#it's fun to read it's got a good rhythm and voice to it

[1o1percentmilk]

[ID: A drawing/fake polaroid photo of Teru from the Mob Psycho fanfic A Picture's Worth, holding up a peace sign and grinning in a selfie shot. He is wearing a gray sweatshirt with an unidentified logo on it and a gray beanie to hide his bald head, and his eyes are baggy. Behind him, boxes can be seen around the room, as well as various cleaning supplies and crumpled tissues. The image has a yellow to muted purple palette. At the bottom, the polaroid is captioned, "It isn't pretty, but that's ok." // "??/09/'12". End ID.]

A PICTURE'S WORTH // @teruthecreator

[1/12]

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[pretzel-box]

HII, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME REQUESTING SOMETHING IF IM DOING SOMETHING WRONG FEEL FREE TO DELETE THIS ASK, BUT I WAS WONDERING…. In one of his lines sebastian makes a joke about having cards and such, the later says “ive never played cards actually.. meaning to learn.”. SO WHAT IF, i were to kindly and politely ask for anything that includes gender neutral reader teaching sebastian how to play cards, thank you for reading this in advance :3

UNO!

words: 1,7k

tags: uno, the card game.

authors note: I had too much fun with this and added Uno into the scenario! Sebastian learns everything about the wonderful world of cards.

Years ago, during a weekend at your grandparents' house, your grandpa placed a worn stack of playing cards in your hands and asked if you'd ever played. At the time, you hadn’t—being young and inexperienced—but that was the day you learned. Every time you visited afterward, your grandpa would teach you a new card game, keeping you entertained for hours.

So, when Sebastian mentioned that he had a deck of cards buried somewhere among his tools, junk, and files, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. Excited, you immediately hopped off his tail, which you had been using as a comfy seat, and began rummaging through his things in search of the cards.

“Don’t expect me to play with you,” he huffed, trying to avoid getting pulled into your sudden enthusiasm. He tried to mask his lack of skill by pretending he simply didn’t want to play, but your excitement made it clear that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

Before he knew it, you were sitting in front of him, shuffling the deck with ease, your fingers expertly spreading and reassembling the cards in one fluid motion. The sound of the cards snapping back together caught Sebastian’s attention, and despite his initial reluctance, he found himself watching you with curiosity.

You smiled at him, seeing the interest flicker in his eyes. “Come on, it’s not that hard. I’ll teach you.”

Sebastian grumbled under his breath but sat down across from you, folding his arms as if to keep up the pretense of disinterest. “Fine. But I’m not going to enjoy this.”

“We’ll see about that,” you teased, dealing out a hand of cards to him. You started with something simple, a basic game that didn’t require too much strategy. As you explained the rules, Sebastian’s brow furrowed in concentration. He kept glancing from the cards to you, trying to piece together what you were saying.

“Wait, so I can only play a card if it matches the suit or the number?” he asked, holding up a card as if it might give him the answer.

You nodded encouragingly. “Exactly. And if you can’t, you draw from the deck until you get something you can play.”

Sebastian stared at his hand, clearly overthinking his next move. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, his frustration starting to show.

“It will, just keep going,” you assured him, demonstrating a few moves to help him along. Slowly but surely, Sebastian began to understand, though he still looked uncertain with each card he placed down.

But as the game progressed, something surprising happened—Sebastian’s competitive side started to show. His earlier confusion faded as he began to grasp the game’s rhythm, and soon he was playing his cards with more confidence. You noticed the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth whenever he played a particularly good move, and it made you smile in return.

By the second game, Sebastian was leaning forward, more engaged than he would have admitted. “I got it this time,” he said, his voice tinged with unexpected enthusiasm. He played a card that blocked your move, his eyes lighting up as he realized he was starting to get the hang of it.

“Nice move,” you praised, genuinely impressed. Sebastian’s smirk grew, and he gave you a sidelong glance that was almost playful.

“Don’t think I’m going easy on you,” he warned, but there was no real bite in his words. He was enjoying himself, and it showed.

As the games continued, Sebastian’s initial reluctance was replaced with growing excitement. He began to anticipate your moves, even teasing you when he managed to outplay you. The grumpy, stoic man you were used to was momentarily replaced by someone who was genuinely having fun, and it warmed your heart to see him like this.

By the time you reached the fourth game, Sebastian was fully invested. He was still far from a card shark, but he was learning quickly and starting to enjoy the process. After winning a round a rare smile of his made a brief appearance.

“I knew you’d get into it,” you replied, happy to see him loosening up. “Maybe next time I’ll teach you something more challenging.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, the hint of a grin still on his face. “You think I can handle it?”

“I know you can,” you said confidently, shuffling the deck once more. “But first, let’s see if you can win another round.”

And so, the two of you continued playing, the shop filled with the sound of shuffling cards, quiet laughter, and the growing bond between a grumpy fish and his human friend.

Three days had passed since you first taught Sebastian how to play cards, and in that short time, it had become a regular part of your routine. Whenever there was a lull in your mission and you saw his open vent around, you’d pull out the deck, and Sebastian—despite his initial reluctance—would join you, slowly improving with each game. The more you played, the more his gruff exterior seemed to soften, revealing a side of him that was competitive yet surprisingly good-natured.

On the fourth day, you decided it was time to take things up a notch. When you walked into the shop that morning, a mischievous grin spread across your face. Sebastian looked up from his work, his brow furrowing in curiosity when he noticed the new deck of cards in your hand.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyeing the colorful box with suspicion.

You sauntered over to the table where you usually played, setting the box down with a flourish. You found this in a dumpster around one of the many office rooms. “This,” you said, holding up the deck, “is a game called UNO. I figured since you’ve gotten pretty good at regular cards, it’s time for a new challenge.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, still wary but clearly intrigued. “UNO, huh? Doesn’t sound too tough.”

You smirked, shaking your head as you started to shuffle the cards. “Oh, you have no idea. This game’s a bit different. It’s not just about matching suits and numbers—you’ve got action cards, wild cards, and, of course, the dreaded Draw 4.”

Sebastian watched as you dealt out the cards, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You began to explain the rules, showing him how to match colors or numbers, how to use the action cards to skip turns, reverse the order, or make the other player draw more cards. Sebastian listened intently, nodding along as he picked up the basics. But when you explained the Draw 4 and Wild cards, he gave you a skeptical look.

“So, I can change the color and make you draw four cards?” he asked, holding up the card and studying it closely. “That sounds a little unfair.”

You chuckled, enjoying his reaction. “It’s all part of the strategy. You have to know when to play those cards—and when to save them for later. Trust me, once you get the hang of it, you’ll see why it’s so fun.”

Sebastian wasn’t entirely convinced, but he went along with it, sorting his hand and planning his first move. As the game began, it became clear that this was a whole new level of challenge. The fast-paced nature of UNO, combined with the unexpected twists from action cards, kept him on his non existent toes.

At first, Sebastian struggled with the new mechanics, hesitating as he tried to remember which cards did what. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him concentrate, his usual grumpy expression deepening into a thoughtful frown. But soon, just as with the regular cards, he started to catch on. The competitive spark you’d seen before returned, and before long, Sebastian was playing his cards with growing confidence.

“You’re getting the hang of it once again,” you noted, as he successfully played a Skip card, blocking your turn and earning a satisfied grunt from him.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad,” Sebastian admitted, though his tone was more grudging than he probably intended. “Still not sure how I feel about that Draw 4, though.”

“You’ll learn to love it,” you teased, winking as you placed down your own Draw 2 card, watching as he groaned and drew two more cards from the deck.

As the game continued, Sebastian started to enjoy himself, even laughing quietly when he managed to reverse the play order right before you could make your move. It was clear that he was getting into the spirit of the game, and the playful banter between the two of you made it even more fun.

By the time you were nearing the end of the game, Sebastian had only a few cards left, his earlier hesitation replaced by determination. But just as he was about to play his second-to-last card, you laid down a Wild Draw 4, changing the color and forcing him to draw four more cards. He stared at the card you’d played, then at the stack he had to draw from, his mouth opening in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, though there was no real anger in his voice—just the frustration of someone who was so close to victory but had it snatched away at the last second.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you watched him reluctantly pick up the four cards. “Welcome to UNO, Sebastian. Anything can happen.”

He gave you a mock glare, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “This game’s ridiculous,” he grumbled, though you could tell he was already plotting his next move.

Despite the setback, Sebastian managed to hold his own, and when the game finally ended—with you barely winning by a single card—he was already asking for a rematch.

“Again,” he said, shuffling the cards himself this time. “I’m not losing like that twice.”

You grinned, happy to see him so engaged. “You’re on. Just don’t blame me when you end up drawing another four cards.”

As the two of you began the next round, the shop filled once more with the sounds of shuffling cards, playful competition, and the growing camaraderie between you and the man who was quickly becoming more than just a grumpy store owner.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Future Holds Me (billy hargrove)

Summary: You and Billy get interrupted by Max and Eleven.

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 1K

requested: by @fandom-princess-forevermore my beloved <3\\ You asked about domestic fluff for Billy Hargrove. It's simple for me: Billy and his girlfriend are enjoying some quiet, intimate time when Max and Eleven interrupt to talk boys or other stuff. They all bond, and when she returns to Billy, the subject of kids is brought up, and she pictures Billy as a cute girl dad.

Read on A03!

--

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Billy’s bedroom, casting a warm light across the quiet space. You and Billy were tangled up on the bed, limbs intertwined as you lay in the comfortable silence. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm while you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“This is nice,” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him. His lips curled into a rare, soft smile, his usual cocky demeanor melted away in the comfort of your closeness.

“Yeah, it is,” Billy replied, his voice low and husky. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. Moments like this were rare, where he let his guard down completely, and you treasured them.

Before you could lose yourself completely in the moment, the door to Billy’s room swung open without warning. Startled, you both sat up, your peaceful bubble instantly burst by the two girls standing in the doorway—Max and Eleven.

"Hey!" Max greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the intimate moment she’d just interrupted. Eleven gave a small wave, her expression more reserved but curious as ever.

Billy groaned, flopping back onto the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you two go bother someone else?”

Max ignored him completely, her attention already focused on you. “We were looking for you!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “We wanted to talk about boys.”

“Yeah, boys,” Eleven chimed in with a small smile, though her understanding of the subject was still a bit limited.

You laughed, sitting up a bit straighter. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve come to the right person.”

Billy rolled his eyes and sat up, clearly irritated at being interrupted. “You’re really going to leave me for this?” he asked, half-joking but with an edge of genuine annoyance.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. He grumbled something under his breath but let you go.

You followed Max and Eleven out of the room and into the living room, where the three of you plopped down on the couch. The conversation flowed easily, with Max teasing you about Billy and Eleven asking curious questions about relationships. It was fun, bonding with the girls, and you could feel the sisterly affection Max had for you, especially now that she trusted you with her brother.

“Do you think Billy’s…good boyfriend material?” Max asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow as if genuinely unsure. Eleven’s eyes widened with interest.

You chuckled, thinking about how soft and gentle Billy could be when it was just the two of you. “He’s a lot better than he seems,” you admitted. “He just doesn’t show that side of himself to everyone.”

Max made a face, clearly not convinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Eventually, the conversation shifted from boys to other things, and by the time you were ready to head back to Billy, you felt a deeper connection to the two girls. They waved you off, satisfied with their bonding session, and you made your way back to Billy’s room, where he was sprawled out on the bed, looking impatient.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled as you crawled back into bed beside him.

“Sorry, we got distracted,” you said, snuggling up next to him again. “They’re really sweet.”

Billy sighed, wrapping his arm around you again, though this time there was something more thoughtful about his expression. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You’re good with them,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “With Max. And even with El. I’m not really…good at that kind of thing.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. “You could be,” you said gently. “You’re good when you try. Max looks up to you, even if she doesn’t show it.”

Billy’s expression softened, his blue eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Sometimes I think maybe I wouldn’t be so bad at that…you know, having kids.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had never talked about the future like this, not seriously. But now that he’d brought it up, you couldn’t help but imagine it — Billy as a dad, maybe even a girl dad. You could picture him with a little girl on his shoulders, her giggles filling the air as he pretended to be annoyed but secretly loving every second of it.

“You’d be cute as a girl dad,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Billy looked at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “A girl dad?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning now. “You’d be overprotective and teach her how to stand up for herself. She’d wrap you around her little finger, and you’d let her get away with everything.”

He snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you teased, imagining a little girl with his blonde curls and piercing blue eyes, running around causing trouble just like him. “She’d be your mini-me.”

Billy’s smirk faded a little as he considered it, his expression growing serious. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it. I never had a good example, you know?”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand. “You’d be better than you think, Billy. You’ve got a good heart, even if you don’t show it to everyone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were soft, filled with an emotion you rarely saw from him. “Maybe,” he murmured. “One day.”

“One day,” you echoed, your heart swelling with the thought of a future you hadn’t fully considered until now.

Billy smiled at you, a real smile this time, before pulling you closer. “Guess we’ll see.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, you couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, Billy could be the dad you pictured him as — protective, loving, and better than he ever gave himself credit for.

[lovieku]

Good Luck, Babe! #4 ☆ jeon jungkook

what happens when you leave everything behind, only to be faced with it again years later? eunbi is convinced she was given another shot at keeping all she ever wanted, but it’s difficult when that all is her childhood best friend who doesn’t want to do anything with her anymore. how to earn his trust back?

☾ pairing: non idol!jk x fem!oc

☾ genre: childhood friends to strangers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

☾ word count: 21.8k

☾ warnings: huhhhh. Angst! jeongguk being a pain in the ass for no reason. well sorta kinda! lots of cute fun moments with the group. until jeongguk comes and ruins it all. (no but i love him). unserious banter until it gets serious, again. pov switch! angst angst angst. mentions of blood!!! fluff if you squint. jealousy if you squint, like, really hard.

☾ author’s note: HELLOOOO first of all happy (late) birthday namjoonie <3 second of all IM FINALLY HERE!!! and this chapter is so long omfg. i got carried away and realised way too late. was too deep in! hope you can enjoy, i love love them sm, its worth getting to the end!

ps: if you read this, lmk what u enjoy more between eunbi’s pov and jk’s pov. it wont change the way i write the story, im just curious!! okay bye <3

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four ⋆ good 4 u

Sleep doesn’t find Eunbi that night. Her mind runs from it, busy searching for something else, grasping for answers to questions that don’t have one. And if they do exist, they get lost in a haze of sadness. Anger. Helplessness. Sadness again.

When Dahye joins her in their shared tent, Eunbi’s eyes are hollow, devoid of any emotion. Her ears still ring with a distant noise, struggling to pick up her friend’s passionate reassurances. Still, she lets herself be held, and comforted by words her brain can’t quite grasp, head resting on Dahye’s chest, a gentle hand running through her hair. For a moment, feeling the soft rhythm of her friend’s breath, she clings to the comfort of her presence, hoping it might anchor her in some way, keep her from completely drifting away.

But everything she has been trying to shut out comes crashing down on her fragile figure the moment she feels Dahye’s arms grow weaker around her, and her breaths getting heavier as sleep takes her. Silent tears trace a path down her cheeks, while loud, screaming thoughts make her head throb and keep her awake all night. She regrets being here; regrets naively hoping things could be mended so easily; regrets the way she stayed quiet the first moment she laid eyes on Jeongguk after all those years; knows it’s her fault.

By morning, the sun having climbed its way in the sky for a couple hours already and its rays forcing themselves in their shelter with unwanted light, she can sense Dahye subtly stir under her. Immediately, Eunbi shuts her eyes closed, feigning deep slumber. Instead, her very awake ears perk when she can feel fussing, Dahye sitting up and ultimately shaking the seemingly unconscious girl’s shoulder, “Bibi?”

If all goes wrong, at least Eunbi could win an Oscar for her performance, the way her eyelids flutter open, slow and heavy, only after rubbing them, and a big yawn escapes her mouth. That wasn’t too fake after all, her body weary with the all-nighter. Dahye doesn’t notice, her smile soft, “Did you sleep well? Are you feeling a bit better?”

Eunbi simply nods, her expression void. She barely registers the other girl mentioning something about washing up, and breakfast, “I’ll leave you some time. But if you’re not out by the time I’m done in the bathroom, I’m dragging your ass out.” Just like that, she slips out of the tent.

Left alone once again with silence, Eunbi listens to the faint noises outside— the muffled voices of her roommate greeting Hoseok and Yoongi. At that, the urge to cry returns, and she feels tears sting at her bottom lashes, threatening to spill. But this time, she holds them back. She knows she can’t let herself break down, not now. Not with everyone outside, and especially not with Jeongguk. Still, she doesn’t think the sorrow written all over her features will go unnoticed.

She feels like an outsider, an intruder trespassing on sacred ground. As if the moment she steps out, all eyes will be on her miserable figure, stripping her bare, judging her poor choices, the ones that lead Jeongguk to spit venom in her face hours ago. Making it clear that she doesn't belong there, that she will never be part of what they already have. Of what Jeongguk has built after her.

Last night, she tried to blame him. She wanted to be angry at him, to turn her hurt into something tangible, something outside of herself. But she couldn't. In the end, she could only turn the anger inward, could only blame herself. Being called a bitch by the best person she's ever known, in front of her university friends, was a brutal wake up call. A reminder of how far she has fallen.

The weight of those thoughts paralyses her for a long moment, while a squeaky, high-pitched voice in the back of her brain screams at her to move, if only to avoid the pitying glance she might receive when Dahye returns. Still, her body protests, limbs heavy and muscles tight from the lack of sleep in the small, uncomfortable place.

With a deep breath that quivers in her chest, she forces herself up. For a second, her hand hesitating at the tent’s entrance and hovering over the zipper, she contemplates hiding in here forever, away from the discomfort. But she knows better. The world outside is waiting, and no amount of hesitation will make it disappear. Quickly throwing on a light pink crewneck over her pyjama shorts, she steps out.

Cool air brushes against her skin in a tender manner, gently welcoming her and seemingly easing her nerves. Before she’s forced to acknowledge the others, she moves quickly, her flip flops clad feet making their way to the small wash station. She hopes the freezing water she repeatedly splashes on her face will cleanse away the fog of the sleepless night, and wishes it could also wash away the weight pressing down on her chest. In the mirror, she convinces herself the dark circles under her eyes aren’t that dark after all, and that the unsettling smile she’s practising is convincing enough to finally join Dahye outside.

The makeshift breakfast setup is simple: a few snacks, some bread, fruit. Namjoon, Taehyung and Aera have also joined the small gathering, making it seven of them now, while the others seem to still be asleep in their tents. Eunbi can hear the casual chatter of the group, the way their voices blend together in an easy rhythm that feels foreign to her now.

With her head down, she picks at the small offerings, not really tasting anything, her appetite almost nonexistent. She almost misses Yoongi’s voice beside her, “Did the creams work?”

Eunbi startles slightly, her gaze darting to the older boy, who wears a sweet grin on his lips. She nods, mirroring his smile timidly. Yoongi makes a show of inspecting her nose as he leans closer, without going over the invisible boundary, his eyes squinting with exaggerated seriousness as he impersonates a doctor’s authority, “Yes, yes. They definitely worked. My patient looks so much better now.” His voice mocks a solemn tone, and it makes the girl heartily giggle.

She’s surprised to see this side of the boy, and she briefly wonders if he’s putting on this act just for her sake, because the misery on her features is that obvious even to him, who left the campfire way before the incident had happened. Either way, it works— she feels herself relax, if only a little, sinking back into her chair with a bit more ease.

Then, Aera asks her about the hoodie she’s wearing, going on about how it compliments her complexion perfectly and Dahye chimes in, explaining how it had originally belonged to her, but after the other girl borrowed it once she decided it looked so much better on her friend that she insisted Eunbi kept it. The recalling of those times keep her distracted, the smile on her face growing bigger as Namjoon makes sure she’s refilling her stomach properly, insisting that she needs her strength for the day’s activities, the worry in his furrowed brows making her feel part of something again.

Just as she begins to think she might make it through this, she senses a shift in the atmosphere. Besides her, Dahye tenses, and Aera clears her throat. Eunbi doesn’t have to look up to know why. Jeongguk has joined them. She can feel his presence like a dark cloud hanging over her, suffocating.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her eyes lift to meet his. His gaze is sharp, eyes shadowed by dark circles that suggest he’s had as restless a night as she has. There’s no trace of warmth, no hint of the familiarity they used to share. Just cold, hard resentment. For a fleeting second, she wills herself to desperately search his face for any sign that she hasn’t lost everything, that there’s still something worth saving. But he quickly diverts his eyes, turning his attention to the others and slipping easily into their conversation. Once again, she feels like a stranger intruding on his world.

As the group’s attention shifts to the boy, Eunbi finds herself spiralling back into her thoughts, struggling to grasp onto anything solid, anything that makes sense. She knows how this will play out: both of them only pretending the other doesn’t exist, but making it clear that same presence is despised, the petty glares and spiteful comments building until one of them finally snaps, just like last night.

To some extent, she understands his frustration. After all, she’s the unwanted guest at his birthday, a painful reminder of a past he’d rather forget. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less. She wasn’t expecting to be openly degraded, with such hatred in his face; to feel small and unwelcome in a place that feels as much hers as his. What can she do? It’s not as if she can just get up and disappear. She’s there, he’s there, and they’re stuck in this awkward dance.

He hasn’t tried to make it any less awkward. Her attempts at being civil have been outright dismissed, and the memory of it fills her with the same rage that bubbled up last night. And as she observes him, it only intensifies. She feels herself cycling through the five stages of grief at an inhumane speed and without following its original order, having skipped straight to depression and now bouncing back to anger. When Jeongguk’s eyes meet hers again, the smile he had been giving Jimin fades instantly. She hates that look.

All that heaviness from last night feels like it has been sucked out of her chest, suddenly devoid of any of the previous gloom that had led her to sad tears streaming her cheeks and impending guilt putting her at fault. Nothing’s left, except this tight, burning knot. It’s not sadness anymore, it’s a hot, fierce feeling coiling in her stomach.

It’s Hoseok who breaks the spell, demanding all of their attention on him, his voice taking on a loud and excited tone. Eunbi struggles to make sense of his words through the fog of anger, her slowed down thought process only registering them when the collective holler that follows fully snaps her out of her trance and pulls her back to the present. The first, opening activity of the trip would be trekking. She doesn’t even bother to fake enthusiasm.

It’s only the second day at the campsite, and Eunbi already has a list long enough to fill an entire notebook of reasons why she never should have come. First of all, whatever fragile hope she had about making things right with Jeongguk has probably died a quick death only in those first few hours. And the rest of the trip? It’s packed with outdoor activities that she wouldn’t really proclaim herself a fan of. Did she even consider that before agreeing to this? The small kid still living inside her most likely saw the words “Jeongguk” and “birthday” and hit yes without a second thought. Not paying any mind to the fact that the two of them are no longer those kids in Busan.

When she glances back at said Busan boy, the previous negativity is washed off his face and instead, his eyes are bright and animated, geeking about today’s trek. Her chest tightens, again. It stings. He looks exactly the way he always has, like the Jeongguk she knows, except she’s not the reason for that look on his face, anymore.

It makes her think. Overthink. Weigh her options. Trying to map out the safest way to move around this minefield. Just moments ago, the sight of him had her blood boiling, the fire in his eyes igniting a stronger spark in her own. But she’s also aware her current position doesn’t paint her as the one entitled to put all the blame on him. Especially when this is supposed to be his trip, a way to celebrate with the people he’s building a new life with. She was never part of the equation, and she gets it. A wrong combination led to unwanted results, and now neither of them know how to find the right pieces and put them back together. None of the numbers are adding up.

She doesn’t feel like letting her resentment take over, at least not here and now; last night only went to show emotions are definitely not needed to decode the problem. She’ll carry them quietly, maybe even figure out some kind of solution along the way. Discover different sequences of calculations that could make sense.

For now, she’s set on ignoring him and making sure her presence is ignored back; avoiding a problem and avoiding creating one. Is this the stage of acceptance? If that’s what it can be called, she welcomes it with a long, liberating breath, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Dahye.

Except, several more huffs follow, and Dahye is there to endure all of them: when they’re back in the tent, Eunbi slapping on some concealer to cover her dark circles, then trying to disguise her pallid complexion with blush, ending up groaning and turning to her concerned friend with drawn up eyebrows, “Did I overdo it?”; as she’s zipping up her white tennis skort; rummaging her bag for ages only to slip on the most basic black oversized t-shirt; taking forever to tie her Converses.

Dahye stalls. She’s aware they’re late, can sense it in the way Hoseok is subtly raising his voice outside to make himself heard, “It’s not like we’re totally late on our schedule. Take your sweet time, guys!” He’s sarcastic, if his shaky laughter is anything to go by.

She also knows she doesn’t want to be eaten alive by her best friend, knows better not to rush her right now. She’s had enough experience living with her. So she stays quiet, puts up with her friend’s small crisis and lets her deal with it on her own. Only when it seems like she’s over with it, Dahye calmly asks Eunbi if she feels like she’s ready to go. The answer is uncertain, but Dahye grasps on that small percentuality of sureness and exits the tent either way, before Hoseok turns out to be the one eating her alive.

When they finally step out to join the group, Eunbi releases one last dramatic sigh, and the prolonged sound of it translates into Dahye’s right eyelid twitching. She tries composedly, at first, “Bibi, will you stop doing that?”

”Doing what?”

”Sighing like you’re a damn war veteran!” Her exasperation draws a few chuckles from their friends, including a sneaky giggle from Jimin, observing the interaction and getting Dahye’s attention in the process.

Eunbi mutters a small sorry, the apology dismissed by her now distracted friend, seemingly having forgotten the whole ordeal in a matter of seconds. The other girl seizes the moment to vent, “I’m just getting more stressed by the minute about this whole thing. I told you I shouldn’t have come. What if, I don’t know— I get hurt?” Her eyebrows are raised, dramatic act on, pout displayed, “I’ll blame you.”

Dahye is clearly unimpressed, rolling her eyes amusedly at Eunbi’s efforts, “Bi, you’ll be okay. Just fine.” She faces the shorter one now, hands on her shoulders like a mother sending her child off to summer camp. Well, technically she is about to do that, “Why don’t you try mingling with the others? Let’s pretend I don’t exist. Yeah!”

Dahye’s convincing nods are comically mirrored by Eunbi shaking her head, the desperation on her features going ignored by her taller friend. The last thing she wants right now is exactly mingling with the others. Dahye goes on dissimulating, “Stick next to Namjoon. He, huh— he knows about this kinda stuff. I guess? I’ll catch up with Jimin, okay? Bye, babe!”

Eunbi’s childish protests fall on deaf ears as the other girl slips away. Her one anchor, gone. Not even her best pleading tactics have worked. The muffled curses under her breath are vile, and she wishes Jimin would just make a move on her friend already. Maybe then, all of this would make sense.

Still, she merges with the others. It’s hard to find her place in there, especially with the insecurities plaguing her mind, as everyone splits off into their little duos and trios. Taehyung and Seokjin try to pull her into their usual, weird hypothetical debates, “Let’s say you have a penis. Would you still jack off if when you came your semen was just one big sperm, and afterward you'd have to fight it?”

Despite herself, she enjoys the distraction. Trekking is not so bad when you desperately need your brain to unplug. The trail is not too far from the campsite, circling it and making it ideal for them to wander without getting lost. The summer air is warm, and heavy with the sweet scent of wildflowers and the earthy aroma of sun-warmed pine needles.

With the path gradually climbing uphill, the initially dense forest begins to thin, and with it Eunbi’s thoughts follow, loosening with each step. She’s not sure if it’s the silly joy filling her when colourful butterflies flutter past, or the brief interaction she entertains with a small chipmunk darting across the way, but there’s something calming about the rhythm of it all. The green all around her takes over her spiralling mind.

Eventually, Dahye’s suggestion turns out to be a good one, and soon Eunbi finds herself covering most part of the walk with Namjoon by her side, who’s a walking encyclopedia on the local fauna. His easy conversation and gentle humour slowly start to chip away at the tension in her shoulders. He’s good company— listens well, comes up with just the right responses, and somehow makes her feel less like she’s tagging along and more like she belongs.

Time slips away when being this disconnected to the chaos of the city but so connected to this bubble of green and quiet. Sharing that with her friends doesn’t make her worry about the clock, though. She laughs loudly, and speaks comfortably. And just like that, she’s unaware of the first two hours that go by with walking and chatting, this last part ceasing gradually when the path becomes steeper and more rugged, their breaths getting heavier with each large step. But the effort is worth it when they reach the summit and are rewarded with a breathtaking view. Eunbi’s eyes light up at the sight, even more so when she spots the perfect rock to plop down on and gulp water from her flask.

Before she can, it takes a few other seconds for her eyes to cover the whole scene, and when they do she notices Jeongguk. He’s sitting next to Iseul, his clothes similar to the ones Eunbi is wearing, just colour inverted with a white oversized t-shirt and black gym shorts. He doesn’t seem to be aware of her presence, yet. He’s laughing at something on the girl’s phone. Eunbi silently scoffs.

The attention is brought on her and Namjoon the moment the latter greets his friend, who acts as if she doesn’t exist. Eunbi is not any less of an actor, pretending to be much more interested in the panorama rather than the conversation the two men are having.

While her companion takes some pictures of the scenery, Eunbi drinks as much water as needed to feel hydrated without needing to go to the bathroom in the next 10 seconds. The walk is still long, and the campsite still far. For that reason, and totally not because she can’t stand the sight of Jeongguk sitting next to the short haired girl giggling about one of their inside jokes, she announces, “I’m ready to go again.”

Namjoon looks a bit taken aback, “Already?”

”Yeah. Let’s go.”

”You sure you don’t wanna rest?” Eunbi only shakes her head, fixing the backpack on her shoulders. The taller boy chuckles, “And here I thought you hated trekking.”

Eunbi lets out a genuine laugh. It’s refreshing to hear, even if she can feel the interaction being followed attentively by a pair of curious eyes, and when she gives in and looks their way, they immediately focus on the trees behind her. Whatever.

Just as she starts walking to follow behind Namjoon, her foot trips on a rock and she stumbles. Her first instinct, accompanied by a loud squeal, is to grab Namjoon’s shoulders for support, and luckily the boy promptly catches her. From the corner of her eye, she swears she sees Jeongguk nearly leaping to his feet. His hand twitches before he forces it back to his lap.

”Are you okay?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide with concern, hands steady on her forearms as he checks her foot with his gaze for any sprain, “Wait, your shoe is untied.”

He swiftly drops on his knee and works on the laces of her shoes, delicately inspecting her ankle in the process. Eunbi looks down at him, and she feels her cheeks flare slightly, both because of the embarrassment and the action feeling a little too intimate. She diverts her eyes, and her gaze automatically lands on Jeongguk. His face is immediately wiped from what, for a split second, looked like fright. Worry. He’s back to indifference, looking behind his shoulders, and she figures she must have imagined it.

”Can you walk?” Namjoon’s voice pulls her back, his figure now standing tall in front of her. She nods, shaking off the overwhelment, and assures she’s okay. Namjoon doesn’t believe her until she’s forced to take a walking test, going back and forth for one minute before he’s fully convinced she hasn’t twisted her ankle or anything.

When they set off again, laughter bubbles up between them as Namjoon cheekily makes fun of her squeal and her clumsiness, and Eunbi lightly shoves him. She’s glad she’s going through this with him; it’s making them closer and she finds they have so much more in common than she initially thought.

For a moment, she regrets not even sitting down for a second to rest, her feet protesting in her old Converses, but she quickly realises the other alternative and prefers having her legs hurt over being in the presence of Jeongguk, surrounded by quiet, and nature, and all the possible existent reasons to be kind to each other. Which they’re not really planning on doing, right now.

Even more with Iseul there. Eunbi doesn’t know why, but something about the girl rubs her the wrong way. It’s not like they ever got a chance to bond, but it feels like Iseul hasn’t even tried. They don’t have anything against each other, but the way she’s sticking to Jeongguk’s side after yesterday’s fiasco brings Eunbi to not really contemplate the possibility of them getting closer either.

The trail descends into a different path of the forest, this one denser and cooler, providing the duo with a break from the midday heat. Their pace is slower, and the talking quiets down too in favour of soaking in the tranquillity that surrounds them. Eunbi feels herself recover from the previous slip and sighs, this time contentedly.

The peace doesn’t last for long. Behind her shoulders, her ears pick up hurried footsteps, the cracking of the leaves stronger under them, the unmistakable sound of someone catching up. Eunbi doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she can sense his presence like an itch she can’t scratch. Jeongguk reaches her, his voice almost touching her neck, “Can you move out of the way?”

There’s plenty of space. Hell, the path could fit five trucks. Her eyes close momentarily, searching for all the strength she needs to resist the provocation. She steps aside, set on not paying him too much mind. She doesn’t want to be affected by his tone. She’s decided to let him be, and think what he wants of her.

Jeongguk doesn’t seem too fond of the silence he’s met with, though. Was probably expecting her witty impulses to react. But she ignores him. He walks past her, but it looks like his initial aim at surpassing her goes forgotten. His steps are shorter, not covering big distances anymore and keeping him at an arm’s length from her, Iseul beside him oblivious to the tension.

He looks back after Eunbi thought he would limit himself to the snappy tone, but she was wrong, obviously, the glint in his eyes daring her to respond, “Wow, you’re really slow.”

Eunbi tries not to snap, she really tries. Thinks of brushing the comment with a simple dismissing chuckle, pretending it doesn’t make her hand twitch. Her tongue poke her inner cheek. But it’s like the minimal sight of him gets her burning with annoyance.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t aware this was a marathon. Good luck winning!” Is this enough of a bitch answer? She hopes so, the smile that accompanies it deathly sarcastic. She just doesn’t want to deal with Jeongguk after last night. Fears the resentment is still too alive for her to handle it better.

Of course, he doesn’t back down from a good childish banter, though, “You’re still slow.”

”Well, I’m trekking.”

”And you’re seriously wearing Converses to do that.” His eyes fall to her feet with a delighted scoff. He’s unbelievable.

”So sorry I couldn’t afford trekking shoes.” The concern is clearly faked, and she hopes she just imagined Jeongguk rolling his eyes subtly.

”That’s why you’re slow.” He has the audacity to raise his eyebrows and shrug at Eunbi’s speechless state, the argument resulting in the dumbest interaction she’s had in days, leaving her pissed nonetheless.

Jeongguk rewinds his fast paced walk, not really considering poor Iseul trying to keep up with him. Both her and Namjoon are left disoriented with the meaningless bickering they found themselves spectators of, but they wisely stay silent to prevent stirring the pot further.

Eunbi, however, doesn’t even notice the sudden quiet, the thoughts screaming in her brain making up for it. She feels completely blindsided. All those times she tried to make even the smallest kind of conversation with him, she was ignored. Her smiles, kind requests and efforts to maintain a friendly demeanour— completely fucking dismissed. And now, just when she’d decided the best thing she could do for both of them was to back off, to give them each the space they needed to avoid any further animosity, what does he do? He searches for it. Purposefully searches for it, as if he wants to provoke some kind of reaction out of her. She’s so fed up. What’s his deal? Why seek out conflict when they were finally starting to find some semblance of peace in their indifference? It’s infuriating. She can’t help the small growl of frustration that escapes her lips. God, what an asshole.

A small scoff from Namjoon pulls her out of her daze, and she glances his way, her face a picture of confusion and irritation. The boy shakes his head, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips, “He can be, sometimes.”

It’s only then that she realises she must have muttered her last thought out loud. She laughs softly at her slip, sheepishly brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that. We’re just… not exactly on good terms, right now.”

Namjoon is silent as her admission hangs in the air, unpressured. Instead, he just nods, his eyes reflecting a quiet empathy, inviting but not intrusive. He’s giving her the choice, whether she wishes to open up or carry that baggage on her own. It’s not like he’s oblivious to the tension between her and Jeongguk; the whole group would agree it has been evident ever since Eunbi joined. But neither she nor Jeongguk offered any explanations, so there was no choice but to adapt to the hostility. Dahye had only once hinted at the fact that they’d known each other for a long time, letting it slip casually, much to Eunbi’s silent dismay, but beyond that, no other details were ever shared.

Eunbi hesitates. She trusts Namjoon, the way she trusts the others, really— would vomit all her feelings on his t-shirt right now. But it wouldn’t feel right to give only her side of the story, knowing Jeongguk has lived in the dark about certain truths for years. He probably harbours his own complicated feelings, ones he’s kept close to his chest for a long time, feelings that would be overshadowed by her own if she spoke out of turn. She doesn’t think it’s her place to say what happened.

The silence stretches on, and Eunbi is more conflicted with each passing second. Her eyes drift to the figure of Jeongguk moving farther away, his silhouette becoming smaller with every step until he rounds a corner and disappears from view. With him goes the moment, the possibility of Namjoon ever knowing what happened, at least from her. He seems to accept this, doesn’t push her to speak, and she appreciates it when he shifts the conversation, making a light-hearted comment about the trees and their unusual shapes. She smiles.

The afternoon sun beats down on them, making the air thick and sticky. Time drags on, more hours roll by, the trail winding endlessly through the woods. They find spots to sit now and then, taking short breaks to catch their breath. But the further they trek, the more Eunbi grows frustrated. Her calves ache, muscles burning from the climb, and she has to stop every so often to rub at them, cursing under her breath. Namjoon forces himself to not laugh at that, instead keeping his usual calm and patient, assuring her with a grin that they’re almost there. Though she’s pretty sure he’s just saying that to keep her spirits up.

Eventually, their slow pace brings them closer to some of the others who had lagged behind. They all wear the same weary expressions, the exhaustion etched into their features. They try to relieve some of it by distracting themselves from the thought of their feet hurting, one of them starting a game of Guess the Song by humming the melody. It quickly dissolves into a mess of off-key notes and missed beats, their tired brains unable to keep up, and it’s not long before they’re all laughing. The kind of belly laughs that make your sides ache.

Eunbi finds herself genuinely enjoying the moment, forgetting all about asking to sit down every five minutes, even catching herself humming along. She discovers Taehyung has quite a talent for singing, and notices how blatantly obvious Aera’s crush on him is.

By the time they finally reach the campsite, Eunbi feels a wave of relief wash over her, so strong it nearly brings tears to her eyes. The sun has started its descent, casting a golden glow over the clearing, and the heat of the day is beginning to be replaced by a cool, refreshing breeze that lifts the hair from her sweaty neck. She falls into step beside Dahye, who has reappeared after what feels like hours spent with Jimin. They don’t need words; they walk side by side in silence, until the shorter one bumps her shoulder lightly against Dahye’s, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Shut up,” the taller one rolls her eyes at the unspoken tease, though the grin on her face suggests she’s anything but annoyed.

Eunbi’s hands are immediately up in the air, mocking innocence, ”Didn’t say a single word.”

”Sure, you didn’t.” Dahye retorts, but her tone is playful. “Anyways, the others want to hit the lake before dinner. You in?”

”I’ll pass. I need a nap. I’m dead tired from all this. When I catch Hoseok, I swear.” Eunbi’s voice is half-joking, half-serious, her narrowed eyes suggesting she may be even a bit too serious, and Dahye just laughs.

They part ways, Eunbi disappearing in her tent and relishing the thought of a few quiet moments to herself. As much as she loves the company, sometimes it drains her. Sometimes, she just needs a moment to breathe, be with her own self and nobody else. Especially given the amount of times her sanity has been tested during the first two days of this trip.

Sleep comes to her easily, pulling her under as soon as her head hits the small, makeshift pillow. The muffled sounds of her friends outside — splashes from the lake, bursts of laughter — soothe her into a deep, much-needed, dreamless rest.

When she stirs awake, the sun has already dipped below the horizon, and she can feel the noises from the group much closer now. The air is filled with the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat and vegetables, and it’s said delicious smell that puts her five senses to operate again. Her stomach grumbling wakes her before Dahye can, the tent flaps open just as her friend was about to poke her head inside.

Eunbi blinks awake groggily, stumbling out bleary-eyed, and Dahye mercilessly laughs at her still half-asleep face, “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

”Fuck you.”

The teasing is playful, and Eunbi cheekily grins as her friend giggles. She wraps a hoodie around her shoulders to ward off the growing chill and keep some of the warmth from the nap, then makes her way to the fire where the others are gathered. When they take in her sleep-dazed state, they don’t miss a beat and start poking fun at her, pulling her hood up over her head or sneakily tickling her sides until she’s laughing despite herself. The laughter feels good, like a release, and she finds herself slowly waking up, becoming more aware, more present.

A large campfire crackles in the centre of the group, its flames dancing in the cool evening air, Yoongi and Seokjin in charge of dinner. Someone’s turned on a portable speaker, and soft music drifts through the campsite, blending with the sounds of laughter and the sizzle of food. Eunbi sits back, letting the warmth of the fire seep into her skin, content to simply listen, to watch the way the firelight plays across everyone’s faces.

It’s almost too easy to relax into the peaceful rhythm of the evening, her still vulnerable brain unwinding the tension she wasn’t aware of from her shoulders. The heat of the fire, the hum of laughter, and the quiet murmur of conversation blend together, creating a cocoon of comfort she hadn’t realised she needed. It’s as she starts letting herself be taken over by that familiar, soothing calm — the same one she’d found in her tent — that a faint alarm goes off in her brain. Its tiny beep only grows louder until it’s impossible to ignore. Something’s off. Her contentment feels misplaced. Like she’s forgotten a crucial detail that’s only now creeping back into her awareness.

The realisation slams into her like a wave, jolting her fully awake, the moment her gaze lands on Jeongguk. Suddenly, everything snaps back into sharp focus. His face, illuminated by the flickering firelight, is a stark reminder of the reality she had temporarily escaped. The events of the past few days come rushing back. Right, quick recap: she’s on Jeongguk’s birthday trip. Jeongguk, who can’t stand the sight of her. Jeongguk, who had called her a bitch last night. How could she almost forget that minor detail?

So here she is, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by friends and food, but all she can focus on is Jeongguk. The one person here who probably wishes she wasn’t. No sense dwelling on it now, though. She’s there, there’s no going back. Her only aim is to make it through the night. Make it through the night without repeating yesterday, or making things even worse. For that to happen, she just has to ignore the object of her epiphany like she has been trying to ever since the stressful day started. She hopes he’ll be smart enough to do the same.

It seems like it when dinner goes by without any notable tension, which is a small miracle in itself. Jeongguk seems just as engrossed by the food as she is, its hot, comforting and delicious taste being a welcome distraction, especially with that distinct smoky flavour from being cooked over the open fire. Everyone is too busy devouring their meals to talk much, but their sparkling eyes speak with gratitude for their hyungs’ magic hands. Eunbi uses the unusual quiet to gaze up at the sky, the stars slowly coming out to dot its darkening blue.

Though, peace never lasts long with this group. Jimin breaks the silence as he cracks open a beer bottle with a grin that spells mischief, “Let’s play a game.”

Taehyung, already leaning back in his chair with a lazy smile, nods, chiming in, “Since we’ve got alcohol, how about Never Have I Ever?”

”Just don’t ask stupid questions because you want to get drunk,” Dahye warns, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Her comment earns a round of laughter, easing the tension that had settled during the quiet, their voices soon overtaking the crackling of the fire once again.

Jimin hands the beer bottles, making sure everyone has one as he sits back with a teasing glint in his gaze. He locks eyes with Dahye, challenging her, “Okay, I got the perfect one, then. Never have I ever… pooped.”

The absurdity of the statement catches the others off guard, and they all erupt in silly chuckles, taking a sip. Except for Dahye, who sits there with a perfectly straight face. Jimin raises an eyebrow, expectantly waiting for her to drink, but she just shrugs, “Girls don’t poop.”

The girls echo her sentiment with mock seriousness, filling the camp with sarcastic agreements and playful banter, while a debate kicks off between Dahye and Jimin about the biological impossibility of her assertion. It’s cut short when Iseul eagerly starts smacking Jeongguk’s thigh by her side, her excitement palpable and getting everyone’s attention in the process, “Ooh, I got one! Never have I ever stolen something.”

Most of the group drinks at that, Yoongi snorting blatantly, and Iseul frowns in disappointment, expecting a different outcome. Dahye chuckles, “Babe, everyone’s stolen at some point. That was too easy. It’s okay, let’s just keep going. Jeongguk, your turn.”

Next to Iseul, Jeongguk seems to think for a moment, then he grins, “Never have I ever… rode a motorcycle.” He gulps down a big sip from his bottle.

”Are you looking to get drunk tonight, Ggukie?” It’s his best friend teasing him with wiggling eyebrows, and the younger just shrugs with a lazy smirk.

Eunbi drinks too, at that. Now that she thinks of it, the first and only time she was on a bike, Jeongguk was taking her home and she was holding her arms tight around his torso, his helmet secured under her chin and his jacket wrapped around her body. That’s the last nice gesture she’s seen from him, and the thought stirs something complicated in her chest. She glances at him without meaning to, catching his eye for just a second before they both look away.

Hoseok is quick with another question, “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.”

Only Seokjin and Sora drink, and the group teases them with a long, exaggerated holler. The two love birds share a sheepish smile, their faces turning a soft shade of pink under the firelight.

”We should all do that right now.” It’s Taehyung proposing it, his tone half-serious, half-challenging.

Dahye pulls a face, “The thought alone is making me want to vomit.” She mutters, and the laughter that follows becomes the soundtrack of their night for what feels like hours, the game stretching on with each question getting weirder and more personal.

The beer flows freely, and Eunbi finds herself relaxing more than she expected, her body sinking comfortably into her chair. She laughs at Hoseok’s ridiculous question about eating bugs and groans at Jimin recalling the time he laughed so hard he pissed his pants as an adult, sipping on her bottle as the group continues to tease one another.

The loop restarts for the nth time, Iseul piping up again, “Never have I ever sneaked out.”

Surprisingly, only Namjoon, Jeongguk and Eunbi drink this time. The reaction is immediate, the group’s interest piqued, Dahye curiously turning to her friend, “When was that, Bibi?”

Eunbi doesn’t register the implications of her light giggle, nor the way her eyes soften as she gets caught up in the memory, “Back when I was in middle school.” Young and restless, desperate for the thrill. Besides her forever best friend.

Always a bit more noisy than he should be, Hoseok chimes in, “Were you with anyone?”

She chuckles, the answer coming to her lips almost instinctively, “Oh, I was with—“ Her gaze flickers to Jeongguk, and suddenly the smile drops from her face. Right. She always seems to forget where they stand now. It’s like the kid inside her is still desperately clinging to those moments, fighting to have him back, to drag him into her orbit.

Jeongguk lets out a small scoff, barely audible over the crackling fire, but she catches it. His expression is closed off, guarded. Eunbi clears her throat, “Huh, it doesn’t matter.”

The air grows thick with tension, the silence that follows almost deafening. Some of them understand the awkwardness, sensing the history that neither Eunbi nor Jeongguk ever fully explained. Others, like Hoseok, are a little clueless. He turns to the other boy, grinning like a cat who caught the canary, “Ooh, Ggukie, you drank too, right? Who was it with?”

Jeongguk shrugs, a dark, unamused smirk spreading across his lips. His eyes don’t leave Eunbi, his tone sarcastic but cold, “Apparently, it doesn’t matter.”

The affronted girl narrows her eyes, trying to mask the sting of his tone. The jab hits deeper than she’d like to admit, even more when they both know exactly why she said that. Why she had to say it. Unspeakable words are plastered on their wounded expressions, but she looks down at her hands before her heart betrays her, fighting its way up her throat to scream them all out.

It’s ironic how the questions that follow feel like one stab after the other, almost purposefully touching a raw nerve from the past, memories she’d rather not revisit now. Never have I ever used someone else’s toothbrush. Never have I ever climbed out a window. It’s small, silly moments that she knows — hopes — Jeongguk remembers too. And she can’t help but search for that sign of recognition in his face. Or anything, at this point. The slightest spark in his eyes. The imperceptible jolt of his hand. She wants to tell him. It matters. It matters. It matters.

But does it matter to him now? Did every single piece of the puzzle get lost in the storm? Did Jeongguk always feel so unreachable? Were his eyes always so devoid of light when he looked at her? She misses stargazing.

When the weight on her heart becomes too much to bear, the weariness from the day and the effects of the sleepless night tangling with the complicated emotions she’s feeling and translating into frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, she gets up muttering a half-hearted excuse about being tired and heads for her tent.

Inside, focusing on the fabric ceiling rather than both her heart and brain exceptionally teaming up only to scream at her to find a way to escape from all this (maybe steal Namjoon’s car keys, or swim her way back to the city), she wills her eyes to close and begs whatever god who might be listening to spare her from more misery. Just for tomorrow. Please.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The divinities Eunbi tried to reach with her desperate pleas must have been terribly busy last night, because tomorrow is here and it’s charged with even more tension and hostility than she thought they could ever harbour for one another.

Today’s activity is canoeing, and with the surprisingly adequate amount of sleep she managed to get, her first approach is even optimistic. She’s decided to start off with the positive mindset that things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Sat in the small two-person canoe, she’s determined to steer the day in a better direction, to navigate the rough waters of their fraught relationship. Even if a new wave of something worse than what already happened is aimed directly at her, she’d be able to handle it.

Only thing she didn’t exactly consider was the counterpart of the clash possibly not sharing the same intentions as hers. Which is exactly what is happening, Jeongguk never backing down from stirring the pot further only to obtain a rank, grisly soup made with pettiness and resentment, spoon-feeding it to her with every chance he gets. Though she can still say she’s tasted worse from him, the bitterness lingers, coating her tongue like bile.

The setting for their little showdown is picturesque, almost mockingly so. The river glimmers under the afternoon sun, its surface reflecting a golden hue that dances across the water, and the hills in the distance are bathed in a soft, amber glow. Nature itself is trying to soothe the tension, yet it only seems to amplify the dissonance. The universe must be testing her. Can you handle this one, Bee?

The group naturally splits off into pairs, reflecting yesterday’s layout, with Eunbi and Namjoon finding themselves navigating together, just as Dahye is with Jimin, and Jeongguk with Iseul. It starts off peacefully enough. They glide slowly along the river, their paddles dipping gently into the water, the only sound the quiet murmurs of conversation and the occasional splash.

Eunbi allows herself to relax. She chuckles at Namjoon’s poor attempts at taking aesthetically pleasing pictures of her, then shows him how it’s done when she points the camera at him, sealing the moment with a lovely shot of her friend enveloped in an ochre light, his dimples sheepishly showing. She grazes the cold water with her finger, getting lost in the simple way it dances with her movements. She closes her eyes and tilts her face up to the sun, letting its warmth seep into her skin.

Though she should have anticipated the serenity being almost surreal, and should have considered herself deranged to even think it could continue like that. She’s pulled out of her moment when the water beside her canoe suddenly churns with agitation.

What she sees on her right is a sight that throws all the optimism and positivity from this morning right in the bin, and replaces it with the effects of Jeongguk’s wicked soup. Said chef shoots past her at an unnecessary, almost reckless speed for what’s supposed to be a leisurely excursion among friends. His canoe slices through the water with aggressive precision, sending ripples crashing against Eunbi’s boat. See, she would keep her composure in any other situation; would continue straight on her path of ignoring him, no matter how unsuccessful the previous attempts had been. She’s afraid she’ll keep failing, though.

And it’s really just because when she sees how he’s paddling with a furious intensity, his muscles straining with effort while Iseul is squealing and screaming in front of him, her hands gripping the sides of the boat as she begs him to slow down, it’s clear Jeongguk is doing it on purpose. Acting out another one of his plans to get a reaction out of her, not caring how down things could go at that point. Why should she, then? It’s when his eyes lock onto hers as he passes, daring to push all her buttons, that she finds her answer.

Eunbi’s blood boils. She’s speechless with the immaturity, but best believe she’s coming on ten times stronger with it. She just can’t wrap her mind around the fact that it seems the more she tries to interact with him, the more she gets pushed away; but the more she keeps her distance, the more he seeks for her reaction. What is he trying to prove? What is he aiming to get out of her? Eunbi doesn’t exactly have time to entertain the moral, rational part of her brain and puzzle over his motives, her own childishness busying her with gripping the paddles tight, her knuckles turning white as she channels all her frustration into rowing. She puts all the strength she can muster to try and catch up to Jeongguk without popping a vein. Namjoon notices the sudden shift in pace, even if minimal with Eunbi’s laughable efforts at moving faster, nonetheless startled by the abrupt burst of energy.

”Bi, what are you—“

”Joon, help me overtake Gguk.” It’s said through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, fixated only on the target ahead. Namjoon is disoriented. Does she even realise the use of the nickname? It doesn’t look like that as she keeps going undeterred, even with her companion initially not collaborating, too confused to settle on what to do. Eventually, he sighs and grips his own paddle, deciding to help his friend in whatever battle she’s waging. He glances back to see just how far Jeongguk has gotten and shakes his head.

”You two are literal kids, you do know that?” Namjoon mutters, his comment going ignored.

Jeongguk, meanwhile, senses them closing in. A competitive glint flashes in his eyes. He doubles down, paddling harder, sending more water splashing in every direction. Eunbi isn't far behind, and for a moment it feels like they’re the only two on the river, locked in this ridiculous race. They’re both too stubborn to back down, too caught up in their own challenge to notice how idiotic they look.

Namjoon sighs again, raising his voice over the chaos, “Guys, seriously, this is getting out of hand.”

Iseul echoes his concern, a nervous edge to her voice, “Yeah, Joon’s right. Please, Ggukkie? We’re getting too far away from the others. It’s going to be a nightmare rowing back!”

Her whines go unnoticed by Jeongguk, who keeps his gaze straight on Eunbi as she has managed to catch up and is now beside him, mirroring that same flame in her orbs. He distractly acknowledges the two innocent spectators, “I just wanted to go and see… that thing over there.” He calls back, voice strained as he keeps his eyes locked on his rival. He doesn’t even know what he’s pointing at— there’s nothing but more water and distant trees.

”Oh, that… thing,” Eunbi adds, equally unconvincing. They exchange a glance, both wearing narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, determined not to be the first to admit defeat.

Their canoes race neck and neck, the water splashing around them as if reflecting the tension in the air. It’s a childish competition, one that speaks to their unresolved feelings, both wanting to interact, to be noticed by the other, but neither willing to show it’s because they care.

And mostly, it’s messy. Definitely not what two people should be attempting to do on their first time canoeing. On one side, their inexperience comes handy as it doesn’t completely isolate them from the starting point, but it still shouldn’t be happening. And it becomes more and more frantic as shown by their drawn faces and clumsy movements. A disaster of any kind should have been predicted at any second from that only.

It happens when Jeongguk leans too far over the edge, his canoe wobbling dangerously. Iseul lets out a high-pitched scream, gripping the sides of the boat. Eunbi’s heart leaps into her throat, all thoughts of their petty race forgotten in an instant.

“Gguk, careful!” She shouts, her voice thick with concern. Without thinking, she reaches out with her paddle, trying to steady his canoe from a distance. For a moment, everything else falls away— the tension, the bickering, the hurt. All she sees is him, about to fall, and her instinct to protect him kicks in.

Jeongguk manages to regain his balance just in time, his canoe righting itself with a lurch. Everything pauses. He lets out a breath of relief, a small, surprised chuckle escaping his lips. Eunbi exhales too, a soft, almost involuntary smile forming on her face. It lasts a second, but it feels like more when they share a look different from all the others. Relief. I’m glad you’re safe. Recognition. Thank you. Stillness.

But then reality snaps back into place. They both realise what they’re doing, and their expressions harden almost simultaneously. Eunbi quickly looks away, her face flushing with embarrassment. Jeongguk mutters, self-reproaching, “God, this is so stupid.”

The brief moment of softness vanishes the instant Eunbi catches his words, and she snaps, her voice rising childishly with indignation, “You started this!”

Jeongguk scoffs, “Me? You’re the one who wanted to overtake me!”

“You were the one paddling like a maniac!”

“I literally almost fell in the water because of you.”

Eunbi’s eyes get unbelievably wider with disbelief, a sarcastic laugh escaping her, “Oh, that was not because of me. That’s because you are incompetent.”

“Don’t throw big words at me now.”

“Sorry, I’ll lower my vocabulary down for you to understand.”

The childish bickering stretches on for astonishingly long minutes, the volume of their voices rising over the gentle sounds of the river. Namjoon, who had been rowing quietly, finally has enough. With a frustrated sigh, he takes the paddles and makes it his own solo mission to row back toward the others by himself, muttering under his breath, “I can’t believe I have to do this.”

His comment is mostly drowned out by the relentless sparring between Eunbi and Jeongguk, who are too engrossed in their argument to notice that Namjoon is now paddling alone, their strained voices echoing across the water. Jeongguk even goes as far as to row his canoe back behind his hyung’s just so he can have the last word in. It’s ridiculous, really— a silly argument born from a place neither of them is willing to acknowledge.

“Wow, that’s real mature of you, Eunbi. What’s next, you gonna stick your tongue out at me?”

She bristles, her cheeks flushing with the effort the rage is taking out of her, “I might as well if you keep acting like a dick!”

Jeongguk sneers, “Oh, please. I’m not the one who started this whole stupid race.”

Eunbi is aware the more she keeps it going, the more she’ll fall right into his trap but she fears she’s already too deep to back down now, “You were showing off!”

“And you were just so jealous you couldn’t stand it.”

“Enough! Both of you!” It’s Namjoon who finally snaps, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. He gives the oars a decisive pull, the canoe cutting through the water with renewed force. His voice is stern, and much different from the calm tone Eunbi has grown accustomed to, his patience had clearly worn thin, “I can’t believe I’m stuck in the middle of this… whatever this is. My ears are bleeding. If you two want to sort out whatever childish feud you’re having, do it on dry land. And away from me.”

The sudden authority in the older guy’s voice silences them both, and the quiet that falls upon them is as much a blessing as deafening. There’s a beat of awkward tension as they both realise how ridiculous they must look. Two grown adults behaving like squabbling children and shut down by their yelling, frustrated father. The reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. They’re too far from the rest of the group, their petty race having pulled them far off, all because of their stubbornness and bruised egos.

What follows is what should have surrounded them right from the beginning, stillness only interrupted by the flushing of the water as it gets caressed by their paddles rowing back to their initial position. Eunbi’s face burns with embarrassment, and with the realisation of how low she’s stooped. The urge to apologise to Namjoon itches at the back of her throat, but pride prevents her from doing it in front of Jeongguk.

No one dares add a word, not even a breath too loud, the tension lingering but now tinged with a sense of shame. Other than the rhythmic splash of their oars and the distant laughter of their friends, the only sound that can be occasionally heard is Namjoon’s bewildered scoffs and muttered comments. The other two know better than to cut the thin thread they’re all clutching onto.

But the chop comes, and it’s Iseul’s voice breaking the silence, soft and tentative, “You know, we’re all here to have fun. Can we just… try to get along for a little while?”

Eunbi has to bite her tongue. Otherwise, she fears any words that might leave her lips could permanently push Iseul away from the already slim possibility of them becoming friends. She keeps her eyes closed, a long exhale escaping her lips, irritation flaring up at the simplicity of the comment. As if it hadn’t already crossed her mind that they should be getting along. What a genius idea, truly.

Jeongguk seems to notice the tense silence that follows, especially the tightness in Eunbi’s expression and how Iseul’s well-meaning comment has only added fuel to the fire. He turns to his companion and offers her a reassuring smile, even if it feels a bit forced, “It’s okay, Isu. Let’s just head back.” His tone is gentle, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere, the nod that accompanies it recognising her effort, as well as its effective uselessness.

Taking in Jeongguk’s unnecessary, oversweet tone towards the other girl involuntarily causes Eunbi to scoff audibly, the sound loud and deliberate, followed by nothing. She keeps her gaze fixed on the water, refusing to look at either of them. But she feels Jeongguk’s narrowed eyes on her, “What now?”

”Nothing,” Eunbi mutters, the sarcasm in her tone cutting through the air. “Just love how you can turn on the charm when it suits you.”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightens for what feels like the nth time, fearing a possible cramp soon affecting the muscles of his mouth, but he keeps his response measured, “I’m just trying to not make this worse.”

A fake coo follows, Eunbi’s voice mockingly replicating his sudden calmness, “Oh, how nice of you, Ggukkie.”

“For the love of God, will you two drop it? Please?” Namjoon’s frustrated groan interrupts once again the bickering from stretching on, his patience truly at its limit. He increases the pace of his rowing, as if trying to physically distance himself from the scene.

The uncomfortable silence lingers for the rest of the paddling back, and it stretches on endlessly, mirroring the distance they’ve travelled in their pointless, self-inflicted race. If it isn’t the consequences of their own stupid actions. Eunbi dips her paddle in the water with more intention, fixating on the ripples spread out from each stroke, refusing to meet Namjoon’s annoyed gaze. She’s ashamed of the way she’s let her emotions and bottled up feelings rule a situation that could have been easily avoided, though she stubbornly refuses to fully acknowledge it, let alone admit that she might be in the wrong.

Still, Eunbi uses the time it gets to reach the shore to work on her breathing, counting every pause between her exhales, willing to free her mind from the chaotic flow of thoughts before she regrets letting them cling to her like a shadow and cause a bigger scene. The sight of the land approaching should bring some relief, but instead it only amplifies the sense of urgency gnawing at her. The moment the canoe nudges against the land, the sun beginning its descent, bathing the landscape in a warm light, Eunbi wastes no time making herself aware of her surroundings, as she’s already on her feet, moving with a speed that betrays her desperation to escape the tension that’s been suffocating her.

She’s unsteady as she steps out, the ground feeling oddly solid beneath her after the wobbly rhythm of the canoe. Namjoon notices her haste and instinctively reaches out to steady her, but she’s stepping away, her shoes sinking into the damp shore.

”I’m going back to the campsite,” Eunbi says, her voice clipped, the words barely more than a whisper after the raw shouting followed by complete muteness.

Namjoon, still seated, frowns as he looks up at her. Concern clouds his features, and he’s quick to offer, “Wait for me, I’ll take you back.”

Eunbi shakes her head, her refusal as gentle as it is resolute. A tight-lipped smile plays on her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You should stay and enjoy the rest of the day.”

There’s a sheepish, unspoken apology written in her eyes, a fleeting look of regret that she’s too proud to voice. She unconsciously scrunches her nose, a telltale sign of her lingering embarrassment, and doesn’t even register Namjoon’s nod as she turns to start walking, eager to put distance between herself and the situation, but mostly from Jeongguk’s attentive eyes still throwing jabs her way.

As she walks back to the tents, Eunbi’s mind is already racing ahead to dinner. It’s been her biggest concern for a while now, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach, an instinctive dread that tonight will go as badly as she fears. Dinner always seems to bring out the worst in them, the frustration of the day simmering just below the surface until it boils over and erupts in sharp words and bitter exchanges. She can feel that exact feeling brewing dangerously in her stomach, but she knows she’d rather suppress it than have it consume her completely only for more pieces of her heart to break.

Dropping onto one of the deck chairs around the campsite, she waits for it to dissipate with her knees up to her chest. It’s hard at first, the sudden quiet too loud and overwhelming her with the pent up exasperation from today. It only fuels that part of her that still hasn’t moved on from the very first night, the one that set the tone for everything that followed, who harbours anger and spite for what Jeongguk had spat in her face with apparently no remorse. She wants to get back at him, to make him regret those words, to hurt him as much as he’s hurt her. But the bigger, remaining part of her knows she’s already done enough of that.

Would it even be worthy? What would she gain from it? Would getting back at Jeongguk truly bring her any peace, or would it only deepen the rift between them? She knows the answer, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Normally, she wouldn’t let any other person get away so easily with such a comment, but with Jeongguk, she’s aware he has lived with worse feelings for years, and that probably isn’t even the worst of what his heart holds. She’s not ready to wake that monster. Doesn’t know if she’s prepared to confront the truth behind the look he gives her. Doesn’t want to know if that truth is dictated by resentment, or if it’s all that’s left of her in Jeongguk’s view. Because if she’s honest with herself, no matter how angry she is, she can’t deny that she understands why he feels this way. And that understanding, more than anything, is what terrifies her the most.

Hours slip by in a blur, Eunbi stilling on her chair and giving space for her thoughts to unleash before it’s too late to put a collar back on again. The sun continues its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and when it dips down the horizon, the campfire that has been just a pile of logs earlier is now crackling with life, its warmth spreading through the group as they gather for dinner. The smell of grilled food wafts through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest and the cool breeze.

It’s a comforting atmosphere, one that’s filled with laughter and easy conversation, but Eunbi is yet to be shaken out her trance to realise none of what she fears is reflecting in the reality surrounding her. Only when Dahye finds a spot on the seat next to hers and launches into a breathless retelling of apparently the craziest experience she’s had so far during the trip earlier at the river, Eunbi reconnects with the present, and disconnects from the almost maniac way she’s been analysing her thoughts alone all evening.

As she follows Dahye’s lips moving, acknowledging her with small nods and chuckles that the storytelling gets out of her, she finds she’s been making one huge mistake all this while. She’s always been so wrapped up in her own fears, her need to control the narrative and anticipate the next emotional blow, that she’s missed the simple reality of what’s unfolding around her. The night easily moves forward without the weight of her expectations pressing down on it.

Maybe she doesn’t have to anticipate every move, every subtle shift in the atmosphere. Maybe she doesn’t have to keep trying to predict what Jeongguk might say or how the night might fall apart. For the first time, she lets herself be present— really present. She lets herself feel the warmth of the fire, hear the laughter of her friends without reading too much into it, lets herself stop preparing for a storm that isn’t coming.

There’s a quiet revelation in that. Tonight, she doesn’t want to brace herself for another argument or another disappointment. She can simply allow the peace of the moment to wash over her, instead of waiting for the worse. And by the time the stars are twinkling overhead and her tummy is full, she allows herself to let go of the anger and just be.

It’s when they start another one of their games that she fully lets her guard down and doesn’t focus on anything in particular, just how genuine her laughs resound in her own ears. Once again, it’s Jimin suggesting it, eyes twinkling, “How about a story-telling challenge? We each say one line and keep the story going around the circle.”

Eunbi chuckles and nods, feeling a flicker of excitement at the idea. It’s been a while since she’s done something as silly and spontaneous. They all shuffle closer, forming a tight circle around the fire, the flickering flames dancing in their eyes. Taehyung starts them off, his voice solemn as he leans in, “Once upon a time, in a forest much like this one, there was a squirrel who could sing opera.”

It’s impossible to keep straight faces at first, but they all try. The mock-seriousness in Taehyung’s tone only makes it funnier, and the story takes off from there, spiralling into absurdity. Hoseok follows up, voice filled with faux sorrow, “And this squirrel, right? He had a tragic backstory. He lost his most precious acorn in a dramatic flood.”

The more the tale escalates, the more their giggles can’t be stopped, with the squirrel also being a secret agent for a woodland spy network side by side with his best friend, a tap-dancing raccoon who dreamed of opening a dance studio in the big city. Seokjin adds that the talented animal was also training to perform in a world-renowned animal talent show, but was being sabotaged by a jealous porcupine who could juggle flaming pinecones.

Yoongi, usually the voice of reason, surprisingly leans into the layers of idiocy rather than trying to steer it back to some semblance of order, “The porcupine is actually being helped by an evil ninja rabbit who only speaks in riddles.” His voice carries a playful tone, and Eunbi can’t help but reflect his same look on her own face— unforced, genuine.

The fire crackles louder in response, almost as if laughing along with them and cheering them on. By the time the story comes back around to Jimin, he leans in with a grin caught up in the fun, “And then! The raccoon finally achieves his dream of opening a dance school in the city where all the animals can learn tap-dancing and perform in the biggest talent show ever.”

There’s a beat of silence before they all burst out laughing again, though this time it’s mixed with good-natured teasing. Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head, “Okay, now you’re just projecting.“

Hoseok, grinning from ear to ear, chimes in, “Yeah, come on, you’re turning this into your own personal dream story.”

Taehyung, never missing a beat, adds, “Next thing you know, you’ll have the raccoon choreographing the whole animal kingdom.”

The teasing banter continues, the group’s laughter bouncing off the trees. But Eunbi, still a little out of sync with their inside jokes, blinks in confusion, “Wait, what? What do you mean, reflecting yourself?”

The laughter fades, and Jimin turns to her, a bit of a sheepish grin on his face, “Oh, it’s just… I’ve always loved dancing. It’s been a silly dream of mine to— you know, maybe open a dance studio when I’m older.”

Eunbi’s eyes widen, genuine surprise lighting her features, “Wow, I had no idea. That’s so cool, Jimin! Seriously, I didn’t know that about you.”

There’s a brief, awkward pause, in which Jimin’s smile softens at her reaction, but before he can say anything more, Jeongguk scoffs audibly. The sound cuts through the moment like a sharp blade. He’s leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowing at Eunbi with something between disdain and frustration but his tone unbothered, “That’s basic Jimin knowledge. Everyone knows that.”

Once again, Eunbi couldn’t have anticipated Jeongguk being on a completely different agenda. She should have known, she’s aware of that. But she hadn’t wanted to. She only wanted to go by the foolish belief that tonight would be different. That just for one evening they could coexist in the same space, be civil, even share a laugh.

It was a naive hope. And now, standing crosshairs of Jeongguk’s fiery glaze, not only with the glow of the flames, she realises just how mistaken she’s been. How stupid it was of her to think Jeongguk wouldn’t jump at the possibility of adding fuel to the fire. Because, right now, she finds herself utterly unprepared to read his clenched jaw, contrasting with the careless, almost indifferent posture he tries to maintain. She struggles to predict how it might develop if she uses a slightly different tone, or takes more time to respond.

She doesn’t remember moving around Jeongguk ever being this difficult. The physical closeness forced upon them by this trip only makes the emotional distance between them more glaring. They might be sitting around the same campfire, but it’s clear from the way he bristles at her every word, every gesture, that in Jeongguk’s mind, she’s universes away. And it’s exactly where he wants her to stay. No spaceship will bring her back. There’s nowhere she can land on his planet.

Eunbi’s exhaustion reaches its breaking point. She’s tired of pretending she’s okay with this. Fed up with letting remorse gnaw at her insides and reduce her to a punching bag for his barely-contained rage. Willing to take every fist thrown her way, rendering her vulnerable to his every attempt at breaking her down. Though what she feels is not resentment. It’s pure, bone-deep weariness. She doesn’t want to take this tug of war any further. If letting go of the idea of fixing things between them is what he wants, she’ll give him that.

With a sigh, she lowers her gaze to her hands for a moment, her fingers twitching unconsciously. Time and time again, she’s the reason why the group can’t go a few hours without being drawn into their venomous war.

Her eyes glisten with shame and helplessness as she looks back up, her voice reflecting anything but that weakness, its sharp and snappy tone overtaking the crackling fire, “What is your problem?”

Differently from the silence that stretched on after the unnecessary jab caught her by surprise, each second going by the ticks of a bomb ready to explode and wipe out the frivolity of the night, Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even give her the courtesy of pretending to think it over. His response comes swiftly, harshly, as if he’s been waiting for the question all night, “My problem? My problem is that you’re here.”

Eunbi can’t help but scoff. It’s not meant to be arrogant, nor mocking. It’s almost an instinctive reaction, a defence mechanism against the disbelief that rises in her throat. Her words drip with sarcasm, though her voice remains calm, “Oh, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you with the others.”

Jeongguk’s gaze is steady, unwavering, and his next words land like a punch to the gut, “Well, you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be here.”

Though she can say she’s gotten better at enduring, it still stings. None of that shows on her face, unflinching, neutral. A biting smile tugs at her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “Trust me, I know.”

There’s a pause— one brief, agonising moment where she thinks maybe, just maybe, this is still part of their aimless bickering that has been going on the past two days, a spat that will blow over.

But then Jeongguk speaks again, and his voice is so distant it’s even hard to hear him clearly, “I hope you do. You don’t belong here.”

Silence stretches on, the fire crackling softly the only sound between them. She’s sure everyone has stopped breathing, their exhales stuck up in their throat, afraid of releasing them, of stepping foot into something that doesn’t concern them.

Jeongguk’s eyes never leave hers, the coldness in them piercing through the thin veil of pretence they’ve both been clinging to. He doesn’t stop there, his voice deathly quiet, “Not with me. Not with the others. Can’t you see that?”

Eunbi’s heart lurches. She thinks she would prefer being called every name in the book. Have Jeongguk spit at her for all the pain she put him through. Say anything he wants about her being an awful person. But he knows just how to twist the knife. Still knows how to read her every faltering step, the doubts behind her eyes, the insecurities plaguing her mind. Surely, he also still knows how to be the one feeding her the desperate acceptance she needs, the assurance that none of her fears are true. So many times Jeongguk was there to swear she’s loved; that she wouldn’t be left alone ever again.

But now, he decides to use all that knowledge to spin it against her, to push all the right buttons that he knows will hurt her most. She doesn’t belong here. It’s what her mind has whispered to her over and over again since she stepped foot in his sacred circle, an outsider next to Dahye. She has been good at ignoring those hushed tones, to convince herself they’re lies. That these people are her friends, and they all see her as part of the group. That her fears were unfounded.

The proof her haunting thoughts have been right all along is in front of her though, and it presses down on her chest. It’s too much— too raw, too real. She should have seen it coming, but she’s still speechless. Her throat tight, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Though she refuses to let them fall for eleven pairs of eyes to watch. For his eyes to glow with satisfaction.

Eunbi manages to laugh bitterly, though the sound is hollow, “Right. Well, thanks for making it clear.” With her hands trembling slightly, hiding it by clenching them into fists at her sides, she pushes herself to her feet, “I’ll go now. Enjoy your night. Asshole.”

Her voice wavering on the last word, Eunbi turns and walks away from the fire, the warmth of it barely touching her anymore. She doesn’t let herself falter as she heads toward her tent, her footsteps hurried, the chill of the night settling in around her.

And as she shields herself from the outside world, its sounds accompanied by the group’s muttered voices escalating with agitation, words she won’t try to register, she doesn’t bother giving herself a headache trying to hold the tears in. This time, she lets them spill over freely, each one carrying the weight of every single one of her fears. She keeps the sobs in her chest, whimpering with the signals of panic taking over. And now more than ever, she really wishes she just wasn’t here.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When it comes to this time of the year, Jeongguk inevitably becomes the worst version of himself. It’s a cruel irony that it all resurfaces right as his birthday approaches. It’s been that way for years now. In the beginning, when he was still in Busan, he found it hard to blow the candles on his cake without his shoulders feeling heavy, his eyes involuntarily searching for someone that was no longer there; with the unanswered questions dulling the sounds around, leaving him desensitised to the love so blatantly in front of him.

It took him a while to accept it, even with a missing spot unfilled. Jeongguk has never been good with changes. Has always lived by an unwavering, straight path on which he walked confidently, jumping over the cracks on the ground and ignoring any turns. The only deviation he allowed was the one that led him to Seoul. It was a long wait before the stoplight turned green, his own doubts plaguing him even with his parents’ encouragement; and when it did, he crossed the road alone reluctantly, glancing back more than once.

Jeongguk found that this lane was a little less preserved and far less predictable than the one he took his very first steps on. It was full of bumps, a lot of them causing him to trip and fall face first into the concrete. So many dead ends that forced him to make a choice, left or right. But on those same streets, he also recognised elements from the previous block: his love for filmography, the very reason he came to the capital; his mom’s goodnight tune, even over the phone; his thick Busan accent, instantly mirrored into Jimin’s own; the creeping dread as his birthday approached.

There are things he never fully got over, and every year, when August rushes to an end and September looms, he becomes highly aware of it. But over time, he’s learned to live with it. The questions that once consumed him have no answers, and he came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t help what happened. What he’s always had control over, however, was the small key to an even smaller room in his brain, where with great effort he locked Eunbi away once he turned 17.

She tried to break free multiple times, banging on the door and begging to be let out. Jeongguk even had to get maintenance on the lock. Eventually she quieted down, and only ever stirred whenever she knew September was coming from the little calendar she had hung up in the cramped space.

Jeongguk learned to handle it. The memories were still alive, but they didn’t hurt him the way they used to. They felt distant, resurfacing only when he himself noticed the final days of August being crossed on his own calendar. Using a red marker to draw those lines, his fingers still tingled with something close to familiar uneasiness. Sometimes, if it managed to spread to his whole body, it would overtake him, and in the days leading up to his birthday he’d snap more easily, feel more irritated.

But he’d gotten better at controlling it. Last year, his first time turning a year older in a place that wasn’t Busan, he didn’t even feel it. It might have been all the new, shiny people surrounding him in the small flat he was renting with Jimin, the fresh adrenaline from making sure he was feeding his friends with a fun time clouding every other thought. Back in that room, Eunbi peacefully slept through the entirety of it. Even forgot to wish him a happy birthday.

With the real Eunbi physically standing in front of him, all of Jeongguk’s efforts to keep her locked away shattered in one, insignificant instant. It only took a snap of the little-version-of-her in his brain for every wall he’d meticulously built to come crashing down. The door he had so carefully sealed off was now flung open, and little Eunbi burst through, running wild, mingling with thoughts she had no business messing with and wreaking havoc on all those parts of his mind that had been closed off, at least until that moment.

Behind her, an unstoppable flood of emotions he’d long buried surged in, filling his mind until it couldn’t hold any more. It spread to his chest, his heart straining under the weight of everything he didn’t want to feel. Little Eunbi, with her hair still short, worn bermudas, and a t-shirt stained with yellow paint, revelled in the chaos she was causing. She jumped and skipped back and forth between his brain and his heart, completely at ease, her presence so familiar yet entirely out of place. She seemed to enjoy every second of it.

And Jeongguk grew more and more unnerved by that. Little Eunbi was different from the Eunbi that avoided his gaze and awkwardly bowed. The latter had her hair longer, with short bangs softly brushing over her brows, her hands neatly manicured and her clothes spotless. She stood there, straight and put-together, a polished version of the girl who once got dirt all over herself and laughed too loud.

But what probably made him madder was that the more Eunbi started to find her place within the group, the more that seemingly dead part of her began to re-emerge, inching its way back into his life. It was like watching a ghost regain its form, piece by piece. The Eunbi he thought he had locked away was starting to blur with the present Eunbi, and every time she laughed it reminded him of how easy things had once been between them, back when her presence hadn’t been a thorn in his side but a constant comfort. Now, that sound twisted something deep in his chest, something he had long buried under layers of hurt and distance.

What frustrated him even more was that Eunbi seemed completely oblivious to it all. The way she eased into the group, gaining their acceptance, was infuriating. It was as if the distance between them meant nothing to her, as if she could waltz back into his life without consequence. The more they welcomed her, the more that old familiarity surfaced. She was becoming Eunbi again— the Eunbi who had once mattered. And that thought made his stomach churn.

It twisted even further when he found himself unconsciously reading into her every move. His knowledge of her, the way she used to be, crept into his mind without his consent, and he began to analyse her behaviour, picking apart her words and actions. It was almost instinctive, the way he could still understand her, still anticipate her moods. It only ended up poisoning him, because he soon realised those smiles — those little moments of reconnection to the past — were never directed at him. He could recognise her in the eyes of his friends, but never in his own.

Did she even care about what had happened between them? Did she think she could simply move on like none of it had affected him? Did she ever realise how deep those cracks still ran, or was he the only one haunted by the weight of their past?

At first, he forced the frustration to only translate into indifference. Bitter coldness. Not paying her presence too much mind, but still making sure she could feel his resentment dangerously tipping over the edge, and threatening to trip at any minute.

But the combination of his birthday approaching and Eunbi wandering around his space as if nothing ever happened caused the explosion. The rancorous version of himself, the one he thought he managed to successfully bury, now fought its way to the surface and dragged him back to square one: a freshly 16 years old Jeongguk with a freshly broken trust.

The intensity of those emotions hit him like a tidal wave, the kind that leaves you breathless, unable to distinguish between up and down. It wasn’t just anger. It was cold betrayal, and the sight of her, standing there so effortlessly among his friends on his birthday trip, made his skin prickle with irritation. Eunbi had slid into their plans with such ease, as if she belonged, and it was ironic considering she hadn’t even wanted to be in the same car as him.

Jeongguk only needed that last, littlest drop to fall, and with it, every ounce of restraint he had left evaporated. The thin thread of control he’d been clinging to snapped. He had thought he’d moved on, convinced himself that enough time had passed for him to handle her presence with maturity.

But he was wrong. Time hadn’t healed him like he’d hoped. Instead, it had just let the bitterness fester until now. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold himself back. The more he watched her fit in so naturally, laughing at someone’s joke or sharing a quiet moment by the fire, the more the frustration swelled in his chest. It was infuriating that she could act so unfazed, go up to him with a smile he has always recognised too well as if nothing ever was.

He didn’t even realise how tight the grip on his own emotions had been, until they were flooding out of him all at once. Jeongguk felt the words rising in his throat before he could stop them, the resentment spilling over like poison. And now he can feel the control slipping, the pain rushing to the surface like a dam had burst inside him. It’s almost addicting, even when his mind screams at him to stop, to take a breath. But his heart, the part of him still broken from all that time ago, drives him forward.

He needs her to feel it, needs it to be reflected in her eyes. This is what he’d been holding back for so long. This is the pain she’d left him with, and now he’s finally giving it back to her, forcing her to carry some of the weight. He isn’t the only one hurting anymore.

Each word that leaves his mouth is laced with venom, and he watches, wavering between satisfaction and regret, as they hit their target. Her eyes always widen slightly, the smallest flinch in her expression betraying her shock. For a second, he thinks he sees the cracks forming—tiny fissures in that calm, polished exterior she’d put on.

But the more he watches her crumble, the more he feels the bitter taste of victory sour in his mouth. There’s a part of him that hates what he’s doing. Hates that he has become the kind of person who lashes out like this, who takes pleasure in someone else’s pain. Especially hers. It’s like he’s caught in this vicious cycle of wanting to keep his distance but also wanting her attention. And the only way to get that is by hurting her before he himself can process his own hurt through different lenses.

Jeongguk knows he’s being unfair, but something in him can’t let it go. He‘s still simmering with unresolved anger, but there’s also a gnawing guilt, a nagging voice in his head telling him he’s pushing her too far, too hard. Last night, her eyes glossy with tears, he felt the pang that usually followed unleashing his poisonous words hit harder in his chest. He had picked his script with purpose, knowing exactly where to aim, only to shoot hard and leave her lifeless. She fought through the end to get her breaths out, until she couldn’t. Jeongguk waited for the sense of triumph to wash over him, but it never did.

Instead, her fragile figure retreating only after a weak attempt at returning even the smallest amount of the hurt she felt, Jeongguk still felt heavy. Heavy with remorse and guilt. Heavy with the pressure reflected in his friends’ eyes. And he couldn’t handle that. He stood up shortly after Eunbi left, his brain refusing to internalise Dahye’s affront and the group’s deafening silence.

Hours later, Jeongguk lies wide awake, his eyes staring into the void of the tent. He hasn’t been able to keep them shut for more than a minute, his mind a battlefield. He finds it’s impossible to resonate between the insatiable desire for revenge and the exhaustion rendering him numb to any possibility of feeding that need. There’s a part of him that just wants peace.

Glancing to his side, Jimin and Taehyung sleep soundly in the cramped space, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside him. Neither of them had wanted to dive too deep into what happened, the spat words, the irrational rage constantly taking over their younger friend and keeping him stuck between fight and flight with no escape. Jimin only offered a soft pat on the shoulder and his warmest smile, “It’ll be okay, Jeonggukkie. Let’s just sleep now, hm?”

Jeongguk wishes it could have been as simple as Jimin made it sound. For his friends, it was. They both fell asleep without trouble, and Jeongguk is grateful for that. At least two out of three of them were getting the rest they deserved. Still, he’s careful not to wake them while he quietly slips out of the tent.

The early morning air is crisp, biting at his skin, but the sensation is grounding. Dawn is just beginning to break, soft light spilling over the horizon and casting everything in a faint glow. The quiet sounds of nature surround him, and though they don’t quite ease the weight in his chest, they provide a temporary lull. It’s the cool air caressing his face and threading through his hair that brings some sort of order.

His thoughts start to settle. They don’t feel like a stadium of shouting voices anymore. The yells quiet down and he’s able to sift through them now, picking each one apart, giving himself the space to breathe. It’s not perfect, but it’s better. He feels like he can move past this— if not for his own sake, then for the sake of the others.

Still, there’s one thought that refuses to be silenced. One question that lingers just beneath the surface, gnawing at the edges of his justified anger. It’s persistent, creeping into his mind with every inhale. Why does hurting her hurt him too?

It seems like the simplest of questions, but Jeongguk refuses to accept what appears to be the answer. It sits there, plain as day, yet he pushes it away. He doesn’t want to keep dissecting it, turning it over and over in his mind, trying to find any other plausible way out, but he can’t help himself. His thoughts spiral, stretching the minutes into what feels like eternity, until he loses track of time altogether. He zones out so deeply that when he finally snaps back, it’s only because the quiet sound of a tent zipper reaches his ears, followed by Hoseok’s hesitant head poking out.

Jeongguk blinks, suddenly aware that he’s been sitting in the same spot, on the same chair, staring at the same patch of dirt for who knows how long. Hours, at least. His body feels stiff, his mind trapped in an endless loop. He wonders if he’s lost his ability to pull himself out of this mental prison, if this is it. He’s stuck. His birthday is less than 24 hours away, and he’s more miserable than he’s been in months.

His chest tightens when he sees Hoseok walking toward him. Panic rises swiftly, because Hoseok had witnessed last night’s disaster. They all had. His hands clench into fists, his orbs trembling as doubt swarms his mind. Did he ruin the entire trip for everyone? Is the tension in the air his fault? Is he the cause of the awkward silence that lingered after he tore Eunbi apart with his words? Do they hate—

“Jeonggukkie? You okay?”

The softness in Hoseok’s tone almost makes Jeongguk flinch. It’s so gentle, filled with concern, and for a moment he questions everything he’s been telling himself. If Hoseok hated him, if any of them did, he wouldn’t be standing here now, looking at him with such care in his eyes.

Jeongguk only nods in response, the tension in his shoulders unwinding just a little as his older friend’s face softens into a sweet smile. There’s no judgement, no condemnation. Just quiet understanding. He waits in the lingering silence as Hoseok moves to freshen up. The moment he returns, settling into one of the chairs nearby, Jeongguk feels a sudden urge to speak clawing at his throat. He knows if he doesn’t start talking, the weight of the trap of his own mind will tighten around him again. So he talks, talks and talks about anything that doesn’t resemble the doom he was slipping into.

He’s a fugitive from his thoughts, and he keeps running even when more of the others join the small circle in the middle of the campsite. None of them seem to look at Jeongguk differently, the jokes flowing naturally as small laughs fill the quiet morning. It’s as if everything is as it should be, and he feels himself ease back into composure. Though, the guilt still lingers, heavy and unshakable. He ignores it.

The sun climbs higher in the sky, casting light above them and providing Jeongguk with warmth that he stores in his chest. He gets more of that from his friends’ smiles and the excitement flowing energetically out of them as Hoseok explains they’ll be cycling today, crossing scenic paths that round the campsite.

He watches as they all gather, geeking about today’s activity and stuffing their faces with as much food as they can get their hands on. The topic soon shifts to his birthday, which Jeongguk is particularly dreading. They’re already planning to get him wasted tonight, and the boy chuckles softly, though his laughter is hesitant, distracted.

His gaze keeps drifting to the one tent that hasn’t opened yet, the only place that remains closed off to the rest of the group. The only two people missing from their little circle haven’t joined yet, and it’s hard for Jeongguk to ignore that. To ignore her.

With more minutes going by and the tent unmoving, remaining still and almost mocking in its silence, he finds it even harder to focus on the laughter and the lightness of the morning. The world outside his head seems to move on without him, blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside him. On one side, he’s relieved that the attention has shifted away from him, that the day can unfold even without him being fully present. But that same realisation makes him feel like he’s teetering on the edge, dangerously close to falling back into the prison of his own thoughts.

Oblivious to it, his inner struggle is written all over his face, clear as day to anyone who cares enough to look. And Jimin notices right away. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches out to gently caress Jeongguk’s shoulder, the touch so light that the brown haired boy startles slightly before meeting his friend’s gaze. Jimin’s face is soft, a sweet smile tugging at his lips as he tilts his head, “Something on your mind?”

His tone is gentle, almost knowing. Jeongguk shakes his head, brushing off the concern, but his eyes flicker, and his own body betrays him when he instinctively turns once again to check for any movement from the tent. The subtle action doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde, who hums and makes the other boy sigh wearily, an excuse ready on his lips, “I just haven’t had much sleep.”

“Why don’t you go call Eunbi and Dahye? They probably won’t get to have breakfast if we’re leaving soon.” Jimin’s suggestion comes with caution but it strikes a chord.

Jeongguk stares at his friend, though it feels more like he’s staring through him. The words hang in the air as he zones out, weighing his options. He doesn’t want them to miss breakfast, sure. And part of him just wants to check on them, to make sure they’re okay. Breathing, alive. Yeah, that’s it.

But a question lingers: is he ready to face Eunbi so directly? The task sounds simple enough—just call them over, remind them they’ll have to leave soon for the day’s plans. But the weight of last night still clings to him. What if he hasn’t recovered from the poison he spat? What if that anger rises up, unprovoked, and spills out again? Worse, what if he can’t say anything at all? Or what if Eunbi sees him and returns all the evil, even stronger and sharper? What if she hits back harder and he’s left bleeding on the ground?

The furious speed at which his thoughts churn makes Jeongguk’s head spin, a relentless loop that threatens to overtake him, before the weight on his lap pulls him back. He glances down to see a plate of food resting there—some leftovers from breakfast. When he looks back at his friend, Jimin’s gaze is comforting, “You could bring them this and check if they’re okay with leaving in 30 minutes, hm?”

Jimin is crouching beside him, eyes soft but knowing, not pushing or pressing for anything, but somehow encouraging him all the same. The reassurance he finds in his gaze is enough for Jeongguk. His rushed thought process slows down, and he has room to realise he was only letting irrational panic speak. There’s no reason why any of those scenarios and possible outcomes could roll out only from calling his friends (well, his friend and… Eunbi) over for breakfast.

Jeongguk nods as he stands, his movements stiff at first, his hands clutching the plate tightly. Even with the knowledge he doesn’t have to necessarily address Eunbi, each step toward the tent feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world. The ground beneath him crunches softly, and his heart unreasonably picks up. The idea of simply facing her makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want to accept it, but it’s guilt that’s causing that.

He’s so consumed by trying to chase away his own thoughts he doesn’t immediately register he’s close enough now that he can see the outline of the closed tent flap. It takes him even more to discern the sounds coming from inside. At first, it’s just a faint noise—muffled, almost unintelligible.

But as he draws closer, it becomes clearer. His steps falter. Another second goes by before he places it, and then it hits him like a punch to the gut. Eunbi is crying.

Jeongguk’s body tenses. No, she’s sobbing. It feels like someone’s wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed. Her words are barely comprehensible, choked-out syllables and pleading whispers. He can make out enough to know that she’s begging, almost desperately, for Dahye to take her away from here.

Jeongguk freezes, paralyzed by the intensity of each of her desperate gasps. The world around him fades. The raw sound of her pain consumes him, and it cuts through him in ways he didn’t anticipate. He had wanted this, hadn’t he? He had wanted to hurt her, to see her broken, see her exactly like this. He had succeeded. He thought it would somehow bring him peace, make things right. Then why does each sob that escapes her build a shattering pressure in his chest?

It all ended up feeling wrong. As if he’s the one falling apart, the one who can’t catch his breath. Her grief echoes in him, breaking pieces inside he thought were long buried. There’s that gnawing guilt, eating away at the anger he had used to justify everything.

With the cries growing louder in his ears, he finds an answer as to why it hurts to hurt her. And it’s a persistent whisper he can no longer ignore.

Jeongguk struggles. He struggles to process it all, his senses slow. He doesn’t know whether to walk away or step closer. His head is screaming at him to move, to do something, but his body won’t listen.

It takes him another moment to realise that Dahye is moving inside the tent, her voice low and soothing as she tries to comfort Eunbi. Then, the tent flap rustles, and Dahye steps out. The moment her eyes land on him, her expression shifts, hardening with disappointment that sends a new wave of guilt crashing into him.

“You really fucked up this time.” She doesn’t bother to hide what seemed to only paint her features seconds ago. Jeongguk is left momentarily stunned, even more with her shoulder brushing against his as she walks past him. It’s suddenly too fast, and he can’t bring himself to respond, can’t find the words to defend himself or apologise.

His gaze falls down in an attempt to regain control over his actions, but as he searches for something, anything, to ground him he notices that the tent is left slightly open. Through the small gap, he can only see darkness and make out the quiet sniffles coming from Eunbi. His body stills, the sound only worsening the mess of thoughts crashing into each other.

One realisation sends a fresh wave of panic through him. Eunbi can see him. She knows he’s there, standing. Doing nothing, even while she cries. The jolt rushes all through his muscles this time, travelling from his brain, and it’s enough to finally get him to move.

Jeongguk takes a shaky step back, only to turn around fast when he’s met with a possibility he doesn’t want to confront. If he sees her face — red, tear-streaked, her eyes swollen from crying — he doubts he’d be able to handle it. Handle the sight of the pain that he caused. He’s sure he’d lose whatever fragile control he has left. He’s already on the brink of breaking just from hearing her. Seeing her like that would undo him completely.

As he retreats, the weight of everything he’s done settles in. He wonders if they’ve reached a point of no coming back. The hurt is too deep, the damage too irreversible. And for the first time, even the foolish kid inside him, the one that still craves for his Dal, wonders if they’ll ever be able to find their way back to each other. The bridge between them feels burned, reduced to ashes, and he’s terrified that there’s no rebuilding it. It’s falling apart for good.

It’s impossible for Jeongguk to keep the dread eating at his insides from showing on his face. It betrays him, every ounce of regret etched plainly across his features. He reluctantly lifts up his gaze. Especially when he’s met with Jimin’s concerned one, the pity there making his stomach twist even tighter, and Dahye’s flaring eyes cutting through him like daggers.

Eunbi steps out shortly after. She moves quietly, almost too quietly, as if she’s trying to blend and disappear into the air. He can immediately tell that she’s made an effort to mask the misery, the makeup she’s wearing is heavier than usual. Too much in places that don’t need it. A shield against him.

But he refuses to let himself look at her for too long. His eyes flit away before he’s forced to see too much. Before the truths he runs from hit him square in the face, before he’s able to discern the words that should be spoken but remain unsaid.

Once again, he lets his doubts speak louder than reason. He convinces himself that all of his friends are against him, that they’re watching him with eyes full of judgement. They’re at his throat, ready to pounce, ready to pin all the blame on him. He can almost feel their fingers pointing in his direction, like they’ve already made up their minds. He’s the guilty one. He’s the tainted, selfish asshole who ruins everything.

That’s why Jeongguk cycles slowly, deliberately hanging back, lagging behind the rest of the group. He can’t bear to meet their eyes, to force himself into their light-hearted mood. He doesn’t feel like belonging there, right now. It feels like he’s on the outside looking in, like he’s forgotten what it means to just feel at peace.

So, he keeps his distance. It’s easier to stay where it’s quiet. Where he doesn’t have to put up an act or force himself to be present. The silence feels more like a refuge than loneliness, a momentary escape from the relentless noise in his mind.

In front of him, Eunbi cycles just as slowly. They’re both drifting behind the group, caught in their own separate orbits, not really blending with the others. Jeongguk unconsciously fixates on the steady rhythm of her bike wheels, the way they spin effortlessly, guiding her along the path. It’s a repeated, ceaseless action that serves as a temporary anchor to avoid sinking under.

Without meaning to, he finds himself mimicking their speed, gradually inching closer to her, his bike mirroring the pace of her wheels. The space between them narrows, and when he notices it, he pulls back slightly. Only to repeat the same motion moments later, closing the gap again. And again. It’s like he’s automatically attracted to the movement, which unintentionally draws him to her.

It’s Eunbi’s weary sigh cutting through the soft hum of the tires against the ground that snaps him out of that mindless trance, the one that had briefly distracted him from the darker thoughts creeping at the edges of his brain, “Can you stop doing that?”

Her voice, edged with irritation, breaks through the fog in his head. Jeongguk stills, confused, not even realising what she meant. He hums questioningly, his brows furrowing.

“I’m not in the mood for a race,” she mutters, not even looking back at him, her tone flat but tinged with weariness.

Jeongguk blinks, caught off guard, and he feels a flash of defensiveness rise up before he can stop it, “I— I wasn’t—”

“Whatever.” She cuts him off, sounding more tired than angry, “I just feel... anxious knowing you’re— there. Behind me. Please, just go ahead.”

The words strike him harder than they should, hitting him in a place he doesn’t want to acknowledge. They settle deep, mingling with guilt and frustration. Her voice, so casual yet heavy with discomfort, only stirs up the irrational anger that always seems to bubble up whenever they interact, the same one that brought them to this breaking point.

Before he can stop himself, he bites back, “Oh, now you’re the one feeling anxious.”

Eunbi’s shoulders stiffen, and her words shake with fatigue, begging once again, “Please, I don’t wanna start this again.”

“We’re not starting anything,” Jeongguk snaps back, his tone biting despite himself. Even he doesn’t believe it. It always feels like they’re on the verge of starting something, like every word is a match waiting to spark.

This time, she whips her head to look at him over her shoulder, her voice rising as her patience thins, “Oh, really? Then what is th—”

The words die in her throat as her bike catches on something, and in an instant, she’s thrown forward. She’s sent tumbling on the ground, her body skidding against the rocky surface, the harsh sound of scraping skin filling the air as her hands and knees are victim to the fall.

Jeongguk’s heart drops. The fragile tension between them shatters, and his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t think—he just reacts. “Dal!”

Before he knows it, panic overtakes him and he’s off his bike in a flash, letting it crash behind him as he rushes to her side. His voice shakes when he kneels beside her, the name escaping him again, raw and urgent.

Eunbi is sprawled on the ground, dirt smudged across her skin, her hands trembling as they try to push her own body up. Jeongguk immediately detects the blood seeping from the cuts on her knees, then scans through her face contorted in pain. He searches her whole body for more wounds with wide, desperate eyes and he notices her palms are also bleeding.

His hands hover uselessly, unsure where to touch or how to help without hurting her more. His heart is racing, pounding in his chest as the sight of her like this rips through him. It feels like the ground has been yanked out from beneath his feet.

When he speaks again, his voice is rough with fright, “Are you okay?” It’s the first thing he manages to blurt out, while helping her turn on her back. But it’s a stupid question—he can see she’s not okay. He can see the ache written all over her features, more blood dripping from her cuts.

Eunbi doesn’t respond immediately. Her breath comes out in sharp, shaky gasps. Jeongguk can see the shock of it all settling into her body and he watches as she tries to pull herself together, her face pale. Eunbi mutters, her voice small but strained, attempting to sit up in slow movements, “I’m fine.”

Jeongguk feels himself spiralling. The terror in her eyes is reflected in his, but it seems to hit him ten times stronger than what the bruised girl has to deal with right now. His orbs widen impossibly more as the seconds go by, and when her eyes seem to mist over with tears he can’t help his own palms from framing her face and searching for possible scratches he couldn’t spot with his attentive gaze, then grasps her arms.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to make her feel the hurt he carried, make her understand how deep his pain went. But now, as he looks at her, all he can think is how wrong that is. The sight of her suffering doesn’t give him any satisfaction. Only a pang deep in his chest, something ugly that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m fine,” Eunbi repeats again, this time with a little more conviction, a small, forced smile barely reaching her lips. But Jeongguk can see right through it. He hopes she can feel the intention seeping from his contact, his hold rough but warm over her goosebumps-covered skin.

The rushed moment gives no space for the resentment they had grown accustomed to these past days, and it wraps them up in a bubble from which the present is locked out. They’re outside Jeongguk’s porch, and Eunbi just fell on her hands and knees trying to learn how to roller skate. Her best friend sits beside her, taking care of her pain.

Even with their friends now hovering above them, throwing concerned questions at her, Jeongguk’s entire focus is on Eunbi. He follows her every slight movement, every shift of her body as she tries to mask the discomfort. His eyes study the way her face scrunches in pain, his heart aching in time with her every wince. And every time she looks at him, silently seeking reassurance, he’s right there, offering it in the softening of his gaze.

As the group’s voices become a chaotic hum around them, Eunbi’s low murmur slips past the noise, meant only for him, “Gguk. Maybe I don’t feel so fine.”

Her sheepish smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and the worry in her eyebrows betrays her light-hearted attempt. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. He immediately reacts, delicately leading her upper body down again. Seated on his heels, he lays her head on his lap and keeps her eyes on his face, his voice soothing, “It’s okay, Bee. Look at me. You’re going to be fine.”

Eunbi nods, trying to will herself into trusting him, but Jeongguk sees the uncertainty etched into every line of her face. Her eyes, wide with panic, keep darting down to her legs, where Namjoon holds them up steady, and Dahye works carefully to clean her wounds. There’s terror in her eyes every time she follows the blood trickling down her skin and notices how it keeps flowing out furiously. Jeongguk knows that look all too well. He’s seen it before, is aware of how blood unsettles her, how easily fear grips her in moments like these.

He acts instinctively, gently covering her eyes with one of his hands, the thumb subtly caressing her forehead, “Don’t look, Dal. Close your eyes, hm?”

Jeongguk can feel the hesitancy radiating from the group, their confusion practically tangible as they watch the scene unfold. They’ve seen him and Eunbi at each other’s throats, and now this tenderness feels foreign. But to him, it’s more familiar than any of the anger he’s harboured towards her. It’s like something pulling at the edges of his consciousness, reminding him of how it always has been, and should have been.

He refuses to linger on that thought now. Rational explanations and consequences can wait for later. Right now, all he cares about is making sure Eunbi is okay.

Her fall wasn’t severe, not by any medical standard, but the sight of her pale face and the cold sweat clinging to her skin keeps his nerves taut. He can't relax, not when he can still feel the tremble in her body and see the fright in her eyes. The panic washing over her features only makes him grip her a little tighter.

Namjoon breaks through the haze of Jeongguk’s focus, his voice concerned as he lowers Eunbi’s legs gently to the ground. “I need a shirt or something. Tissues won’t be enough here.”

It seems more as if he’s muttering to himself than anyone else, because he instantly moves to search in his backpack. Jeongguk is quicker, reacting without hesitation, still making sure Eunbi is shielded from the view of her knee scratched and raw with blood, “There’s one in my backpack. You can rip it if you need to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment, looking at Jeongguk with doubt and something else he can’t quite place. But after a beat, he nods, unzipping the bag and pulling out the t-shirt.

The older boy calls Eunbi’s attention on him, and Jeongguk’s hand reluctantly slips away from her face, settling in her hair instead. Namjoon’s tone is gentle, keeping the girl grounded, “Okay Bi. I’m going to press very hard now. It’ll hurt a bit, but I need to stop the bleeding. You okay?”

Eunbi nods, her expression tight with fear but determined to stay calm. She focuses solely on Namjoon’s face, deliberately avoiding the sight of her knee, where blood continues to drip down, relentless and vivid against her skin. The second Namjoon applies pressure, she lets out a sharp squeal, her brows knitting together as soft whimpers follow, each sound striking Jeongguk with a deep sense of helplessness.

And it’s more than he can bear. Without thinking, he reaches for Namjoon’s wrist, halting his movement, his voice tight and edged with a protectiveness he can’t suppress, “Yo, you’re hurting her. Don’t press so hard.”

The other boy meets his eyes, a small scoff escaping his lips without going unnoticed, his expression steady, “I’m studying to be a doctor. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re studying to be a vet, that’s not a fucking doctor.” The comment slips past him before he can do anything about it, sharper than intended, fueled by frustration and anxiety. The unnecessary weight of his words reflect in the surprised reactions from his friends and the slight arch of Namjoon’s brow.

“Bibi kinda looks like a deer. I’d say it’s quite appropriate,” Dahye’s voice slices through the small, sudden moment of tension, and it’s sweet but tinged with humour, her light-hearted tone meant to ease some of her friend’s nerves. Eunbi chuckles, light and genuine, for the first time that morning. She searches for the taller girl’s gaze and finds her crouching next to Jeongguk, close to her.

Jeongguk notices the shift in her immediately, the way her features relax, the calm that briefly washes over her. He scrutinises every subtle change, searching for the girl he’d spent years knowing. But as he looks down at her, still resting in his lap, her gaze lingering on Dahye before quickly finding his and then returning to Namjoon, he spots something that twists in his gut.

There’s a shift in her eyes. Uncertainty. It all comes rushing back. It’s not just the physical pain that’s pulling her away. The brief connection they had shared slips through his fingers. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and they’re back where they always end up, strangers that know everything about the other, even when they’re this close. The softness in her eyes is not directed at him, and it’s then replaced by doubt. The image causes an obnoxious alarm to go off in his head. He doesn’t know how to restore the moment. Doesn’t want it to end.

Frantic, he keeps combing his fingers through her hair, desperate to hold onto any remains. His movements are absentminded, mechanical almost, as if he’s afraid to let go completely. Then, the need to hear her voice becomes almost overwhelming, and his words come out soft, tentative, “You okay?”

When she only nods, he frowns. It does little to ease his mounting anxiety.

Namjoon resumes his work diligently, and Eunbi eventually sits up, the warmth of her body now gone from Jeongguk’s lap. It only leads him to further seek for a way to bridge the gap, forcing a gentle smile, “Dal, it’s not even bleeding anymore. See?”

“Oh god, is she dying? She’s gonna bleed out.” It’s Hoseok’s dramatic outburst shattering the moment and Jeongguk’s every possible attempt at mending it, as the boy crouches down to inspect the stained shirt wrapped around Eunbi’s leg with a grimace.

Eunbi, who had just started to calm down, now feels her breath quicken. She instinctively looks at Jeongguk, her eyes pleading for reassurance, but before he can offer his comfort, Hoseok’s over-the-top concern strikes again, “Bi, what’s your blood type? Just in case we might need to give you a blood transfusion.”

“What? Is he serious?” Her eyes widen in disbelief as she searches for the bloodstain but finds Jeongguk quickly pulling her shoulder to keep her still, “He’s just—”

"Actually, I once watched a tutorial on YouTube on how to do that. It’s not that hard. We just need to find someone with your same blood type and you’re set." Jimin’s sudden comment adds to the absurdity, and Jeongguk groans, his frustration mingling with the ridiculousness of the situation.

”You two, shut up and help me clean these,” rolling her eyes, Dahye puts an end to the foolish interaction and urges them to take care of the cuts on Eunbi’s palms, still unattended. Hoseok tries, he does, but he feels like facing blood this close will probably result in him fainting. He doesn’t think having another person on the verge of passing out would help. So, he calls for Taehyung to take over while he just resolves by trying to distract Eunbi, “I was just kidding, doesn’t look so bad. Where did you get this top, by the way?”

Jeongguk hesitates. He can’t focus on the banter. His anxiety is slowly eating at his insides, and he knows he should let go of whatever bubble he found himself trapped into. Should burst it with the slightest nudge of his finger, the mocking plop! sound eventually bringing him back to the present and making the sounds clearer, closer. But he can’t. He’s feverish as Eunbi seems to avoid his gaze further, only offering small smiles when he attempts to comfort her like he did while she was laying on his legs, her eyes trained on his and seemingly the only thing able to keep her stable. The chaos makes his head spin, but what’s worse is the feeling that she’s slipping away, again. Even if it was just an illusion to begin with.

Deep in the spiral of his thoughts, it takes him a moment to notice that Eunbi is being helped up by Namjoon, and that she’s holding onto his forearms while taking small, hesitant steps without applying too much pressure on the bruised knee. Namjoon hums in concern, then looks behind his shoulders, “Hey, my bike has a seat behind. I’m taking Eunbi back to the campsite.”

The words snap Jeongguk out of his daze, making him stand up and instantly pulling him back from whatever other mental trap he had fallen right into. Even if it seems to be too late now, Eunbi restoring the wall between them brick by brick, his heart kicks into overdrive, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he blurts out with more urgency than necessary, “I’ll come with you!”

The response is immediate, and not in the way he expects. All eyes land on him, doubtful, surprised. He can feel the shift in the air, a tension settling around him as his friends exchange glances, unsure of where this sudden burst of energy came from. The awkwardness of the moment seeps into his skin, and Jeongguk clears his throat, feeling the heat rise to his face, “I’ll— I’ll help take Eunbi’s bike back.”

Dahye pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, and Jeongguk is momentarily taken aback considering their earlier interaction and how she had looked at him with murderous intents. This time, she sports a soft smile, “Don’t worry, Gguk. I’ll do it.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to argue, but Namjoon cuts in, his expression equally puzzled by the younger’s outburst, “Yeah, man. You should stay here and enjoy the day. It’s your birthday, after all.”

“But—“

”You did enough already, Gguk. Stay with the others, we’ll take care of her.” After throwing him a convincing nod, Dahye is already pulling Eunbi’s bike up and steadying it, quickly collecting her own that had stopped not too far away.

Jeongguk frantically searches for Eunbi’s gaze, for any sign that he should push further, that she needs him with her. But as they lock eyes, the weight of his earlier actions come crashing down on him, like a bucket of cold water. He let himself get carried away in a distant fantasy that doesn’t belong in his reality, that shouldn’t have unfolded in their present. It only led him to try and force his way into a situation where he wasn’t needed. No, where he wasn’t wanted. The thought stings more than he cares to admit.

He seeks for confirmation either way, hanging on the last remaining thin thread, the name slipping from his tongue again, tentative, “Are you sure, Bee?”

Eunbi hesitates, her arms wrapping around her figure, shielding herself from him. She also seems to be realising the unfamiliarity of the moment, of his sweet tone, his eyes never once hardening when they land on her. And it’s weird, because she should be accepting this version of him with much more ease. But instead, she finds support in their distance right now, and she lowers her gaze, “Yes, Jeongguk. I don’t want to bother you further.”

A small gasp fights its way up his throat, but he stops it. He tries to argue, stuttering, “You— You’re not— Whatever. Huh, call if anything happens?”

His eyes are still trained on Eunbi, but she doesn’t react. Dahye chuckles softly to try and soothe the air, “Hey, she’s okay. It’s just a few scratches. Right, Bibi?”

The oddly silent girl nods, her head up again and now meeting Jeongguk with confidence, firmly holding his gaze, the smallest remains of whatever they got caught into scattered to the ground. He mirrors her nodding, attempting to smooth some of her certainty in himself, failing, “Huh— okay. I’m just— okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

Later comes, and Jeongguk barely sees Eunbi. The night grows louder, he’s surrounded by friends, their energy infectious as they prepare for his birthday, now just a few hours away. They’re bubbling with excitement, eyes bright with anticipation, instilling that nervous buzz that always hits him just before midnight. Jeongguk smiles along with them, but his heart isn’t quite in it.

Despite the laughter and the way the campfire crackles as they pass around bottles of alcohol, Jeongguk feels distant, like he's watching it all through a fog. His friends are trying, he can tell. They’re making every effort to keep him distracted, to drown out the noise in his head with their joy. Jokes fly around the fire, and every few minutes someone checks the time, gasping excitedly as midnight draws nearer. It’s sweet, thoughtful, and he genuinely appreciates it. But no matter how much he tries to focus on them, on the present moment, his mind keeps drifting. His eyes wander, searching for Eunbi.

She’s always just out of sight. There, but not fully. Lingering at the edges, sticking close to Dahye. Laughing quietly, but never wholly engaging with the group like she usually would, despite everything. It’s just enough to not raise suspicion, but it’s clear she’s retreating. Closing herself off from the rest of them, from him.

Jeongguk tells himself he’s reading too much into it. That she’s probably still finding it hard to recover from the earlier incident, her bruises still visible. But he also knows this feeling too well. He felt it after that ride on his motorcycle, Eunbi seeking for something in his eyes, the moment so tender but broken in an instant. He’s acquainted with the slow drift, the wall quietly being rebuilt between them. Taller, sturdier.

The campfire crackles, and his friends’ voices rise around him, but he’s only half there. Jeongguk wishes he could stop his mind from racing, wishes he could just fall into the rhythm of the celebration like everyone else.

And then midnight comes. With it, a burst of chaos. His friends spring to life, hoisting him up into the air, passing him between them like a beloved trophy. Their spark is contagious, and for a moment, Jeongguk lets himself be burnt by it. The joy, the love surrounding him. They sing him happy birthday, off-key and loud, pouring drinks and making ridiculous toasts. He allows himself to be showered by that affection. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.

As the hours drag on, the celebration settles into a steady hum. They stay by the fire, some leaning into one another, others still joking around, the alcohol loosening their tongues. The earlier buzz mellows into something softer, more intimate, and Jeongguk feels himself unwind, even a little. He laughs more freely now, the weight of the night starting to lift as he becomes wrapped up in their warmth.

Eventually, exhaustion begins to creep in. One by one, his friends start to peel away, calling it a night and retreating to their tents with promises to continue the celebration tomorrow. They ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, poking at him one last time before bidding him goodnight, the warmth of their presence lingering even as they disappear. Jimin and Taehyung make sure he’s okay before heading to their tent, only after throwing final teases laced with affection at him. Jeongguk sports a boyish grin as he watches them go.

Then it’s just him, the fire crackling softly and the bright stars above him. They whisper something to him, but he can’t decipher it. It makes his skin prickle with the chill and his eyelids shut heavier, slower with every flutter. He doesn’t hear his thoughts so strongly, now. Maybe he chooses not to. He’s been dealing with them all day long, seeking for even one of the millions to lighten him with something he actually needs. Does he even know what he needs? The ache in his heart that refuses to settle hints at a negative answer.

Jeongguk knows there’s something he wants, though. He badly wants these first hours of his birthday to be blessed by a certain someone’s wishes. He completely lost sight of her in the earlier chaos. Didn’t get to check if a smile, even a forced one, was painting her lips when midnight struck.

Perhaps it’s the universe pitying him, reserving him with a gift that could or could not change his misery. But he soon realises he’s not alone when a soft clearing of a throat breaks the silence.

He turns and finds Eunbi standing there, hesitant. She visibly struggles with what to do, her legs refusing to bring her closer to him but her brain willing to, sheepishly taking the seat next to him, “Um. Happy birthday, I guess.”

Jeongguk recognises it instantly, the way she says it, her subtle, small, playful smile not lost on him. It mirrors the same tone he’d used when he had blurted it out awkwardly at her own birthday not too long ago, the first time they’d really spoken one-on-one. A small chuckle escapes him, unsure but undeniably warm, “Huh. Thanks.”

And then there’s silence. It stretches between them, heavy but not uncomfortable, like there’s something waiting beneath it, something unspoken. The two are deep in their thoughts, words they want to say hovering on the tip of their tongues, but neither quite ready to let them loose. The crackling of the fire fills the space, the occasional pop of embers the only sound as they sit side by side, both not used to the feeling.

Jeongguk hesitates, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Do you… feel better?”

Eunbi hums.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

It goes quiet again, air thick and pregnant with everything left unsaid. Jeongguk hesitates, his mind swirling with the urge to say something, anything, but the fear of breaking whatever fragile truce they have keeps him quiet. He wants to ask her if she’s okay — really okay — but the words feel inadequate.

Eventually, it’s Eunbi who takes a deep breath, as if drawing in strength from the fire, from the quiet of the night around them, “I— I feel like… we should talk. Do— do you want to?”

Jeongguk’s chest tightens, his heart pounding, but then he nods.

“Yeah.”

[etherealval]

caught in the dark . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader

warning: kissing, mentions of the dark and not proof read lol

a/n: inspired by a scene in the movie ‘bodies bodies bodies’ literally so good you need to watch it !!!!

ᯓ★

the evening had the evening started off simple enough. matt had invited you to a small get-together one of his friends was hosting. it was being held at a friend’s house—a massive, sprawling mansion that felt more like something out of a movie than an actual home. you weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but knowing that chris and nick, were coming too made it an easy decision to join in. plus, how could you resist spending more time with matt?

as soon as you arrived, you could tell the vibe was relaxed. the house was impressive, all high ceilings and spacious rooms, you wondered how people even had the type of money to afford this kind of place.

a handful of matt’s friends were already there, lounging around, chatting, drinks in hand. you fell into the easy rhythm of it—sipping on some random punch you had been offered, exchanging jokes with chris, and sticking close to matt as the night unfolded.

matt kept you close by his side, his arm draped casually around your waist as you both joined the conversation. the drinks flowed easily, the conversation light and fun, and it wasn’t long before you were all laughing at chris’s ridiculous stories, nick’s quick-witted comebacks, and matt’s attempts to keep everyone in line.

the night felt perfect. there was no pressure, just good company, good drinks, and the buzz of something exciting in the air. as the evening wore on, you found yourself glancing at matt more and more, his presence steady and warm beside you. you loved how he always seemed to have one hand on you, like he needed the constant connection.

“alright, guys,” theo suddenly piped up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “i’ve got an idea.”

everyone quieted down a little, turning their attention to theo, who was clearly brimming with some kind of plan.

“let’s play hide and seek,” he announced, his grin only widening as a few groans echoed around the room. “but here’s the twist, we do it in the dark.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the suggestion. hide and seek wasn’t exactly something you’d expect at a party like this, but the thought of playing it in this giant mansion, with all the lights turned off, was actually kind of thrilling.

“you’re kidding, right?” nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nope!” theo said, standing up and clapping his hands together. “come on, it’ll be fun. this house is huge, and with the lights off? it’s gonna be perfect.”

you exchanged a glance with matt, both of you clearly amused by the idea. he gave you a little shrug, that easy smile of his making your heart flutter.

“i’m in if you are,” he said, his arm tightening around your waist.

“yeah, why not?” you replied with a grin. it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, and the idea of running around in the dark with matt didn’t sound so bad.

“alright, let’s do it,” matt said, looking around at everyone else. after a little more persuasion, everyone agreed, and theo was declared the seeker.

“i’ll give you all a minute to hide,” theo said, heading to the nearest wall and covering his eyes dramatically. “no cheating! and no locking doors.”

the excitement built as theo started counting, his voice echoing through the large living room. you felt a rush of adrenaline as everyone else scattered, running off in different directions to find the best hiding spots. matt gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before darting off, leaving you to find your own spot.

you took off down one of the long hallways, the lights already dimmed, casting everything in soft shadows. the house was massive, with endless rooms to choose from, but you had to be quick. after passing a few rooms that felt too obvious, you finally made your way into the kitchen, where the walk-in pantry caught your eye. it was tucked away in the corner, out of sight, and seemed like the perfect place to hide.

you slipped inside, closing the door behind you as quietly as possible. the pantry was bigger than you expected, with shelves stocked high with food and kitchen supplies. crouching down behind one of the shelves, you tried to slow your breathing, listening to the faint sounds of footsteps somewhere in the distance.

the darkness made everything feel more intense. you could barely see your own hand in front of you, and every little creak or sound in the house made your heart race. you held your breath, waiting for the inevitable moment when theo would find you.

minutes passed, the silence pressing in around you. your heart pounded in your chest, your senses on high alert. but instead of theo’s voice calling out, you suddenly heard the pantry door creak open. your body tensed, and you prepared to be found.

but then, you heard matt’s familiar voice, soft and teasing. “gotcha.”

“matt?” you whispered, your voice low. “what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be hiding.”

“i was,” he whispered back, stepping further into the pantry and closing the door behind him. the darkness swallowed him up, but you could feel his presence close, the air between you charged with something electric.

“how did you even find me?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“just lucky, i guess,” matt replied, his voice dropping even lower.

before you could respond, matt’s hands found your waist, pulling you toward him in the darkness. his lips met yours in a sudden, hungry kiss, taking you completely by surprise. for a moment, all you could do was gasp softly against his mouth, but the feel of his body pressing against yours quickly erased any hesitation.

you kissed him back, your hands finding his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened. matt’s hands roamed over your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. the darkness made everything feel more intense, more urgent. without the ability to see, your other senses took over—the feel of matt’s lips moving against yours, the way his hands gripped your hips, the soft sounds of your shared breaths filling the small space.

his tongue teased your bottom lip, and you parted your lips for him, the kiss growing more heated, more desperate. matt groaned softly against your mouth, his hands sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched into his touch, craving more of him. you felt his hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him as your bodies moved together in the darkness. you could feel the hard press of him against you, the heat between you building with every passing second. matt broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. his hands stayed on your waist, his thumbs brushing over your skin in a way that made your pulse race.

“i couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “i’ve been wanting to do this all night.”

you smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. “you should’ve said something sooner.”

“i didn’t think i’d get you alone like this,” he replied, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was even more urgent than before.

this time, there was no holding back. your hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck as you kissed him deeply, the intensity of it sending a rush of heat through your entire body. matt’s hands moved lower, gripping your hips firmly as he pressed you against the shelves behind you, his body trapping yours against the cool surface.

you let out a soft gasp as you felt the friction between your bodies, the heat of him igniting something deep inside you. you moved against him, grinding your hips into his, and matt groaned softly, his grip on you tightening.

the small space of the pantry seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you tangled together in the darkness. every touch, every kiss felt like fire, and you couldn’t get enough of him.

matt’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly as he pressed even closer, his body fitting perfectly against yours. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in even tighter as your lips moved against his, the kiss turning into something more hungry and wild.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him harder, and matt responded with a low, breathless moan, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. the way he touched you, the way he moved against you, it was all-consuming, and you couldn’t stop the soft sounds that escaped your lips as he kissed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

you could feel him everywhere, his body pressed so close to yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. every time you moved against him, it sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you found yourself craving more, needing more of him.

matt’s hands were everywhere—sliding up your thighs, gripping your hips, exploring every inch of your body in the darkness. you could feel his breath hitch as you ground your hips against his, the friction sending waves of heat through both of you.

“god,” matt breathed against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “you’re driving me crazy.”

you smiled against his lips, feeling the same wild need coursing through your veins. “good,” you whispered back, your hands sliding under his shirt, your fingers grazing over the hard muscles of his back.

he kissed you again, this time with even more urgency, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you even closer, your bodies pressed so tightly together that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began. the heat between you was undeniable, and the way his body moved against yours made your pulse race even faster. you felt like you were burning up from the inside out, and all you could focus on was the way matt touched you, kissed you, held you as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

your fingers trailed down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he shifted, his hands slipping under your shirt, his touch making your skin tingle. every brush of his fingers against you sent sparks of desire through your body, and you arched into him, craving more, needing more of his touch.

matt’s lips left a burning trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed and nipped at the sensitive spots that made you gasp softly, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. the small space of the pantry felt suffocating in the best way, like you couldn’t get enough air, but you didn’t care. the only thing that mattered was matt, the feel of his body against yours, the way he was making you feel.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” matt whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

you opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a soft moan as he rolled his hips against yours, the friction driving you wild. your head fell back against the pantry shelves, your mind foggy with the overwhelming sensation of being so close to him, of feeling every inch of him pressed against you.

you kissed him again, your hands sliding down his chest, fingers brushing over the hard lines of his stomach, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips. matt groaned into the kiss, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer, his body grinding into yours with a desperation that matched your own.

the kiss turned hotter, more frantic, as the need between you both intensified. every touch, every movement felt like it was pushing you closer to the edge, and you couldn’t get enough. your hands roamed over his body, exploring every inch of him, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch, the way his breath hitched whenever you moved against him. his hands slid up your thighs, gripping you tightly as he kissed you harder, his lips moving against yours with a kind of raw intensity that made your entire body burn with desire. you could feel how much he wanted you, could feel it in the way he touched you, in the way his breath came out in short, uneven bursts.

“matt,” you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper in the darkness.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with lust, his breathing heavy. “yeah?” he asked, his voice rough, his hands still gripping your hips.

“don’t stop,” you whispered, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling him back down to kiss you again.

matt didn’t need any more convincing. he kissed you deeply, his hands exploring your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you, his touch making your heart race faster with every second. the heat between you was unbearable, every movement sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his hands slipped lower, gripping your thighs as he pulled you even closer, your bodies moving together in perfect sync. every brush of his lips against your skin, every soft groan that escaped his lips, made the desire between you grow stronger, more intense.

you didn’t care about the game anymore, didn’t care that anyone could walk in at any second. all that mattered was matt, the way he was making you feel, the way his body moved against yours like he couldn’t get close enough.

you kissed him harder, your hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips. matt groaned softly, his hands sliding up your back as he pressed you even tighter against him, the two of you completely lost in each other.

the heat of his body, the feel of his hands on you, it was all too much, and you couldn’t help the soft sounds that escaped your lips as you ground your hips against his, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

you could feel matt’s breath hitch against your neck, his hands gripping you tighter as he moved against you, his body responding to every movement you made. the tension between you both was unbearable, the desire building with every second, until it felt like you might burst from the intensity of it all.

and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, the pantry door suddenly creaked open, and the blinding beam of a flashlight flooded the small space.

“oh, come on,” theo’s voice rang out, filled with amusement and disbelief. you froze, your heart skipping a beat as you looked up, blinking against the harsh light.

“really?” theo continued, his tone dripping with mock disgust. “in the pantry?”

standing next to him, chris groaned in frustration, clearly unimpressed. “for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head as he took in the scene in front of him.

matt pulled back from you, his hands still on your waist as he looked over at his brother and friend, his cheeks flushed, his hair a mess from your fingers. “we got a little carried away,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

theo just laughed, lowering the flashlight as he stepped back. “i’ll say. next time, maybe pick a room with a lock, huh?”

chris, still looking thoroughly done with the whole situation, turned on his heel and walked away, muttering something under his breath about needing another drink. theo gave you both one last smirk before following him, leaving the pantry door wide open.

as soon as they were gone, you and matt burst into laughter, the tension from the moment quickly dissipating into something lighter. your heart was still racing, but now it was more from the absurdity of the situation than anything else.

“oh my god,” you said between giggles, trying to catch your breath. “that was so embarrassing.”

“yeah,” matt agreed, grinning as he helped you to your feet. “but totally worth it.”

you gave him a playful shove, still laughing. “next time, we’re locking the door.”

“definitely,” he said, leaning in for one last, soft kiss before pulling you close. “i guess we should probably get back to the game, huh?”

you nodded, your pulse finally starting to calm down. “yeah, probably. but just so you know, chris is never going to let you live this down.”

matt chuckled, his arm sliding around your waist as he led you out of the pantry. “fair enough. but i’m still calling this a win.”

you couldn’t help but smile as you walked back into the chaos of the house, the game long forgotten, but the memory of the night and matt’s hands on you — burned in your mind forever.

taglist: @heartsforvin , @42angelgirl , @sturncakez , @matts-myloverboy , @mattsbitchh

[tyongf-nct]

Ooo I hab a smut one!

Roommate beomgyu who catches you off-guard while you are busy watching/masterbating to porn and asks if he could join with a smirk 🤭

Have fun ♡

😩 I died reading this (and writing it)

dynamic: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut, mutual masturbation, watching porn, roommate!beomgyu

~

Your orgasm shot through you, your scalp tingling as your thighs tighten with pleasure. The video playing on your phone continues in the background, high-pitched moans ringing out as the adult actors on screen continue in their scene. You sigh in satisfaction, barely able to move to pause the video and grab a tissue.

“Having fun?” A familiar voice echoes from the doorway. You jump, head swiveling to see your roommate Beongyu standing suspiciously relaxed in your doorway.

“What the hell!” You shriek, grabbing the sheets to cover your lower half. You were still covered up top, but the thin material of your shirt didn’t stop the peak of your nipples from showing through.

“I think I’ve seen that video before. Good choice,” Beomgyu smirks. You scoff, rolling your eyes before chucking a pillow at him. He dodged it easily, entering your room and plopping himself down on your bed.

“Jesus, can’t a girl get a little privacy around here?”

Beomgyu shrugs, pointing to your open door. “You didn’t even bother to close it before rubbing one out.”

You roll your eyes again, unable to come up with a comeback. Truthfully, you liked the risk of your roommate walking in on you getting yourself off. The fact that he didn’t seem particularly bothered gave you a spark of hope. If anything, he seemed rather cocky about it.

“I…” You trailed off. The smirk turned into a small smile.

“Can I join you?” He asked. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Huh?” Smooth.

“Can I join you? I feel kind of left out, now. I haven’t jerked off since last night, anyway. I’m all tense,” he shrugged carelessly. Your brain short-circuited, that small spark of hope turning into a roaring flame.

“Y-yeah, sure. You can,” you stumbled. Beomgyu grinned, eyebrows raising.

“Really?”

“Yes,” you were more sure, “You can.”

Beomgyu nodded, then moved to sit beside you. A few awkward seconds of clothing removal and seating adjustment later, the two of you were sitting side by side, naked from the waist down, with your phone sitting propped between you. All nerves went out the window, though, when Beomgyu began to stroke his half-hard cock as the video began playing again. You were immediately wet again, your clit pulsing in need as you slid your fingers between your legs. Your eyes strayed from the screen and went to Beomgyu’s hand on his thick cock, watching as his grip slid from base to tip with a sensual rhythm. His breathing stuttered every time his thumb grazed the tip, and your mouth watered as you wondered what the pre-come beading at the slit would taste like.

You dared a glance at his face, flinching when your eyes met. Beomgyu had already been looking at you, watching you, as you got yourself off. The two of you didn’t speak, bringing yourselves pleasure as you watched the other do the same. The audio from the video seemed to fade away, only the sharp intakes of breath and slick sounds of skin on skin ringing through the air. You let your head fall back, eyes glued on Beomgyu as your second orgasm suddenly took over. Your toes curled and your spine tingled, a soft moan escaping when Beomgyu’s cock twitched and the spurt of white come roped in the air and splashed down onto his stomach.

“Fuck,” he groaned tightly, bottom lip enraptured by his teeth. His pupils were dilated and skin flushed as he jerked with his climax. Finally his head fell back on the pillows like yours, dirty hand falling limply to the side.

“Still feeling left out?” You huffed. He laughed loudly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“No way. Feeling pretty fucking good right now, actually.”

[jobeisbae]

jobe bellingham x mom!reader

summary: jobe bellingham and his wife navigate the joyful chaos of daily life with their two-year-old twins, balancing professional commitments and parenting with love and teamwork. From morning wake-ups to bedtime routines, every moment is filled with love, laughter, and a touch of exhaustion.

warnings: none

The day began early, as it always did with two-year-olds. You were awakened by the soft, insistent cries of one of the twins over the baby monitor. Jobe stirred beside you, already reaching for his phone to check the time.

“I’ll get them,” he murmured, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before slipping out of bed.

You stretched, listening to the familiar sounds of Jobe soothing one of the twins, while the other soon joined in the chorus. Smiling, you got up and made your way to the nursery, where Jobe was already changing diapers.

“Good morning, my little loves,” you cooed, lifting your daughter out of her crib. Her giggles were music to your ears, a perfect start to the day.

Jobe handed you a freshly changed son, and you both headed downstairs, twins in tow. Breakfast was a team effort—Jobe prepared the twins’ oatmeal and fruit while you made coffee and toast for yourselves.

With everyone seated around the kitchen table, you and Jobe took turns feeding the twins and stealing bites of your own breakfast. Laughter and tiny messes filled the room, setting a cheerful tone for the day ahead.

After breakfast, Jobe headed out for training, promising to be back by lunchtime. You spent the morning engaging the twins with playtime, storybooks, and a bit of creative chaos. They were particularly fond of building block towers only to knock them down with squeals of delight.

Around mid-morning, you managed to fit in some work, responding to emails and planning content while the twins napped. The house was blissfully quiet for an hour, allowing you to focus.

Jobe returned home just as the twins woke up, their sleepy faces lighting up at the sight of him. “Daddy’s home!” you announced, watching them toddle over to him with outstretched arms.

Lunchtime was another family affair, with sandwiches, fruit, and lots of chatter. Jobe shared stories from his training session while you updated him on the twins’ morning adventures.

After lunch, you both took the twins to the park, enjoying the fresh air and watching them explore the playground. Jobe pushed them on the swings while you captured the precious moments on your phone, memories to cherish forever.

Back home, it was nap time for the twins again. This gave you and Jobe a rare moment of peace. You cuddled on the couch, catching up on a favorite show or simply enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence.

Once the twins woke up, it was time for more play and a bit of screen time with their favorite educational shows. You prepped dinner while Jobe kept them entertained, the house filled with the sounds of playful giggles and the occasional sibling squabble.

Dinner was a lively event, with the twins eagerly trying new foods and sharing their delight with every bite. You and Jobe took turns eating and managing the occasional spill, the routine now a well-practiced dance of parenthood.

After dinner, it was bath time. The twins loved splashing in the tub, and you and Jobe relished the chance to make it a fun, bonding experience. With the twins clean and wrapped in fluffy towels, you headed to their room for storytime.

Jobe read their favorite book while you tucked them in, the soothing rhythm of his voice lulling them into drowsiness. You both kissed them goodnight, watching as they drifted off to sleep.

With the twins finally asleep, you and Jobe retreated to the living room. You shared a quiet, intimate dinner, reflecting on the day and planning for the next. The exhaustion of the day melted away in the comfort of each other’s presence.

“Another successful day,” Jobe said, pulling you close as you settled on the couch.

“Couldn’t do it without you,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

After some much-needed relaxation, you both headed to bed, ready to recharge for another day of joyful chaos with your little ones. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt content, knowing that together, you and Jobe were creating a loving, happy home for your family.

[theragethatisdesire]

cabin in the woods - eren x reader x jean - 18+!!!

part three of our polyverse woo! i wanted to write something intense for spooky season, but not like, a slasher fic, and you know eren would have the biggest primal play kink ever so here we are. the besties have been in their little poly relationship for a year and this is their anniversary trip <3 (and they're just so cute i need to put them in my pocket). enjoy what @fictional-d-supremacy and i came up with and....i don't even know what else to say. i love this one, prob in my top 3 of all time, i just love poly!erejean <3

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 9.5k (good lord)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

*deep breath* CWs: primal play (for some people, it may read as dubcon, so please familiarize yourself with what this means, you are responsible for your triggers!), consensual sex, established relationship, use of names (pet, baby, angel, princess, slut, bitch), breeding kink, biting, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), anal play, anal sex, double penetration, mlm (eren and jean are in an established relationship and kiss at one point), degradation, objectification, multiple orgasm, threesome, bi!eren, bi!jean, dirty talk, creampie, polyamory

OKAY now that that's out of the way.....have fun babies!

-

There’s something about the crisp autumn breeze drifting in through the open windows, twisting through Jean’s Jeep with the same rhythm as the car itself winding up the side of the mountain, that sends a vicious shudder down your spine. You try to roll your window up to fight the chill, but Eren whines from behind you and thuds a heavy boot against your seat in protest.

“You said if I let you have shotgun, we could keep the windows down the whole time.”

“It’s freezing!”

“But I get carsick,” Eren grumbles, glaring at you in the rearview mirror. Jean sighs in a tone that sounds a lot like exasperation, reaching over to turn your heated seat on.

“Better?”

“A little,” you smile softly at him, laying your palm over the warm hand he rests on your knee, “are we almost there?”

“It’s just around this corner,” Jean assures you, hazel eyes flitting back over to the gravelly, curving road. You take a moment to admire him: strong brow, regal, elegant nose, pouty lips that you know to be soft from experience. The simple knowledge that Jean is yours, yours to kiss and touch whenever you want, is enough to send a thrill through you. Your moment of adoration is cut short by Eren throwing his arms over the seat, digging his hands into your shoulders in a rough massage.

“You’re going to love this place, babe,” Eren says behind your ear. The buzzy excitement thrumming through his voice makes a small grin tug at the corner of your mouth; Eren’s moods are contagious more often than not, and he’s been miraculously cheerful all day. “Mama Kirschstein’s got the hook-up.”

“You’re still calling her that?” Jean rolls his eyes, “she’s been telling you to call her Jane for the last eight years.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind us coming up?” You eye Jean nervously, reaching up to squeeze one of Eren’s larger hands for reassurance. “I know she had a bit of trouble, y’know…”

“When I told her it was our anniversary, she offered us the house for the weekend. I didn’t even ask,” Jean veers left onto a narrow dirt path, “I know it took her a minute to come around, but she adores you now. I promise.”

“She’s always adored me,” Eren adds unhelpfully, ruffling your beanie and consequently wrecking your hair, “but I guess she was able to find room in her heart for the both of us.”

“Eren, stop it– ugh, thank you. What has got you in such a good mood?” You turn over your shoulder to look at him, practically brimming with energy. Eren’s always despised road trips, yet he’s been the picture of eagerness all day.

“Just excited to spend some time alone in the woods with my two favorite people, what’s so wrong with that?” Eren grins widely at you, sharp canines glinting in the early afternoon light. Something about his smile seems…not insincere, more like overly sincere. It’s not at all out of the realm of possibility for Eren to have some grandiose, ridiculous surprise waiting for you in his suitcase, or for him to simply be bouncing out of his seat in anticipation of all the weekend away, anniversary sex you’re about to have. You chalk it up to one or the other, ignoring the strangely stern look Jean shoots him.

“Oh my god!” You cover your mouth to muffle the excited squeal that comes creeping up your throat upon sight of the cabin. The “cabin” turns out to be an isolated, sprawling home with several wings, beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. Massive slabs of stone make up the columns supporting an overhang that covers a ten-foot-tall door, the garden beds on either side of the walkway have been manicured to perfection, and there’s a winding stone path that leads to the back of the house through a covered walkway that connects the main house to the garage. It’s practically been ripped out of Architectural Digest. “It’s like it’s not even real.”

“Kirschstein money always gets the panties dropping,” Eren scoffs, practically kicking his door open the moment the car rolls to a stop, “I forgot how nice this place was.”

“Shut up,” Jean grumbles, rolling his eyes at Eren before setting his adoring gaze on you, “you like it, princess?”

“I love it,” you gush, jumping out of the car to get a better look, bag forgotten in the trunk. You can hear the boys bickering about luggage somewhere behind you, but all you can focus on is the vast nothingness around you, the sleepy chirping of cicadas in the trees, and the warmly lit home that belongs to you and your two gorgeous boyfriends for the weekend. Who says no one ever had it all?

“Are you excited?” Eren comes charging up behind you, arms encircling your waist and lips pecking every square inch of your neck he can reach.

“I’m so excited,” you giggle, shoving him off so that you can run to Jean and throw your arms around his shoulders, “thank you both so much—oh, we have to call your mom and thank her! Can we? Please?”

“In a bit,” Jean chuckles, scooping you up into his arms so you can wrap your legs around his waist, “don’t you want to see the inside first?”

“Yes–”

“I don’t know, Jean,” Eren saunters over, something mischievous flitting over his face that, if you were any less drunk on raw excitement, you would know immediately not to trust, “she may want to get a look at the woods before the sun goes down. What do you say, baby? Wanna go for a hike?”

“Eren,” Jean says, a very thin note of hesitation in his tone that you, in your giddiness, stampede right over.

“Just a quick one, Jean? Is that alright?”

“However long you want, angel,” Eren answers for Jean and smiles at you charmingly, entirely ignoring Jean’s widened eyes.

“Let’s do that,” you whip your wide, happy eyes back to Jean, a pleading grin on your face, “and then you can give me a tour of the inside. I just want to get a few Instagram pictures before we end up not putting clothes on again for the entire weekend.”

Jean smiles at you, some odd combination of endearment and something darker that you can’t quite make out—pity?—crossing his face. “Anything you want. Drop the bags on the porch, Eren? I’ll take her out back.”

Eren’s grin grows impossibly wider, a little glint in his eye. “Be right there.”

After your awkward, giggle-filled struggle to monkey-climb from Jean’s front onto his back without dropping to the ground, Jean, arms hooked firmly under your legs, walks you around the house, identifying little points of interest as he goes. He points out his childhood rope swing, tattered and still dangling from one of the massive oaks in the front yard, a few flower bushes that he remembers helping his mom plant. You can feel the swell of your heart in your chest as Jean walks you through his memories, snorting to himself when he recounts the tale of Eren nearly choking to death trying to hold his breath in the hot tub and growing misty-eyed when he points out his grandparents’ initials carved into a wooden bench in the garden.

You reach a point of the property where the meticulously groomed grass gives way to fallen leaves and patches of barren earth, a visible line between civilization and nature. A small wriggle from you lets Jean know you’re ready to hop down, and he bends at the knee slightly so you can slide off of his back.

“It really is a beautiful property,” you tell him earnestly, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing us here.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Jean, in that heartbreaking way of his, looks down at you like you’re the only thing he could ever want for, “you know that.”

“Still. Thank you.” You have to consciously focus on your breathing; you wonder if Jean knows he has this effect on people, if he knows that the way raw love lays itself bare in his eyes chokes whoever’s in his line of sight.

“It’s as much a gift for me as it is for you,” Jean leans down to nip at your ear, two large hands finding their way around your waist, “I’ve got you both away from work, out in the middle of nowhere, all to myself…”

“Jean!” It comes out as a clunky, airy giggle, half of the letters still jumbled in your throat where the breath is caught. He smirks against your neck, sinking his teeth in here, licking over a sore patch of skin there. The mountain breeze follows in his wake, kissing over the wet spots he leaves behind and raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

“Getting started without me?” Eren’s voice startles you, makes you jump in Jean’s grip. Jean responds to your flightiness by spinning you on your heels and pressing your back to his chest, arms locked firmly under your breasts and head tucked onto your shoulder.

“We were waiting for you,” you answer, letting your eyes graze over Eren appreciatively as he approaches. As long as you’ve known him, autumn has always looked good on Eren. Something about the decaying colors around him makes his eyes that much more vibrant, the glow of them in the late afternoon sun almost reminding you of a predator at night, tucked behind bushes. Big cozy flannels only make his frame look broader, and the curl of his grown-out bangs around his pink ears makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

“Didn’t look like you were waiting,” Eren eyes Jean in annoyance, but the curl of his lip gives him away.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Jean counters, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Where else would I be?” You laugh, shoving him back from you. Eren and Jean’s eyes meet, some dangerous, tangible glimmer passing between them. “What?”

“Nothing, angel,” Eren whistles, spinning you around yet again and locking your shoulders underneath his arm, beginning to walk you into the woods, “don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried,” you roll your eyes, letting him drag you further into the forest, “you guys are just being weird.”

“Are we?” Jean’s arm comes sneaking around your waist, “I don’t think we are. Do you, Eren?”

“Not at all,” Eren shrugs, pulling out his phone, “looks like we still have two hours til sunset. That seems like enough time for a hike, don’t you think, Jean?”

“Oh, that’s definitely enough time.”

You tilt your head up, a slight scowl indenting your forehead, flitting your eyes between the two of them. They’re hardly paying attention to you, staring at each other in a way that you’re not unfamiliar with. That explains the oddities of their behavior today; typical boys, just excited to jump into bed later. You barely contain another eye roll, instead opting to let them have their teasing fun and focus on the grandiosity of the forest around you.

The canopy is tall, taller than you would have expected; it feels like the dwindling population of leaves above your head is in a different world than the crunch of their fallen comrades under your feet. That pesky breeze is still there, keeping your nerve endings jumpy with the ever-present chill, but the warmth of the colors around you almost makes up for it. Everywhere you look seems to be on fire, yellows and oranges and reds blending the landscape together into a closer approximation to an abstract painting than a scene out of nature.

Easily half an hour ticks by as you stroll, all three of you having fallen into a comfortable, contemplative silence. You don’t miss the way Eren’s hand will occasionally drift from your shoulder to the back of your neck, ghosting over the skin and running through the baby hairs there, making you shiver. Jean follows suit, his arm around your waist slipping a bit low once in a while, palm cupping your ass and squeezing appreciatively. You ignore them both in favor of taking advantage of the beautiful scenery, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t affecting you. That familiar warmth curls in your stomach, molten and hungry, and the tips of your fingers twitch in your pockets, aching to replace the fabric that surrounds them with skin.

Eventually, you all reach a picturesque clearing with a gorgeous overhang, and you see your opportunity.

“Wait, stop right here,” you finally break the silence, squirming in the boys’ arms to snag your phone out of your back pocket, “this is perfect.”

“Instagram time?” Jean tries and fails to keep the bored tone out of his voice.

“We only have, like, five pictures together, and we’ve been together for over a year.”

“That’s not true,” Eren protests, “I have an album full–”

“How many of those pictures are share-able?” You cock a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Um, probably like…two.”

“My point exactly.”

Through a bit of manhandling and arguing over who should hold the phone, you make out with at least three usable selfies (the boys refused to entertain your self-timer idea), which far exceeds the amount of photos you expected to leave this trip with.

“Why don’t you let us take a few of just you?” Jean suggests, reaching for your phone with an honest smile and giving Eren a subtle nudge.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Eren jumps in, nodding and smiling along, “a few pictures of our pretty girl out in the woods on our special trip.”

“And it would be cute for your Instagram, right?” Jean adds, patting you lightly on the bottom.

“Okay,” you agree, too thrilled at their sudden interest in your quest for a nice Instagram post to think too much into the way Eren’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip, the way Jean’s holding your phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

“Just walk out that way, there you go.” You can hear Jean’s voice, with a strange little tremor to it, growing quieter behind you when Eren ushers you off in the opposite direction. You leave your phone with Jean, alternating between a little jog and a walk away from them, moving further into the clearing and keeping your back to the boys.

“Was that cute, or stupid?”

Your nervous giggle echoes in the clearing, the rustling of leaves the only answer you receive. You make a few different poses, feeling a little silly but willing to endure it in the interest of getting a couple of nice photos. You notice the distinct lack of sound around you, how for just a moment, it feels like the universe consists of just you, Eren, and Jean, alone in these woods and miles from any other human. It hits you that that’s not entirely untrue; the last house you’d seen had to have been fifteen minutes before you’d gotten to Jean’s driveway.

You call back to them, wanting at least a little feedback and, honestly, beginning to feel a bit creeped out by the uncharacteristic silence ringing in your ears. “Are they turning out good?”

Nothing.

“What the hell?” you finally whip back around to face them, stomping your foot petulantly, “are you two like, messing with me?”

When you turn to meet them, however, all the fire in your throat dies out as quickly as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed on it.

Jean and Eren are smiling at you, which wouldn’t be too odd of a sight, if it weren’t for the threatening glitter in their eyes, the way Eren’s tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You’ve never seen an expression like this on either one of them, never seen something so…dangerous cross their faces.

“Run.”

“I’m sorry?” You scrunch your nose at Eren, confused. His smile only grows wider.

“Run.”

“Run?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Jean shakes his head disapprovingly, eyeing you down through the streaks of sunlight bleeding into the clearing.

“Forgot what?” Your words tremble as they make their way out into the still air. They’re your boyfriends, the men that wake you up with feather-light kisses and hoist you onto their shoulders at concerts, so why are your fingers beginning to shake?

“About that little book of yours we found,” Jean answers, cocking his head. “Surely you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?”

“No, I know she remembers,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, bristling under the soothing palm Jean runs over the back of his neck.

The memory hits you like a train. Coming home to find Jean and Eren hunched over a smutty novel of yours, blushing furiously and frowning in concentration. Confronting them only to find out they’d stumbled across the primal play chapter, that they’d noticed that these pages in particular looked a little well-worn. Jean had asked you if you would ever try it, Eren had raised his eyebrows when you admitted that yes, you would absolutely live that fantasy out if given the chance. Your face had burned as you nervously giggled, brushing the idea off in the sense that it was unrealistic to act out such a scenario in the middle of the city.

But you’re not in the city now. You’re in the forest, alone with your two boyfriends who are looking at you like they might rip you to shreds.

“No,” you murmur, so quietly that if the woods weren’t so still and silent, it wouldn’t have reached their ears, “I–I didn’t…I remember.”

“There it is,” Eren says, eyes glinting at you and arousal practically dripping off of his words as they make their way to your ears, “knew you did.”

“Weren’t lying, right? You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, pet?” Jean’s voice is steely and sharp with the implication that you had better not lie to him.

Words are lost on you amidst the thundering of your pulse in your ears, and you simply shake your head back and forth slowly. Some survival instinct from deep in the recesses of your brain tells you not to take your eyes off of them for a second, has every muscle in your body twitching. Despite the uneasy adrenaline coursing through your veins, a firm knot of arousal has taken hold in your lower stomach, simmering and spitting in excitement from the hungry looks on Eren and Jean’s faces.

“We’ll give you a ten second head start,” Eren says, dragging his eyes over your frame and licking at his bottom lip, “just to give you a fighting chance.”

“Sound good?” Jean tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. You know this is your moment to laugh this whole thing off, to return to the cozy interior of the cabin and put your feet up, have some hot chocolate, be kissed softly and held gently between their two strong bodies. This is Jean giving you an out, if you want it.

“Okay,” you agree, fingers fluttering nervously by your side.

“Good girl,” Jean nods approvingly, clenching and unclenching his fist, “ready?”

You nod back to him, knees shaking under your frame and a cold sweat breaking out over the back of your neck.

“Then fucking run,” Eren growls, grinning feral and wicked in the afternoon sun.

To your own surprise, you turn on your heel almost instantaneously, tearing off into the woods as fast as you can. The boots you’ve decided to wear are certainly not built for speed, but the thick soles are perfect for carrying you over the rough terrain, supporting your ankles and keeping them from twisting as you sprint through the woods.

You veer left, suddenly realizing that everything around you looks…the same. There’s no identifying markers, no path back to the cabin, no way to tell one tree full of decaying leaves from another. It brings you pause, your feet coming to a halt. It strikes you that you hadn’t been paying very close attention during your initial hike through the woods, and that even if you tried, you aren’t sure what direction will lead you back to the cabin. Eren and Jean have actually trapped you out here.

The crushing realization nearly makes your heart stop. You’re unable to suspend your disbelief enough to remember that these are your boyfriends chasing you; the only thought your brain can hold onto is that you’re being chased, and that you need to run.

The thudding of footsteps approaching shakes you out of your realization, has your feet moving at lightning speed the second you hear it. You don’t slow to look over your shoulder to see which one of them it is, just let your feet carry you far away as fast as you can manage. It dawns on you that the feeling coursing through you, bringing warmth to your face, is some unbelievable mixture of fear and arousal.

You can’t tell the color of either feeling apart, can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Maybe they’re bleeding into each other, a symphony of passions ripping their way through every cord of muscle in your body, through every electrified nerve ending as you run away from what you want more than anything in this moment.

The footsteps behind you begin to fade, and as your breathing gets heavier and harsher, you realize you won’t be able to keep this pace; your best shot is running hard in short bursts and stopping to rest in between. You reach another clearing, much smaller than the one you had started out in, and lined with an assortment of bushes and a fallen tree. Just as you hunch over to catch your breath, you hear the return of those stomping footsteps, far behind you, but there all the same. The sharp pain ricocheting through your chest is warning enough to stop you from running again, and your eyes dart around in a panic, finally honing in on an area of the brush that looks thick enough to conceal you in your dark clothing, if you strip out of your light purple flannel.

As the footsteps draw closer, you hurriedly dive into the tangle of leaves and branches of the brush, ripping your flannel off of your arms as you go. You wince at the scrape of thorns and sticks on the soft, bare skin of your arms, but claw your way deeper, crouching down to conceal your body and twirling on your tippy-toes to peer through the leaves into the clearing.

It’s Jean, tall and imposing as he marches into the clearing. His chest is heaving under his shirt, hair mussed from running through the autumn wind. You marvel at him, so large and threatening, eyes blown wide and flicking from one area to another suspiciously, looking. Looking for you.

“Pet?” Jean whirls around, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you hiding from me?”

You don’t dare make a sound, positive that your heart is pounding so hard that if someone looked at your neck, they’d be able to see the frantic push and pull of your pulse through the skin. Jean surveys the area, narrowing his eyes at the brush where you’re hiding, but miraculously, turning his head the other way. You need to keep moving, especially considering that you’re so close to Jean, but with the increasingly small distance between you, there’s no way that you’ll be able to quietly sneak out of the brush. Just as you’re formulating a plan to wait and see which way he runs next, so you can run in the opposite direction, Jean’s eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch.

“Uh-oh,” Jean exhales, stepping closer to you and crouching, his grin growing darker. When his hand comes back into your line of sight, you nearly gasp, one hand flying to the naked top of your head. He’s holding your beanie, grinning down at it. Hardly another moment passes before Jean’s eyes flicker to you, darkening as soon as you make eye contact through the leaves.

“Shit,” you breathe, scrambling back onto your hands and crawling desperately through the branches and leaves behind you, grimacing as a particularly sharp thorn scratches deep into your cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jean laughs cruelly, jumping over the fallen tree trunk and towering over you as soon as you’ve escaped the brush. You stumble to your feet, but Jean’s quick, snagging you by the elbow before you can run off.

“Jean, please,” you gasp, looking up at him with wide, panicked eyes. It occurs to you that now that you’ve been caught, you’re not begging to be let go of– you’re begging to be held. Now that you’re so close to him, face to face with the shine of sweat on his collarbones, the rise and fall of his broad chest, your arousal is tangible, pumping through your veins thick like honey. You wet your lips, feeling the source of your panting move from your lungs to your core.

“Oh,” Jean’s bottom lip pushes out, “what’s the matter? Want to be my little princess again, is that it?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, looking over your shoulder and then Jean’s to see if Eren’s approaching to spoil your plan, “please Jean. Want to be your princess.”

“Aw,” Jean hums thoughtfully, cocking his head and looking down on you with pitying eyes for just long enough that you smile softly in relief, feel a rush of anticipation shoot through you. Unconsciously, you tilt your chin up, expectant and ready for him to catch you in a kiss. In the next instant, he’s gripping your arm even harder, with a jerk that makes your eyes water. “Too bad. You’re not my little princess out here.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, a clammy sweat breaking over your skin. Just as you’re about to plead one last time, Jean gives you a cruel smile.

“Eren! I’ve got her!” Jean shouts into the woods, turning his head over his shoulder to help the sound carry.

“Jean!” Your betrayal and frustration make your voice hoarse. Jean leans in to you, grinning wickedly.

“If I were you, I’d run. He’s not going to be nearly as nice as me.”

You wrench your arm out of his grasp, turning on your heel and darting further into the woods, grimacing at the feel of your wetness soaking through your panties. Jean’s footsteps are quick to catch up with you; or, at least, you think they’re Jean’s. You’re not going to break your stride to chance a look. You can’t outpace him, but you’re small and nimble enough that you think you may be able to outmaneuver him. You zigzag wildly through the trees, and it seems to be working, as Jean’s footsteps grow softer and softer behind you. Your lungs burn and your eyes water viciously, but you don’t dare relinquish the small distance you’ve managed to put between yourself and Jean, forcing your aching muscles to push harder and harder.

Suddenly, you spot it: a treehouse, with a little wooden ladder dangling from the bottom. It sounds like Jean’s footsteps are far enough behind you to afford you plenty of time to scramble up the ladder, at the very least to plan your next move. It wouldn’t be so bad if he saw you, either; the treehouse, as derelict as it may look, affords a nice sheltered spot for Jean to corner you in…

Your feet make the decision before your mind has the chance to catch up, and you’re beelining towards the treehouse, approaching it quickly. When you step on the first rung of the ladder, you feel the porous, rotten wood give a little underneath your weight, but the pounding of footsteps approaching urges you on. You make it two more steps up when one of the treacherous wooden rungs snaps under the pressure.

“Shit!” You squeal, clutching the ladder harder in an attempt not to tumble to the forest floor. You persevere, looking forward to whatever could await you if the boys were to follow you up to the treehouse. Two more steps up and you’re halfway there, but a pair of strong arms lock around your waist and pull you towards the ground with a harsh yank, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“Not a bad try,” you instantly recognize Eren’s voice, but what you don’t recognize is the rasp to it, the gravelly, dark tone, “but you didn’t really think you could run from me, did you?”

You thrash so violently that you think you must have hit him, because he drops you suddenly with a hiss. As soon as your feet hit the ground you take a few blind, wobbly steps in the opposite direction, only to run smack into Jean’s chest. You look up, wide, watery eyes blinking at Jean as your dizzied brain tries to grasp onto what’s at hand. You’re caught. They caught you.

“Going somewhere?” Jean sneers, grabbing you by your wrists and whipping you around to face Eren. The sight you’re greeted with has you squeezing your thighs together, a thick swallow sliding down your throat.

Eren’s eyes are blown wide, the bottomless black of his pupils nearly eclipsing the beautiful green you’re used to admiring. There’s a little sheen of sweat covering him, making him almost glow in the late afternoon light, and the veins in his neck are prominent with his heavy breathing. He runs his tongue over the now-split portion of his lip, courtesy of you, smearing a bit of blood over his mouth, and drags his eyes along every inch of you like he isn’t quite sure where he wants to start.

“I thought I told you to run,” Jean says, hot and taunting against the shell of your ear, “but it didn’t look like you tried very hard. Almost makes me think you wanted to be caught.”

“Of course she did,” Eren answers for you, stepping forward to run a thoughtful thumb across your cheek, making you flinch when he brushes over a cut on your face, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?”

You’re not sure what to do, whether you should nod your head enthusiastically or choke out a stuttered word of confirmation or maybe bite back; you feel frozen, overwhelmed by their looming figures and the fiery hot adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Eren decides for you, rubbing his thumb over your lips, and shoving it into your mouth. A coppery taste washes over your tongue, and you realize it’s your blood, fresh from the cut on your face. You suck his thumb in obediently, let him fishhook his thumb in your cheek, tugging your mouth this way and the other. Eren spits right in your mouth, nearly missing and splattering it all over your chin and cheeks.

“Nasty little bitch,” Eren snarls, shoving his mouth to yours.

What he does to you can barely be described as a kiss; it’s more like Eren devouring you. Teeth clack together, his tongue shoves into your mouth so violently you nearly bite down in your surprise. Eren sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning low and hungry when you whimper.

“You taste good,” Eren murmurs hurriedly into your mouth, biting harshly on your lip and grinning against you when it makes you whine, “can taste the blood from that cut on your cheek.”

Jean stutters out a groan from behind you, his restraining grip on your wrists tightening. You feel his mouth begin to venture down your neck much like it had before, but his teeth are more demanding as they sink into your soft skin this time, more intent on taking, on marking you. One of Eren’s hands finds its way to your chest, grabbing harshly at your breast through your shirt. The ache of his strong fingers makes your back arch towards him, a breathless gasp leaving your lips.

“Show me,” Eren pants, finally backing away from you and ripping at your tank top, yanking it towards your head. There’s a shiny mixture of saliva and your blood staining his chin pink; shamefully, it makes a fresh rush of heat fly through your body, makes the wetness collecting between your thighs that much more prominent.

“We’re outside–” you try to protest, but a corrective slap to your ass from Jean shuts you up.

“No one’s around,” Jean says, mouth back on your shoulder as soon as Eren’s removed the offending garment from you, “it’s just us.”

“No one’s going to hear you scream,” Eren voices what you’re thinking with a nasty grin, bringing a hand to each of the cups of your bra and gripping the plush fabric hard enough to turn his knuckles white, tearing the connective fabric with a loud rip. 

“Eren!” You squeal in surprise, practically jumping in Jean’s arms.

“That’s it,” Eren groans, leaning down and lathing his tongue across a deep cut above your right breast, something you hadn’t noticed in your fearful escape from the bush earlier, “let me fucking hear you.”

Jean’s got your wrists contained in one of his large hands, not minding the swing of your ruined bra around each of your arms, reaching his other hand around your waist to fiddle desperately with the clasp of your jeans.

“Eren,” he says sharply, drawing Eren’s attention to the fact that your pants are still on. Eren smirks.

“Pick her up,” he answers, voice gravelly. Jean lifts you off the ground, your back pressed to his chest, feet dangling in the air. Eren rips both of your boots off, tossing them to the forest floor. Still pissed about your bra, truthfully, you jerk a foot out harsh enough to hurt him if it should make contact, trying to keep your movement spastic enough to make it look like an accident. Eren dodges and looks at you murderously, returning to his full height to grab your chin harshly.

“Did you just try to fucking kick me?” His forehead is pressed nearly to yours, voice low. Busted.

“You tore my bra.” Your voice has none of the conviction you were trying to find in the depths of your chest, coming out breathy and weak. A sound that can only be described as a snarl rips from Eren’s chest.

“Yeah, I fucking did,” Eren smacks your cheek just hard enough to stun you, make sure you’re really listening to him, “we caught you. Understand that? We’re going to do what we want with you because you’re ours. Keep smarting off, and I’ll rip your panties off next and shove ‘em in that bratty mouth of yours. Got it?”

Speechless, you nod desperately, squirming as the heat between your legs begins to grow unbearable, that tacky, sticky arousal surely beginning to leak down your thighs at this point. Eren makes quick work of your jeans and your underwear, hissing appreciatively as your panties stick to the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so wet, pet,” Jean reaches around to swipe his hand through your folds. That alone is enough to make your knees buckle, make a wanton moan slip out from your lips.

“I–I want– oh.” You try and fail to articulate a sentence, cut off entirely by a loud groan when Eren’s teeth sink into the supple skin of your breast. Eren grins around the mouthful of flesh he holds between his teeth, raising his eyebrows at how riled up you already are.

“Pitiful little thing,” Jean chuckles, voice husky, “look how bad she wants it.”

Jean reaches down and shoves two fingers straight into your slick cunt, ripping a strangled moan out of your throat. Your hips buck into his hand of their own accord, desperate, tinny whines and whimpers leaving your mouth in quick succession. The stretch of Jean’s fingers is so welcome after all the build-up, that you don’t think you could put it into words if you tried. On behalf of your useless mouth, your body makes a great show of trying to show them just how good their attention feels, rolling and rocking into their touch, no matter how harsh.

Eren digs his fingers into the fat of your hips, your thighs, your ass, gripping you close to him and biting into whatever flesh of your upper body that he can reach as hard as he can, surely coming close to drawing blood. They aren’t the type of bites that require suction and the lathing of a tongue to soothe and leave hickeys; no, these are the type of bites that bruise on impact, little purple half-moons of teeth marks decorating your arms, shoulders, and breasts.

Jean coos in your ear approvingly each time your hips cant towards his hand, seeking more and more friction as the knot in your stomach tightens with each curl of his fingers. You can feel him pressing into your lower back, hard and promising, and your pussy flutters around his fingers at the thought of being split open by him, by Eren, by anything more that they’re willing to give you.

“Want to fuck her,” Eren huffs, “she close?”

“She’ll cum soon,” Jean affirms, licking through the shell of your ear delicately. You revel in the way they talk about you as if you’re not here, as if you possess no consciousness worthy of interacting with. You feel stripped of your higher thought processes, reduced into some pathetic, pliant creature only in search of pleasure– and you love it.

“Please,” you attempt to beg, only to be silenced by Eren’s long fingers wrenching their way down your throat.

“Stop talking,” Eren grumbles around a mouthful of your flesh, “pets don’t talk, do they?”

That draws a heady whine from you, your hips twitching forwards into Jean’s hand eagerly, a blatant attempt to pull forth the orgasm that’s been brewing between your hip bones for the last five minutes. Jean chuckles at your struggles, works his fingers just a bit faster.

“Go on,” Jean whispers, “it’s just us out here. Be as loud as you want, pet. We’re going to need you good and wet, so go ahead, cum hard for us.”

“C’mon, what are you waiting for? Fucking cum already.” Eren echoes Jean’s sentiment from your breasts, licking at another smear of blood just under your nipple.

Your body thrashes in their grip, begging for and yet resistant to the overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking through it. Loud squeals escape from your full mouth, even from where Eren’s got your lips stretched wide around three of his bulky fingers.

“Let us see what you can do, pet,” Jean murmurs, thick and warm against your ear, “just for us, come on.”

With one more vicious curl of Jean’s fingers, your back is arching violently, a muffled scream echoing into the canopy of trees around you as your release hits you hard. You can feel the wetness smearing between your thighs, feel the effort Jean’s exerting into keeping you still and in one place as you buck against him. Eren growls in approval and sinks to his knees, biting harshly into your thigh before sucking your clit into his mouth. That only serves to make you fight harder, the overstimulation getting the better of you.

Eren’s only able to lap at the sensitive folds between your legs for a moment before your twitching thighs threaten to knock him in the head, jerking closed of their own accord. Eren chuckles and smacks the inside of your leg a few times, rising to his feet and smirking at you.

“You squirming? Too much?” Eren sneers, gripping your jaw in his hand and forcing you to keep your half-lidded eyes on him. You push against his grip as hard as you can to shake your head no, earning yourself a pleased glimmer amongst the darkened green of his eyes. “More? You want more?”

When you nod frantically, Eren grins so wide his canines wink at you in the setting sun, flits his gaze over your shoulder to meet Jean’s eye.

“Get her on the ground.”

Jean complies, forcing you to your hands and knees in the dirt. Something about being so exposed, bare and open for them in the ground like this, has your blood running hot in an entirely new way. Neither of them have taken so much as their outer layer off, pinning you between them like…like their little pet. You can feel yourself grow even wetter; it may as well be dripping down your thighs at this point. You hear one of them kneeling behind you, can feel the head of a cock swiping through the mess between your legs.

“So fucking wet,” Eren hisses from over your shoulder, grabbing at your hips and kneading the skin. A hand comes to your chin, tilts your head up.

“Open up, pet,” Jean says, biting into his bottom lip. Obediently, you drop your jaw, tongue out, and blink up at him invitingly, more than eager for the weight of him in your mouth. Jean groans at the sight, slipping the tip of his drooling cock onto your tongue. You swipe your tongue over the tip, eyes rolling back at the taste of salt and sweat and Jean. Jean wastes no time in pushing to the back of your throat, tapping your gag reflex.

Any hope you had of suppressing the cough that threatens you when Jean pushes into your throat is ripped away by Eren shoving himself into you from behind, pushing you an inch too far down Jean’s cock and making you retch.

“All stuffed full of cock, aren’t you?” Eren grunts, driving into you and setting a brutal pace off the bat. You’re powerless to do much else besides squeal and whine around Jean’s cock, punctuating your muffled moans with the occasional gag when Jean taps the back of your throat.

Jean spits several times into the palm of his hand, never losing his pace thrusting into your mouth. If you had any more presence of mind, you’d frown up at him questioningly, but any doubts about his intentions are resolved when he leans over you, spreading his spit over your asshole.

“I want to take her too,” Jean says to Eren, who leans down to spit directly on your only unoccupied hole, lubing you up, “get her ready.”

Eren only offers an affirmative grunt, circling your hole a few times before pushing his thumb in up to the hilt; you’d taken them both only last night, so you don’t require all that much prep, but Eren’s thick fingers are a shock all the same. You squeal around Jean, who shushes you and runs his fingers soothingly along the crown of your head. You lean into his gentle touch, only for him to tighten his grip around the tangled wreck of your hair and shove you down onto his cock harder.

“Told you you’re not my princess anymore,” Jean chuckles darkly above you, driving his hips forward to the same rhythm Eren pounds into you from behind, “not out here.”

Eren’s been busying himself preparing your asshole, up to what feels like three fingers, but with the girth of Eren’s hands, you can never be sure. To have every bit of you full and used is an out of body experience; it’s not something you don’t experience regularly with the both of them, but to be taken so brutally out in the open, to be fucked in such an animalistic way, nearly shuts your brain off.

Eren gives you a few final thrusts before pulling himself entirely from you, causing Jean to follow suit and leaving you empty and whining. You’re tugged to your feet before you can even begin to form a sentence to beg for them back, stumbling in the crunchy leaves under your feet. Eren scoops you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you firmly pressed to him.

His cock drags along the folds between your legs, and he presses his forehead to yours, short, heavy breaths leaving him in huffs.

“Ready, pet?” Eren mutters into your open, waiting mouth, “ready to take what you were made for?”

Before you can offer anything more than a half-hearted plea, Jean is pressing into you, the all-consuming stretch of him rendering you mute. Eren never stops boring his gaze into yours, something sparking and spitting and wanting in his eyes, demanding more from you. He drinks down your squeal of surprise, spreads your ass cheeks open so Jean can get at you deeper, digging into depths you rarely find yourself aware of.

“She’s still so tight,” Jean growls, sinking his teeth into your neck, smiling around the mouthful when you moan wantonly.

“Give him some more, hm?” Eren, forehead still tacky and stuck to yours, grabs for Jean’s hand, angling it under your mouth. Through your desperate little hiccups of pleasure, you understand; you spit into Jean’s hand, opening your mouth so that a thick line of drool can slick his fingers up further. Eren grins, evil and satisfied. “Good job, pet.”

Jean uses the saliva you’ve given him to wet the last few inches of himself, pushing in to the base with a loud groan. You can almost feel the tangible eye contact they exchange; they love to look at each other unraveling when they’re inside you. “Your turn.”

Eren—no, Jean?—digs his fingers into your hips, making you whimper at the thought of the bruises sure to follow his grip, slides his cock into you slowly and forcefully, like he’s proving a point. The stretch of him– no, of both of them inside you, isn’t anything new, but in this setting, after all the build-up? You’re wailing, openly, your cries echoing off the trees as you thrash in their firm hold, overstimulated and overwhelmed and overpleasured all at once.

“Sh, sh,” Jean shushes you sternly, pinning your head back against his shoulder with a firm fist to the nape of your neck, “take it, don’t fight it.”

“Feel so fucking good, pet,” Eren says gruffly, giving a tentative half-thrust and making all of you moan, “like you’re fucking made for taking cock.”

“She is,” Jean coos, beginning to rock into you in the same easy rhythm as Eren, “just look at her. Not one thought behind those pretty eyes.”

He’s right; your eyes have glazed over entirely, mouth hanging ajar as they take and take and take from you. You can feel an orgasm quickly taking shape in the pit of your stomach, wrapping around itself and squeezing, threatening to pull you under. You’re so blissed out you can’t even be sure of what you’re feeling. Full, exposed, primal, half-conscious; all of those words surely would make the list if you could pull any of them to the front of your mind at the moment.

Your thighs are quivering around Eren’s waist, tightening viciously around his hips as they drive into you, suspending you between two walls of hard muscle. You know your cunt follows suit when Eren groans loudly, jaw dropping slightly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Slutty little thing,” Eren grunts against you, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Jean, “begging to get your cunt filled like a bitch in heat.”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” Jean practically whispers into your ear, words wrapping around the knot in your stomach and holding it together, “want to get bred, don’t you, pet?”

Eren’s eyes go wide for just a moment, his gaze fixated on Jean. You can feel him pause briefly, twitch inside of you, and then before even a full second has passed, Eren’s determined scowl has twisted his face again, and he’s hammering into you like his life depends on it.

“Is that what you want?” Eren demands of you, eyeing you.

“Tell him,” Jean says to you, like the devil on your shoulder, “tell him how badly you want it. Go on.”

“I–I–” The tears running down your face collect in your mouth, making you hiccup and spit and choke on your words. Eren grabs your face fiercely, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it,” Eren snarls, “tell me you want this slutty pussy stuffed full of cum, our cum.”

“I want your cum,” you whimper pathetically, words stuttering and tripping as they spill from your swollen lips, “want to be full of it, want to get bred.”

“Fuck,” Eren nearly throws his head back, somehow moving his hips faster. Your legs dangle uselessly beside him; every muscle in your body contracts and relaxes wildly as your orgasm sinks its claws into you, threatens to pull you under. The only things tethering you to your body at this point are Eren’s eyes on you, bright and feral, and Jean’s hands around your hips, keeping you in place for them to pound into. You can feel the tidal wave coming up in your throat, your moans and whines growing more and more frantic, your head feeling lighter with each passing moment.

“Such a good girl– good little pet for us,” Jean slurs, hips beginning to falter in their rhythm, “show us how bad you want our cum, let us feel you–fuck–”

“So fucking good,” Eren laughs almost hysterically as you finally snap and cum around them, slapping your face lightly and egging you on, “there she goes.”

Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire, little shocks of electricity flying down your limbs and making you jerk and flail and contract. You can feel your fingers digging into the skin of Eren’s biceps until they meet something wet and warm, and you know you’ve drawn blood, but you’re spiraling through rapturous pleasure so intensely that you couldn’t release your grip if you tried.

The way you tighten viciously around them has Jean falling over the edge right after you, his hips stuttering and coming to a still pressed against you. He tugs your face to the side, pulling you in for a sloppy, honestly disgusting, kiss, panting heavily into your mouth and mouthing around praises that he’s too spent to fully pronounce. You can feel Eren’s eyes on you both, feel the way his thrusts are starting to grow more frantic. Jean turns your face to meet Eren’s gaze, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Look at her, Eren,” Jean shakes your face a little for emphasis, “needs cum in both her holes, not just one.”

As if to emphasize his statement, Jean pulls out of you, a gush of his cum joining the mess between your legs. Eren throws his head back and groans, nods urgently.

“Said we’d stuff her full, right? Breed her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it, pet?” Jean sneers, landing a smack to your cheek.

“Uh-huh,” you babble mindlessly, body trembling with the force of the aftershocks of your orgasm, “p-please Eren, breed me, I need it–”

“Gonna cum in you,” Eren pants, grabbing your hair so hard you wince, “can you take it? Take all of it ‘til you’re bred and full of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, nodding against him, “yes, please, I–”

“Give it to her,” Jean’s fisted his hand at the nape of Eren’s neck now, pulling all of you so close that you’re drinking down each other’s breaths, “she’s worked so hard for it, give her what she needs.”

That’s all it takes; Jean’s encouragement has Eren spilling inside you with a lengthy, choked groan. With what little energy you have left, you pepper soft kisses along his neck, knowing how his muscles must be burning with how they’re twitching under his skin. Eren’s fingers are digging into you so hard it hurts, already aching, but you let him cling to you, ride out his orgasm as Jean threads his fingers through the hairs at the base of Eren’s neck soothingly.

You all stay this way for a moment, Jean supporting the majority of your body weight as Eren begins to sag into you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. The breeze swirls by, leaving cold kisses on every inch of your bare skin, reminding you that you’re out in the open, making you miss your sweater.

“Guys?” You speak feebly into the crisp air, blinking sleepily.

“Holy shit,” Eren laughs breathlessly into the crook of your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a sticky hug, “that was–”

“Crazy,” Jean agrees with a disbelieving chuckle, helping you down onto your shaky legs.

“I am…very naked.” You point out weakly, swaying on your sore thighs. Jean’s quick to slide an arm around your shoulders and tug you to him, while Eren wrangles his hoodie over his head to offer you.

“There’s not another house for five miles in either direction,” Jean assures you, lifting your arms so that Eren can pull his hoodie over you, “wouldn’t ever let anybody see you like this, you know that.”

“Better?” Eren, still a little winded, tugs the hoodie down around your thighs, looking you over. He swipes a thumb across the cut on your cheek, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We really roughed you up, didn’t we? I’m sorry, angel.”

“I liked it.” Your eyes are already falling shut; you barely have the energy for a sleepy smile when Eren presses his lips to your hairline. Jean scoops you up into his arms; all the cardio that he does at the gym is making itself known.

“Was it good, princess? Have fun?” Jean murmurs against your forehead.

“So much fun.” You open one eye to see Jean and Eren glance at each other, see the spark of love between them. It comforts you; even amongst the near-constant shivers wracking through your body, the warmth of their presence and the steady rocking of Jean’s steps lull your eyes shut.

“Thank god she ended up running just about to the backyard,” Eren huffs from somewhere to your right, still sounding very much like he hasn’t caught his breath, “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

“It’s because you don’t do enough cardio, bro.” You can hear Jean’s insistent eyebrow raise and visualize Eren’s answering eye roll, chuckling to yourself in Jean’s arms.

“Cardio’s for bitches, I’m bulking right now–”

“Did you listen to anything the team trainer said in college? Honestly–”

“That was three years ago–”

Somewhere amongst their arguing you doze off, letting yourself go limp in Jean’s arms. When you wake again, Jean’s walking you up a flight of stairs, angling you this way and the other to avoid hitting your head on the railing. Jean flits his eyes down towards you and acknowledges your consciousness with a soft smile, carrying you into a bedroom and sitting you on the bed. Wordlessly, Jean and Eren go about their usual routine of cleaning up after a particularly rough session: Jean runs a bath while Eren fetches some antiseptic for the scratches on your face and arms, Eren nearly gets distracted when you start running your fingernails through his hair but Jean gets you both back on track, somehow fitting all three of you in the largest bathtub you’ve ever seen.

Before you know it, you’ve been scrubbed clean, all the grime gone from your skin and the twigs pulled from your hair, and sandwiched between Eren and Jean under a heavy duvet.

“All better, right?” Eren murmurs against your forehead, pressing a kiss to it.

“All better,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest, “but I don’t want to waste the weekend. We’re only here until Sunday– do we really need to nap?”

“I threw dinner into the smoker while Eren was drying you off,” Jean says, words floating over your shoulder from where he’s curled up behind you, “we have at least two hours ‘til it’s cooked through properly.”

“And you need a nap,” Eren grins mischievously, “you had a big afternoon.”

“I’m not the only one,” you giggle up at him, “I heard you wheezing on the walk back.”

Eren scowls, only to have the furrow in his brow smoothed over by Jean’s thumb. You watch in awe as he instantly melts into Jean’s palm, such a volatile man so easily soothed by a gentle touch. As Eren’s mood begins to settle, you feel the atmosphere in the room change; the blankets feel just a bit heavier, the rise and fall of Jean’s chest against your back quells your breathing into the same rhythm, and the circles Eren’s thumb is rubbing into your hip have your eyes beginning to flutter.

“Naps for all three of us,” Jean says, leaving no room for argument, "I set an alarm. I won’t let you sleep through the weekend, I promise."

Something about the warmth and familiarity tucked under the covers with the three of you has your mind ambling on towards sleep, even after your weak attempts to protest. As you drift off, you can hear the quiet, wet noises of Jean and Eren exchanging a goodnight kiss above your head, feel the reassuring squeeze of their arms around your waist, the brush of lips against the nape of your neck, the tip of your nose. There’s a little murmured “I love you” from each of them, and though your mouth wants to form the words to respond, all you’re able to manage is a soft, contented smile as you drift off.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Unpunishable

Astarion x F! Tav

(Girl Talk part 4, can be read alone)

18+ love triangle dynamics, possessiveness, blood drinking, tav being a menace, dom/brat, angry sex, power play, fingering (f!), mild restraint, spanking, spitting, p-in-v, prostate orgasm, some silly fun at the end

After Karlach spent the night with Tav, Astarion is feeling very normal about it. So normal that he needs her in his tent all night. Just to feed, he swears...

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

-

"You can feed from me tonight, if you'd like."

Her words were sweet, alluring. He knew he should express gratefully, but he was tight. Breathing through his nose.

"I'll see you tonight, then." He intoned in his best pantomime of casual.

Pretending he didn't see her emerge from Karlach's tent this morning. That he didn't go back to his tent to scream into his pillow.

Oh gods, no, no. Why had he waited?

Well, he knew. Fate had aligned against him, like it always does. He had planned to tell her, he truly had. But then she had nearly drowned. By his own idiotic actions, to boot.

Some god truly had a vendetta against him, he just wasn't sure which.

He tried to reassure himself, watching her mill around camp, it didn't appear they were together. Yet, anyway. They exchanged sly glances but beyond that their chatter was relatively the same.

Maybe he still had a chance.

Oh who was he kidding, it's Karlach. He's done for.

No. No, he couldn't give up.

Tonight, he had her for tonight.

Watched as her long legs kicked out in front of her as she sat down, leaning conspiratorial to whisper something in Shadowheart's ear. Saw the cleric's cheeks go red.

Feeling his eyes she glanced up, smiling cat-like at him. Pulling her hair over her shoulder. Tipping her head back slightly, beckoning him.

Gods below, he was in over his head.

Her face smeared with a smile, arms coming up. Arcane power pulsing wicked through her. "Umbra!"

Their enemies were swallowed in darkness. A flash of red hair as she dove in. The sounds of thrashing death from the darkness.

He pulled his focus back to the light, firing down on those on the outskirts. Pointedly ignoring the sounds of her viciously tearing into bodies.

He had asked before why she could still see in her spell.

"Ironic, isn't it?" She had laughed, pointing to her demonic eyes. "The blind leading the blind, truly. Well, previously blind. It's the Devil's Sight." Leaning on her hip, flourishing with her fingers. "What can I say, I'm thorough. I intended to never be without sight again, and I meant it."

He knew it went deeper than that, if her reaction to Volo's "help" was any indication.

When he had pulled a needle from his pack she grabbed his wrist tightly. Her normally charismatic eyes tight with icy rage. Sitting up.

"You are not putting that in my eye." Her voice a hiss, grip tightening.

Volo had flinched, endless apologetic words flowing from his mouth.

She had reminded him of their other Drow, Minthara, in that moment. Could see the same cold controlled anger in her. He understood why they were close. Both Drow nobility. Both raised with the same frigid hand.

The more he got to know about her, the deeper the rabbit hole went.

Now, their enemies were felled and he let out a relieved sigh. They had gotten into a powerful rhythm of combat, all knowing their role and executing it well. But that didn't guarantee victory.

She emerged from the dark, absolutely soaked in blood. Shaking the excess off of her blade with a flick of her wrist. Her usually neatly pinned hair falling out of its plaits. Chest huffing with exertion.

Gods below spare him.

"Call off?" She shouted, eyes scanning.

Since she fought almost entirely in darkness, she usually didn't know how the others had fared. So they worked out a system.

"Aye!" Karlach called cheerfully.

"Aye!" Minthara growled, pulling her greataxe out of a body with a grunt.

"Aye!" He called, more breathily than he meant to.

She smiled at him. "Excellent. Good job, all. Though I had no doubts."

"Minthara, check for injuries. Karlach, take account of the dead, throw any scrolls to me. Astarion, help me with this locked chest."

He let out a great sigh, pretending to be put upon.

She leaned into his play, looking at him with great pleading eyes. "Astarion, pleaaase~"

He could never tell her how shockingly effective that was on him.

"Alright, you child. Step aside." She laughed, stepping away with a flourish of her hand.

He crouched down, taking out his tools with sure hands. Beginning his ministrations.

"You know," He jumped at her voice in his ear, her warm body crouched behind his. "You make this look so easy, surely it must be harder?"

He resisted the shiver that sat at the bottom of his spine. Her velvet voice directly in his ear.

Of course she was still drenched in blood. She knew what she was doing, the she-devil.

"I assure you, it's difficult for most." He huffed, focusing back on his work.

"Hmm, do you think I could do it if I practiced?" She murmured, he could hear the smile in her voice. "I've been known to have very nimble fingers."

He nearly dropped his tools. Memories of their first night assaulting his mind. Regained composure.

"I'm sure you'd make a fine locksmith, darling. Now if you don't mind." His voice was snippy, irritation thinly veiling his arousal.

Always teasing him. Gods he wanted to push her against a wall.

Shook his head slightly. No. Less of those thoughts. Focus.

"Oh, you're no fun today." She giggled, rising to feet. He immediately felt the absence of her body.

"Prickly, I'll have to watch that I don't nick myself." At the word nick, she waved her wrist past his face as she passed. Rejoining their companions with a look at him over her shoulder.

Oh he was going to take her apart tonight.

He paced in his tent. So many emotions crashing around inside him. Longing, fear, anger, desire. And the one that surprised him the most; possession. That had been at the forefront of his mind shockingly often.

He wanted her. Badly. And he wanted her to himself.

He had a great fondness in his heart for Karlach but if it came down to it, he wanted it to be him.

Rest assured, he wouldn't go down without a fight, and he didn't fight fairly.

The flap of his tent lifted slightly, her white eyes asking for entry.

"There you are." He purred as she stepped inside.

She tied down the fabric. The universal sign of do not disturb.

Oh?

His dead heart raced a little.

"Well, are we planning for more than a feeding tonight?" He stepped closer, smirking.

She pulled the pins in her hair, kicking off her boots. Shaking her head, her red hair fell and bounced down to the base of her spine. Her eyes cutting up to his.

Hells below it wasn't fair.

"If you play your cards right. Now help me with my armor."

He stepped forward and she turned her back to him. Pulling her hair away for him.. His quick fingers went to work on the buckle on her shoulder.

The smell of her well-oiled leather breastplate, the blood still caught in its creases. The oils in her hair, something sweet. Appleblossom.

"...Are you smelling me?"

He sputtered, heat rushing to his neck. "Certainly not. Gods."

He saw contained laughter in her shoulders as he lifted her breastplate off. She sighed in relief, stretching.

"I don't mind." She turned her head slightly, winking at him. "I'm sure your keen senses tell you a lot. Don't they?"

She stepped back into him, sliding her head into the side of his face.

He leaned in then, giving in completely. Eyes closing, breathing in like she was the most enthralling perfume. If he could bottle it, he would wear it on his wrist.

His hands came up to pull at her hair, nuzzling down into the curve of her neck. A small moan in his throat. Exquisite.

She kicked off the last of her armor, now in her damp underclothes, still sweaty from their fight earlier that day. Her musk coming to swirl into the heady bouquet.

"How do you want me?" She asked, sighing and leaning her head back.

That question send a quick shock of pleasure into his already hard cock.

"Down. Down with me." He pushed on the back of her knees with his own.

She kneeled down with him, straddling around her back. Pressing his erection hard into her lower back. Making his intentions clear.

This was the first time he had taken charge between them and it sent a delicious thrill up his spine.

He bit down into her with a groan. Pulling her into his throat in pulses. Her taste sending his eyes into the back of his head. He would never get used to it.

Her little sighing whimper stroking down his cock.

He latched on harder with a growl, his frustration brought to the surface again. How many times did he have to bite her to make it clear that she was his to the others?

His.

That she felt the need to seek out other bodies. Oh he would make her certain that she needn't do that tonight.

He pulled off with great effort, laving his tongue obscenely up her neck. They had more pressing matters to attend to.

"So I couldn't help but notice," He started, fingers trailing up her arm. "That you spent the night with our sweet Karlach."

"I did." She agreed, pushing her ass back into him cheekily. Subtly moving her hips up and down. "Do you have any feelings about that you'd like to share?"

He expected her to deny it, to get flustered. He should know better by now.

Gods below, he wished he could warn that idiot on the beach that he was about to walk into the vipers' den.

"Feelings?" He intoned, playing up for time.

"Mhm," She hummed, reaching up and playing with his ear. Her skilled hands pulling, the sensitive skin betraying him. He stifled a moan.

"Would you have liked to join?" She smiled, giving a little tug.

The band of frustration snapped inside him. Catching her wrist into his hand.

She gasped and he could smell a new wave of arousal rising from her.

"No. I did not." He growled.

"As a matter of fact," He hissed, pulling her hair in his fist. Her neck bending open to him. "I was not pleased to see that at all."

She moaned, arching her back. "No?" Her voice coming out hot. "Not into sharing?"

He reached around her front. Pulling her chest wrappings off in a harsh flick of his wrist. Falling away into her lap.

"Not even a little, darling." He warned, directly into her ear.

Fingers twisting her peak. "I intend to make you mine."

She shivered, much to his delight.

"Prove it." She hissed, turning her head just enough to look in his eyes. That devilish smile on the edge of her lips.

He shoved the space between her shoulder blades, pushing her face down into his pillow. Hiking her hips up.

She groaned, then laughed. Laughed.

He growled, pulling her underclothes down roughly. His hand snapping hard down on her ass.

She mewled, burying her face in his pillow.

Oh now we're getting somewhere.

He struck the reddening skin again, the crack of his hand hanging in the air. Seeing the wetness start to drip down her cunt.

"You evil little thing." He chided. "Are you going to be good?"

She hooked her legs around his knees, pulling him off balance for fun.

"Hmm, I'll consider it." She mused.

He reached around her front, fingers circling against her clit, other hand pushing two fingers inside her. Fast and angry. She moaned, pushing her hips into him.

"You'll consider it..." He repeated, goading in his voice.

He thought about how she had him in the same position not long ago. Felt a thrill of fresh arousal fire down his cock.

He blurred his hands against her clit, curling his fingers and slamming inside her.

She arched her back up like a cat, her hands held out to balance her curling. Little choppy breaths.

"Astarion," She moaned, nearly whimpering.

Oh that was doing it for him. Pre-cum pooling in his leathers.

"Say my name again, or I stop."

She hit her fist against the ground in frustration, not wanting to give in. He smiled wide. Oh, he could get her to play his game by the rules.

His hands started to slow in warning.

"Astarion!" She whined, incredulous. That same tone when she asked for help earlier.

He started back up again dutifully. Her shooting daggers at him. Giving her a smug preening smile.

She was rocking back into him, sweet little urgent moans pushing out of her. He loved to hear her sing for him. Him and only him.

"Tell me you'll only make these sounds for me." He leaned forward into her ear.

"Is that what you want?" She panted, hand coming up to cup his head.

"Yes." He bit at her ear. Hands punishing.

"Swear it."

She panted, nearly there. The smell of her blood burning with heat.

"I swear. Now fuck me like you hate me."

He groaned, his cock throbbing against her backside. Suddenly remembering that she had never taken a man before. His arousal doubling.

He released his cock from its painful cage. Lining up to her with as much restraint as he could muster.

Planted a hand on her lower back. His cock steadying at her entrance.

"Hold on, darling."

She slammed back, sheathing herself on him to the hilt. He groaned, nearly buckling over.

Gods below, she was going to kill him.

"All out of venom?" She teased.

"Do I need to gag you?" He held her hips harshly, restraining her. Rolling into her at a punishingly slow pace.

"You can try." She moaned, gripping his length. Clenching down around him in pulses. The languid pace making her shake.

He gripped down on her hair again, fisting it at her scalp. Pulling her head back.

Saw her smile, eyes closing in pleasure. Hips meeting his in rhythm. Finally giving in to him.

But he wasn't done with her.

He leaned over her back. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, those haunting white eyes. Filled with desire for him, pupils blown wide.

"Open your mouth."

She looked surprised but obliged dutifully. Those perfect plush lips falling open.

He spat into her mouth.

He saw her eyes hitch back, clenching down hard around him. Knew her orgasm was close behind.

He said her name sharply as he slammed into her, pulling her hair again. "You look at me while I fuck you through this."

She nodded, swallowing his spit. Face flushed.

Gods now he could barely keep his eyes open.

Her face cringed in what looked like pain. Eyebrows knitting together. Keeping her eyes open with what looked like great effort.

"Oh Gods," She whined, as the first contractions hit.

He focused on keeping pace but it was a futile effort. Her cunt taking him at the rapid pace of her undoing.

He felt his own face screw up in pleasure. Her eyes still locked on his.

Whimpering and begging moans pushing through her. Body shaking against him deeply.

"Please come, Astarion." She urged, her voice so sweet.

He could hold off no longer. Hearing his name said like that again the match striking to the powder keg.

His pelvis contracting in vicious pulses. His body remembering her pleasures had activated his prostate without touch. Those same hard tremors shooting through him. He spilled inside her in unbearable pulses. He bit down on his arm to not scream. Coming so hard he saw stars, and then coming more after that. Unable to maintain eye contact anymore, his rolling back into his head.

"Oh Gods. Fuck." He groaned into the muffle of his bloody arm. The pleasure finally winding down.

She squeezed his thigh reassuringly as she panted, head fallen into the pillow.

He pulled out of her slowly. Groaning at the obscene amount of his spend pouring down her backside.

Gods he didn't know he had that much.

He grabbed a cloth and wiped it away from her. Though he would love to stare at it for hours.

"Oh thank you," She purred tiredly, smiling at him. "What a gentleman."

She sat back on wobbly legs, reaching for her clothes.

He grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doing, darling?"

"Getting dressed." She said simply. Looking at him confused. "Don't worry you'll be free of me soon." She said easily.

Gods below how did she still think he didn't want her.

He pulled her into a searing kiss.

She squeaked in surprise.

"I Don't."

Bite.

"Want you."

Bite.

"To leave."

She moaned quietly into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his back.

"You're sure?" She asked, eyes soft. Melting him through.

"For the love of... yes!" He admonished, to her little smile. Biting her lip.

Blushing.

He never thought he would see the day.

"So you want to be my boooyfriend~"

"Oh Gods, I'm regretting this already."

"You liiiiike me~"

"Yes, you demon." He grabbed at her waist, biting at her playfully.

She squealed out a laugh. Trying to get away. "No biting! No biting!"

"A little late for that, don't you think?" He laughed. Digging his fingers into her sides to reignited laughter. Wiggling to get away.

"No! I'm ticklish!"

"Oh, you've made a grave mistake, admitting that." He leaned down and nipped at her sides.

He smiled evilly at her hands shoving his head, her mouth open wide in a gasping laugh.

He could get used to this.

~

(okay I think this is the last one of these, I hadn't planned to make this a series but the gods of smut took my hand. thank ya'll for all the feedback on this series!!!)

[valentinoappreciator]

Vox / female reader / Valentino smut

Sooooo... that "Vox hypnotizes me" post? Yeah, I made it into a fic. Sue me 😎

Media: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox / female reader / Valentino + Vox / Valentino + onesided Vox / Alastor

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: none apply, everything is consensual

Tags (among others): threesome, hypnotism, electrocution, erotic electrostimulation, multiple orgasms

Where else to read: AO3, username: TheWeirdDane, title: A Shocking Outcome

Enjoy the filth, my lovelies <3

-------------------

You had a feeling you were being obnoxious. Again. Vox wouldn’t say it, but you could hear it in the way that Valentino sighed louder and more often behind you.

“For fuck’s sake, Vox!” he suddenly exclaimed, making you jump and look at him. You couldn’t help a smirk; you would never admit it, but you secretly loved riling up Valentino when he couldn’t touch you. Vox would never allow him to hurt you. 

“Can you keep your fucking pet in line?” he growled, taking a deep drag of his cigarette, a deep scowl on his face. 

“Oh, but I’m hardly doing anything, Mister Valentino, sir,” you giggled and blew him a kiss before focusing on Vox again. You kissed the side of his monitor, wrapping your arms around his neck. Valentino cursed. Vox was quiet, furiously tapping away at his keyboards. That is, until he abruptly turned in his chair, looking straight at you. You swallowed hard, for the first time in a while feeling a slight current of fear going through you. 

A step back wasn’t permitted, because suddenly, Vox stood up, towering above you, with a hand clutching your dress. 

“I think,” he said slowly, “that Val is right. You’re not behaving properly, now, are you?”

Your mouth opened and closed several times. Your eyes widened. 

“Perhaps I should let my... business partner have some fun with you.”

“Vox, please, I didn’t mean---”

“What you meant,” he barked, interrupting you, “is irrelevant. You’re being a brat. We can’t have that attitude around here.”

His eyes glanced towards Valentino, and you shivered when he got up, the couch creaking slightly. He quickly closed the distance between you, all four hands grabbing you. 

“Vox, please, I---” you tried again, but were silenced by a sharp click of Valentino’s tongue. 

“Let your owner speak, darlin’.”

You bristled. 

“He’s not my owner, you sleazy piece of---”

“Ah-ah, that’s quite enough of that, my dear,” Vox said and let go of your dress. Valentino had a firm grasp of you with all hands, so you couldn’t move away. “He’s right. I think you need a... little break. Don’t you agree? It’s so hard being my assistant, after all.”

His claws caressed your chin, making you shiver. 

“I know I’m a tough boss, but you’re always doing so well for me. Actually, I think you deserve a break.” He grinned widely, and his red eyes began pulsing slightly. As you looked at him, a big black spiral inside his eye moved through it, in an... oddly comforting rhythm. It pulsed rhythmically. 

“Listen very carefully,” he purred. You nodded, staring at the slowly moving black circle. It was somehow very soothing. As you looked at it, all worries seemed to ebb away. 

“You’re being so good for me. But tonight, you’ll be good for Valentino and I, won’t you?”

You blinked a few times, then frowned slightly. 

“Vox, what do you---”

“He said listen, honey,” Valentino purred into your ear, two hands on your shoulders, and the other two on your hips. 

When Vox spoke again, his voice was lower and more staticky. The black ring still moved through his eye, a tad faster now. You were transfixed. 

“You’ll do whatever Val asks of you. No matter how deranged or depraved. Because I know you’ll be into it. You won’t be able to get enough. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, Vox,” you mumbled, staring into his eyes. The longer you stared, the heavier you started feeling. You couldn’t believe your legs could carry you, actually. Your eyes were suddenly feeling like curtains of lead. Impossible to keep them open, you wanted to close them, but Vox slapped your cheek gently. 

“Look at me, baby. That’s it. Good girl. We’ll be good to you, and you’ll be good to us. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Vox,” you mumbled again. The longer you stared into his screen, the more carefree you felt. It felt as if your mind steadily threw out everything with it, until you were left with a pleasant buzzing going through your entire body. 

“What will you do, baby?” 

His voice sounded as if coming from afar. 

“I’ll be good to you and Mister Valentino,” you drawled. 

“That’s right. He’ll fuck you to within an inch of your life, probably, and what will you say?”

You shivered. 

“Thank you, Mister Valentino.”

“That’s right, baby. Now, go on, let Val have his fun. I need to work.”

“Yes, Vox.”

Valentino allowed you to turn around before he grabbed you again, this time to pull you towards his luxurious, spacious couch. 

“Look at you, being so pliant and obedient,” he purred, quickly pulling your underwear down and off of you. You breathed a little harder. “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you...”

“I thought you liked it when your girls resisted,” Vox commented. Valentino chuckled darkly. 

“Oh, I do, I relish it. But change can be nice.”

Vox laughed, and Valentino’s grin widened. 

“Now, spread those gorgeous legs, babygirl.” 

You shivered and nodded, parting your legs. It produced a wet, sticky sound that made you blush. 

“Oh? Could it be that you’re already hot and bothered?” Valentino teased. “Already wet for me?”

“Please, Mister Valentino,” you whined. 

“What is it, baby? You can tell daddy what’s wrong.”

You whined louder and looked up into his face. 

“I want you!”

“Aww, come on, baby, I know you can do better than that. Try again.”

A shudder wrecked through you, making Valentino snicker mockingly. 

“Oh, aren’t you just the most adorable little whore this side of Pentagram City? Come on, try again. For daddy.”

You licked your lips with the tip of your tongue, already feeling your pulse pick up pace. 

“Please, daddy, I need your cock inside me!”

Valentino’s grin filled your vision when he leaned down to kiss you. His tongue was long and slimy and prehensile, and it quickly moved to the back of your mouth, slithering into your throat where it got you to gag. Yet, even as your stomach jumped, you moaned and grabbed his face to haul him closer. 

Two of his hands grabbed the couch tightly, the remaining two grabbing your waist. The grip was harsh and made you gasp, before a gurgling sound was pulled from your throat when his tongue started thrusting into your throat. 

Your legs trembled, as did your hands, and you closed your eyes, relishing the whitehot pleasure that sloshed through your veins. A shuddering sigh left your lips when Valentino pulled back, then a soft when of disappointment. 

He cooed.

“Oh, don’t worry, my little darling, I’ll make sure you’ll feel so good. Daddy always treats his girls well, doesn’t he?”

You vaguely registered Vox’s snort, but were too focused on Valentino to really care.

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered. You were so unbearably horny and wet, and it was so unfair that Valentino wasn’t shoving his cock inside you right this second! 

“Please, daddy,” you whined again, seemingly taking Valentino by surprise when you spoke without being prompted to. “I need you, I need your cock inside me! Please, I’ll be so good!” His eyes widened slightly, before the widest grin pulled them into narrow slits. His tongue wriggled past his sharp teeth, slithering over your lips. 

“You sound positively divine when you beg, babydoll. I could get used to that.” 

You arched your back, your cunt practically dripping with need when you spread your legs even wider, uncomfortably so. 

“Oh, but you were not kidding! Look at that pretty, little cunt. You need daddy to fill you so badly, don’t you, hmm?”

“I do!” you almost cried, feeling mortified but impossibly aroused at the same time. 

“Val, don’t you know it’s not polite to leave a woman waiting?”

You blinked, looking towards Vox as his voice drifted across the room. Blinking again, Valentino was suddenly holding a modern, high-tech video camera. This made a cold shiver run down your spine, but the frisson of fear didn’t alleviate the burning need in the pit of your stomach. 

“Oh, Voxxy,” Valentino snickered, pointing the camera at you. “Say hi to your fans, baby.”

You simply mewled, staring into the lens. 

“Eh, good enough. Remember, darling, I could make you a star. You got the makings of a proper movie doll.”

Vox groaned somewhere behind you. 

“Val, it’s not polite to play with your food.”

Valentino laughed. 

“Oh, you’re such a spoilsport. But, if you insist...”

With two hands, he pulled down his black thong to free his cock. You nearly salivated at the sight, knowing it would soon be buried deep inside you. Valentino was able to decipher your expression, because he grinned widely and rubbed the head of his cock against your oh so sensitive cunt. You jerked with a mewl. Valentino hissed softly. 

“That’s right, baby, daddy is going to fuck you so good,” he hissed, pressing lower until his head caught on your hole. Wasting no further time, he shoved himself inside you with a single, rough thrust that had you howling. 

His cock drilled into you, splitting you open, and although you knew it was supposed to hurt, it... didn’t. Not as much as it realistically should have, anyway. No, the pleasure was so much stronger, and made you moan loudly. You grabbed at his coat, throwing your head back against the couch. 

“Daddy!”

Valentino snarled quietly as he continued to push inside, burying himself so deep you swore you could feel his cock in your belly. He throbbed hard, the tightness of your cunt meaning you imagined you could feel all the veins along his shaft. 

“I don’t hear you being so smug now,” Vox snickered. “Is her hole that good, Val?”

“Shut it,” Valentino growled, aiming the camera at your face. 

Then began the real deal. 

He wasted no more time. He pulled back until just the head was still inside you, and then slammed hard forward, pushing all the way inside and pulling a wretched cry from your lips. 

“That’s it, my little bird,” he rasped, “sing for me!”

You howled again, your legs trembling and your hands grasping desperately at the front of his coat. 

“Daddy, please, it--- it feels so good!” 

“Yeah? Does it, doll? Why don’t you tell me about it?” 

You whined loudly, lifting your legs to wrap them around his narrow waist. 

“Harder, daddy, please, fuck me harder!”

He groaned, pushing you hard against the couch before he, indeed, began plowing into you with so much force that the couch began creaking. You cried out, and now the pain was starting to increase, his thrusts so hard it bordered on ruthless. 

“Break the couch, and you buy me a new one.” 

“Fuck off, Vox, unless you wanna join in on the fun,” Valentino snarled. Much to your surprise, you suddenly felt claws in your hair, pulling your head backwards. You opened your eyes just in time to see Vox standing behind you, a wide and ominous smile on his screen. He bent forward and kissed you harshly. His tongue was different from Valentino’s - shorter, thicker, and much more slimy - but it made you moan all the same as it pushed into your mouth. You could barely breathe, and your lungs burned. Every single of your nerve endings seemed to have caught fire as well, making heat surge through you in violent waves. 

You clenched hard around Valentino, and he growled deep in his throat, shoving himself oh so deep inside you. 

You couldn’t speak. You could only make such utterly pathetic sounds as Valentino fucked you and Vox kissed you like their afterlives depended on it. The longer it went on for, a knot appeared in your stomach, winding itself so painfully tight it made you tremble and gasp sharply. One of your hands let go of Valentino, instead reaching behind you, fumbling around for a bit before finding Vox’s coat. You grabbed it tightly. 

“Oh, you really are into this,” he snickered after withdrawing his tongue from your mouth. “Maybe I didn’t even have to hypnotize you.”

“Sh--- shut up,” you managed to croak and opened your eyes to look up at him. 

“Eyes on me, amorcito,” Valentino growled, before straightening up. He grabbed your legs to press them against his chest, not missing a single thrust. The new position made you see stars, especially when Vox’s clawed hand decided to join in. A claw pressed against your clit, and you inhaled sharply, writhing violently. 

You knew, despite the fogginess of your mind, that Vox had a thing for electricity - which made sense - and you knew he wasn’t afraid of taking it out on you. 

Yet, you wanted it so badly! There were no thoughts in your head; only desire. 

So, when Vox sent a slight current of electricity through his claws and into your cunt, you moaned unashamedly, clenching hard around Valentino who also seemed... affected by the sudden spark. 

“Oh, Voxxy,” he purred breathlessly, grinding hard against you. 

The knot in your stomach tightened. 

“Who knew you would want to play with your own assistant, hmm?” 

“You kidding? She’s a fucking goddess, Val!” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Valentino snorted.

“You always were so sentimental. Come ‘ere.”

You looked up at the two Overlords, and couldn’t help a shuddering moan when they kissed. It was messy, and slobby, and so fucking hot. Their tongues pressed against each other, saliva dripping onto your face and chest, making you shudder with arousal. 

“Touch me, Val,” Vox demanded, and Valentino snickered. 

“So bossy, too! But, if you insist.”

Then, Vox grunted, and you saw from the bend of Valentino’s arm that he was jerking off Vox. 

The knot grew ever tighter. Breathing became increasingly difficult. You could only pant and gasp, pleasure crashing over you as an orgasm rapidly approached. 

“Daddy,” you managed to get over your tongue, but he didn’t pay attention to you, aside from fucking you into the couch, of course. 

Another spark of electricity went through your cunt, and that was all it took. 

You cried out hoarsely, your entire body jerking so hard Valentino had to grab you with two hands to force you to stay in place. Your cunt clenched and spasmed hard around Valentino, who in turn growled into Vox’s mouth, who then moaned in that wonderfully staticky way. 

“Yes, fuck yes” they both growled, their voices raspy and deep. 

Feeling you come so hard, Valentino thrust even more violently into you, gripping the camera so tightly it groaned. 

“That’s it, baby,” he hissed, and you had no way of knowing if he was talking to you or to Vox. Either way, it was insanely hot. 

Valentino kept fucking you, and Vox kept electrocuting you, until yet another orgasm swept through you, not even half a minute after the first one. You gasped sharply, fairly certain that your nails were cutting holes in their coats. But if they did, neither Vox nor Valentino admonished her. Not yet, anyway. 

When Valentino finally reached his own end, he flooded your cunt with his warm, sticky cum with a thunderous growl, and you arched your back, breathing rapidly. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you whined, “thank you!”

“Good doll,” he rasped.

There was a soft ‘beep’, and he tossed the camera to the couch. Pulling out of you with a filthy sound, his cum immediately began dripping from your gaping hole. You shuddered and blushed, closing your trembling legs and turning your head to look after him. 

Turned out, he went behind the couch, grabbing Vox by the waist. Soon enough, Vox was naked, and moaning hard and loud when Valentino was fucking him as well. You didn’t know how in Hell Valentino could already be hard and ready to go again, but then again; he was the Overlord of sex, drugs, and depravity, so it shouldn’t really surprise you. 

Breathing hard, you sat on your knees on the couch, watching the show with half-lidded eyes. 

Suddenly, Vox grabbed your chin, and he kissed you rather harshly. Each thrust from Valentino was followed by a grunt into your mouth. 

“Oh, come now, Voxxy,” Valentino teased, “are you really that head over heels for your own assistant?”

“Fuck off,” Vox groaned. 

“Just sayin’, the two of you would do nicely together in a movie.”

The thought made a shiver run down your spine, and you mewled softly, much to Vox’s and Valentino’s amusement; they both snickered, although Vox’s sounded rather labored. 

“Haven’t had enough, hmm?” Valentino cooed. You blushed fiercely, averting your eyes. “Don’t worry, darling, you can watch. I won’t charge you. Not this time.”

Vox hissed, and the kiss turned messy. Saliva dripped down your chin. 

“That’s it, Val, right there, that’s so fucking good!” 

Valentino chuckled darkly, and sunk his sharp teeth into Vox’s slim neck, sending sparks flying everywhere and making Vox moan loudly. 

In a moment of boldness, a moment where you weren’t sure you were still under Vox’s influence, you decided to join in. 

“Come on, sir, won’t you come for him?” you whispered against his screen. “Come for us?”

Vox’s claws tightened on your chin, pulling your lower lip down, and Valentino visibly shuddered. 

“You dare talk to your boss like that? My my, you’re a brave one...”

You blushed and moaned when Vox shoved his tongue into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but caress the side of his screen. 

“Don’t cause a power outage, Voxxy,” Valentino teased when Vox’s entire body went rigid. “We all know you’re so close, so why don’t you just let go?”

He groaned loudly, trembling all over.

“Come on, sir, we know you want to,” you chimed in, your tongue pressing against his. 

With a loud crackling of electricity, Vox groaned, and Valentino snarled, pressing himself flush against his back. 

“That’s it, Voxxy, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, “milking my cock like that. Who knew you could be so desperate for someone who isn’t the Radio Demon?”

Vox shuddered. 

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” he growled. Valentino simply laughed, thrusting hard into Vox a few more times before he pushed Valentino enough, albeit rather weakly. However, Valentino obeyed, taking a few steps back from Vox. 

“Now, baby, what do you say?” Vox sighed and straightened, looking down at you. 

The look he sent you made you blush. You fiddled with your fingers.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you, daddy.”

Vox’s claws ran through your hair. It was almost tender. 

“Good girl. Now, go get cleaned up, and don’t interrupt us again. We’re both busy.”

[violetsteve]

A companion piece to the makeout fic (though both can be read as stand alones). Also posted on AO3 here!

If someone would’ve told Robin three years ago that not only would Steve “the hair” Harrington be her very best friend, but she would also go on to fight evil Russians and demonic bats with him and live to tell the tale, she would’ve laughed in their face.

Actually, she probably would have given a very obnoxious, very nervous laugh, and then ran in the opposite direction because obviously that person was either insane or under the influence of something very bad.

Still, they would have been right. Steve is her very best friend. She would move mountains for him. She would walk into the fiery depths of the upside down to pull his sorry ass out. She wouldn’t even hesitate.

But goddamn is she tired of seeing his stupid fucking turned on face.

***

Robin admits that she enjoys DnD nights more than she thought she would—which is to say she thought she wouldn’t enjoy them at all.

The truth is, though, they’re fun. It’s the one time where they can all get together and just be. They don’t all play DnD, but all of them are typically clustered in the same room, strewn over couches and scattering about the floor, all just spending time in the same space without the pressure of the impending end of the world hanging over their heads.

Plus, it’s kinda fun to watch the nerds play DnD. Eddie gets so into it, and in turn so does the rest of the table. Robin has to admit that Eddie is good at this—dragon mastering or whatever.

She’s not entirely sure what he’s making the kids battle right now—thinks maybe it’s a goblin army—but Eddie is perched with his feet on his chair, crouching down and making slight growling noises as his goblins attack the kids. He’s got his fingers curled into claws and when he speaks he sounds ridiculous. It’s embarrassing, is what it is. His voice is somehow growly and squeaky, high pitched as he bares his teeth at the group clustered around the table.

Eddie looks so much like a gremlin in this moment that it makes Robin cackle. Eddie is being an absolute weirdo, and she turns to share in her delight with Steve, only—

Jesus fuck does she regret looking over at him. Steve is very obviously paying attention to Eddie’s actions right now, just like Robin had been, but there’s a very definite difference to the kind of attention Steve is paying.

Steve’s eyes are already hooded and slightly unfocused when Robin looks over, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his index and middle finger tap a staccato rhythm against his thigh and—

“Steve, gross,” Robin whispers harshly, her whole body recoiling.

Steve’s gaze cuts to hers, a slight look of confusion clouding his face.

“What?” He whispers back, but Robin can tell he’s only half in the conversation. He’s got his head turned towards her, but his gaze keeps drifting back towards Eddie—pulled almost as if by magnetic force.

Robin wants to throw herself off the nearest tall surface.

“Do not tell me you are turned on right now. If you tell me you are turned on by Eddie doing that—” Robin gestures to where Eddie is still crouching on his chair, his fingers now forming dancing hooks in the air in front of him as he speaks in that warbling, growly tone, “—I will gouge my eyes out with my own fingernails, I swear to God.”

Steve’s fingers still against his thigh, his posture going rigid. Slowly, so slowly, he brings his gaze to meet Robin’s head on. He seems to debate something with himself before he says—

“Do you want to go shopping for sunglasses before or after you’re blind?”

Robin shrieks.

Steve laughs the entire time the rest of the room tries to assure that Robin is not dying. To be fair, she’s not entirely convinced she’s not.

***

Robin and Steve are ¾ of the way through their shift at Family Video when Eddie strolls through the door, promptly making Steve forget he’s at his job—making him forget that despite what it might look like to the outside viewer, they do have things they have to get done before they can leave.

“Eddie!” Steve crows, and the smile on his face is so big that Robin forgets to be annoyed for a second. It’s just, God she’s so happy for them. They’re disgustingly cute, and she’ll never forget how supportive Steve was when she started dating his ex. He deserves just as much support in his relationstion.

Plus, she just likes seeing him happy. Though if anyone ever asks, she’ll never admit it. She’d dove into a creepy lake to pull his ass back through a hell dimension portal, but admit that she has a vested interest in his happiness? Gross, absolutely not.

Eddie makes his way to the counter where they’re processing returns, or, more accurately, where they were processing returns. Steve isn’t doing anything except staring at Eddie like he was the one who put all the stars in the sky.

She’s so going to make fun of him for it later.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter, effectively putting himself in Steve’s space.

It’s like Robin doesn’t even register. Has Robin mentioned how gross they are?

“I have something for you,” Eddie says, removing an arm from the counter to dig around in his pocket. After a moment, he makes a little victorious noise. He pulls his hand out, something grasped in his fist, and holds it out to Steve. Steve hovers his own hand under Eddie’s, palm up.

Robin watches as something small and shiny drops into Steve’s hand. It looks like gold, but Robin knows that’s ridiculous.

What she doesn’t know, however, is what it actually is. She reaches out to take it from Steve, saying, “What even is that?”

Only, her hand barely even stretches across the counter before Eddie is hissing at her. Full on teeth bared, hissing.

She lets out a startled yelp, yanking her hand back to her side as she looks up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

For a moment, everything is silent and still. Robin is just about to comment a very polite ‘what the fuck,’ when Steve blurts—

“Baby, no offense, but what the fuck?”

Eddie looks up at Steve with wide eyes of his own. “That was really weird, wasn’t it? Sorry, Robin.”

And the thing is, Robin can tell Eddie is genuinely asking. She can tell that in Eddie’s head, it isn’t even something he thinks could be weird, just something he does—instinctive. Robin, however, has literally never been hissed at like that by a human.

It’s so, so weird, and Robin turns to Steve, naively thinking that Steve is going to patiently explain it to Eddie—explain that Robin is curious by nature and they share everything and Eddie shouldn’t hiss at her. She gets one look at his face and realizes that that is very much not the case.

Steve has both lips tucked between his teeth, his mouth a firm line of consternation, and a flush in his cheeks. He’s very clearly dismayed, but Robin can’t figure out why. Is he embarrassed of Eddie? Robin immediately dismisses the thought. Steve is hard to embarrass in general, and she’s never seen him be embarrassed because of something weird Eddie has done, animal noises included. In fact, normally he’s—

“Steve,” Robin whines when she puts it together. Steve isn’t embarassed, he’s fucking horny from Eddie’s little display. Robin hates him so, so much.

“Sorry,” Steve croaks, and Christ he’s blushing. He’s refusing to meet her gaze and he’s blushing. There’s a flush making its way up Steve’s neck, slowly filling out his cheeks and Robin hates him.

“Oh, my god,” Robin mutters. “You are unbelievable.”

Robin can see Eddie’s gaze darting between the two of them in her peripheral vision, obviously trying to work out what’s happening—what silent conversation is passing between them.

Steve lets out a small squeak that might, in some languages, pass as a feeble ‘yeah,’ before he’s reaching across the counter and fisting a hand in the front of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie lets out a startled squawk as Steve starts tugging him along the outside of the counter—arm extended across it as he walks down one side and pulls Eddie down the other.

“Gonna take 15, Rob.” Steve doesn’t even look at her when he says it. He has a single minded focus on getting himself and Eddie to the break room as fast as possible.

Robin’s too busy plotting her own murder to remember that Steve already took his break. She didn’t even get to see what Eddie gave Steve. She hates everything.

***

Steve and Robin are in the middle of a conversation when the most baffling thing happens.

Well, it’s baffling to Robin. Steve doesn’t even seem phased. Or, well, he does, just in a vastly different way.

She’s in the middle of lecturing him about the proper way to flip pancakes, Steve rolling his eyes—it’s like she serves raw pancakes one time and suddenly she’s banned from the stove forever, nobody even got sick!!—as he continues to flip with a spatula.

Seriously, Robin is so sure if he just twisted his wrist in the right way it would do a sick flip in the air and land right back in the pan. What’s the point of him playing all those sports if he can’t display some basic hand eye coordination?

Anyway, her point is, she’s in the middle of lecturing Steve about the correct way to flip pancakes when Eddie walks into the kitchen, waltzes right up to Steve, and just bites him. Completely unprompted. Like his whole purpose of walking in the kitchen was to sink his teeth into Steve’s bicep.

Steve lets out a startled yelp, the spatula swinging dangerously close to Robin's face as he spins around.

Robin waits for the “what the fuck,” maybe even anger. She’d probably be mad if someone bit her. She waits, but it never comes.

Instead, she watches as Steve stares at Eddie, his face weirdly intense. Eddie states back, a wide eyed, falsely innocent look stealing over his features.

The air in the kitchen is so still for a second Robin is sure she could hear a pin drop from three rooms away, and then—

Steve reaches out, fists the hand not still gripping a spatula in the front of Eddie’s shirt, and tugs. He tugs hard enough that Eddie goes stumbling forward, catching himself on Steve’s chest and oh god his lips.

Robin is forced to witness Steve sticking his tongue in Eddie’s mouth. She has to watch with her own eyes as Steve slots his mouth over Eddie’s, apparently not wanting to waste any time before he shoves his tongue past Eddie’s lips.

Robin lets out a high pitched, disbelieving laugh. She cannot believe them. She feels like she’s going insane. Why does this keep happening to her?!

And the worst part? Robins isn't sure if she’s more upset about the burnt pancakes, or that this is the third time she’s seen Steve stick his tongue down Eddie’s throat in less than two days.

***

“I just think it’s fascinating.”

“Robin, please. Not this again.”

Robin gives Steve a mean look from her seat across the booth. Honestly, sometimes she cannot believe him.

“Steve. Steven. Listen to me. I have had to witness your horny face—” Steve’s face twists up at this, a displeased turn to his lips, “—more times in the last three weeks than I have the entire time I’ve known you. Do you realize how insane that makes me feel?” Robin throws her hands out, gesturing at the general air around them because she needs Steve to see her point. She needs him to pay attention right now.

“Do you realize how insane it makes me feel to hear you talking about my horny face?”

Robin reaches across the table and flicks Steve’s nose. Steve lets out an irritated noise, but his face otherwise remains relatively level.

Robin would like to know why he’s being so stoic on the topic. She feels totally certifiable.

“Steve, I’m being serious.” She’s whining again, she knows, but she thinks maybe if she whines enough Steve will give in. He’s always been a sucker for a particularly good pouty face. “I want to talk about it. If you’re going to keep forcing me to witness it, I deserve the answers I so crave.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Nobody is forcing you to witness it, Robin.”

Robin snorts. “You literally are. Like, you’re doing it right in front of me with no warning. One second I am just standing there, minding my own business, and the next you’re giving Eddie your come hither eyes.”

Steve makes that face again—the one where his mouth twists up—and flicks a fry at her. She fumbles with it, but eventually manages to catch it and throws it in her mouth.

“Gross,” Steve says, but she can tell he’s trying to fight a smile. “Do not ever say—” Steve drops his voice a couple octaves, “—come hither to me again.”

“Okay, fine,” Robin gives easily. “But only if you give me details. Is it a honeymoon phase thing? Are you just constantly on the cusp of ripping Eddie’s clothes off all the time because it’s new and exciting?”

Steve bites his bottom lip, averting his eyes. He’s clearly embarrassed, which Robin thinks is so weird. Her and Steve have basically zero secrets. They’re worryingly codependent, and hardly ever get embarrassed around each other.

Sure, sometimes Steve annoys the shit out of her, but she also went to him for sex tips. Eddie makes jokes about them being the twins from The Shining and they both laugh because it’s not exactly false.

So, it’s a little startling to see Steve acting so timid, so demure, but she’s pretty sure she knows why. She has a theory.

“It’s a weird thing, isn’t it?” She asks before Steve can try and change the topic like he so clearly is gearing up to do. He doesn’t say anything in response, but that’s okay. Robin has always been able to talk enough for the both of them.

“It’s like…Eddie does something weird and you like it, right?” Steve’s cheeks are growing redder by the second, and Robin’s first instinct is to crow in victory—she’s absolutely nailed it—but she holds back. “I think I’ve figured that bit out, but what I can’t figure out is why that embarasses you, why you’re ashamed of being into Eddie’s quirks.”

Steve huffs. “That’s not it,” he says, running a hand through his hair, messing up the artful swoop he had it in that morning. “I’m not, like, embarrassed by being into Eddie or the weird things he does. I actually really like them, as you’ve been so obvious about pointing out. I just…” Steve trails off, looks away from Robin.

He’s thinking, clearly weighing something is his mind. The more he ponders it, the more Robin can see him working himself into something truly upset.

“I like them because it’s Eddie, I think. He’s always so unapologetically himself, and that makes me—” Steve cuts himself off, seems to cut that whole train of thought off as he plants his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands.

Steve mumbles something into his hands, his shoulders a tense line of misery. Robin almost feels bad about forcing him to talk about this. Almost.

“Steve, babe, I have no idea what you just said.”

Steve lifts his head, his miserable eyes meeting Robins. “Do you remember about five weeks ago at Family video, how you accused me of being past crush territory? Verging on love?”

Robin nods. She does remember. She had been mostly joking, but she has a feeling that maybe she wasn’t entirely off the mark, even back then.

“Well, you weren’t exactly wrong. Rob, I am. I’m so in love with him I don’t know what to do with it. I think I fully accepted it that night I kissed him, and it’s been scaring me ever since.

“God, Robin. I’m terrified. I’m constantly on the verge of telling him I’m in love with him. Every time he does something that’s just so unapologetically Eddie I want to fucking scream ‘I’m so in love with you it makes me act stupid.’” Steve buries his face in his hands again after his little rant.

“So, just curious…what’s stopping you?”

Steve’s head shoots back up and he gives her an incredulous look. “Robin, we’ve been dating for three weeks. Don’t you think its a bit fucking soon?”

Robin contemplates this. It is fast, but honestly she’s seen the two of them together. It’s disgustingly domestic already. Plus, she doesn’t think Eddie is the type of person to reject Steve’s feelings even if he isn’t quite there himself yet.

Robin tells Steve as much.

“Robin, I need you to understand that I love Eddie when I say these next words, okay?” Steve waits until she nods before he continues. “Eddie is a runner.”

Robin goes to cut him off because yes, he was, but he’s not anymore—he’s gotten so much better about it—but Steve holds a hand up to halt her interruption.

“He is. He’s gotten better about it, absolutely, I won’t deny that.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, his expression contorting with a pain that Robin is sure is entirely emotional. “But his flight or fight response still tends to tick more towards the flight, and if I tell him I love him after three weeks, I—” Steve cuts off, runs a hand through his hair again.

Robin isn’t sure she’s ever seen him this distressed, not even at the end of the world. Steve’s always been eerily level headed in bad situations—at least in the time she’s known him—so this is a bit startling for Robin.

“Robin, he’s terrified of getting too attached and I’m desperate for love. It’s a deadly combination.” Steve closes his eyes for a moment, pausing. Robin doesn't interrupt—she can tell he’s building to something.

“Did you know he’s run away from home three times? Like,” Steve waves a hand around, “before all the upside down stuff.”

Robin shakes her head no. She’d had no clue.

“Twice, when he was still living with his dad. Once with Wayne. Do you know Wayne knows he likes boys? Knows he’s currently dating a boy?”

Robin shakes her head no again, but Steve is jumping topics so fast it’s making her head spin. It feels like he keeps opening loops and forgetting to close them. She has no idea how one question relates to another.

“Well, he does. Wayne just accepted that. Just accepted Eddie completely, without hesitation.” Steve rubs a hand over his mouth. Robin can tell he’s shaking his leg under the table in a very un-Steve like way—the whole table is shaking with it. “Robin. Wayne accepted Eddie completely. He-he loved every part of him, and he still ran away from him. He ran away because it doesn’t hurt as much when you’re the one leaving instead of being the one left behind and he’s been left behind so many times.”

And oh, okay. Robin gets it now. Steve is slowly closing the loops, allowing her to realize what’s happening in his head.

“Robin he makes me so fucking happy. He makes me feel like I have a-a shot at a good fucking life, no matter how plain it turns out to be. I’m terrified I’m going to push and push, a-and take and take and he’s going to realize that he’s in way over his head with me and that I’m too much and then it’s—” Steve cuts himself off again with a sound achingly similar to a dry sob. Robin regrets cornering him in a crowded diner.

She's not a particularly touchy feely person, never has been, but sometimes she knows that’s what Steve needs. She knows that she would take on the world for him, so a little physical affection has never been difficult for her when it comes to comforting him, and she wants nothing more than to wrap Steve up in her arms right now, provide any comfort she can because she knows that, ultimately, what Steve is saying is true.

Steve has never been blind to his own flaws. In fact, he’s always been acutely aware of them. She thinks that’s why it was so easy for him to grow, to learn once he distanced himself from the expectations of his father and his shitty highschool friends. He’s always known where his weak points are, and they both know he used them as daggers in highschool. Used them to twist himself up into something he wasn’t in order to hide them. He’s different now, wears his flaws as a badge of honor instead of a reason to cause harm, but they both know he’s still startlingly aware of them. They’re both aware they twist Steve up inside, cutting him like the barbed words he used to use.

Steve is desperate for love. It’s in the way that Steve blooms under compliments, it’s in the way he’s always trying. Over and over. Even when they all dog him for messing up, for saying something stupid, he still tries.

It was in the way he tried so hard to encourage Robin to pursue Vickie, even if that ended in heartbreak. It’s in the way he supports Robin dating his ex. It’s in the way he leans into every casual touch, in the way he seeks out constant company.

And it’s in the way he is with Eddie, now. Once she’s removed the layer of fond disgust, she can see what’s been there the whole time.

Steve loves Eddie. He loves him with a desperation that’s bordering on obsessive because that’s just the way Steve loves. Nobody ever taught him moderation—nobody took the time to tell Steve that loving someone with your entire heart and more is just a direct pipeline to getting your heart broken.

Robin knows that Steve has only loved one other person like this, and that the end of that relationship rocked his very foundation.

Steve confessed to her, once and only once, that losing Nancy had quietly devastated him. In hindsight, he realized that they both had unrealistic expectations for each other and he’d been clinging on to a fractured relationship way before they finally shook apart, but Robin will never forget the tone of Steve’s voice when he told her that Nancy Wheeler had broken his heart.

Robin’s long since talked to both Nancy and Steve about the subject—didn’t quite believe Steve when he’d said he was over her, back when Robin had been harboring her own shameful crush—and knows that Steve and Nancy had had their own discussion on the break up, that they’d made their own amends and knew the fault didn’t lie with just one party.

Still, Nancy’s voice was eerily similar to the quiet devastation of Steve’s when she admitted that Steve had told her he loved her so much he hated her. Robin would be lying if she said that didn’t break her heart.

Robin’s point is: she knows Steve is desperate for love, but she’s never seen him run from it. She knows he’s only ever been in love like this once before, knows it took him years to get over Nancy Wheeler, but it’s never stopped Steve from trying.

Robin can put a lot of the pieces together, but she just can’t figure out why Steve is hiding—why he’s holding himself back so much when he’s always loved so openly before—but maybe it’s the thought of Eddie running from that love that scares him. Sure, Nancy didn’t return the love, but she didn’t turn tail and run from the way Steve loves. She eased him out of it, and Robin can admit to herself that seeing someone actively run from the love you’re giving them is much different from them simply not returning it.

“It’s what, Steve?” She prods gently, focusing her thoughts back on the present, on Steve’s turmoil playing out in front of her.

“It’s like what do I do with myself at that point? I’m not—“ Steve bites his lips, squeezes his eyes shut for a second before blinking them back open, “I’m not good at a lot, Robbie, I know that. And one of those things is holding back. I-I don’t know how to make myself less. How to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel so suffocated by me that he runs.”

Steve’s eyes are suddenly desperate when he says, “how do I make myself less, Robin? How do I not scare Eddie off?”

Robin‘s heart breaks all over again. She reaches across the table, taking one of Steve’s clenched hands into both of her own. How does she make Steve see that Eddie won’t do that. She doesn’t know how she knows, but she just does.

“Steve, that’s not—look, you don’t have to change yourself for Eddie. I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. I’ve seen the way both of you light up when the other walks in the room. Quite frankly, it’s gross.” Robin squeezes Steve’s hand, making sure he’s looking at her when she says this next part.

“Steve Harrington, I have been forced to witness your reactions to the weird, weird things Eddie does and the way Eddie just blooms under that attention. I have watched that boy turn into a gooey mess when you show him the slightest bit of attention.

“Steve, talk to him. I can almost guarantee it’ll turn out better than you think.”

Steve’s eyes drop to their clasped hands, his shoulders still tight and impending heartbreak still clearly on his mind.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve murmurs, “I’ll think about it.”

***

It takes five days for Robin to realize that Steve took her advice and talked to Eddie. Five days spent in ignorant bliss.

Five days where she didn’t have the sight of Eddie and Steve having some very nerdy private time seared into her retinas.

Jesus Christ, was Steve wearing armor? What the fuck was that voice Eddie was using?!?

Robin hears Eddie’s dreamy ‘god I love you so much’ and Steve’s very enthusiastic response as she high tails it out of the house.

On her way down the porch, she wonders if there's such a thing as bleach for your senses. Eyes, ears, whatever. Anything to scrub her mind of what she just witnessed. Almost considers seeing if that Russian scientist is still wandering around with some kind of memory wipe serum.

She would buy the whole lot of it.

[sidekick-hero]

Here it is, the next chapter of my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai 💜💜💜 Her prompt was 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone'. Shout out to @acasualcrossfade for being the best beta reader there is!

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 3 (4.7k) under the cut

Luck is on his side because Eddie is home. He looks like Steve just woke him up—pillow crease on his cheek, hair a mess, and his face softer than usual, making him look younger.

It's a sweet sight, one Steve might get used to if they actually move in together. For the first time, the thought doesn't fill him with dread and sadness about losing Robin as a roommate.

"Steve?" Eddie asks, blinking in confusion. "Birdie's not here, sorry." He sounds half-asleep, his words slightly slurred.

Of course, Eddie would think he was looking for Robin. Despite what Chrissy and Robin say, Steve and Eddie getting married will change things. Like, Steve will start seeking Eddie's company and they'll spend time alone without their friends as buffers.

"No, I know she's at work. I wanted to talk to you. I texted you that I was coming over."

Eddie’s face lights up with understanding. "Oh, sorry, my phone's in sleep mode. Had a late shift at the bar and only got home around 2. Then I had to open the garage because Bernie sprained his ankle, so I was catching up on some sleep."

"Ah, shit, I'm so sorry, man," Steve apologizes quickly, wincing. "I didn't mean to wake you. It's not that important, go back to sleep, we can talk tomorrow or—"

Eddie cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "No, no, it's okay, really. Come on in. You couldn't have known, and I should get up anyway if I don't wanna mess up my sleep rhythm."

Steve snorts. "From what I hear, you have as much of a sleep rhythm as Robin has a brain-mouth filter."

"You wound me, Harrington. Just because it's eclectic doesn't mean there's no rhythm. My sleep schedule is more jazz than pop."

Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Eddie steps aside with a playful swat to Steve’s shoulder. “I feel like you’re not taking me seriously here.”

Steve only hums in response, so Eddie changes the topic. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

They move into the kitchen, and Steve takes a seat at the highbar Chrissy and Eddie installed two years ago. Steve remembers helping with that project, along with Eddie’s friend Jeff. It was a fun afternoon—just them chatting, sharing a big pizza, and working with their hands. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve that Eddie was good with his hands. After all, he’s seen him play guitar and mix drinks expertly when he bartends. He also knows Eddie makes most of his money fixing cars and motorbikes at a friend’s garage.

Still, seeing Eddie aptly handling tools and oiling up the wood had been… an experience. One he had revisited in his mind more than once when he couldn’t sleep and was too weak to fight off the urge any longer to jack off to thoughts of his friend.

“Earth to Steve, do you copy?”

Eddie’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he realizes Eddie is now standing much closer than before.

“Uh… sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“I,” Eddie starts, speaking slowly and deliberately, “asked if you wanted a coffee. And before that, I asked what you wanted to talk about. You haven’t answered either question, so here’s a third: Is everything alright?”

Eddie's probably joking, but he sounds a bit worried, so Steve musters a mostly sincere smile.

“Yeah, man. I’m good. Just… it’s been a long day. Long days. Coffee sounds good, I haven’t slept much.”

“Sure, coming right up.”

Steve watches as Eddie prepares their coffees, his thoughts drifting again as he watches Eddie’s surprisingly broad back move under his worn t-shirt. It looks soft and thin, sporting a couple of holes, and looking incredibly comfy. He idly wonders how it would feel to wrap his arms around Eddie’s tiny waist from behind, pressing his front against Eddie’s back, with his chin hooked over Eddie’s bony shoulder and his cheek against Eddie’s.

It’s a nice thought.

“Your coffee, my liege.”

A cup of coffee appears in front of Steve, startling him out of his daydreams about Eddie. It's the second time he's drifted off today, and he really needs to get his act together.

“Thanks, man. Do you have some milk?”

“Already added it. Two sips, no sugar, right?”

And, yeah, that’s exactly how Steve takes his coffee. He just had no idea Eddie knew that too.

His surprise must be obvious because Eddie's ears turn red. He hides his mouth behind a strand of hair and mumbles, “Just noticed you always make it like that.”

Steve's heart skips a beat. It's a small thing, but it means a lot to know that Eddie is paying so much attention to him, even if it's just as confusing as the time Eddie decided to fall on his own ass to save Steve's birthday cake. Or the time he drove over to Steve and Robin's apartment to make sure Steve had actually turned off the stove that morning because everyone else was at work.

It doesn't fit with the way he rebuffed every attempt by Steve to get to know him better when they first met. Or this conversation he overheard between him and Chrissy about two months after Robin and Chrissy started dating. The one where Eddie had asked why Robin was always bringing that rich asshole jock over.

Everything about Eddie keeps confusing him, making the conversation he needs to have with him even harder, so he takes a sip of coffee to buy some time.

It's good, strong but not bitter, and just the right amount of milk. He hums appreciatively. "Thanks, Eddie. It’s perfect."

Eddie smiles shyly and sits across from Steve, cradling his own mug. "So, what's up, man? It seemed pretty urgent when you knocked on my door."

Steve takes a deep breath, knowing he has to get this right. "I, uh, told Max and Dustin about us. You know, the whole fake engagement thing. Only, I didn’t tell them it’s fake, obviously."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? And how'd they take it?"

"Well, they believed it. Max was cool about it," Steve lies, remembering how serious Max got about his issues, something he doesn't want to unpack right now. "And Dustin... well, he was a little hurt we didn't tell him sooner, but he's on board. He'll be a groomsman, just FYI." Steve pauses, rubbing his neck nervously. "The thing is, I kind of told them a story about how we got together. And I'm not sure it matches what you've been telling people.”

Eddie's eyes widen in amusement. "You made up a story? This I gotta hear."

Steve groans but feels a bit relieved that Eddie seems cool about it. “Okay, so… it had to be convincing. Max and Dustin have known me forever, so they know that I’m someone who,” Steve pauses, feeling vulnerable admitting he falls fast and hard, an incurable romantic at heart.

“Someone who…” Eddie prompts.

“Someone who usually rushes headfirst into relationships. I hook up a lot, but when I date, I fall pretty fast. Robin says I have a trigger-happy heart, whatever that means.” He knows what it means, and that Robin’s right, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that. “So I told them I had a crush on you but wasn’t sure how you felt until a movie night, where we both reached for the chips and our fingers touched, then we kissed, and the rest is history. I proposed pretty fast after that, too, because I wanted to put a ring on the guy I had been crushing on for so long. They ate the story right up.” Steve adds the last part hastily, realizing how cliché it sounds.

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. "I can't believe they just bought it like that, it sounds like something straight out of a romcom. But you know what? I kinda love it."

Steve feels almost dizzy with relief. "You do?"

"Yeah, it's cute. And I haven't told anyone yet, so we can stick to your story."

Steve lets out a sigh of gratitude for Eddie’s easy acceptance before the implications of what Eddie just said sink in.

"You haven't told anyone yet?"

The hurt in his voice is more obvious than he wants it to be, but he can't help but wonder why Eddie wouldn't tell anyone. Sure, it's not like they're in a real relationship, but it still feels like Eddie's ashamed of him or something. Deep down he knows that he's way too invested, but it's hard not to get caught up in it all.

Eddie must have heard it too, because his eyes soften as they search his face. "No, not yet. I... wasn't sure you wouldn't take it back, to be honest. And I didn't want to have to explain to people why I told them I was getting married and then had to say 'oops, my bad, never mind', y'know?"

There's some color in Eddie's cheeks and he's fiddling with his rings, his eyes darting away from Steve's. He grabs Eddie's hand and stops him from twisting his thumb ring.

"You really thought that? But - why? I mean, if anyone was going to take it back, I thought it would be you. You're doing me a huge favor here, in case you've forgotten."

Eddie's hand feels warm in his, the skin under his palm softer than he expected. He squeezes it to emphasize his words and desperately wants to give in to the urge to caress his knuckles with his thumb, too.

He doesn't, figuring it's a line he shouldn't cross.

"I told you, I don't mind. And I get something out of it too, so it's not like you're twisting my arm or anything. I guess it's just hard for me to believe that someone like you would want to marry someone like me. Even if it's a scam."

"You mean someone who's a rich asshole jock?" Steve asks, his voice bitter as he remembers Eddie's words to Chrissy.

Eddie's eyes widen in obvious surprise. "What? No! What makes you..." Eddie begins, but trails off, the color draining from his face as he curses at the realization. "You heard that, huh?"

He looks pained as he asks, his hand twitching under Steve's as if he wants to pull it away but doesn't dare.

"Yeah, I did. Sorry for eavesdropping, but you and Chrissy were discussing it right in front of the bathroom I was going to use."

Eddie groans, finally pulling his hand away so he can bury his face in his hands. His voice is muffled when he speaks.

"No. Fuck, no. I'm sorry, Steve. That was... That was before."

"Before?"

"Before! Before I got to know you. Before I realized that I might be a complete idiot who prides himself on going against the grain and being open-minded and all that shit, only to go around judging people by their appearances instead of giving them a fair chance. The only asshole in this room is me." He groans again, a sound of pain and despair. "God, I can't believe you heard that crap and went on thinking that's how I fe - that's how I see you."

"Isn't it?" Steve couldn't help but ask, stunned by the sudden turn of events. He thought that Eddie had gotten over some of his resentment over the last few years, but it's hard to believe that he sees Steve so differently.

"It isn't!" Eddie almost yells, clearly wanting Steve to believe him. Then his voice softens again, "It's not. It didn't take me long to realize that you're a really good dude, Steve.”

And that is... a lot to take in. While he may need some time to let Eddie's words sink in, his heart doesn't seem to have any trouble taking this new realization and running with it, judging by the warmth spreading through his chest.

Eddie likes him. Has for some time, it seems. Maybe not in the same way that Steve likes him, but it's nice. Really nice.

"I won't," he tells Eddie.

"You won't what?"

"Take it back. I'm still all in. That is, if you are too."

A slow smile spreads across Eddie's face, the first hint of dimples adorning his cheeks. He returns it with one of his own, and for a long moment they just look at each other, the air around them thick with something. Something he dares not name, but that makes the hairs on his arms stand up.

Then Eddie breaks the moment by shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Looks like I have to make some phone calls today and share the great news."

"Great news? Did I miss something?" Steve jokes and Eddie rolls his eyes with a scoff.

"Had a clown for breakfast, Harrington?"

Right on cue, his stomach growls loudly. "Actually, I skipped breakfast."

Their eyes meet again and they both burst out laughing. When they calm down a bit, Eddie gets up from the table and claps his hand.

"Okay, this won't do. I can't let my future husband starve before he makes me an honest man. Let's go get something to eat, on me."

Steve gets up as well, still grinning happily. "You don't have to, I can pay."

"I know I don't and I know you can. But I want to. Sometimes people want to do nice things for you too, Stevie, and you have to let them. It's rude not to, y'know. Besides," Eddie adds, his voice getting serious, "I want to make it up to you. The shit I said, I mean."

He looks so earnest that it makes Steve melt a little. It's not that he needs it, he forgave Eddie long before they ever talked about it, but it feels like Eddie does.

"Okay. Thanks, Eds. I could go for some blueberry pancakes."

"Good choice, good choice. Lou's Diner?" Eddie's smile brightens again, both cheeks now dimpled, and Steve is glad he gave in, if it means he's the one causing that look on Eddie's face.

"You know how to treat a guy."

"I try."

Eddie disappears into his room to get his wallet, then rushes back, grabs his hands and drags him toward the door.

He doesn't let go until they're both on the sidewalk, walking side by side to the diner, their fingers brushing with almost every step.

"Okay, so I'm calling my uncle and the boys today, you already told Max and Dustin. Chrissy and Robin obviously know as well. Anyone else we need to tell?"

The question makes Steve falter in his steps and Eddie, who didn't notice at first and kept walking, rushes back to him when he realizes that Steve is no longer next to him.

"What is it? Is everything okay?"

Steve shakes his head. "No. I mean, yeah, I'm fine. Everything is fine. I just remembered I have to tell my boss. And my team."

"You think they'll react badly?"

With a sigh, Steve nudges Eddie's shoulder with his own and starts walking again. It's easier to talk about it when he doesn't have to look at Eddie's face.

"I don't know," he admits. "I want to say, no, they're good people. I mean, they are. But... back in high school, I thought my friends were good people, too. That they cared about me. Turns out they didn't. My best friend, Tommy... We used to fool around sometimes. He always said it didn't mean anything, that friends help each other out sometimes, no big deal. That's bullshit, of course. I just didn't want to admit that I liked guys as much as I liked girls. Then, the first semester of senior year, I had a girlfriend that I really liked. Loved, actually. Tommy didn't take it well. I guess he was jealous because I stopped making out with him and he told everyone how I liked dick. That I was trying to touch his.” Here Steve rolls his eyes at the irony of it all. It was Tommy who had always been so eager to get his hands on Steve. “Everything changed. My teammates on the basketball team refused to change in front of me, my friends started talking about me behind my back. Even my girlfriend looked at me differently after I admitted to her that I 'kind of like boys, too'."

It's like a dam has broken, all these words coming out of him. Eddie doesn't say a word, just walks beside him and lets him get it all out. He reaches for Steve's hand again, though, holding it in his own in silent support, his thumb stroking his knuckles in much the same way Steve had dreamed of doing to Eddie earlier.

When Steve is finished, Eddie squeezes his hand.

"Did you know that about 600,000 people go missing every year in the U.S.? Who knows, maybe this Tommy will join them soon. Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Steve can't help but burst out laughing. The grin Eddie throws his way tells him that's exactly what he hoped would happen, obviously proud of himself for making Steve laugh.

"I appreciate the...offer? Threat? Fun fact? But it's okay, I'm over it. It sucked big time, but it also made me realize that they were all rich asshole jocks and I didn't want to be one of them anymore." He winks to take some of the heat out of his words.

"Okay, fine. The offer's on the table, though. But seriously, I get it. You're afraid your team will let you down like those assholes did."

"I guess. Which is probably unfair, but -"

"Once burned, twice shy."

"Exactly. Is that stupid?"

"No, it's not." Eddie reassures him. "I think it's perfectly normal to be cautious after what you've been through. But maybe your teammates are surprising you. Every time you talk about them, they sound pretty awesome and like you have a great relationship with them."

Steve didn't even realize he was talking about his teammates so much, or that Eddie was paying attention when he did.

"So how about this: Our apartment has this common area out back. We could have a little barbecue out there with Max and Dustin and the girls on the day you tell your team. That way, we can take your mind off of it if it doesn't go well, or, my personal favorite, we can celebrate that they took it well with a couple of burgers and some beer."

Eddie sounds sincere, his hand around Steve's as firm and sure as his voice.

"That... that would be great. You really think that would be okay?"

They reach Lou's Diner and Eddie turns to face him, his big brown eyes full of an emotion Steve can't name. "Yeah, I'm sure. All in, remember?"

On impulse, Steve rushes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie, pressing his face into his neck. After a moment of surprised hesitation, Eddie's arms wrap around him in return. He squeezes Steve tightly, his hand gently rubbing his back.

Steve doesn't let go for a long time.

Eddie is so screwed. He's not known for making particularly smart decisions, but this has to take the cake. Offering to fake marry the guy he's been head over heels for years.

Stupidity of epic proportions, your name is Eddie Munson.

In his defense, he didn't come up with the idea. No, that honor goes to Chrissy and Buckley. But Eddie could have said no when they pitched him their idea on how to help Steve get his inheritance and at the same time flip that horrible woman he's unfortunate enough to call Grandmother the bird.

As if Eddie has that much sense of self-preservation. It's like they never even met him. So of course he said yes, and when Steve told him, all earnest puppy eyes, that Eddie didn't have to do this, he made up a story about needing a loan for the record store he and Jeff were in the process of buying anyway. He's not looking forward to that awkward conversation when that particular truth comes out, but that's a problem for future Eddie.

Present Eddie is freaking out because past Eddie offered to throw a barbecue for Steve to make him feel better after coming out to his team at the firehouse. He invited Steve's little sister Max and made sure that Dustin came all the way from Boston to join them, with Robin, Chrissy, and Eddie there as backup in case Steve's team reacts badly and he needs his favorite people to cheer him up.

"Could you please stop freaking out, Edward? Robin and Steve are going to be here any minute and you looking like you're seconds away from bolting is not going to help anyone."

"I really don't like this tough love thing you've got going, Chris. Where's the sweet, innocent girl who ambushed me in the woods to buy weed from me and then never left?"

"She became friends with you," Chrissy quips back and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, still grinning.

Eddie, unable to keep up the fake annoyance any longer, cracks and, with a cackle of laughter, grabs his best friend and spins her around until her pearly laugh echoes through their apartment.

That's how Steve and Robin find them, clearly amused by the antics they've just seen.

"Did we miss something?" Steve asks with a smile and Eddie's heart flutters at the sight.

"Nope," he answers, popping the 'p'. "Just the usual occurrence of Chrissy being a menace to me."

"Watch it, Munson. That's my girlfriend you're talking about." Robin chimes in and walks over to greet Chrissy with a sweet kiss.

"Stevie, it is your sacred duty as my future husband to defend me!" Eddie cries out as Steve just stands there watching them with amusement.

"Oh no, no, no. I refuse to be dragged into this."

Robin actually cackles like some kind of supervillain. "Damn right. Steve knows I have access to his hair products and I have no qualms about using that knowledge against him."

Eddie throws up his arms and stalks off to the kitchen to get the things they need for the barbecue.

Later, he stands by the grill, watching Steve flip burgers with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times. The backyard is filled with the people closest to Steve and him, their laughter and conversation filling the common area. Eddie's heart feels incredibly full at the sight.

He nudges Steve gently. "You okay? You haven't said a word about how it went. Has me a bit worried, to be honest."

Steve nods, though Eddie can see the pensiveness in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm good. I guess it went better than I thought it would. They hated that I didn't tell them sooner, but Jim talked some sense into them. He said I didn't owe them anything and that he was sure I had my reasons."

Eddie gives him a reassuring smile. "They'll understand when you tell them what you told me. And even if you don't, it sounds like they care a great deal about you. They'll get over it."

Steve takes a deep breath and nods. "I hope you're right." Then he looks at Eddie through his lashes, a wry twist to his mouth indicating Steve thinks Eddie won't like what's coming next. "I might have invited them all to our wedding. Y'know, to make it up to them. But I'm sure I could tell them -"

"That's fine, Steve. Really. In fact, I didn't expect anything else. I was hoping Uncle Wayne would have someone his age at the wedding to talk to, and your captain sounds like the perfect guy for the job."

Eddie quickly begins to realize that he would do anything for Steve, as long as it meant Steve would look at him the way he does now. His hazel eyes are all soft and warm, the little smile that curls the corners of his mouth almost intimate. They lean in close, both gazing at each other, lost in their own little orbit. So close, Eddie can see the freckles on the bridge of Steve's nose and the swirls of gold and green in his eyes. It wouldn't take much to bridge the gap between them, just a slight tilt of his head, a few inches of space he'd need to push forward. Just a few teeny-tiny inches...

"Ew, gross! Get a room, you two. There are children present." Max's voice cuts through the thickening tension between them, startling them apart.

Steve looks at her sternly, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Excuse me?"

Eddie, on the other hand, just sticks his tongue out at her.

Dustin, who had been talking with Robin, also turns toward them, adding his own two cents. "I can't believe I didn't call this. You two are so obvious, it's embarrassing."

Usually, Eddie would tell Dustin off for his tone, maybe even tease him about missing all the clues with that genius brain of his, but that would be risky. Sure, maybe there had been clues from his side, but he sure as hell doesn’t want Steve to know that. So instead of doing one of his favorite things in the world—teasing Dustin—he keeps quiet and just rolls his eyes at him.

Steve, however, chooses a different approach. He ignores both his little sister and Dustin in favor of continuing their conversation.

"So, how did your uncle take the news of your betrothal?"

The phrasing makes Eddie laugh. "Stevie, you sound like Birdie and Chrissy made you watch Pride and Prejudice with them." When Steve doesn’t respond, only his cheeks slightly reddening, Eddie can’t help but cackle. "They did, didn’t they? Don’t worry, I’ve been swooning over Mr. Darcy since I was a teenager. I'm happy to be your Elizabeth Bennet."

For a moment, Eddie's afraid he said too much, revealed too much. But Steve’s just smiling at him like the thought amuses him, so Eddie thinks they’re good. He really hopes so, because now that Steve mentioned his talk with Wayne, he remembers the old man’s words.

When Eddie had told him about the wedding, asking if he’d come, his uncle had been surprisingly unsurprised.

"It’s that Steve fella you’re always going on about, isn’t it?" he had asked, like he’d been waiting for something like that to happen. It had made Eddie cringe. Seems like he had talked a lot more about Steve than he thought he had.

"How’d you know?" Eddie still had to ask.

"Because you’ve been smitten with that boy for years and he would be stupid not to want you back. And my nephew doesn’t fall for stupid."

It was then that Eddie had wished more than ever that he could tell Wayne the truth, ask his advice. But just like Steve, he didn’t want to pull his only family that mattered to him into his mess. Besides, Wayne sounded so happy that Eddie finally got to have the love he deserves that Eddie couldn’t bring himself to tell him that no, Steve just needed him. Liked him, maybe, from the looks of it, but not love. Never love, not for Eddie.

"Hello, Earth to Eddie. Do you copy?" Steve asks, sounding once again like the nerd Eddie knows he secretly is after years of hanging out with Dustin Henderson.

"Yeah, sorry, just remembered that I have to put the garbage bin out tomorrow."

Steve looks a bit doubtful but lets it drop. "So, your talk with your uncle, how did it go?"

"It went well. He’s excited to meet you."

Another of those soft smiles graces Steve’s face, and Eddie learns that he’s quickly becoming addicted to causing them. "Good, that’s good. Me too. He sounds great."

Only two more weeks until the most important person in his life and the guy he’s secretly in love with, whom he’s fake marrying, will meet. What could possibly go wrong?

[wolfoftheblackflames]

And here's what you've all been waiting for. The FINALE! Thanks so much for reading my fun little fanfic, my sweet misfits! Enjoy the tasty desert! (It's been fun writing this ^^)

Dancing with the Devil: Pt. 5

It was a few moments before Charlie whistled loudly summoning Razzle and Dazzle. “Baaaap?!” Both looked shocked but then looked over at the jerk who hurt their mistress. “Baaaaap….” Both growled lowly and followed Seviathan.

Charlie panted softly but then turned to look at Vaggie. “I'm really sorry you had to see me like this…” Her eyes lowered to the ground, unable to face her date.

Vaggie was in shock, sure, but her heart was pounding upon seeing that beautiful demon form. “Cariño…” (Sweetheart). Her hand gently came to Charlie's cheek, her thumb gently brushing away a tear that had threatened to fall. “Don't be sorry. It's actually very sweet that you'd be getting angry over someone like me.” Vaggie stated softly, her hand being lightly grasped by those long black claws.

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked, nuzzling Vaggie's palm.

“Well before I met you, all I had was some co-workers in the military that weren't exactly the nicest. I also did things alongside those jerks that I'm not proud of…” Vaggie started but took a soft breath to calm herself. “I had killed people Charlie, and I hate myself for it, and in some sick way sometimes it felt good to be acknowledged for those kills. I got praised for how flashy they were too…”

Charlie's eyes widen but then soften hearing the regret in her voice. She gently pulled Vaggie close and nuzzled into her hair, her body vibrating because of the soft purring it was doing. “I can see why you don't talk about your life before Hell… But if you're implying that you, the cutest, the most beautiful, and the coolest badass woman I've ever met, doesn't deserve to be loved or respected? Then I'm sorry, but I really want to whack you for ever thinking that.”

Vaggie leaned into the hug and nodded. “There you go again…”

“What it's true.” Charlie stated with a matter of fact tone.

The two jolted slightly, hearing Seviathan scream. “I was promised a dance at this fancy ball. Shall we?” Vaggie stepped back but had a smirk on her face.

Charlie blinked “Just let me put away these first…” She motioned to the horns and tail but stared as Vaggie took her hands into her own.

“You look gorgeous with them out babe. And I do mean it.” The angel smiled lightly, lifting those hands up and twirling only to briefly rest against Charlie's chest with those hands around her shoulders.

The way she moved, Charlie swore Vaggie was either a natural, or very talented in the dance department. The way that ivory gaze looked back up into soft white, it felt like time had stopped. “Thanks…”

The two glided across the stone walkway of the garden, each easily moving with one another to the ballroom music that echoed inside the bustling building. Charlie felt like she was walking on air right now as she was guided by Vaggie with each step. The way Hell's natural light lit up her frame, Charlie swore that in this moment Vaggie was truly the most beautiful being in Hell.

The slow dance tempo echoed as the two swayed close at its rhythm. “So did that asshole really…” Vaggie asked as Charlie scoffs. “Nope, I never once let him do that with me. Seriously the jerk thought if he pressured me enough I'd do it.”

“Good, it makes me a little relieved, babe.” Vaggie muttered, then looked up at Charlie, who looked down at her. The light of Hell made the princess looked so regal and elegant right now, and Vaggie listening to her heart for once pulled down on that chain lightly and kissed Charlie.

It was sudden and brief but it left the princess stunned. Her tail had shot up as now a cute dopey love struck look graced that face. “Whoa…” Charlie muttered but shook her head to get out of the daze quick. “Will you be my girlfriend?!” She blurted out causing Vaggie to laugh.

“I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't want to be princesa.” The angel teased but yelped when Charlie just quickly lifted her up and spun her around.

“Let's ditch this joint and go on a real date while the night is young.” The demoness grinned as Vaggie laughed at the theatrics Charlie was doing. Right down to the princess bridal carrying the angel out of there when Razzle and Dazzle zipped past clearly looking pleased. “Woooooo hoooo! Best night ever!”

“Charlie babe slow down!” Vaggie laughed as the two hurried out of that place.

Once in the limo, the goofs could relax, but this time, Charlie smirked and gave Vaggie a kiss on the cheek. “Can you do that again? Please?” She asked, giving puppy dog eyes. Vaggie just rolled her eye and gave her girlfriend all the kisses the princess could ever ask for.

(And done! Thanks again for reading my fic guys. I hope you enjoyed it. See you all next time when a new fic drops, until then enjoy the cuteness my lovable misfits!)

[erogenousmind]

Sleeper

"No, this is going to be great. You just need to stop interrupting. I need to remember how this worked. Okay. Okay. I think I got it. Now, just take a deep breath in and out. Now close your eyes and breathe in again. And out. And now let your eyes focus on the very center right here. And let the numbers fade away. I uh...think about the number one I mean. And you can open your - stop laughing!”

Janine was getting flustered. It had seemed really straightforward in her mind. She just needed to do everything exactly how she’d seen it done before, and everything would just sort of...work. Actually being there now, hearing her own voice trying to recreate what had been such a powerful experience for her and noting every imperfection she made, it seemed almost impossible. Being able to read the skepticism on Angela’s face hadn’t helped either.

Janine’s flustered expression in response to Angela’s giggles, the flush in her cheeks that was the most adorable combination of embarrassment and anger, had Angela grinning ear to ear. Still, she felt bad for her friend. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to stop smiling. “I’ll be good. I know you want this to work. I still don’t know why you want this to work so badly, but I promised to give you a fair shot.”

“It’s just...I got to try it out, and I...enjoyed it. And doing it with you seemed...fun. I don’t know. I just want to okay? Stop distracting me.” How could Janine explain it? She wasn’t sure she really understood herself. It wasn’t that she had enjoyed being hypnotized. That didn’t come close to describing it. It was more like it had redefined how she thought about pleasure. It set the standard for what felt good. Just that one session with E -- was it just one? She felt like she remembered dropping a few more times. And wearing different clothes? And not wearing clothes. And staring and repeating and melting and dissolving her mind and her will away and it felt so good to go deeper and all she needed to do was go deeper...

Janine blinked. It was an obsession now. She wanted to know how it worked. Wanted to feel it all the time. Wanted to be able to do it. Wanted to be able to share it with the people close to her, like Angela. So she could know how good it felt to be hypnotized...to obey...Janine’s thoughts derailed for another moment. Angela would enjoy being hypnotized. Janine just needed to calm down enough and focus so she could get her into trance. She thought about her first time again. How it had felt. Janine took a deep breath.

“Right,” she began, slowly. “Hypnosis feels...really nice. It’s the most relaxing, wonderful feeling in the world. I really enjoy the way that feels and I would like you to feel that as well.” Janine paused, her tone more serious, but still light. “Let me tell you about the first time I was hypnotized. That’s when I fell in love with how wonderful it could feel.”

“It started with my...hypnotist talking to me just the way I am speaking to you now.” Janine’s conscious mind didn’t catch the word she substituted away, and Angela didn’t seem to respond to her brief hiccup. “They encouraged me that it was alright to listen and absorb whatever it felt good to absorb of what they told me. They said that some words or phrases might not make perfect sense or I might get distracted or I might realize I zoned out a little. You want to try to focus to listen to every word, but it is alright if you miss anything. You can just recenter yourself right here and continue to listen because listening is easy. That put me at ease, because I knew anything I did would be okay, as long as I came back to listening and let everything else happen. That can feel really easy for you as well.”

Angela opened her mouth to answer, but Janine continued speaking. “And I could feel myself  falling into a rhythm. I would focus very intently on everything that was said to me. And then everything could just get a little...fuzzy somehow. It was like my mind was wandering but I wasn’t really thinking of anything. And then I find my way back and focus on what I am being told. And every time everything can just happen a little slower. I focus for a little longer. I drift off a little further, and it gets harder and harder to find my way back. But that’s alright. It’s alright to feel yourself drifting away. The words always have a way of helping you find your way.

“But what really helped me,” Janine said, reaching into a pocket she hadn’t thought about before. “Was this.” She produced a small clear crystal. It had the faintest tint to it, but as she twisted it slightly side to side, the color changed inconsistently as an iridescent hue moved across it’s surface. “I could feel myself dropping into trance before I saw this, but once I could just stare at it, once something else could keep my focus when the words were confusing or difficult or thinking felt too hard...once I can stare at the crystal, I feel like I can’t stop myself from dropping. See what I mean?”

Janine didn’t know why she had the crystal with her. She didn’t remember it being given to her. It hadn’t occurred to her to retrieve it earlier because she didn’t even know it was there. She wasn’t even thinking about that now. She just knew it was what she needed. What Angela needed.

Janine held the crystal out between the two of them, her arm continuing to twist slowly and slightly back and forth, letting the light move through it in long lazy arcs. She noticed the hint of a rainbow moving back and forth across Angela’s face, telling her that it was exactly where it needed to be. That and the change in Angela’s expression. Everything about her face was just..less. Less intensity in her eyes, less tension, less presence. Janine smiled as she looked back to the crystal.

“Once I stare into the crystal, it’s only a matter of time. I will be in a deep trance soon and that will happen whatever I do or think. So staring at the crystal, it’s like you’re in trance already. But you get to enjoy every moment, every feeling that comes with sinking deeper. My eyes can study the lights while my ears listen. But my mind doesn’t need to do anything. It can just let go more and more. Sink down more and more. Surrender more...and more...”

“More and more...”

“And if I’m hearing all the words it doesn’t matter if my mind is listening or not. My eyes just stare deeper into the crystal...deeper. And everything gets...fuzzy again. I know I don’t need to think anymore. I can just follow the pretty patterns in the crystal. Follow the light. Follow that wonderful voice...follow...o-”

“...follow...”

“And then the voice can tell me what to think. We can find our way to that wonderful place in the center of the crystal...I think I can see it now...it’s so...beautiful. And then the voice tells us things. I don’t need to remember what the voice tells me. I can always forget. Because I’ll always know what the voice tells me, deep down. I’ll always do as I’m told deep down. I’ll...I’ll always...obey...deep down...”

“deep...down...”

Janine didn’t hear Angela’s voice. Didn’t remember her presence. Her dull echo only served to reinforce Janine’s spiral deeper into the crystal. She stared without seeing, with Angela following right behind her into its depths. The words flowed out of Janine’s mouth automatically now, her mind responding to them only after she heard them spoken. They told her what to think and how to feel and what to do.”

“We always go so deep for the crystal. It’s irresistible. But it’s so hard to realize until you see it. That’s why you needed to see it. That’s why I needed to show it to you. Even if I didn’t remember it. We don’t need to remember what I am told when we stare deep...deeper...don’t remember. Just obey. We just obey. Need to obey. Need to do as I am told. Please...need to please...need to sink...down...”

“...deeper...”

“Eyes close...still see the crystal...too powerful to resist...too hypnotic. Always stare deeper...always obey...need...obey...ob-ey....”

“...obey...”

Both the girls eyes fluttered and closed at their own pace. Janine’s arm dropped gently and they both sank down together, empty. For a moment everything was still...quiet. Then Janine’s mouth began to move again, her voice coming clearer and with purpose, those her body still lolled limp and loose, no tension anywhere save around her throat and mouth. Janine’s mouth moved but it was not she who spoke. She was only to listen and learn and obey. Both she and Angela needed only to sleep and listen. They would wake later remembering only the fun they had with Janine finally able to help Angela drop into trance. Because they didn’t need to remember now. They just needed to listen and follow and obey.

[pinknightsinmymind]

CAN YOU DO TEACHING ELLIE HOW TO DANCE BACHATA

【 let me teach you - ellie williams 】

ellie williams x latina!reader

wc: 1.7k

content: modern!au, TEETH ROTTING FLUFF, ellie being the shyest cutest gf, teaching ellie how to dance bachata, she's a fast learner and pretty good at it too, latina!reader in mind for this fic but any and all latinas can read this fic and feel included as i didn't reference any specific cultures or ethnicities. see author's note for more pls <33

a/n: YOUR MIND YES this was so cute and fun to write i hope you enjoy it and sorry it took me a while to get to your request <33 i would just like to say that i'm mexican and while in my culture we also dance bachata, ik each culture has their own versions of dancing it, so i kept the fic constrained to the basic steps and hip movements that ik to keep it as general as possible so anyone could read this and enjoy it. also, photo from @/elliesapocalypse (i'm not sure what platform they're on, but i found the image on pinterest)

After nearly an hour of teaching Ellie the basic bachata steps in your room, you told her it was time to apply it to couple dancing. Doing the steps alone was one thing, but partner work was a whole other, which is why you made sure she took it slow and started off with the basic steps first. Ellie had grasped onto it pretty easily, and although she understood it, she was still a little unsure of how well she’d do when dancing with you.

“I’m scared!” Ellie whined.

“Of what?” you asked. “I thought the big, bad Ellie wasn’t scared of anything?”

“Fuck off,” she joked. “I’m scared of looking like a fool in front of your family.”

“You’re not gonna look like a fool,” you reassured her.

“What if they can tell I’m not a good dancer?” she asked in a panicked voice. You giggled a little at her worry before grabbing her hands in yours. You smoothed over the warm skin of her knuckles with your thumb. Doing that usually helped to calm her down when she got worked up with nerves like this.

“You’re a guitar player, aren’t you?” She nodded her head in response to your question. “Then you should be able to follow the rhythm. It’ll be easy for you, okay?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, show me that video again.” She seemed a little bit more determined than before. You let go of her hands as you reached for your phone in your pocket. You opened up YouTube and played the video you had saved of a couple dancing bachata at a party. As soon as your mother told you your cousin was having a giant birthday party, your immediate thought was how excited you were to bring Ellie. Not to mention how excited you were to dance with her at the party. That, of course, required teaching her your family’s favorite dance styles, bachata being the most important one as it was their absolute favorite. As the video continues playing, you could see how focused Ellie was on it. Very focused. She seemed so dedicated.

“Is the video helping?” you asked. You glanced at her face beside you, seeing the way her eyes lit up.

“Yeah, I think I get it a little better, but I’m still gonna need you to teach me more,” she admitted.

“That’s okay,” you told her. “I’ll teach you. You look a little excited,” you noted.

“Well, looking at this video makes me realize how close we get to be when dancing. And it seems fun.”

“Good! Okay, for starters, you can just use a simple eight-count when dancing bachata, and it’ll work every time. We’re not doing any crazy dance moves, just the basic moves, and even that is enough to have fun on the dance floor. We’re not at a dance competition, okay?” You made sure to choose your words carefully and specifically as you knew how much of a perfectionist Ellie was.

“Well, that’s simple enough.”

“It is. So, on the fourth and eighth count, the last hip you moved is the same one you’re going to kind of buck up. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, just like you showed me,” Ellie agreed.

“Exactly. Since we got the basic idea down, do you wanna try doing it together?”

“Hell yeah, babe,” she said excitedly. You pressed play on the playlist you had queued up and casted your phone onto your bed. You grabbed onto Ellie’s hands and placed them right on your hips. You scooted your body extra close to hers, and you could feel the warmth emanating off her body.

“Your hands go here,” you said, “mine go here.” You placed your hands on her shoulders, your fingers grazing against her neck. “Perfect! You’re gonna follow me for right now. We’re moving to the right first.” Ellie nodded, her eyes trained on you as you started to move. You moved your hips with each step, Ellie’s eyes following as she tried to replicate your moves. You were taking things slow so Ellie could follow along and learn, and she was slowly picking up on it. One, two, three, you counted in your head, and on the fourth count you popped your left hip up. Ellie followed along, and although she missed the fourth count, she was still getting a good grasp on the rhythm. “We’re going to the left now.” You started stepping to the left, this time leading with your right hip. Once you reached the eighth count, you popped your right hip up. Ellie was a beat late on the pop, but it was amazing to see how fast she was learning.

“This isn’t so bad,” she said quietly. You both stood still as you looked at her face, noticing how she seemed a little shy at the moment.

“I told you it wasn’t. Wanna keep trying?” you asked. She nodded. You started up again, leading her to the right, but she missed the hip movement again. It seemed like she had been so focused on moving her hips in a fluid movement like yours that she completely forgot about the last count for a moment. You understood what made the move hard, though. Moving the same body part again after you just moved it feels unnatural, and your body expects you to move the other side instead.

“It’s okay. You’ll get the next one,” you encouraged her. “You’re doing a really good job at the hip movements.” She really was. Watching her move her hips to the rhythm was addicting, and it made you a little flustered thinking about how good with them she was. The best part of bachata was feeling your partner close to you, moving together as one with you, staring into their eyes just as you and Ellie were doing now. It was beautiful. You rubbed Ellie's shoulder comfortingly, tapping the beats onto her shirt softly, then moving again to the left. Finally, Ellie caught on to the movement.

“You did it!” you cheered.

“You bet your ass I did!” she beamed. “They’re not ready for me at this party.” You laughed a little at her joke. She just seemed so excited and proud of herself, and it was so cute.

“Definitely not,” you replied. You leaned forward and gave her a small peck on her lips. “Good job, babe. Let’s keep practicing.” You and Ellie continued like before, you leading the way as you felt her body moving close to yours with the beat of the music. You had been this close to her while dancing before at her family parties, but those songs were typically slow, country songs she and Joel liked. Bachata was more energetic and faster paced, and when learning you usually needed to take it slow before you could actually pick it up. Ellie, however, was doing great. “You’re pretty much a natural,” you complimented her.

“Really?” she asked. There it was again—that shy look on her face. This also made you realize that talking while dancing wasn’t affecting her ability to stay on beat at all. Looks like you were right when you told her that being a guitar player would help her.

“Yeah! You picked this up really fast,” you said.

“Thanks,” she said. “I had a great teacher.”

“You’re corny.” And even though you were saying she was corny, you still had a giant smile on your face.

“You know you love it,” Ellie joked. The more the two of you moved, the more she seemed to get the dance down. She was hitting every beat perfectly now, and you were sure that by the time of the party she’d have them down extra smooth. You were beyond proud of her.

“Why have you been acting so shy today?” you asked.

“Just… feeling you real close to me, doing this dance with you. It’s just really intimate.”

“You’re such a sap,” you teased. “I’m proud of you, you know. You learned this so fast! You’re doing really good.” You didn’t miss the light pink blush spread across her face and the goofy smile that followed after.

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Not my fault you love praise so much.”

“Too far, [Y/N],” she said jokingly.

“I like doing this with you, too, you know,” you spoke up. “It’s nice. I like being able to teach you this kind of thing. I like that you want to learn.”

“I liked learning it from you,” she agreed. God, she was so adorable. You just wanted to squish her face in between your hands.

“Stop being so cute. I’m losing my cool here,” you groaned. Ellie laughed, and it was then that the two of you stopped moving.

“Yeah?” she teased. “You think I’m cute?” Her face was getting close to yours, and you could see every freckle, every blemish, every spot on that pretty face of hers. “Why don’t you kiss me, then, if I’m so cute?”

You didn’t reply to her taunts, only leaning in to finally meet her lips, warm and soft on yours, followed by the feeling of her hands cupping your face.

BONUS

“I really wanna try to spin you. Can we try it?” she asked. The way her eyes lit up, the smile on her face—she seemed like an excited puppy.

“Yes!” you agreed. You and Ellie resumed your previous positions, moving to the right and then back to the left to complete the eight count. It was after that last movement that Ellie grabbed your right hand, raising it in the air as she spun you around, and pulling you back into her body. Once she felt you against her again, she resumed your previous movements from before. Your bodies were so close together, your hands roaming from her shoulders to cup her face as she stared so deeply into your eyes. Your foreheads were pressed together with nowhere to hide, nowhere to run from the other's gaze, just straight into each other. She had such a firm grasp on your waist, her hips moving in tandem so close with yours. It felt like your breath had left your lungs realizing that she was leading the dance now.