’s not worth worrying about.

Getting out of the shower, you do a very lazy towel off and then grab that mystery man’s clothes. They’re mostly dress suits, but you find a few old T-shirts. It hangs off you like a curtain, but it’s warm and it smells nice. Minty and earthy and… oddly free. Bouncy, alive, but still calming and relaxing. It’s a nice counter to the corpse vibes you’re rocking right now, which is decidedly un-alive and un-calm.

You wonder what it would’ve been like to mourn in safety. Where you didn’t have to worry if someone would steal your portion of food or the few funds you could hide in the garden. Where the glares of others didn’t constantly dig into your skin, reminding you that you weren’t wanted there. That you never would be.

That was alright. The place had stunk of mould and rat shit anyway. And maybe you had in this life. It didn't look like you were doing much better, anyway. No, this version of you somehow looked worse. You didn't know how it was possible, and then you remind yourself that none of this is possible, and you really ought to let go of that word.

Still, you lived in Gotham. You would always live in Gotham. You couldn’t leave, it was your home. It was a part of you, like every other sorry idiot who still lived here. School shootings, bomb threats, the city’s regular ol’ disasters. Even if you had been put in a good foster home, even if you had lived... here, you doubted your life would’ve been that much better. Of course, you were still bitter about it. Couldn’t the world just take a little bit off your plate? Maybe it was now, maybe this was the universe's way of saying sorry. A fancy, but empty house, with a still dead family. Maybe you were a little too greedy, a little too jealous.

You slide the duvet covers to the side, untucking them just like you do whenever you do stay in a crappy motel. When all the sides are thoroughly untucked, you slide underneath the covers. When your face lands on the pillow, you sigh in relief. Despite all the bullshit you’d suffered tonight, you had silk pillows, and this phone had youtube premium, so you could listen to rain sounds on it.

Safe. Sort of. Happy. Sort of. Alive. Sort of.

You told yourself it could be worse. And it could’ve been, so you kept on. Today, even after the night you’d had, you tell yourself it could be worse, again. At least the goon didn’t capture you, at least you didn’t actually see the Joker, at least you had a safe bed for the night, at least…

At least the Batman didn’t rescue you. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help but think it.

You hated him almost as much as the Joker, which was saying something since you regularly daydreamed about ripping that man limb from limb. Because the Bat refused to do anything about the supervillain, to finally put the mad dog down, you would always hate him. There wasn’t any other option. You sort of hated his entire entourage. Even Red Hood a bit, since even if they constantly fought, it was obvious both of them held back when dealing with each other. Still, you hated Red Hood and Robin a little less, after tonight. You kind of owed it to them.

You didn’t want to. You wanted to hate them and keep hating them till you died. It was one of your little things, the little things you couldn’t let go of. The little things that hinted at your less-than-perfect sanity. You felt that if you ever forgot what they’d done, what they kept doing every day, that you’d be disrespecting your family, forgetting some part of them. Some part of their memory, which you greedily hoarded away. Not a single precious recollection was to be lost, not ever.

You weren’t allowed to move on. Weren’t supposed to. Sometimes the many little rules you’d made for yourself felt like they were going to eat you alive. A swarm devouring its master. Swallowing you down bit by bit. Up and up, eating all the parts of you pushed down.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you, closing your eyes tight. Like if you tuck your feet inside the duvet, the monsters can’t get you. Your monsters can’t get you. Sometimes it felt like they were already feasting, and you just refused to feel it.

But only sometimes, right?

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