#not to mention all the assignments i’m falling behind on and can’t go back to because i’ll fall behind on current stuff.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

—————————��——————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[flippedorbit]

i think dropping out is in my best interest at this point

[moonstruckme]

not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it. 

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups. 

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.” 

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage. 

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.” 

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach. 

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you. 

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.” 

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy. 

“I know,” you say. 

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary. 

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble. 

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.” 

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?” 

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.” 

[piedinthepiper]

You owe me (pt. 2) ☆

Mafia!Jungkook x psychologist!reader x mafia!Taehyung (slightly)

Summary: His efforts seem pointless. But when it comes to jealousy, anger and you, he just can’t help himself. And neither can you.

Warnings: yandere!Jungkook, dubcon, stalking?, breaking and entering, mention of murder, mention of other types of crimes, angst, weapons (a knife), cursing, male m, descriptive smut, angst

Wc: 7.4k

A/n: Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on this fic. Since so many wanted a part 2 I made a part 2! Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Parts: | 1 | 2 |

Your back felt a sudden relief as you finally laid down in bed. It had been a long day. A very long day. A new patient took up almost all you time. Taehyung Kim. He was being charged with robbery and murder, and his lawyer had hired you to potentially give him a diagnosis that could help him in court.

You had to assign some of your other patients to a few of your coworkers, just to make time for him. But this is what you love doing. You wanted to help. Especially now, after what you learned about your entire career. You wanted to prove yourself. You knew you were good.

You turned off you lights and put your phone on the nightstand. Finally you were in the comfort of your own bed. Ready to fall asleep and dream the night away. Trying not to think about how early you had to wake up tomorrow. You had finally found a comfortable sleeping position after squirming around a bit. You felt all your muscles relax, starting to recognise the slow fade of sleep.

But suddenly a loud noice filled the room. Your body tensed again, jumping at the sudden sound. You rolled your eyes as you turned around, annoyed at yourself that you forgot to turn on ‘do not disturb’. Your phone screen lit up in your face, you squinted at the bright light hitting your eyes. You managed to decipher a message from an unknown number. You didn’t open it, writing a mental note to check it out tomorrow. If it was one of your patients they would have to wait until the morning. It was almost unprofessional to answer a text at 1 am.

You entered the doors to your workplace, expecting to see Erin behind the counter smiling at you.

“Good morning, Erin.”

You said like you always do. You halted once you saw her sitting there, not smiling, not saying anything. She just looked at you with a concerning look. Before you could ask her what’s wrong you looked over at the waiting chairs. You had seen a person in your peripheral view, something that was odd considering the office wasn’t even open to patients yet. You quickly understood what was going on once you saw who was sitting there.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

His familiar voice filled the dead quiet room. It had almost been a year since you last saw him. He had not contacted you after the incident in your office. You had almost, almost, forgotten him. But there he was, looking the exact same as you remembered him.

“Mr. Jeon.”

You stated. Not really knowing what to say. You were caught off guard by the whole situation. Some naive part of you thought that he had gotten what he wanted and would leave you alone. Forever.

“I thought you had stopped calling me that. Aren’t we more intimate at this point?”

You sighed at his question. Looking over at Erin for a second to see if she understood what he meant.

“He said he wanted to see you. I told him we wer-“

“It’s fine Erin, Mr. Jeon can be quite persuasive.”

You interrupted her as she started to apologise for letting him in. You looked back to him. His classic smirk was plastered on his face.

“I have an hour before my first patient arrives.”

You said and looked quickly at your wristwatch, before starting to walk down the hall towards your office. You heard his footsteps following behind you.

Once inside your office you took off your jacket and hung it up before sitting down behind your desk. He was quick to sit down on the sofa. A sense of deja vu washed over you.

“Why are you here, Jungkook?”

He looked confused by your question.

“You didn’t see my messages? Or my voicemails?”

It was your turn to look confused, as you couldn’t remember getting any texts or calls from him.

“Maybe you were asleep, I don’t know.”

He shrugged. You remembered the message from last night. The one you didn’t bother to read. You picked your phone up from your bag, turning off ‘do not disturb’. Hundreds of notifications from the same number appeared on your lock screen.

“You were the one that messaged me last night?”

You asked as you opened your phone.

“So you did read them?”

He asked in excitement. You shook your head at his question, too focused on your phone. You opened iMessage and hit the top notification. A series of long paragraphs of text appeared.

“I didn’t think it was you.”

You mumbled as you scrolled upwards trying to get to the start of what he had sent you.

“Listen, I’ll just tell you. It feels weird to watch you read something I poured my heart into.”

You looked up at him, before you put the phone down on your desk. Crossing your arms over your chest.

“Be quick.”

He thought for a second about where to start and what the most important things to tell you were.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m ready now.”

The room went quiet as you waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“What are you talking about?”

You asked confused.

“That’s the brief version of it. You told me to be quick.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I think I need a little more than that.”

He smiled at you like a child telling a joke for the first time. He leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve seen another psychologist. He’s helped me a lot. I’m doing well, I’m not some self absorbed dick, I’m not so angry anymore. And I’ve gotten to know your father as well. I’ve done my end of the promise, now it’s your turn, y/n.”

He got serious at the last sentence. Shifting his eyes from the innocent doe, to the man you remembered from your last meeting.

“You went to my father?”

You asked in shock, not caring for whatever he said after that.

“Yeah. Might as well get to know my future father-in-law a little better while I fulfilled my promise.”

You let your head fall down to your hands, and let out a long sigh. Visibly showing him that you were upset.

“I’m happy you’re doing better, I really am. But I did not promise you anything. Definitely not to marry you.”

His eyes changed again. You could tell he was upset.

“Don’t you think you owe me that?”

He asked slyly, cocking his head slightly to the side. You shook your head.

“You can’t hold that over my head forever. It’s not fair!”

You answered strictly.

“I’m not holding it over your head, baby. I’m asking you.”

“Well, then my answer is no. I don’t owe you shit. Now get out of my office.”

You answered quickly. Wanting him to leave so you didn’t get too upset, and started making bad decisions again.

“We don’t have to get married right away, or not at all if you just want to be my girlfriend.”

He offered. You suddenly stood up from your chair, pointing angrily towards the door.

“Out.”

You said.

“I don’t care if I owe you. I don’t care if you’ve gotten better. You’re still a mobster, you’re still a murderer and you’re still a sociopath. I could never date you. I could never even be friends with you. Don’t you understand?”

You ranted when he didn’t leave the sofa. He shook his head and kept his eyes on the floor.

“It’s him isn’t it?”

He asked, still not looking up at you. He was frightening like that. You felt the same fear, you felt the first time he talked to you like that. He was showing his true colours.

“Who?”

You asked carefully as you sat back down again. He looked up at you with anger and jealousy in his eyes.

“Your new patient. The jailbird, you spend a lot of time with him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, and? He’s nothing but my patient.”

“Are you sure? I’ve seen him on the news, he’s quite attractive. Just your type.”

You scoffed and gave him an offended look.

“Yes I’m sure. Who are you to accuse me of having an affair with a patient?”

“Because you had one with me.”

You sighed.

“We did not have an affair.”

You stated, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Then what do you call it?”

The room got quiet. To be honest you never thought about what you would call it. You didn’t want to think about it at all. It went against everything you stood for.

“Please, just leave.”

You said, you felt your eyes getting watery for some reason. Maybe it was because you were scared, or surprised. Or maybe even sad to see him again.

“I can tell you’re upset. We still need to work things out. Can we talk sometime? Not here, somewhere not so formal.”

You looked up at him again. His eyes were soft, he seemed to really care that you were affected negatively by this. For some reason you found it endearing.

“You can come to my place, we can talk and-“

“There’s no way I’m voluntarily going to your place.”

You interrupted him. He looked down in defeat for a few seconds.

“Please, y/n. I just want to show you that I’m better. I want to show you all I’ve done for you. I don’t want to argue with you.”

He said softly. His eyes were also teary now. You hated yourself for getting affected by his feelings. You hated that you thought this was a tender moment.

“Do you promise that we’ll only be talking?”

You asked. Not knowing why you were agreeing to this in the first place. Maybe you were naive, but it seemed that he actually had changed. Even if he still was delusional and obsessive.

“Of course, I would never do anything to harm you. I love you.”

He said, slightly excited. The room got quiet once again. You had silently agreed to meet him at his place.

“I’ll send you the address. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

He said, before getting up and walking out the door.

“Wait-“

You tried to say, but he was already gone. You wouldn’t be able to make it on Thursday.

You sat down at the table, waiting for the guards to bring in Mr. Kim. This week had been stressful. Not only because of your case with Mr. Kim, but also because of all your other patients. It was hard having time for them while handling such a big case as his. You had to work overtime the entire week, and you were exhausted.

“Good afternoon, y/n.”

He said as two guards brought him in. He had learned your first name quickly, and refused to use your title or last name.

“Hello, Mr. Kim. How are you?”

He smiled, and waited to answer until the guards had chained his legs to the table and left the room. You never felt unsafe being alone with him, even if he was a convicted murderer. His hands were always handcuffed, the same with his legs, so he couldn’t reach you. You knew the guards watched you from outside the big tinted glass. It allowed you to lower your guard, and treat him like you treat your other patients.

“I’m doing amazing now that you’re here.”

He said and smirked. Like Jungkook said, he was attractive. His hair was always combed back, and the all grey clothing actually suited him. He had some kind of lightning tattoo that went up his neck, due to his clothing you didn’t know if he had any more of them.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

He asked back. Still keeping intense eye contact with you.

“We did talk about not calling me anything but my name, do you remember that?”

You asked him strictly. He chuckled.

“It’s hard not to call you something you are, don’t you like compliments?”

You started taking off your coat. It was cold when you entered, but with two people in the little room it was too warm to keep your wool coat on.

“We’re not here to talk about me. I’ve given you permission to use my first name, that’s all.”

You said as you draped the coat over your chair. You looked back at him, he wasn’t looking you in your eyes anymore. This time his eyes were focused on your exposed cleavage. You hadn’t worn low cut tops with him yet, only oversized jumpers due to the weather. You suddenly became very aware of yourself and pulled your top up, trying to hide more of your cleavage. His eyes went back to your face, and you decided that you would wear something less revealing next time.

“Whatever you say, y/n.”

He put extra pressure on your name this time. You gave him a small smile, before you looked down at your notes.

“Why don’t we start were we ended things? Do you remember what I told you I wanted us to talk about?”

He sighed, but nodded.

“My teenage years?”

He asked. You nodded back at him.

“I was a good teenager, I didn’t do drugs, I came home before my curfew, did well in school.”

He memorised.

“But I did like girls. I really did. It was my weakness.”

He said, quickly flickering his eyes down to your cleavage again.

“Why do you say it was your weakness?”

You asked, writing it down in your notes. He started smirking again.

“Since I was such a good teenager, I stayed home a lot. After I did my homework or studied for tests I didn’t have anything to do. Until I found porn.”

He let out a groan, almost like he was in pleasure just by the thought.

“I would spend all day just jerking off to random girls online. Whenever I saw a pretty girl outside I would go straight home and jerk off to her too.”

You felt yourself getting a bit uncomfortable at his bluntness, but didn’t say anything to let him continue. You focused on your notes instead.

“It would take up my entire day, I felt crazy at times. And now that I don’t have anything to do, I find myself doing the same in my cell.”

You nodded, still looking down at your notes. Not wanting to look at him while he talked about something so intimate.

“But the only one I can think about is you.”

He said almost as if he was out of breath. You finally looked at him. And saw that one of his hands had slid under the waistband of his trousers.

“Come over here and sit on me, baby.”

He moaned. You didn’t know what to do or say, you froze. The door opened and two guards came in.

“No- please! Y/n! Please fuck me! I need you. I fucking need you so bad!”

He yelled as he was practically carried out of the room. You sat there speechless, in the now empty room.

“I think it’s best for him to have a male psychologist, I can no longer treat him.”

You called Mr. Kim’s lawyer the minute you sat down in your car. You told him what had happened.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He said back.

“I’ll send all my notes to the man you’ll appoint.”

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Y/l/n.”

You said a small goodbye, before you hung up. While you were driving home you started to think about what happened today. You felt useless and it felt unfair. Why did you have to end up in all kinds of mess. First it was Jungkook, and now Mr. Kim.

Jungkook. You had completely forgot that you were supposed to meet him today. You sighed. Meeting him was the last thing you wanted to do. Maybe it was better to just say you forgot if he contacts you again. Since your session ended earlier than expected, you would actually have time to eat a proper meal and go to bed at a reasonable time. And with Mr. Kim’s case being transferred to someone else, you could finally use all your time on your normal patients. Even if the day had been horrible, you still had a massive weight lifted off your shoulders.

You walked up to your door, struggling with your keys to find the right one. Once you found it you put it in the keyhole and twisted, hearing the familiar click. You reached for the door handle and attempted to open it. But it didn’t budge. Did you not lock your door this morning? You twisted the key the other way again, and thought that it must be the exhaustion taking a toll on you.

When you finally were inside your own house you took off your coat and hung it up with your bag. You took off your shoes and looked at yourself in the big mirror you have in your hallway. You looked down at the white low cut top. It wasn’t even that low, but a part of your cleavage did show. In what felt like a fit of rage you took it off yourself. Hurriedly lifting it over your head and throwing it on the floor. You never wanted to wear that top again. You stormed over to the kitchen. You needed something to drink, you were so thirsty. So thirsty that you failed to notice the man sitting in your sofa. You swung the fridge door open, grabbing a carton of orange juice and downing what was left of it.

“Rough day?”

A voice emitted. You jumped and your heart started raising. You looked over at the sofa where the voice came from. Jungkook? Jungkook. You quickly ducked down behind the counter, remembering that you were only in your bra.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

You yelled at him. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you were so confused. What was going on?

“Y/n, calm down! Please.”

You heard him get up from the sofa, taking hasty steps towards you. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in and you suddenly jumped up again and grabbed a knife. Pointing it towards him. He quickly halted, putting his hands slightly up in front of him.

“Come on, it’s just me.”

He said, leaning his head to the side.

“Exactly!”

You said, slowly moving away from him.

“Why are you here? How did you get in?”

You yelled at him, firmly holding the knife between the two of you.

“Baby, please calm down.”

“How can I calm down?! You broke into my house!”

He sighed, and went quiet for a moment.

“Put the knife down, you know I won’t do anything to you. Please, let’s just talk. That’s why I’m here.”

He said in a calm voice. You shook your head, you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. This was all too much for you. You threw the knife onto the kitchen counter and covered your eyes. You started crying. You were so overwhelmed. From the situation earlier today, to Jungkook suddenly appearing in your life again, to just the pure exhaustion. You needed to cry. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You couldn’t put up the facade you usually do. And suddenly you felt two arms wrapping around you. He hugged you. And for a moment you leaned into it. You felt safe in his arms. It comforted you. It reminded you of when your father hugged you after your first boyfriend broke up with you. It was like knowing that someone cared for you when you felt as if the whole world was against you. Until you remembered who was hugging you. Because it definitely wasn’t your father. And the reality of you standing in just your bra with someone that broke into your house hit.

“Get off of me!”

You suddenly screamed, and started pushing his strong chest. Tears still streaming down your face.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you, Jungkook! My life has been a nightmare since the minute I met you!”

You screamed at him with all your lung capacity. Your throat got immediately sore.

“You’re fucking crazy! And I’m tired of playing your fucking games!”

He took several steps away from you, but you walked after him. Pointing your finger in his face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you?! How can you be so fucking awful?! You’re an awful person!”

He continued to stay silent through your fit of rage. Letting you ride it out.

“I hate you.”

You said, calming down but still crying.

“I hate you so much.”

You said taking a deep breath. You wiped your tears. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there. Speechless. You adverted your eyes to the floor.

“Please leave. Can you please leave me alone? Please, just-“

You started, continuing to wipe your tears. You had resulted to begging him to leave your life.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jungkook. I can’t.”

He grabbed your chin softly, raising your head up to meat his eyes. He was also crying. He silently kissed you. And you let him, too exhausted to do anything else. He pecked your lips, before walking away. He left you there, all alone in your kitchen. As you heard the door close behind him you fell down to the floor. Continuing to weep.

After a month of silence from your former patient you felt content. It had been a month, and there was no sign of him. Your life had gone back to normal again. It was definitely a good thing to tell him exactly what you meant. This time you had been harsh on him, to make him understand you were definitely not interested.

After three months you started thinking that maybe you had been too harsh on him. Maybe you should’ve eased him out of your life. Not gone all crazy on him. But he didn’t contact you, and you were definitely not going to contact him. So telling him that you were sorry was out of the question.

On the fourth month you thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to contact him. Just to tell him you were sorry for being mean of course. He was really attached to you in his own weird way. Getting rejected by someone you had planned out your entire life with must be hard. What if he had gone back to his old ways? What if your rejection caused him to live in agony? To fall into depression?

On the fifth month you found yourself standing in the lobby of his hotel. If you were going to apologise, you were going to do it in person. That’s way more genuine rather than over a text. You definitely didn’t want to see him again, but anything for a real heartfelt apology!

“I’d like to see Mr. Jeon, is he here?”

You asked before the receptionist could say anything. He smiled at you.

“Is Mr. Jeon expecting you?”

He asked in a costumer support voice. You shook your head.

“No he isn’t.”

You answered short.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you access to his suite if he’s not expecting you.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew you had to lie.

“He’s not expecting me, but I’m his psychologist, ok? I need to talk with him, it’s important.”

You said in your serious voice. Shoving your business card in his face like you were a cop.

“I’m sorry-“

“You will be sorry if you don’t help me out here.”

You hit your palms onto the counter before you. The man slightly jumped at your action.

“Look, I’m not asking for the fucking key to his nightstand, I just want to know his room number for gods sake!”

You were starting to get annoyed at the poor man just trying to do his job. He looked quite frightened at your outburst. He thought for a second, before he nodded.

“717.”

He simply said. You thanked him and hurried over to the elevator. Once you reached his door you stopped yourself. Was this really the right thing to do? Maybe you should just leave, he wasn’t your concern anymore. Why weren’t you happy he was out of your life? Why? Why? Why?! The door suddenly opened, and you were sucked out of your thoughts. A man stood there, a familiar man, but not Jungkook.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

He said with a smirk on his face. He quickly pulled you into a hug. Letting his hands drop dangerously low on your waist. He took a deep inhale of your hair, letting out a small groan. It gave you instantly chills in all the wrong places. You tried pulling away from the incredibly awkward hug, but his grip on you was tight. He decided when the hug ended, but stayed close to you. Resting his hands on your hips.

“Let go of me! What are you doing here?”

You asked him and tried to get som distance from him, pushing at his chest. But his strong grip on your hips didn’t loosen.

“What are you doing here is the real question. A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be in a hotel like this.”

“Get off of me!”

He smirked and leaned in closer to you again. Whispering in your ear.

“Why don’t you come with me to my room? I still can’t get you off my mind, sweetheart.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly next to you. Taehyung reacted immediately. Jungkook. You looked at him, but he didn’t look at you. His eyes were focused on Taehyungs hands, planted on your hips.

“She said ‘get off’.”

He almost growled. Taehyung smiled, but removed his hands. Putting them defensively up in the air.

“Sorry, boss. Just had to catch up with my psychologist. She’s the girl I told you about.”

Taehyung started. You were in shock. They knew each other?

“I know.”

He answered and looked at you for the first time. There was a sort of a melancholy feeling in his eyes.

“You know it all, man. I’ll just-“

“Leave.”

Jungkook finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah, leave. I’ll leave. Nice seeing you again, y/n. We have to meet up sometime.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

You answered quickly, not taking your eyes off Jungkook.

“I won’t take no for an answer, baby.”

Taehyung said and stepped closer to you again.

“Yes you will, now leave.”

Jungkook said strictly.

“Okaaay, I’ll leave. Whatever.”

He said and walked away. You followed Taehyung with your eyes, watching as he disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. When you looked back at Jungkook, you discovered he had been staring at you the entire time. You felt anger building up inside you.

“Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”

You said, you almost sounded hurt.

“It’s not like that.”

He answered. You rolled your eyes at him. He didn’t exactly sound convincing. You had no intention of apologising to him anymore.

“Let me guess, you didn’t hire Mr. Kim to ruin my case so I could run back right into your arms? It was just a convenience that you were waiting for me when I came home, right?”

You asked in a sarcastic tone. He went quiet. You scoffed and turned to walk away. He grabbed your arm harshly so you couldn’t leave.

“I didn’t, I promise. Let me explain, please.

You sighed.

“Let me go.”

He shook his head.

“Y/n, just come-“

“Let me go.”

You interrupted him. After a few seconds he listened to you, and let go of your arm. You stood still, contemplating if you should leave for good this time. Instead, you slipped passed him into his room. His suite was huge, it was more like an apartment really. Modern with expensive furniture and paintings scattered around the room. He had a lot of money, you knew that, but you didn’t know it was to this extent.

“You better explain-“

You were suddenly caught off guard by his strong arms turning you around and embracing you in a tight hug.

“You came back to me! I knew you would! Oh, I’m so happy to see you again, baby!”

He said in a boyish tone. It was a sharp contrast to his interaction with Taehyung. You weren’t able to immediately react, getting lost in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you once again.

“Stop it, Jungkook. I’m still angry with you.”

You said and wiggled out of his hug. He looked at you with hurt in his eyes as he saw you brushing off imaginary dust from your skirt.

“I understand. Sit, I’ll get you something to drink.”

He said and walked out of the room. You did as you were told, sitting down on his white cashmere sofa. He came back with two cups of tea, placing them carefully on the glass table before sitting down beside you. You didn’t say anything, you waited for him to say the first word.

“Just uh- please just listen to me ok?”

He asked and looked at you. You nodded.

“I didn’t exactly plan this. Taehyung was stupid enough to get caught and ended up in prison. I told my lawyer to get you on his case. I knew a case like that would be amazing for your career.”

You shook your head disappointedly.

“I’ve told you I don’t want your help. Why-“

“Listen, y/n. Please just let me explain.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, but you stayed silent.

“Anyways, after a while he confessed to me that he was in love with you.”

You watched his entire body go stiff at his statement. He clenched his fists in jealousy.

“You know I’m willing to go lengths for you to succeed, baby. But- I had to stop him. I refuse to let him have you like that. Especially when we weren’t even talking to each other. So that night I sent you all those messages.”

He unclenched his hands and put his hand carefully on your knee.

“I knew he would do whatever I told him to, so I said if he got you out of the case I’d get him out of prison.”

“So you asked him to jerk off in front of me?”

Jungkooks face changed drastically. He did not seem pleased about the new piece of information you just gave him.

“He did that?”

He asked, his tone had changed from apologetic to dangerous. You nodded. His grip around your knee tightened. You put your hand over his, to show him that he was hurting you.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

He said looking you straight in the eye. Another set of chills ran down your back. You knew he meant it. It was not a loose threat.

“This isn’t about him, Jungkook. You pushed him do it. And then you broke into my house, expecting to be treated like some kind of hero.”

You pushed his hand off your knee. He started staring into the air. A million thoughts running through his head.

“I don’t understand how you can’t see that your behaviour is insane?”

You stated. He was still being quiet.

“You need to stop.”

You said a little calmer, trying to comfort him.

“I did.”

He said and looked at you.

“I did stop, because that’s what I thought you wanted. But now you were the one that came to me.”

He caught you off guard. It was your turn to be quiet this time.

“I’ll always do what’s best for you, because I love you, y/n. I don’t care how insane I sound or look to you. But why are you here if you think that of me?”

You looked away from him, knowing you had no rebuttal.

“You called me an awful person, you told me you hated me. And I can take it. But I can’t take another rejection from you! I just can’t!”

He raised his voice now. He was getting emotional.

“I’m sorry.”

You said so lightly it was almost a whisper. He stopped ranting and the room got quiet.

“That’s why I came here. To tell you that I’m sorry.”

You looked back to him again. His eyes were big and filled with so much love. You had never seen him like that before.

“I’m sorry I said I hated you, and that you’re crazy and an awful person. None of it true.”

He nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. You became quiet again.

“Is that it?”

He asked carefully. You nodded, shifting awkwardly in the sofa.

“Yeah, I should probably leave.”

You said, taking his hint. Preparing to walk out and never seeing him again.

“No.”

He said, and shifted towards the end of the seat.

“No, not like that.”

He said in a hurry, and took ahold of you hands. You looked confused at him.

“I didn’t mean for you to leave. Don’t leave.”

He sounded almost desperate, clinging onto your hands. You nodded and gave him a short smile.

“What I meant to say is, is that the only reason you came here?”

You thought for a second. Was saying sorry the only reason you came? That’s at least what you told yourself. But at the same time you felt like you owed him more. You didn’t know what you felt. You had been an emotional wreck for months now.

“Yes.”

You answered. Trying to keep cool and not overthink the entire situation. You didn’t want to see him, you had to. Because you’re a good person. That’s all. That’s it. But it didn’t feel like it. It definitely didn’t feel like it. It felt like you longed to see him.

“You’re lying.”

You were ripped out of your thoughts by his statement. You shook your head defensively.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

You opened your mouth to argue back, but he spoke first.

“If it was a clear ‘yes’ you wouldn’t have to think about it. I know you better than you think, y/n.”

He repositioned himself so he could look right at you.

“Come on, ask me anything about yourself and I’ll tell you.”

You looked briefly at your wristwatch.

“I don’t know, maybe I should leave.”

“Just give me a chance, y/n.”

He said.

“If I don’t get it right I’ll let you leave.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him, but still turning more towards him, accepting his offer.

“What’s my mothers name?”

You asked. He gave you a knowing look.

“Come on, that’s easy. Give me something that isn’t on Google.”

You let out a small laugh.

“You didn’t say her name though.”

“Christina, now give me something good. Something deep.”

You smiled, but had to think for a second.

“When did I loose my virginity?”

His smile turned to a smirk.

“You were 16 at Mae’s birthday party. You were drinking, and her boyfriend August hit on you. He took you to her bed and fucked you right there. No wonder Mae isn’t your friend anymore. You’re a bitch.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. Deep down it was scary that he knew something so intimate in great detail, but for some reason you were having fun with his little game.

“Ok ok. But now it’s your turn, when did you loose your virginity?”

He let out a nervous laugh at your question.

“This quiz isn’t about me.”

He stated and pulled his hand through his hair. You tilted your head slightly downwards and looked at him through your lashes and with a pout.

“I think it’s only fair that I know your story, since you know mine so well.”

He smiled at you, but looked away for a few seconds. Contemplating if he should tell you or not. When you saw him shy away, you suddenly felt as if you were digging into something he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You said, and placed your hand on top of his. Your fun voice was toned down to your regular speech again.

“No, I’ll share it. No worries.”

He said and looked back to you. You nodded and turned completely towards him. Crossing your legs and resting your arm on the backrest of the sofa, ready to hear his story.

“My first time was around one and a half year ago, in your office, with the girl of my dreams.”

He said dead serious. You snickered at him, thinking he was joking. But he didn’t laugh.

“You can’t be serious.”

You stated, he nodded proudly.

“Why wouldn’t I be, like I said you’re my dream girl. Why would I waste my time on others when the only one I want is you?”

He asked rhetorically. You crossed your eyebrows in confusion.

“You’ve never had sex? Ever?”

You asked in shock. His image did not fit the virgin title whatsoever.

“Once. With you.”

You smiled, but shook your head in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious. You probably have girls throw themselves at you.”

His hand found your knee again. This time it was placed a little further up.

“The only one I want is you. I waited for you because I knew you would be worth it. Because I love you.”

He said in a low tone, slightly stroking the inside of your thigh. The two of you were close, so close that you were aware of the proximity. The tension in the air got thicker and thicker from the power of his last words. His face started moving slowly towards you, and you gave in. Meeting his lips. The kiss started slow, but he was quick to rush it. Grabbing your neck to deepen the kiss. You were suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what you were doing, and pulled away.

“We can’t do this.”

You simply said. Focusing on your hands on your lap. His hand went to push a strand of your hair out of your face.

“Why?”

He didn’t sound angry or impatient. He sounded like he cared. It was so much different from the first time the two of you shared a moment like that. He had really changed, and that was the problem.

“I’m not your patient anymore, y/n. I don’t want anything from you.”

You looked up at him again, and he caressed your face in a loving matter.

“Except for you of course.”

His face got closer again, but this time you didn’t kiss him. You abruptly got up from the sofa, and opted for looking down at him instead. You took a deep breath.

“You’re not doing anything wrong by having sex with me. Again, I’m not your patient.”

He said a little bit louder, trying to calm you down.

“I can’t have sex with you because I’ll fall in love with you.”

You couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth. You had been in denial this entire time, but you knew yourself. This would not end well. You couldn’t bare to fall in love with someone that would ruin your image and reputation. You just couldn’t. He looked at you like you were some kind of god. Like all his wishes were finally answered.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

He asked, you shook your head.

“I can’t let that happen, Jungkook. It’s going to ruin my career.”

You sat back down, leaning your elbows on your thighs and your head in your hands.

“I have done nothing but help your career. Why can’t you just trust me?”

He put his hand on your back, stroking you lightly. You looked at him again.

“Please, trust me y/n.”

Fuck it, you thought, before you caught him off guard with your forceful kiss. He was quick to get the memo, kissing you back with the same hastiness and lust. You found your way onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Once you were straddling him, you felt his already hard cock grinding against you. He was desperate for you. A muffled groan escaped his lips when your hand went down to remove his belt.

“Wait.”

He said as he pulled away from you. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were wet and plump.

“Let me taste you.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. His whole aura was so different from the needy rough man you remembered from the last time.

“Please.”

You got off his lap, taking your top off slowly. Watching him as his face turned in awe of the sight of your tits. His eyes were only on you as you shimmied out of your skirt, letting it pool on the floor. You laid down on the sofa, spreading your legs for him. He quickly removed his shirt, before getting on his stomach. His hand ran slowly down your abdomen, before he reached your slit. He split your lips with the same hand, before he dove right into you. You could tell he was inexperienced, but the rapid use of tongue on your clit sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. You let out extra pound moans whenever he would hit a good spot, and luckily he was a quick learner.

Once he had the hang of it, his hand moved down to your vagina, pushing two fingers in. Your back arched at the speed of the overstimulation. Feeling your orgasm approach quicker than usual. You grabbed his hair, pushing him deeper into you, preparing for your release.

“Don’t stop, Jungkook! I’m close.”

He moaned by your words, the vibrations making you tip over the edge. Your legs closed in on him, locking him in place. As you rode out your high. Once you had calmed down, you let go of his hair. And his face popped up from between your legs. He climbed on top of you, kissing you passionately. You tasted yourself on his lips.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.”

He said in between kisses and moans.

“I almost came just from eating you out.”

He started fiddling with his belt, but you stopped him. Placing a hand on his chest carefully.

“Let me.”

You simply said, before he moved off you. He sat down again, and you crawled onto the floor. Seating yourself between his legs. You looked up at him as your hands slowly traveled up his thighs. He was even more flushed now, his hair sticking to his forehead. You could tell he was impatient. Flicking his eyes between your hands and your eyes.

“Please, y/n.”

He uttered with a heavy breath. You smirked up at him, finally reaching his belt. You took your time with it as well. Once it was open, he was quick to pull down his pants and underwear. Letting his cock spring free. You got on top of him again, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. He jerked up the second he felt your pussy on him. His thick cock stretched your walls out, and a moan escaped both your lips.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of you this time.”

You said in a low voice, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands went straight to your ass, giving your cheeks a tight squeeze. You kissed him gently before you started riding him. His head fell back in pleasure once you started your movements. Bouncing up and down his cock. His hands dug deeper into your skin. He filled you to the brim, and every bounce felt amazing.

“Fuck! I’m not- gonna last long.”

He moaned and looked back at you. You then leaned your hands backwards onto his thighs. Your head fell slightly back as you moaned at the new angle.

“Y/n, slow down!”

He moaned as his hands moved to your thighs. Trying halfheartedly to stop you. But you didn’t stop. And suddenly you felt him coming inside you. His hips lifted you up, as he released himself. And when you felt like he was finished you stopped. You rapped your hands around his shoulders as you fell onto his chest. The room got quiet, the only sound being your heavy breathing.

You weren’t able to think about the consequences of your actions at that point. You only felt satisfaction and lust. And maybe even love…

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

[haddonfieldwhore]

dating ethan landry

nsfw mentioned briefly

this is garbage i’m sorry - not edited

🔪❗️SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 ❗️🔪

🔪❗️SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 BELOW❗️🔪

* your mutual friend anika introduced the two of you soon after you started college

* ethan was very shy and awkward when talking to you at first, but in an endearing way

* you had a few classes together and were both happy to know somebody / have someone to sit with

*

* chad immediately tries to set you two up together no matter how much ethan says you’re just friends

* studying in the library together

* sitting on a couch in the library, your legs in ethan’s lap as you both read your books or proofread each others essays/assignments

*

* the rest of the friend group figures out that you two like eachother before either of you do

* ethan would be nervous to ask you out, but one night at a party that chad had dragged the two of you along to, after a few drinks things started…. developing between you two

* the two of you were deserted by your friends and left alone in the kitchen with the alcohol, and a few shots later he finally gained the courage to kiss you

*

* sitting in ethan’s lap when there’s no room on the couch for everyone (and even when there is) >>>

* it just becomes your spot when hanging out with the group and no one questions it because they’re all waiting for the two of you to get together already

* he’s quite tall, so if your standing together he loves resting his chin in the top of your head/on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you from behind

*

* keeping your developing relationship a secret from everyone at first (his hand on your knee under the table in the library, flirty texting eachother when no one’s looking, walking behind everyone so you can hold hands)

* you both deciding it’s best to take things slow in case it doesn’t work out; not wanting to ruin your friendship

* you both fall hard though- your obsessed with eachother

*

* chad somehow not growing suspicious of how often you are coming over to their dorm to “study” with ethan (bless him)

* despite lack of experience before you, let’s just say ethan gets plenty of practice at certain…. extracurricular activities

*

* gently playing with his curls while he lays with his head in your lap

* not so gently tugging on them as his lips and teeth leave love bites across your neck and collarbones

* loves leaving his mark on you (bite marks, fingerprints, scratches, hickeys) even though you are still keeping the fact that you’re dating a secret

*

* leave scratches down his back- he goes feral

* not usually loud as not to alert chad to what’s really going on in his bedroom (it sure ain’t studying for econ) but will whisper the filthiest things in your ear

* he sometimes gets a little shy afterwards, his cheeks a light shade of pink as he holds you close

* assure him that he did a good job and he is fine though, kissing the top of your head as you both drift off to sleep

*

* you end up stealing ethan’s clothes all the time (it’s not your fault he ripped your shirt)

* or just waking up in his t-shirt after spending the night and not bothering to give it back

*

* once the ghostface attacks start happening, it obviously complicates things for ethan, since he does truly have feelings for you

* everyone finding out you’re together after you can’t help but pull ethan into a kiss when you reunite in the morning after the apartment attack

* ethan is just happy you made it out relatively unharmed, only a few very minor injuries (wonder why)

* mindy accusing and being suspicious of everyone but leaning hard on ethan puts a rift in your friendship with her

*

* being scared to die, but equally as scared to lose ethan

* staying at his dorm so you’re not alone and falling asleep in his arms, as he promises to protect you

“don’t worry, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

[littleredwing89]

FAMOUS - PART ONE

Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death threats.

A/N: So part one is finally here!!! Woohoo!!! Enjoy all. More to come soon xoxo much love xoxo @offendedfishnoises thanks again for all of your help with this - all the love xoxo

————

DEATH SHALL FIND YOU

————

The Gotham Sirens.

You never imagined that this would happen to you. Not in a million years. The group had taken off almost instantly and you’d become world famous. You stared up at the stage, the neon blue of your band's name glowing. Several technicians ran past you and smiled, altering the mic stands and taping down the wires so no one would fall. You loved the hustle and bustle just before the performance. Even standing on that stage in front of millions of people, nothing made your soul buzz like the beginning set up of a show.

You, Selina, Ivy and Harley had met at Gotham University majoring in Dance and Music. At first it had been nothing more than just a class assignment. Create a song. But Harley uploaded it onto Instagram and it blew up the internet. The next thing you knew, Mr Roman Sionis - headhunter for Dent Sounds Record Label - himself had arranged a meeting with the four of you.

And well, as they say, the rest was history. That was over 3 years ago now. It had been a complete blur. You were still catching up. You were no longer having to scrimp and save for cash. No. Now, now you had everything. Everything you’d ever dreamed of. Everything but your privacy. Especially after the meeting this morning with Roman.

——

“You’re not being serious are you?”.

You looked into the mirror whilst the make up artist finished off your eyelashes. Your manager, Roman, stood behind you with his arms crossed. A stern look stitched onto his face.

“Of course I am”, he huffed and his stare burned into you, “You’ve received another death threat and someone tried to break into your condo last month. You need more security. Something more personal”.

You rolled your eyes and the make up artist scolded you by smacking her brush on your wrist. You grinned cheekily at her before resting back in your chair, putting on your sickliest, sweetest voice, “Romy…”.

Your little nickname for him. It worked every time. He’d never allow anyone else to call him that. Just you.

“No”, he growled, “This is my final decision. You’re getting a personal bodyguard. I don’t want to find you chopped into tiny pieces”.

“How come Ivy doesn’t have to have one? Or Selina...even Harley doesn’t! So why me?”.

You didn’t need a bodyguard. You knew the second you got one, you would be kissing your freedom goodbye. They’d be with you 24/7. Your apartment would be shared. You wouldn’t even be able to sneak off to McDonalds for a McFlurry at 3am without having to confirm it with them. Or even worse, have them go with you.

“They haven’t had any psychotic stalkers”, Roman rested against the wall, sighing deeply, “yet”.

You scowled and refused to meet his eyes in the mirror. This was a complete over reaction.

“Look, I know you’re not happy but this goes way over my head. Mr Dent, the CEO—insisted. And to be honest Y/N, I think it’s a good idea. You girls are only getting more popular and that means more weirdos will crawl out of the woodwork”.

“Romy…”, you tried once more, turning to him and fluttering your dark, thick lashes at him, “Can’t you talk to Mr Dent?”.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, the muscles in his forearms contracting. You noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and silently wondered when he last got a good night's sleep.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, “But I agree with Harv on this one, I’ve already been in touch with a firm. They’re highly recommended…you’ll meet them tomorrow”.

He turned quickly and strode out of the changing room as his phone rang, ending the conversation abruptly. You could hear his booming voice bouncing down the corridor and you glared at yourself in the mirror.

Fucking perfect.

————

Dumping a wad of paperwork down onto the desk, Jason sighed and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew high profile clientele came with difficulty but the stack of paperwork Sionis had sent him was nothing short of ridiculous. They even wanted to know where he’d bought his new leather jacket from last month.

“Alright?”, Roy sauntered over with his own coffee cup shuffling some of the papers. He was awfully chipper this early in the morning. Jason hummed in response and grabbed a pen from the side beginning to fill in the required forms.

He’d started this business with Roy a few years ago. Dropping out of university was tough but it wasn’t for him. Jason remembered worrying about telling Bruce. What his family would think of him but they showed him nothing but support. Unconditional love. They’d both managed, with countless hours, to build ‘Outlaws Security’, into the most successful security firm in Gotham.

Roy’s eyebrows lifted upon seeing a photo of the new client, “Isn’t that the chick you had on your wall at uni?”.

“What? No!”, Jason bristled and shoved the photo of you back under the documents. He inwardly cursed. Fucking Roy.

“So, you're saying that if I look inside your office locker, I won't find a poster of her?”.

Jason heard the cocky smirk on Roy’s face and groaned in irritation running a hand over the front of his face, “Touch my locker and I’ll break your legs”.

Roy cackled loudly and sat on the edge of Jason’s desk, “Ok so you do still have it. Better not let her find it”.

“You’re a real jackass you know”.

“So I’ve heard...maybe she’ll sign it for you if you ask nicely”, Roy continued to mock Jason, making kissy faces at him.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you”, Jason scowled and turned his chair around pretending to look for some files in the cabinet behind him. Hoping Roy would get the hint and leave him alone.

“This must be like your dream job come true, pretty boy—better not screw it up”.

Jason sighed deeply and threw his head back in exasperation, “I need a new best friend”.

Roy gasped dramatically and held a hand over his heart, “What?! You love me and you know it!”.

“Whoever told you that was lying”.

————

[another-lost-mc]

Bedside Manner

Beel gets sick and both of you are in denial.

Beelzebub x gn!Reader

SFW // Content: (Domestic) Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to More-Than-Friends. Family dynamics, other demon brothers/characters mentioned, brief descriptions of minor illness. 4.9k words.

It’s not unusual for you to visit Beel when he has Fangol practice after school. You’ve taken an interest in his hobbies and he keeps you up to date with his practice and game schedule. Sometimes you leave the RAD campus later than his brothers; it makes sense for you to wait for him so you can both walk home together.

Today, you stayed behind to review instructions for an upcoming assignment. You can hear distant sounds from the Fangol field while you scribble a few notes into your workbook. When you’re finished, you wave goodbye to the professor and head outside to find Beel.

When you arrive, your attention is immediately drawn to a small group of players gathered around one of the bleachers. Someone notices your approach and waves you over; the frown on his face worries you.

You have a bad feeling already but when you get closer, you realize something is going on with Beel. His voice has a slight wheeze like he’s having trouble catching his breath and he looks awful. His face is pale except for the flush tinting his cheeks, and his skin is tinged a sickly shade of green. You don’t think all the sweat dotting his hairline is from practice, either.

His teammate pulls you aside. “He nearly collapsed during the last set of drills—“

“I did not!” Beel insists weakly from his seat, but the tremor in his voice is hardly convincing.

“—and we’re sending him home for the day. We don’t want to worry about him losing consciousness before he gets there.”

You glance at Beel and try not to panic. “What’s wrong with him?” He eats so much food but you can’t imagine it’s food poisoning from lunch that afternoon. Only Solomon’s cooking is horrible enough to upset Beel’s stomach, and he’s in the human world right now.

His teammate shrugs. “Probably just the flu. He should be fine in a few days but he needs to rest.”

You’ve heard of the Devildom flu, but Beel has never been this sick before and you’re more than a little anxious.

Beel sits with his head in his hands while most of his friends disperse and go back to their drills. The thought of walking home with him alone makes you nervous - there’s no way you can help him if he does pass out.

You touch his shoulder gently to get his attention, and you can feel the chills raking through his body. “Are you okay, Beel? Ready to go home?”

He looks up when he hears your voice, but his attempt to smile at you looks more like a grimace. “Yeah, let’s go,” he mumbles as he stands up on shaky legs. He takes an ambitious step forward but he stumbles, and he sits back down when his lingering teammates prevent him from falling over. 

Right - walking home alone is a no-go, then.

You look through your bag and pull out your D.D.D. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

The House of Lamentation (8) You: Is anyone still at RAD, or close by? Mammon: Nah, I’m on my way to a photo shoot. Leviathan: I’m checking out the new gacha machine downtown but I’m not far. Satan: I’m in the school library. You: I’m at Beel’s Fangol practice and he’s sick. He needs help getting home. Leviathan: On second thought, I’m actually very busy right now. Satan: Seriously? Leviathan: I don't want to die if Beel falls over and crushes me! Satan: And you think it would be better for Beel to crush MC instead? Lucifer: It seems like I should put parental controls back on the Akuzon account. Leviathan: Wait, I’m on my way!

Despite Levi’s initial protests, he arrives on the Fangol field not long after Satan does. They manage to keep Beel upright for the walk home while you continue texting Lucifer about his condition. Belphie is waiting anxiously at the front door by the time you arrive, and he helps his brothers take Beel to their shared bedroom.

You deposit your school bag in your room and head to the kitchen. Lucifer is cooking tonight and he happily accepts your offer to help (and your company); you’re worried about Beel and need a distraction. He tries to soothe your anxieties - it’s not much worse than a human cold, he’ll be better in a couple of days - but Lucifer’s words are a poor comfort to you.

You can’t help but think of Beel, one of the strongest demons you’ve met in the Devildom, literally brought to his knees before you by something like a cold. It’s more upsetting than you want to admit and you have no idea how you can help him.

Dinner that night is a quiet affair and it’s odd. Mammon isn’t home yet from his modeling gig and Beel is resting in his room; their absences are noticeable. The others don’t seem to mind, but you miss Beel’s vocal enthusiasm while he eats - he’s always complimenting the food and he’s so appreciative of whoever cooked that night. 

Lucifer sets aside a plate of food for Beel and you offer to take it to him. When you knock on his door, Belphie’s quiet voice beckons you inside. He looks at the plate in your hands skeptically, but shrugs and goes back to reading the book in his lap.

Beel groans and rolls over when he hears you enter the room. His eyes brighten when he sees you, but he shakes his head at the food you’ve brought him. You hoped he would be willing to eat something, even if it’s just a small amount. Belphie offers to dispose of the plate for you and leaves the room.

When you’re alone with Beel, you sit on the edge of his bed and hold his clammy hand in yours. He squeezes your hand back, weaker than you expect, and you realize you’re uncomfortably close to crying for some reason.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you ask him worriedly. 

He shivers under his pile of blankets. “Maybe some soup tomorrow,” he croaks. “I don’t want anything right now.” He doesn’t say anything else as his eyes slip shut and his head tilts to the side.

Belphie returns and goes back to reading his book, but you don’t notice when he glances at you occasionally from the corner of his eye.

You remain at Beel’s side until his grip on your hand grows limp.

You: Are you still in the human world? Solomon: For the moment. The meeting took longer than I anticipated and I have a few more errands to run before I return to Purgatory Hall. Why? You: Can you pick up a few items for me? I’ll pay you back. Solomon: No need to pay me back if you agree to have dinner with me instead. I have a new recipe I’d love to make for you. You: Oh. You: How about lunch at Hell’s Kitchen next week? I might be too busy in the evenings if Beel is still sick. Solomon: You drive a hard bargain, my dear. Send me your list and I’ll see you soon.

The next morning you head straight to the kitchen so you can start preparing homemade soup for Beel. It’s a recipe that you used to make for yourself back home. You hope it’s more enticing to him than the heavier Devildom fare his brothers might try to feed him; you want to avoid a repeat of last night’s dinner attempt.

Solomon did as you asked and bought all the human world items on your grocery list, including enough ingredients to make two large batches of chicken soup. You offered to give him a small container of soup when it’s ready, as a token of appreciation, and he readily accepted.

It’s supposed to be Mammon’s turn to cook today, but he won’t have to worry about dinner because there’s going to be enough soup for everyone. He got home late from his photo shoot last night, but you think he can still handle making a simple breakfast on his own.

You’re chopping onions, carrots and celery for a mirepoix base when Mammon finally drags himself into the kitchen. His hair is sticking up all over, and dark smudges from the eye makeup he didn’t remove before bed make him look like a very fetching raccoon. 

“Good morning, Mammon,” you say cheerfully.

He mumbles something that you think is supposed to be a greeting, and he starts making breakfast - sort of. He tosses a random assortment of whole fruits onto a plate and puts it on the table. He grabs a loaf of bread, looks back and forth between the bread and the toaster, then he unplugs the toaster and puts that on the table too.

“What are you doing?” you ask him curiously while trying not to laugh.

“They can make themselves toast,” he yawns. “I’m going back to bed.” He shuffles away and you can hear the faint sound of his door slamming not long after.

You decide to take pity on him and help him out since you’re already in the mood to cook. It’s not too much extra work to cut up the fruit he picked out and make a fruit salad with it. You make a pan of scrambled eggs with a sprinkling of Hellfire cheese. Finally, you put the toaster back in the kitchen where it belongs.

You’re buttering toast when the other demon brothers start to trickle in (Mammon excluded, of course). Satan makes a beeline for the coffee maker while Asmo offers to set the table. Lucifer doesn’t look impressed when you explain why you’re making breakfast instead of Mammon.

When they’re all seated at the table, you give everyone a head’s up that you're making a human world soup recipe for dinner that evening. Belphie looks like he wants to say something, but when you raise your eyebrow questioningly he just smirks and takes another bite of his toast.

You also mention that the other items Solomon picked up for you - a case of ginger ale in the fridge and a box of saltines in the cupboard - are off-limits. There’s a low grumble of complaints about that. But when you remind them that you helped Mammon make breakfast for them, they know better than to squander their good fortune.

(Lucifer makes a note to speak to Mammon about his abuse of kitchen appliances later.)

The Angels (3) Simeon: Good morning. Luke: We heard you’re making soup from one of your human world recipes! Simeon: Solomon told us about it this morning and he’s very eager to try it. Luke: Simeon wants to have some too. He and Solomon argued because Solomon doesn’t want to share. You: I can bring enough for all three of you. Simeon: That would be wonderful, thank you. You: You know, all this cooking has put me in the mood for some freshly-baked cookies. Luke: You got it!

While the soup is simmering on the stove, you visit Beel to see how he’s doing. Belphie’s been doing his best to keep him hydrated, but he’s still reluctant to eat very much of anything. He’s sleeping when you check on him; Belphie invites you inside but you don’t want to wake him by accident. 

“I think he was asking for you earlier,” Belphie mentions off-handedly when you’re about to leave. “I told him you were going to bring him lunch and he went back to sleep.”

You go back to your room and relax. You wonder why Beel asked for you, and you ignore how nice it feels that he did.

The Royals (3) Diavolo: It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to visit with you. Diavolo: Do you have any plans this afternoon? You: Beel isn’t feeling well so I’m helping his brothers care for him. Diavolo: That’s all the more reason for you to enjoy a well-deserved break. You: Let me guess - someone told you about the soup. Who was it? Diavolo: No one. Barbatos: Luke told us about it earlier, my Lord. Diavolo: One of the angels might have mentioned it in passing. You: I can come for a short visit after I stop by Purgatory Hall. I have extra soup I can bring for both of you. Barbatos: I’ll have tea and sandwiches prepared for your arrival. Diavolo: I look forward to seeing you.

The soup is finished and you’ve portioned everything into containers just before lunchtime. You label three of them for the freezer and set them aside. You have one large container ready for your friends in Purgatory Hall, another container for Diavolo and Barbatos, and the rest are for Beel and his brothers.

Belphie sends you a message letting you know that Beel’s awake and is willing to try eating something. You prepare a tray with a small bowl of soup, ginger ale from the fridge, and a handful of saltine crackers. You pass Belphie on the way to their bedroom - he yawns and tells you he’s going to the attic to sleep.

When you enter their bedroom, Beel is propped up with a bunch of pillows against his headboard. He looks a bit better than he did last night, but not by much. You set the tray on the nightstand and pull over a chair so you can sit next to him.

“How are you feeling today?” you ask quietly. 

He turns away from you and coughs. “Not bad,” his poor voice croaks. You can’t help but smile when his mouth twists into a pout at the way his voice sounds. 

“I made you some soup,” you tell him when you set the tray on your lap for him to see. 

“You made this for me?” His eyes widen a bit and he stares at you.

Your face feels warm all of a sudden and you look down and stir the soup to distract yourself from the sensation. “Of course. You asked for soup last night and this is what I like to eat back home when I’m sick.”

He looks stunned by your admission, like he has trouble believing you would do that for him, but he accepts the tray you slide onto his lap.

You explain the items on his lunch tray: the soup (“It’s sort of like a roasted roc soup”); the ginger ale (“It’s a little sweet and bubbly”); and the saltines (“They’re bland but easy to eat when you don’t have an appetite”). He’s so genuinely interested in what you’ve prepared that it makes the effort feel worthwhile.

You can tell there’s a problem right away when he picks up the spoon and tries to eat. His hand is shaking slightly - from hunger or exhaustion or both - and a little bit of the soup spills back onto the tray. He drops the spoon with a frustrated grunt and exhales; you hate the way you can hear his lungs rattle when he tries to breathe too deeply. You help steady his tray when he coughs.

He’s visibly frustrated and he looks away from you like he’s ashamed. “I can’t even hold a spoon properly, and you made this for me.” He grumbles under his breath about wasting your time and wasting the food you made him.

You motion for him to move over a bit, and he shimmies his hips so you can sit on the edge of the bed. You lift the spoon with a bit of soup, blow on it gently to cool it, and hold it in front of his mouth. You hope he doesn’t think you’re treating him like a child. You decide these are special circumstances because you know he’s normally a very proud and capable demon.

He doesn’t hesitate though, because he opens his mouth and swallows the soup down. You freeze in place, worrying whether or not his stomach can tolerate it, if he even likes it–

But he smiles a true, genuine Beel smile for the first time in what feels like ages, and you can’t help the delighted chuckle that escapes you. When he nods, you lift another spoonful to his lips. You help him slowly eat his meal. When you leave his room nearly thirty minutes later, Beel is sleeping contentedly and the dishes on his lunch tray are empty. 

Once Beel is fed and resting again, you deliver soup to your friends at Purgatory Hall and the Demon Lord’s castle. Luke hands you a giant tin of cookies before you leave, and Barbatos packs up the leftover sandwiches for you to take back to the House of Lamentation. You put your goodies in the fridge with the small hope that Beel might be better enough to have some with you in a day or two.

When it’s time for dinner later that evening, you return to Beel’s room with another tray of bland food and warm soup. You decide to take a larger portion of soup this time and hope his appetite has improved since lunch.

You enter his room and notice that Beel is awake - and still looks quite unwell - but he seems happy to see you. Belphie is nowhere to be seen.

You sit on Beel’s bed again and feed him spoonfuls of soup at a slow, steady pace. His throat doesn’t sound as raspy, and he tries to make small talk between careful sips of his dinner. It takes a little longer, but he finishes the bigger portion of soup without a problem.

You stack the empty dishes on the tray and stand up, but his hand suddenly reaches out to you - he can’t reach your arm, so he grasps the hem of your shirt instead.

“Wait,” he murmurs suddenly. “Can you stay for a while?” The look in his eyes is pleading, and you assume he’s lonely from being stuck in his room. Since he’s gotten sick, he’s only had you and Belphie for company. Most of his brothers have stayed away to avoid getting sick too, and Beel hasn’t been using his D.D.D. much since he’s spent most of the day sleeping.

Whatever his reason is, you’re happy to stay and visit longer if he’s feeling sociable. The joy that flickers across his face when you sit back down makes you feel shy all of a sudden.

You don’t talk very much though - he’s still coughing and he seems exhausted again. He smiles and thanks you quietly when you offer to get him some more water, or when you lean over and fluff the pillows propping him up. You sit in comfortable silence.

When he’s ready to sleep for the night, he rolls onto his side and stretches out his arm so his hand is palm-up next to yours. You lace your fingers together, and he squeezes your hand so carefully - whether it’s because he’s still weak, or if he’s trying to be especially gentle with you, it’s hard to say.

His eyes close and he starts to snore lightly, and he doesn’t hear your whispered promise to return tomorrow before you finally leave his side.

While Belphie and his brothers are eating breakfast together the next morning, you put your breakfast on a tray alongside Beel's and head to his room. When you get there, he’s already awake and sitting up in bed. You can tell immediately that he’s feeling better - his skin doesn’t look as green as it did, and his eyes seem clearer and more alert.

He sent you a message earlier that morning asking if he could try some different foods today. You made yourself some oatmeal with cinnamon and chunks of poison apple; you sliced the rest of the apple for Beel.

You take your usual seat on the bed beside him and balance the tray on his lap. You eat a few spoonfuls of your own breakfast first while he reaches for an apple slice and takes a hesitant bite; when he manages to keep it down, he eats the rest quickly.

When he's ready to eat his soup, you pick up the spoon out of habit and he waits expectantly, opening his mouth when you bring each spoonful of hearty soup to his lips.

“The soup is almost gone,” you mention casually while he sips his ginger ale and nibbles on some saltines. “Two big pots doesn’t last long when it comes to feeding a bunch of demons.”

He has a bashful smile on his face. “I still can’t believe you went to that trouble for me,” he admits. He nods towards the soup in your hands when he’s ready for more.

“I was scared when I saw how sick you were. I don’t mind doing things like this for you, if it helps you feel better.” The confession feels intimate and you smile bashfully. 

He catches your gaze when the bowl is empty and he’s finished eating. The look in his eyes is startlingly intense, but when you think he’s about to say something, he shakes his head. 

“I’m still hungry. Is there more soup left?”

It’s the first time he’s asked for seconds of anything since he got sick and you can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face.

“Of course there is!” You tidy up a bit and put all the other empty dishes on the tray. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promise when you head to the door. “Don’t go anywhere!” You wink at him playfully and rush off to the kitchen.

By the time you return with more food, Belphie is back from breakfast and stretched out on his bed. He and Beel are talking about him going to school next week.

“There's no need to rush,” you warn Beel gently when you sit back down on his bed. “Take a day or two off if you need it. I can always bring you your homework so you don’t fall behind.”

Same as before, you help Beel eat his second helping of soup. Belphie makes a surprised noise across the room but you don’t bother glancing over - you’re too focused on making sure you don’t spill anything on Beel or his bed.

What does concern you is the new flush spreading across Beel’s cheeks. Did he push himself too far this morning?

The bowl is nearly empty when you set it on the nightstand. You raise the back of your hand to Beel’s forehead, as pointless as that is - demons have different body temperatures than humans do. You have no idea whether or not his temperature is in a normal range, but you’re still concerned for him.

“I should let you sleep, I don’t want you to overdo it.” Beel looks like he wants to argue but you reach for his hand. “Take it easy. I promise I’ll be back with your lunch later, and you can text me if you need anything.”

You gather the bowl and turn towards Belphie who looks utterly amused for some reason. You wish he’d take Beel’s condition just a little more seriously. 

“He’s flushed again, can you make sure he’s not getting another fever?” you ask him. 

��Oh, I think he’s just fine,” Belphie muses with a smirk. You have no idea what that means, but you wave goodbye to them both and head to the kitchen to tidy up.

Once you’re gone, Belphie glances at his twin who is determined to avoid eye contact with him all of a sudden.

“So, how’s that ‘fever’ of yours, Beel?” Belphie asks innocently. 

Beel throws a pillow at his brother’s face with surprising strength.

Despite your initial worries, that morning seems to be the turning point in Beel’s recovery. When you bring him lunch a few hours later, he’s sitting up in bed reading a sports magazine. You plate up the remaining soup and saltines, plus a generous portion of fruit salad. You set his tray on the nightstand so you can go back to the kitchen for your own lunch.

He’s already spooning soup into his mouth hungrily when you rejoin him. His hand isn’t shaking like it was before, and you’re so happy to see him acting more like himself. He’s not coughing as much now, and it’s enjoyable to eat a proper meal together again.

Beel makes quick work of his lunch. His face falls with obvious disappointment when you remind him that the soup you made is all finished. You hand him half of your sandwich in consolation - leftovers that Barbatos gave you yesterday - and he wolfs it down. 

By dinner time, Beel is up and shuffling around the house - a bit slower than usual, sure - but you’re amazed at how much better he’s doing. Belphie comes to your room to see you while Beel showers in the bathroom down the hall.

“This is typical for demons,” he tells you with a shrug. “Once the worst passes, it doesn’t take long for us to bounce back.”

“I’m glad he’s feeling better.” For reasons you don’t quite understand, or maybe you do but you don’t want to admit them to Belphie, your eyes tear up. It’s like an emotional dam bursts inside you, and tears start rolling down your cheeks.

You think Belphie’s going to tease you, but he wraps you in a hug instead and lets you cry into his shoulder. “He’s lucky to have you,” he murmurs. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget it.”

House of Lamentation (8) Satan: How are you feeling tonight, Beel? Beelzebub: Better. I’m starving. Satan: It’s my turn to prepare dinner. Is there anything in particular you want? Beelzebub: A Gigadeath burger. Leviathan: LOL Beelzebub: With extra cheese. Satan: That’s not what I meant. Beelzebub: And a large milkshake. Beelzebub: Actually, make that two Gigadeath burgers. Satan: Forget that I asked. You: You should’ve known better. Lucifer: Indeed.

Nearly two weeks after he had the flu, Beel is rummaging in the kitchen for something to make for dinner. He just got home from practice and he forgot it's his turn to cook tonight.

Any lingering symptoms of the Devildom flu have long since passed, and he’s back to his regular club activities. He doesn’t get sick often which is why the severity of his initial symptoms caught everyone off-guard. The first day or two are still a hazy blur of disjointed memories, but there’s one thing he does remember with clarity above all else.

He ignores Belphie’s teasing and not-so-subtle hints about you, and your feelings for him, and his feelings for you. Beel tells his brother he doesn’t want to misinterpret how sweet and loving your gestures felt when he was sick; Belphie tells him he’s an idiot and that he’s in denial.

Sure, you took care of him when he was sick, but only because you’re a thoughtful person. You made him food because it was a way to show him you care. When he saw you tear up on the sidelines of his first Fangol practice after his illness, it was because you were thrilled to see him back to his normal self.

You’re just a friend, Beel thinks. A kind, warm, beautiful friend.

But he secretly likes the way you spend more time in his room now, and how you invite him to the kitchen and teach him more about your favourite foods. You accompany him when he goes shopping for snacks after school. You always offer to share what you buy for yourself, and he does the same for you.

On a particularly warm day, he took you to a diner after class and ordered a large sundae for you to split. You didn’t notice there was chocolate lingering at the corner of your mouth. He pointed it out to you before he did something selfish like swipe it away with his finger, or his tongue.

You’re just a friend, he reminds himself more and more often these days.

Beel doesn’t learn until later that you agreed to a lunch date with Solomon in exchange for the ingredients you needed to make his soup. He spent most of that night complaining to his brother about that damn sorcerer taking advantage of your generous nature.

Belphie just smirked at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he suggested that Beel make his move before someone else does.

Maybe he is in denial.

His stomach grumbles hungrily and he has to shove aside thoughts of you so he can focus on making dinner for everyone. He checks the cupboards and fridge but nothing catches his interest. He’s starving, but he’s not sure food is the only thing he wants anymore.

He opens the freezer and notices a stack of containers he doesn’t recognize. They’re pushed to the back like someone was trying to hide them on purpose. He grabs one and stares at the label written on the lid:

Beel’s Soup ♡

He puts the container back in the freezer and heads straight to your room.

The Demon Brothers (7) Beelzebub: Can someone cover cooking duty for me tonight? Lucifer: This is sudden. Why the change of plans? Beelzebub: I’m taking MC on a date. Mammon: Wait, what?! Satan: Have fun. Asmodeus: Aww, they’re so cute! ♡ Leviathan: Gross. Belphegor: FINALLY.

Read more: Beel Masterlist | Obey Me! Masterlist

[justwritedreams]

Dirty Love | Jeno

Captain Jeno x Reader, university!au Word count: 6106 Genre: smut, kinda crack, fluff if you squeeze it. Warning: Mentions of hickeys and explicit sex, oral sex (fem receiving) and fingering, reader likes spicy things and slept with Sungchan, second hand embarrassment.  MINORS DON’T INTERACT this is a +18 story! Author: Maari Note: Inspired by the lyrics of dirty love by cher lloyd. I thought it would be a good idea to combine these two requests and I must say I don't know what is happening to me when I write smut lol  Requests: Can i request for fuckboy jeno and fuckgirl yn who have nvr slept w eo and finally do + can i request for uni ice hockey captain jeno x reader fluff and maybe abit of smut

⪢ NCT Masterlist  

Y/N had just closed the door in complete silence while holding her bag and jacket in one hand, she was trying hard not to make any noise. A single noise would make Sungchan wake up and that would make her give explanations, everything she wanted to avoid in the morning.

The night before had been good, so why complicate it with the morning after?

She was about to turn the aisle when someone passed her and something hard hit her thigh bare by her short dress.

"Ouch!" she complained a little loudly and that made the person stop, revealing himself to be the captain of the hockey team carrying his heavy training bag.

Y/N knew that the entire structure of the team's uniform should be heavy but she didn't know it was that much.

She looked at the boy, his blue hair was darker because it was wet and falling in his eyes. He wore baggy clothes, a red sweatshirt and a white jacket over it, jeans and boots.

There was definitely no other university that had an ice hockey team full of handsome athletes like theirs. And no other team captain was like Jeno.

"I'm sorry." he said, moving the bag away from Y/N who was caressing her own skin to try to ease the pain, she looked away so it wouldn't seem so obvious that she was staring at the boy for too long. "I didn’t see you."

Yeah, clearly.

“Alright, Lee. I didn't see you either." she stood up straight again and noticed that Jeno was looking at her legs. “That uniform of yours is heavy, huh?”

Jeno laughed, scratching the back of his head and looking up to Y/N's face, his eyes practically disappeared.

“Actually, it's not mine. It’s from Sungchan.” he nodded towards his roommate's door and Y/N raised her eyebrows in understanding. "Is he awake yet?"

She understood what was behind the question, Jeno wasn't stupid, he had seen her carry her things silently so as not to wake up his colleague so he subtly questioned if she had spoken to Sungchan before leaving.

Which hadn't been the case. It was just one night, it wasn't going to happen again, she wasn't going back to the athlete’s fraternity, at least not to spend the night with one of the defenders.

"No." she shrugged. "I have to go, you know, I have an assignment to do."

It was a lie, all the tasks had already been handed over to the teachers. She just didn't want to sound so cold and heartless.

Jeno smiled slightly and Y/N returned it, staring at the boy for a while longer. She didn't want to hit on Sungchan's roommate in front of his bedroom door, but Jeno was so irresistible…

She shook her head to clear any and all thoughts that might start to appear about Jeno and started to retrace her initial path.

“See you, 23.” she said goodbye, smirking, already with her back to him and lost the way Jeno stared at her.

"See ya!"

[...]

“Sungchan can't stop looking this way.” Y/N's friend hummed, making her take her eyes off her phone screen and face the team that was training a little further ahead.

Noticing that what her friend said was true, but the tall boy looked away at once.

"I hope he's not thinking I came to watch him training." Y/N replied, looking back at her phone.

“And you didn’t?” the friend questioned and Y/N looked at her again, this time seriously.

"You know how it works for me."

Anyone at the university knew. She wasn't one to repeat the night.

"I know I know. Not involving feelings.” the friend rolled her eyes. "But I think you're wrong!" she tapped Y/N’s leg, which quickly retracted.

"Ouch!" she complained, earning a strange look from her friend. “It hurts.”

The friend then looked at Y/N's bare thigh, who was wearing black shorts that didn't cover the bruise that was on her skin, right where Jeno's bag had hit her hard.

"Where did you get that?" her friend's raised eyebrow made Y/N look at the team again, her gaze hovering over Jeno who was practically flying across the ice at a speed that was hard to keep up with, "What? Jeno?"

Y/N looked at her friend and saw that the shock was because the interpretation had been the complete opposite of reality, so she decided to explain herself.

“That's not exactly what you're thinking, okay? I bumped into him 2 days ago when I was leaving Sungchan's room and he ended up hitting the training bag with the uniform on my thigh."

Anyone who knew Y/N would know how absurd that story would be to justify a bruise on her body, which is why her friend looked at her suspiciously.

Hickeys, marks… all of these were normal for Y/N's love life, or lack thereof.

"What? I didn't sleep with Jeno.” Y/N admitted in disbelief.

Although it wasn't such a bad idea.

The friend looked at her more firmly, as if she wanted to read beyond what she said.

"But you want!"

"What?" Y/N shook her head, looking confused at her friend. "That’s not the point."

“You didn't immediately deny it. Any guy you don't even consider the possibility of sleeping together, you immediately deny it.”

Y/N blinked a few times trying to find the words but being caught off guard, her mouth just opened and closed as she turned back to face Jeno, who was now talking to Mark.

Okay, was Jeno hot? Hell yeah.

No single girl on campus would say no to him unless she was crazy. But there was just a problem.

"He's too nice for me." Y/N replied, watching him bend down to fix something on Mark's skates. “I only meet nice, predictable guys with practically a halo on their heads.” she complained. "I want more than that."

"What? Are you kidding me?" the friend laughed, catching Y/N's attention who turned to face her. “Jeno has slept with half the students in the medical building.”

"Him and the whole hockey team." Y/N rolled her eyes and her friend crossed her arms. "Well, except Winwin, but he's your boyfriend so he's not on the list."

“You think Jeno is too nice, really?” Y/N nodded.

"He's always so polite, so kind." she complained.

"I didn't know you were looking for Tarzan, Miss Jane." the friend mocked and the two heard that the training was over.

“Maybe I am!” Y/N shrugged and got up along with her friend who was now seeing her boyfriend approaching.

"You still haven't denied it." the friend remembered and Y/N didn't have time to retort as the team left the ice rink right where they were sitting.

Winwin left first, taking off his skates after taking off his gloves to kiss his girlfriend next, Y/N stood still looking for anywhere else to look beyond the romantic scene in front of her and ended up meeting Jeno's eyes as he was behind Winwin.

Jeno smiled at her as he took off his gloves and Y/N looked him up and down, no one matched the orange and blue uniform more than he did, but then she remembered how heavy the structure was and how hard it must have been to play with that squeezing you.

Well, she knew Jeno was strong but all her sinful mind could imagine was his wide hands squeezing her waist as he devoured her lips.

The rink had the lowest temperature because of the ice, even though the glasses were inhibited it was much milder than the temperature outside since it was in the middle of summer, but the ice wasn’t enough to stop the fire that up her legs and Y/N thought it best to stop imagining what Jeno would be like if he was rough.

However, as she came out of her daydreams, noticed that Jeno was staring at the bruise on her leg with a serious face.

Haechan yelled something in the middle of the ring and Jeno blinked a few times, looking up to meet Y/N's, she felt a shiver to see that his eyes weren't as kind as before.

It had something about them and she understood what it was, lust. Pure and simple.

[...]

Y/N cursed herself internally as she was dragged by some friends down the hallway of the sports building.

She promised herself that she would never drink again or bet with her peers.

Not that it would make any difference now, the headache from the binge she'd had last night was still there along with the massive remorse for having accepted something so stupid.

“You know if I get caught, I could get kicked out of the university, right?” she tried to reason with her colleagues but they just laughed.

"You're the one who said if you lost at strip poker, you'd be in the men's locker room for 5 minutes." Jaehyun remembered.

"I was drunk!" she said and he just laughed once more, stopping in front of the door.

“Just like everyone else here.” he pointed at his friends behind and she twisted her mouth. Out of arguments.

"You should have stopped me, like the good friend you are."

"I wanted to see if you had the courage." Jaehyun raised his eyebrow and Y/N slowly turned around to face him. “But if you want to give up-”

She looked at him with narrowed eyes, offended.

"No! You can mark it on your watch.” she took out her bag and handed it to Jaehyun who took it. “Let me know when the 5 minutes are up.”

Y/N took a deep breath before entering, it was the end of the day so most of the practices were over, hockey being the last one. The locker room was silent and she was grateful for that, the five minutes would pass quickly and she would be out of there soon.

But the dark and quiet place started to bother her, she made the commitment to herself that was serious when promised that she wouldn't drink anymore, couldn't go through any other embarrassing situation anymore, that had been enough.

She sat on the benches in the center of the huge locker room and surveyed the place without much enthusiasm.

“What are we doing here?” Y/N widened her eyes when heard Jaehyun's voice and got up from the benches feeling her heart go to her mouth and her blood running cold. “Actually, we are already on our way out. And you?"

"We were training a little more, we're going to take a shower" she recognized Haechan's voice and panicked.

Take a shower now???

Y/N looked at the showers and when the locker room light came on, she ran to the last block, ducking into the back so no one would see her.

Seriously, it wasn't possible!

“Gee, I'm exhausted. I don't know why you invented this training between forwards at the last minute. And only with me.” Haechan complained and Y/N blinked several times, trying to understand what he had said.

Forwards?

That meant…

"Because I'm the team captain."

Jeno was there too?!

Y/N brought her hand to her mouth to prevent any sound of frustration or anything like that from coming out of her mouth.

“Show-off!”

Y/N kept silent, although she thought the fact that her heart beat so fast could be heard by the athletes, she just paid attention to the sounds.

When she heard the shower, she wanted a hole to suck her in at that moment. This wasn’t happening to her!

She overheard the two of them talking about the party Yangyang was having at the fraternity in a few days and Jeno complained about how even at the beginning of the tournament they wouldn't have a break from unnecessary parties, but it was time for the shower to turn off.

A few more conversations and noises made Y/N realize that Haechan had already finished, she almost sighed in relief but saw a shadow approaching the block where she was, getting back on alert.

"Make sure you don't come back late." Haechan spoke a little louder, the voice a little farther from the room and Y/N saw Jeno's hand approach the pressure gauge and turn on the shower.

She cringed even more, trying to escape the water, in vain.

"Okay, mom." Jeno replied wryly.

Y/N widened her eyes as she saw Jeno's shadow take off the clothes he was still wearing, she practically merged with the wall and was now soaking wet.

She no longer knew what to think or what she could do to make the situation less awkward, so all she did when saw Jeno approaching was close her eyes and wait for the boy to scream.

But that didn’t happen.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" hearing his laugh, Y/N instantly opened her eyes and turned her head to face him.

Well, in that short moment she'd forgotten about the small detail that he was undressed about to take a shower. Right in front of her.

Y/N was willing to look at his face but something else caught her attention and not even her hand that was holding her mouth could contain her shock, the hand moved away from her face almost of its own accord and she was speechless while watched Jeno's body.

The mouth she opened and closed without making a single sound was all she could manage.

She knew he was defined, he was an athlete after all, she just didn't expect him to be…big. In all senses.

Her wet hair started to cover her vision and she pushed it back still unblinking and looking at Jeno.

She couldn't turn her attention to anything else even though she was completely hot inside from sheer shame.

"Y/N!"

She shook her head and with much effort lifted her gaze to Jeno's face, he had a sly smile.

"Huh?"

"Am I disturbing?" he put his hands on his hips and the movement made Y/N look back at the region.

She didn't want to look perverted but God, what a man he was.

"N-No!" she replied loudly, all nervousness being exposed and she stood up, feeling her legs ache.

"Are you going to tell me why you're in the men's locker room playing hide and seek?"

Oh sure, the bet. She had forgotten.

"It's just…" why the hell couldn't she take her eyes off his hips??? "Ask Jaehyun."

She closed her eyes for a minute, biting her lip, feeling really stupid and when she opened her eyes again, Jeno's smile made her shy.

She, shy, was being too much for her to handle.

"Ok." Jeno shook his head and then shrugged. "Are you going to take a shower too?"

Y/N swallowed hard and shook her head nonstop.

"No! I'm leaving." she spoke desperately and got out of there as quickly as possible. "Sorry!"

"Not for this."

Y/N turned to face Jeno one last time but all she saw was the boy taking her place, her eyes dropped from his shoulders to his ass and she bit her lip again as thoughts not at all pure took over of your mind.

But the shame she felt was much greater than the sudden desire for Jeno so all she did was run away, still hearing the boy laugh behind her.

Y/N stopped outside the locker room, leaning against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. At least the hallway was empty.

She was completely wet, and it wasn't just from the water.

[...]

“I love you, but honestly, did you have to bring me to this party?” Y/N complained as walked through the athlete's fraternity door.

It was Yangyang's party and the place was full, nothing new since the defender was extremely popular and mixed in all the groups on campus, but for Y/N to go there after seeing Jeno naked was embarrassing to say the least.

She hoped she could hide away somewhere until her friend was too busy with Winwin to remember her existence and run away.

"What? You're ashamed?" the friend laughed amusedly and pinched Y/N's cheek, who tried to get away.

"It's not funny!"

“Oh sorry, Y/N, but it is!” the friend continued to laugh as they walked through the fraternity.

Several people were already drinking even though the party had just started but Y/N ignored all the glasses and bottles, wouldn't put a sip of alcohol in her mouth. From now on, she'd be sober, so maybe she'd have control over the shit she was doing.

"Well, I didn't think he would react like that." she replied the friend and the two stopped near the stairs, the friend looking for Winwin.

"I tried to warn you that Jeno wasn't as nice as you thought."

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, she couldn't argue with her friend. She was right.

The fact that her friend was laughing the way Y/N arrived at the dorm, wet and with her mouth so open, became irrelevant when she told Y/N some things Jeno had done that she didn't know until then.

Scandals like him getting caught under the gym bleachers having sex with a law school senior, Winwin seeing him fingering a newbie between the psychology book session at the library.

Things Y/N didn't even imagine Jeno was capable of doing because she was too busy with who she slept with.

However, hearing from her friend that some colleagues commented on how rough Jeno was in bed had awakened the side of her imagination that she had been trying to put to sleep since the day she saw Jeno staring at the bruise he had accidentally caused.

She couldn't connect that image with what she saw of him, the polite smile, the flushed cheeks when someone complimented him. He looked so…innocent.

Well, of course the fact that she wasn't up to catch on university gossip had helped create this version of Jeno, the super nice version.

“Oh, hi Jeno.” Y/N's friend spoke loudly and waved her hand behind Y/N, who widened her eyes and felt her heart suddenly speed up, she didn't think to do anything but run away without looking back.

She went quickly to the kitchen as felt a heat rise from her neck to her entire face. The kitchen wasn’t as crowded as the living room and she leaned against the fridge, placing her hand on her chest to calm her heart and she closed her eyes, feeling wobbly legs.

With her breath recovered, she opened her eyes and kept leaning against the fridge, the feeling of being safe filling her.

“Hi Y/N.” she screamed when heard Jeno's voice so close and looked to the side, seeing the boy holding a beer jump back at her scream.

He was confused and she was even more so.

"You weren't..." she pointed to the door, trying to understand how suddenly he was there beside her, blinking a few times until she remembered her friend.

Oh of course!

It felt like the entire universe was making fun of her.

"I didn't mean to scare you." Jeno admitted and she laughed, perplexed.

"It wasn’t your fault." technically, it was.

Mainly because he was irresistible. If Jeno were ugly it would be a lot easier to control her hormones.

Y/N looked ahead, disbelieving herself. She wasn't that impulsive or overly thoughtful, she didn't tend to get attached to things that shouldn't be big.

Like, if she was in her normal self, she wouldn't feel shy about being around Jeno after what happened in the locker room but she was.

She could feel the tension between her fingers, she even wanted to say something to end that awkward atmosphere but she didn't know what to say.

That his ass was really pretty? No, out of the question.

"No need to be embarrassed around me." Jeno spoke first and she looked at him instantly, his face was calm and she could look better since his hair didn't cover his forehead like the other times. "I'd say we're almost even."

"What?"

“You saw me naked that day and I heard you moan that night with Sungchan.”

Y/N's eyes widened and Jeno drank the rest of his beer in one gulp, putting the bottle on top of the fridge, looking back at her.

"You heard?" she stuttered and wanted to beat herself up for it.

"His bedroom wall is next to mine sooo." Jeno shrugged and she wanted a hole to open up in the floor, suck her in until she was 70.

Y/N scratched her head, not knowing what to say and looked away.

All of her femme fatale image that she'd created over the last year had dissolved and it was all Jeno's fault.

“I just thought it was a waste.” Lost in thought, Y/N didn't notice that Jeno moved a little closer to her, his chest almost touching her shoulder.

She only noticed when turned to face him, his face was serious and his eyes fixed on her.

"A waste?"

"Someone with a mouth like yours" Jeno brought his fingers to Y/N's chin and lifted her face, bringing his own closer. She could feel his breath against hers. “can moan much louder.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling her legs tremble and she realized that Jeno would do damage with words alone, but she raised an eyebrow defiantly.

She wouldn't let herself be beaten by so little.

"Why? Are you going to call me to see the trophies in your room?” She questioned, bringing her face even closer to Jeno and their lips were inches away.

"I'll show you the biggest one." he replied with conviction and Y/N ran her tongue over her dry lips, making Jeno watch the movement carefully.

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she smiled knowingly and nodded.

Jeno reciprocated and took her hand, leading her out of the kitchen with him in justifiable haste. Y/N didn't care, in fact she kept pace with him up the stairs because she was just as anxious as he, she almost pulled him by the white sweatshirt he wore for a warm kiss in the middle of the hallway.

Jeno pulled her into the room and released her hand to lock the door, she smiled mischievously taking a few steps back.

“Why are you going to lock it?” she put her hands in the back pockets of the dark jeans she was wearing and Jeno turned to face her.

Jeno questioned with a look and all Y/N replied was a raised eyebrow, he got the message and left the door the way it was, approaching with long and slow steps, this only made Y/N watch him from bottom to top.

He wore white sneakers, neon orange baggy pants, the white sweatshirt and some necklaces. But it was Jeno's face that Y/N spent the most time analyzing, the blue hair was now a little faded and pulled back. She had a wide view of the eyes that stared at her deeply.

When Jeno was close enough to her, Y/N's eyes fell on Jeno's full pink lips, there was no denying that she was mesmerized but he didn't look too different from her.

It was time for Y/N to take a deep breath, feeling butterflies in her stomach, and Jeno advanced on her, pulling her by the back of her neck until their lips met for the first time that night. It was a strong and shocking impact, like lightning cutting through the sky, she grabbed Jeno's sweatshirt to keep her balance as her legs were weak as his lips moved against hers in a thirsty way. The two were in a hurry and the first kiss they would share that night wouldn't be the least bit slow, no, the desire they felt for each other didn't allow the moment to become sweet, it was almost animal.

When their tongues met, Y/N sighed and pulled Jeno's body against hers feeling like his pants were actually thin fabric and all that kept her from feeling the texture of his skin was that idiot piece of clothing.

A little desperate, she started to walk backwards and Jeno's other hand grabbed her waist and led her to the bed, Y/N's knees bumped against the material and she let her body fall back against the mattress breaking the kiss. Jeno lay down on top of her and Y/N took her hands to quickly remove his necklaces, throwing them across the bedroom floor.

"This will have to get out of the way." she informed him, making him chuckle lightly.

Jeno ran his tongue over her red lips and nodded before starting to kiss her neck, Y/N just closed her eyes and took her hand to his hair, tangling the strands between her fingers and pulling them when his tongue found her skin.

She didn't want to moan so soon but it was hard to contain the sound as Jeno dragged his teeth against her neck, so she just tilted her head to the side and gave him full access so he could continue to devour her skin.

“I hear you like marks.” he speaks softly next to her ear, which shivers. "Let's see how many you can handle tonight."

When she thought to speak, Jeno sucked the skin of her neck and her legs shook, the breath failed and another moan escaped, she only had the strength to grab his hair once more.

She didn't want to open her eyes, just feel what he was providing, but when she felt him pull away, she did so suddenly. To meet Jeno's eyes covered in lust and his fingers went to the hem of the blouse she was wearing, his cold fingers touched the skin of her belly lightly and he began to remove her blouse in incomprehensible calm.

Jeno moved, lowering his head to kiss every inch of skin he exposed as he took off her blouse and Y/N helped him completely, he held both sides of her waist and distributed kisses all over the region while she, already without strength, threw her blouse in some corner anyway.

Her fingers found Jeno's hair again and she continued gripping the strands as he seemed to delight in her skin. Every time his tongue found her red-hot skin, every suck and bite was having an immediate reaction in Y/N's below the belly, which was starting to get wet.

She was surprised at her own body but the devotion with which Jeno enjoyed every inch of her exposed skin was making all the arousal she felt speed up.

But she didn't want to be left behind, so opened her eyes and brought her fingers to his shoulders, gripping the sweatshirt tightly and pulling it up, indicating to Jeno what she wanted to do.

He lifted the torso, stopping the kisses, and let Y/N take off, she did it with some haste and the white shirt he was wearing underneath came out with it. She saw him smile widely when the torso was exposed.

Y/N threw the clothes away and brought her fingers to caress Jeno's skin, now she could worship every bit of his chest and noticed what hockey did to Jeno's body that was always covered in baggy clothes, she hadn't had the opportunity to analyze the boy's defined abs, because on the day of the bet her attention was on something else.

But now she not only could, she would.

Jeno wasn't overly muscular, but his broad shoulders stirred up Y/N in a way she'd never felt before. She ran her fingers over his collarbone and met his stiff shoulders, squeezing the spot and he grunted.

Wasting no more time, Jeno approached to initiate a new, more coveted kiss and she took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist, bringing him much closer. The thin fabric of Jeno's pants made Y/N feel in the heat of her desire that he was just as excited as she was, it made her bite his bottom lip and pull it to her as he growled once more.

“How long are you going to be teasing?” she asked as they moved away and heard Jeno laugh.

"Until I make you scream." he replied and moved his hips against hers, making her take a deep breath as she felt his arousal.

Jeno brought his hand up to Y/N's shin and pulled her leg away, ready to complain Jeno shut her up as he brought his fingers to the button on her pants, making her take off the sneakers she was wearing awkwardly. Y/N smirked as he lowered the zipper, his finger was so close to where she needed it, just a little down…

Jeno took off her pants in one movement and placed his hands on each of her thighs, spreading them apart so he had a full view, especially her wet panties.

"You will undo that little smile very soon." he warned and Y/N felt every muscle in her thigh quiver as Jeno lowered his head, predicting that he would pay attention to her wet spot, he antagonized her and brought his lips to her right thigh.

Y/N already felt like she was close to seeing stars and he hadn't even touched her the way she craved, Jeno's wet lips took care of her skin once more and so close to her panties, but he didn't give in to the temptation.

He bit and sucked and kissed her thigh until he was satisfied, then turned his attention to her other thigh. Jeno immediately went to the spot that had the bruise he had accidentally left on her skin and from what Y/N was feeling, because she didn't have the strength to keep her eyes open, he was bent on leaving another bruise there. Only this time, very well aware of it.

The weak legs, the heavy breathing and the fact that Jeno was with his tongue so close to where she wanted the most, made her moan louder, only in complaint.

She needed him, urgently.

"Jeno." She pleaded, opening her eyes slowly and without force. "Please."

She saw him lift his head, an expression of false innocence that made her panties even wetter.

"Please what?" he placed a kiss near her panties and Y/N felt her stomach squeak.

"Don't torture me anymore."

He stared at her a little longer and smirked.

"Hmm I don't think so."

"I'm serious, can you just-" Jeno interrupted her, bringing his finger down to Y/N's soaked panties and she groaned. "My God."

She didn't have the strength to keep her eyes open, but the sight of Jeno staring at the way his finger touched her was just too pleasurable.

Feeling wetter and wetter and her heart pounding against the ribs, he pushed her panties to the side and his finger found the place where she needed him most, pulsing for him.

She bit her lip to hold back the moans but Jeno was willing to make her lose all the super self control she had, so he took two fingers to get inside her and that's where Y/N got lost.

Closing her eyes, she began to moan more and more as he touched her deliciously. She felt her insides squeezing his finger and it made her even wetter, the famous sensation formed in her belly and she was already wriggling her toes ready to surrender to the pleasure when Jeno stopped.

When she felt him take his finger off her, Y/N opened her eyes in shock and confusion.

But she was almost there...

"What…?"

She couldn't even ask properly and saw Jeno bring his fingers to his mouth and suck.

If she hadn't been so weak, she would have pulled him into her right away.

Jeno kicked off his shoes anyway and his pants too, then took off Y/N's panties and she just felt anxiety take over her body before he brought his mouth down to her pulsing flesh.

The frustration she'd felt at having almost reached her climax had been replaced by more desire, she just gave herself to Jeno and grabbed his hair once more as he devoured her like a hungry animal.

This was what she wanted, no manners or finesse. She wanted a caveman who would make her feel drunk with pleasure, who would not only make her see the stars but take her to paradise.

A dirty love, she didn't want to be treated like a lady. Because the way he ate her and made her moan, said just that.

When she was about to reach her climax, Jeno didn't stop and her vision started to blur and she couldn't contain the scream that came from the back of her throat as gave her all to him.

Y/N took a breath and felt her lungs hurt but she was smiling drunk, still not opening her eyes and weak, Jeno moved away and she only heard a few noises until she recognized one of a package being opened.

When she had the strength to open her eyes, Jeno had already put on the condom and approached her again, she called him with her finger and he smiled full of lust. Y/N rested her hands on his shoulders as Jeno adjusted to enter her as she wanted so badly. He took a hand up to her thigh and brought it up to his waist, making her hug his hip with her leg as he stared at her intensely and Y/N was lost in Jeno's dark iris, he went deep in one go. Y/N cried because she was sensitive and because he filled her in such a delicious way, feeling her insides tighten Jeno, it was his turn to moan and she leaned their foreheads together, closing her eyes as he started to move.

The first few thrusts were light and Y/N searched for his lower lip with her teeth, biting and making him squeak.

"No, I want everything from you." she spoke softly, opening her eyes and saw Jeno frowning, it was clear he was holding back but that wasn't what she wanted. “Look at me, Jeno.” he obeyed and Y/N felt her whole body tingle. “Be rough to me, I'm not a china doll. Don't be nice, don’t hold back.”

Y/N saw a different glint in Jeno's eyes and he didn't say anything, he nodded, thrusting deep and hard into her.

Y/N groaned while smiling and encouraged him to continue the way she wanted, he did. Each thrust, each movement deeper in a wild rhythm. She asked for more and he delivered.

She moaned and he squeezed the fingers that held her waist.

She would squeeze him from the inside and he would say dirty things close to her ear.

Y/N scratched Jeno's back feeling the apex close by and he groaned softly, his fingers left her waist to grip the headboard and he continued thrusting until she screamed once more under him and called his name nonstop while she fell apart.

Jeno didn't take long to reach his apex and soon his body weight fell on Y/N's, he took a deep breath before getting out of her and out of the bed to discard the condom in the bedroom trash.

Y/N lay there trying to catch her breath, lying on the bed admiring him, feeling completely addicted to Jeno and when he got back into bed, lying next to her, Y/N turned to him, her eyes tired with a big smile.

Jeno also looked at her with a smile, a little more restrained, and unable to control himself he brought his hand to her cheek and approached her to give her a soft kiss on the lips, catching her off guard.

She reciprocated, feeling her stomach turn even with such a simple kiss.

When they pulled away, Jeno caressed her cheek.

"Was I a caveman enough for you?"

She laughed in agreement.

"But I haven't had enough of you." she admitted and Jeno smiled.

“We can change that, then.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

a change in place

cw: fluff, strangers to lovers, canon level violence, pre-atsv events, blood, needles, mention of food

wc: 3.1k

pairing: miguel o'hara x civilian!reader

It had started as a regular day, regular enough actually. It was raining hard, and your boots were getting wet and then there was a flash of purple, yellow and red and three people fell from the sky.

You were on your way to work, needing to get to work on time this once. The rain has been keeping you back all week- you’re not sure how your boss would take it if you’re late for the fourth time. 

“Make sure you clear the area of civilians!” you hear and quicken your pace. Whatever is going on, you want no part of it. 

You’re speed walking, trying to avoid puddles of water in the cracks on the pavement when a metal appendage is flung in your path. 

“Hey!” you yell, turning to the direction of the body to see the three spider-people tying whoever it is they’ve been fighting with their webs. 

One of them turns to you, black spider eyes blinking at you. There’s a little chill that runs down your arms as he leans his body in your direction, like he wants to hear what it is you have to say. 

“Watch where you’re throwing those limbs around!” you don’t linger for something else to fall in your path, stepping over the limb as you carry on your way. 

There’s commotion behind you, but you’re trying not to look. You don’t want another thing flung at you. 

As it turns out, not looking wasn’t the best decision because you hear a shout and before you know it your umbrella is falling to the ground and your feet are hovering over it as you’re pulled off to an alleyway. 

“Let go of me!” you twist and come face to face with the spider-person you’d reprimanded. “What’s your deal?” 

“Do you go around grabbing every girl by the waist to save them from imminent danger?” 

You can’t see the man’s expression behind his mask, but you assume he isn’t smiling by the tone in his voice, 

“Do you go around telling off Spider-people?” you offer a real smile this time. 

“When they’re not careful, course I do! That arm could’ve taken my head off.” 

They don’t answer; only jut their chin to the villain they’d been webbing bursting through the constraints and is charging down the street, trampling the cars that had been alongside you. 

“Oh,” you gasp, the spider-person putting you down. 

“You could’ve been crushed.” they say and you flash an embarrassed smile as the person stands on the ground. 

Before the man can say any more, there’s a little holographic woman that pops up on his shoulder that makes you gasp. 

“Are you a fairy?” you ask, reaching a hand to the woman in yellow who flits around the man’s shoulders and head.

“Oh no sweetheart. I’m this one’s” her thumb points to the man standing beside you. “AI companion, though I guess AI is a bit wrong, because I do everything for him. He’s a little temperamental.” 

You giggle at her teasing. He grumbles Spanish under his breath. 

“Help him improve his vision, I almost lost my head.” The man wants to argue, but you’re bending down for your umbrella and shaking it. You turn to him, “This was really nice and all but I gotta get to work.” 

He nods, watching you walk off. The woman returns, this time taunting him. “For someone so against love, you sure feel attraction pretty quickly.” 

“Lyla, scan for any more anomalies.” 

-

The next time you see the Spider-people, you’re on your way back from school. It’s late, too late for crime in your city- most everyone is asleep at this time. Except you, and your ten assignments that were due about an hour ago. 

You’ve treated yourself to an Earl Grey tea and three slices of pistachio cake. 

However, the Spider-people are trying to ruin it. You’re not sure since when your city had gotten so many super-villains that they needed to defeat but here they are again. 

“Watch out!” you hear, the man in the red and navy spider suit from the last time comes swooping down, webbing himself to the bakery you’d just left and pushing you back inside. Even the owner is shocked. 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you say to him, tucking the hair in your face backwards. 

“We do.” he seems a lot more tense than the last time you’d run into each other. 

“Is this one worse than the ‘Giant Metal Octopus’ from last time?” you’re quoting your local newspaper as you speak. 

He doesn’t say anything to your question, just taps at his wrist before a series of little robots pop out. They look like the prongs of a ‘y’ on a tiny ball. 

“These should keep you safe, don’t leave the panadería till I come back,” there’s no time to even say good luck before he’s gone. 

You turn to the old man as the little robots attach themselves to the door of the bakery, “He was strange, no?” 

It takes hours before they’re done, and after the day you’ve had, you’re barely able to keep your eyes open. 

The large Spider-man comes in, his robots hopping back to his wrists and disappearing in his watch. He addresses the old man first, whispering apologies about keeping him awake so long, to which the man responds with a flick of his wrist. “We all need a protector, right kid?” 

Then he turns to you, “Oye,” you blink owlishly at him as you stand, shoving your pastries into your bag. “How far do you live?” 

You wave off his concern, “Two miles from here, s’not far.” 

He follows after you as you leave the bakery. “If you’re going to walk me back, could I know your name? Just in case you turn psycho-murderer on me ?” 

The man scoffs. You can tell he’s deliberating if he should give you his name and before you can tell ‘nevermind’ he mutters, “Miguel.”

You introduce yourself, “Why did you become Spider-man?” you ask, looking back at the man who’s still in his mask. 

“Wasn’t much of a choice.” 

‘Okaay,’ you think, ‘not big on conversation.’

There’s silence for about twenty paces before you ask, “Why didn’t you go back to wherever you come from, like the other spider-people? Do you have a crush on me?” 

Again he scoffs, and the little woman from last time appears on his shoulder, “Miguel, there’s no more anomaly activity here.” 

“Anomalies? Like things that aren’t supposed to be here?” you ask and Miguel bats at Lyla who looks shocked when she sees you. “Are you supposed to be here?” 

He grumbles and you imagine his lips in a straight line that looks almost comical for someone as big as him. “Yes, I’m supposed to be here.” 

You pout, dramatised and exaggerated, “Here I thought you just kept coming back for me.” 

The little woman in yellow pipes up, “Well, he-” 

Miguel cuts her off, “Lyla, go away.” She does; much to your dismay. 

You stop before your apartment door and Miguel lets out a small chuckle at the door. It’s painted a blue that resembles his suit, and there’s a fairy on the handle. “Not all of us can get to your level of brooding mystery, Miguel.” you say with a bashful smile as you fiddle with the key and the lock. 

“Not judging, it just makes sense.” you hum, reaching into your bag. 

“Do you have nut allergies?” you ask, reaching into the bag as your eyes remain trained to his face to get his answer. 

He shakes his head, ‘no,’ and you brandish one of the slices of cake. 

“Take it,” you say when his hand doesn’t move. “As a token of gratitude.” you say with a performative lovelorn tone. 

Miguel lets another chuckle escape before taking it, “Thanks, coqueta,” his hand makes the slice of cake look foolishly small and that makes your eyes widen a little. You’re not sure if he can tell, but he teases, “Make sure you lock up.” 

You don’t see it but Miguel fights the urge to let one of his nanobots stay on your doorstep camera. 

For no reason really, just to make sure you’re safe. 

-

The next few weeks you delve deep into trying to track him down, trying to get even a crumb of who he is. You come up with nothing and then decide to take a different approach. 

Someone who can make such advanced tech has got to get the information and the funding from somewhere.

Again, you find nothing.

“Who is this man?” you mutter to yourself, chopsticks holding a potsticker near your mouth.

You take a bite just as there’s a knock on your window. Your heart is in your throat and you grab your phone and a knife you have laid on your coffee table. 

The knock sounds again, a little more impatient as you draw closer. As you look up, you spot a familiar red and blue suit and let out a big breath. 

Opening your window, Miguel’s eyes widen at the sight of the knife, “Most women don’t take well to strangers knocking on their window,” you say amused at the way he’s holding himself on your window sill.

“I’m sorry,” then as a second thought he murmurs, “You were asleep.” clearly catching your tired eyes. 

“Not exactly,” you lean towards him and whisper, “Are there anomalies here? Is that why you’re here?” 

Miguel almost cracks a smile at your stage whisper. 

“No, I’m here to give you something.” he pulls a box from his pocket. You’re surprised that his suit can have pockets, it seems stuck to him. 

“What for?” you look up at him, eyebrows drawn low with your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. 

“Repayment,” Miguel explains, “for the cake.”

You can’t argue when he opens the box and shows you a little pair of fairy wing earrings. “I highly doubt this was the same price of a two dollar slice of cake.” 

They’re delicate things as you peer at them in the box. The pair are almost holographic in colour, swirls and delicate lines indenting the wings- like those from the fairy illustrations you’ve seen almost about a thousand times. You’re enamoured by them; by the effort it more than likely took to get a pair like this. 

“No, they were a little over four dollars. Lyla spotted them for me.” 

Your face flushes, then you gather yourself, “So you’ve been thinking about me then?” Miguel indulges your flirting with a chuckle. 

He’s nervous though, or annoyed, you’re not sure you’re reading him right- but to aid your assessment, his hands are shoved into his pockets and his head hangs low beneath the mask. “They’re beautiful.” you say, taking them from his hand and inspecting them close up. 

“There’s a little amethyst stone on the end of it.” he says and you smile wide. 

“You went through all that trouble,” you say and Miguel frowns. “Do you want to come inside or are you just making your Spider-rounds?” 

“Spider-rounds?” He’s confused and intrigued by you at the same time.

“Yeah you know, your little patrol of the city to make sure everyone’s sleeping soundly and safe from the anomalies.” 

Miguel shakes his head, “I think you’re letting your imagination run away from you.” 

Before the conversation can go further, Lyla pops up, eye mask pulled up as she says, “Some Vulture thing just came through a tear in the arachno-humanoid poly multiverse,” as a secondary thought she turns to you, “Hey honey, might want to get inside.” 

It’s a blur, the moment between the Vulture attacking Miguel and him getting his mask on and pushing you into your apartment. 

You hear a lot of crashing, shattering and grunts. You’d never been close during the other battles, but now it’s quite literally on your doorstep and you feel the pin pricks of panic settle in your chest and fingers. 

If you’d had a little more blood pumping to your brain you might have stayed inside your apartment, hiding behind the door and the little fairy earrings. But your door is opened and you’re rushing outside to catch a glimpse of Miguel on the Vulture’s back claws digging into its back as he tries to get it to yield. 

He spots you, eyes widening behind the mask as he catches you walking towards him and the Vulture. 

“Get back in the house!” Miguel yells, the distraction enough to have the Vulture throwing him off his back and making his way to you as you hold your hands to your mouth as you watch Miguel’s body hit the ground hard. 

“Hello dear, why was the Spider-man visiting you?” The Vulture is on his way to you when you grab a rock and launch it towards his head. It hits him square in the forehead, but it doesn’t slow him. 

His wings are enveloping you in seconds, your screams ringing out as you’re off the ground.

“Pretty enough, maybe we could get a reaction from the Spider-man.” 

It’s not like when Miguel had saved you those last two times- this time your heart is beating in your throat and your fingers are trying to grip some part of the Vulture that will cause him pain. 

He gets to you first though, talons biting into your obliques and your bicep. There’s a burning sensation and you’re not sure if it’s poison or if it’s just the pain- but it stings like all hell. 

You fight and twist, trying to get a good grip on him. You pull on the feathers just under his neck and you pull. As his wings open, and you’re free-falling you get why people would want to skydive. There’s an adrenaline rush that makes you feel like you could actually fly. It makes you sympathise with Icarus; the boy had a taste of a freedom that’s usually not afforded to humans and it’s freeing in a way that makes you accept the splat that’s going to be you hitting the pavement. 

Miguel doesn’t let it happen.

His nanobots form a blanket on the ground, holding you as he rushes off to capture the Vulture. 

“Lyla, call Margo and tell her open the multiverse anomaly receiver.” 

You don’t hear much of what her response is because your hand is covered in blood as you press it to your side. 

“Coqueta, pensé que dije que me quedara adentro?” I thought I said to stay inside? Miguel’s hand moves to his watch, giving new instructions to his nanobots that mould to your open wounds. “You have a hard time listening, don’t you?” 

You look up at him, breathing harshly, “Sometimes pretty people distract me. I thought you said, ‘For sure come outside, I need help,’ it’s easy to mix up the words.” 

“You don’t even know what I look like,” He points out and watches you roll your eyes as best as you can in your current position, “Hold on to me.” He thinks better of the simple instruction and lifts his mask up to look at you, “I mean exactly what I said. Hold on to me.” 

Swinging with an open wound wasn’t as nice as the other times. This time you could tell Miguel was very conscious of where his hands were and how much pressure he was applying to your body.

You're wherever Miguel stays, and it looks very him. The room he takes you to is full of dark reds and blues, matching his suit completely. “Did you want to camouflage in your own office?” you’re a little breathless as you speak, body tired and growing even more tired as you lose more and more blood. 

Miguel doesn’t say anything, he just clears a table and lays you on it. “Don’t scream or anything. The other Spider-people are asleep.” 

“There’s more of you?” 

He gives one deft nod and then digs around his desk till he pulls out a first aid kit. 

Your eyes are fluttering shut and Miguel notices your breathing getting worse. 

“Don’t close your eyes.” he instructs, tapping your cheek lighting to get you to open your eyes again. 

“I’m tired,” you groan, jolting away from his hand on your hip. You melt into it when you open your eyes and find Miguel staring intently at you. “You could’ve left me at the hospital.”

“And explain your wounds how?” he holds an antiseptic cloth in his hand. “This might sting.” you nod, biting your lip as the cold cloth presses against your side.

“Fuck,” you murmur, clenching your fists as he finishes cleaning the blood. Miguel tries to distract you but talking to strangers isn’t really his strong suit. 

“Is this your first time getting stitches?” he asks and you hum- a broken little sound as the needle pierces your skin. Miguel feels awful at the sound, “I’m sorry, it’s going to pinch the whole way through.” 

You nod, trying not to focus on the way the needle pinches on your side with every stitch. “Do you have to stitch yourself a lot? Is that why you’re good at this?” 

Miguel doesn’t say anything to your question, just ponders the way you put on a brave face as he closes the stitch. 

The second time the needle pierces your skin you feel your head spin, “Think I’m gonna pass out,” you say and Miguel frowns. 

You hadn’t looked that bad to Miguel, but he feels his mistake fester and feels the way it can all go wrong so quickly. 

“Lyla, get her vitals up on the screen,” he instructs, hoping the nerves aren’t reflected in his voice, watching as your blood pressure drops. “Fuck,”

You go to say something but Miguel stops you, “You’ll have to stay here tonight. There’s no way you’re going back to your apartment.” 

Your eyes feel heavy as you look at him, “Okay,” you twist to lay flat again but the movement seems to have taken the last bit of energy from you. “I’m sorry.” Your bones liquify and your breathing is even and Miguel swears lowly. 

His chest feels heavy and achy.  

“Looks like you’re getting bedside manner training,” Lyla coos as she finishes displaying all your vitals. 

“I just don’t want her to die here, Lyla. When she’s a bit more stable I’ll take her to my room.” Miguel uses a gentle hand to brush your hair from your face, and he takes a moment to let his affection guide him as his thumb strokes the slope of your nose then the curve of your lip.

“You won’t die, no one else is dying,” the words are whispered as he finishes sewing you up, taking his time in cleaning the wound before sitting back in his seat, just watching your vitals till they’re good enough for him to move you to his room.

[xreaderbooks]

All I breathe (2)

Pair: Azriel x Vanserra Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: language, violence, mentions of abuse, trauma, and torture

Summary: Could a mission to Y/n’s childhood home, the Autumn Court, spark a friendship between the night courts spymaster and the newest emissary? Or will they let their hatred come between, what could be, a strong bond?

A/N: I made Nuan from ACOWAR heavily OC in this, I haven't read the books in so long so please forgive any reference mistakes. I haven't read ACOSF either so keep that in mind, I did try to do my research for storyline purposes when it comes to the first 4 books. I also do not know how to describe dresses very well lol. Send me a message or comment if you want to be tagged in future parts.

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

An Illyrian bastard! you could not stand him. He was a contemptuous brute as you knew most Illyrians were. Cassian and Rhysand were just fine, if only he turned out more like his brothers. Although the comment the former had made had you reeling. In no world do you see yourself sharing a bed with the Shadowsinger. What was worse was knowing the days to come were going to be filled with hours of what had just occurred. In the safety of your room, you had released the flames that begged for freedom, letting them kindle on your hands, careful not to get too close to the furniture.

The power you and your twin had shared assuming it had come from your mother's distant bloodline. Your mother was another factor that you had thought of constantly during your stay at this new court. While you dealt with your own struggles mentally, you and Lucien had a better life here in Velaris, you were free from all the males who once dominated your life. You couldn’t say the same for your poor mother. She was the one person you looked forward to seeing.

“He’s not right you know?” A smooth casual familiar voice echoed from behind you. Your power jolted, letting out a blast of controlled flames in your hands.

“I could have burned you, you idiot!” You shoved your brother away from you once you recovered from the shock.

“No, you really couldn’t have.” He chuckled. There Lucien stood a few feet behind you, he just left yesterday morning, there was no reason for him to be back so early.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You crossed your arms and shuffled closer to your bed, sitting on the edge.

“I heard Rhysand gave you a tough assignment, with an even tougher partner.”

“Do not call him my partner and he’s weaker than any of you give him credit for,” You snarked back.

Lucien put his hands up in surrender, “Relax I’m just here to ease the tension.”

“Like you ever,” You glared at him playfully.

“He has a way of making you tense so easily, Sister.” Lucien sits beside you on the edge of the end of your bed. “Despite your hatred for him, you need to place your trust in him fully while you’re there.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” You put on your best puppy dog-like pleading eyes, Lucien stopped falling for it once you both came to an age where life was not so easily bought by a sweet smile or those perfect doe eyes you were able to mimic.

“I would if I could, I have business elsewhere” He ruffled your hair pushing your head away lightly when you scowled at him. “Important business in the mortal realms of all places.”

“Oh please, you can feign annoyance all you want but you’ve found an interest there.”

“I don’t have much keeping me here anyway Y/n, better to keep busy.” A sad disposition had formed within him whenever he was near Elain, he couldn’t do more than he was already doing to make Elain comfortable around him.

The words stung, and suddenly the statement Azriel made didn’t seem so far off the truth. You knew you could make yourself useful enough to be of value but what did any of that mean when your own twin couldn’t find your company worthy. Obviously, he did have places to go and people to meet but you did too and if he ever needed you, you would drop everything to be there for him. The scar on your left cheek was a testament to that.

You sat there side-by-side for a couple of minutes, enjoying each other's company in silence. Lucien tapped your knee twice before declaring he walk you out before your journey. He wrapped a loose arm around your shoulders, “I will be here when you get back.” He squeezed you into his side.

Reaching the last step Azriel was there waiting for you, he gave Lucien a nod before looking away to give you and your brother privacy. You squeezed his middle, “You better.”

He gave you a kiss on your forehead, “Stay safe, sister.”

“Goodbye brother,” You whispered back to him before he disappeared into thin air. Cassian came out of the kitchen and nodded for you to come to him.

Once in the kitchen Cassian peeked out of the door and spoke in a hushed tone, “Listen, I know it’s gonna be hard but the only way this plan will work is if you both find a way to set aside your differences and learn how to communicate.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair giving him an exasperated look, you thought he was going to give you some advice or something more useful than a lecture. “Unlike him, I believe I can be civilized. Besides we’re about to have plenty of bonding time.”

You caught him wince at the word bonding, “Let’s hope so.”

“Was that it?” You asked. Cassian hummed in response and with a finger flicked your head up by your chin.

“Remember Y/n, don’t hesitate. Hesitate and you're dead.” The same advice he gave you throughout training, a feat you had consistent trouble with; hesitation. You were decent, despite being out of shape with the lack of training and with what little you knew of combat. Illyrian training was different than what you were used to but it was better and you learned enough to be of use if you were needed. Maybe a little clumsy and lacked some confidence in your skills but in a life-or-death situation you expected your survival instincts would kick in.

He guided you to where Azriel was sitting on the couch, fiddling with his knife.

~~~

Winnowing to the dawn court went smoothly. You and Azriel winnowed separately, neither of you willing to touch each other, opting to travel alone rather than conserve energy to save time. The first big jump had you stopping for a break at the Day Court, you felt your power falter, the surge of fire from earlier draining you a little. The law of your power, where one of your powers is strong the others weaken.

You stopped by a lake for water, careful of your surroundings. A quick minute stop and when you had winnowed away to the point on the other side of the border where you knew to meet Azriel, he had given you an earful.

“Where were you?” His tone was nothing short of accusatory.

“I felt like I needed a short break so I stopped for some water,” You spoke casually so as not to alarm the always-on-edge spymaster. It took a toll on your patience but you needed him to be calm.

His eyes were narrow as he stared you down, “Where?”

“Near Day Court border Azriel, Where else?”

“Specifically where did you stop for water?” He pushed, “Shocking there were no sentries nearby.”

“I assure you whatever your mind conjured up about my whereabouts, is not true.”

“I just find it curious how you were not intercepted,” He crossed his arms and tilted his head “unless there is something that you’re not telling me.”

You were beginning to feel anxious by his interrogation, you didn’t have anything to hide but this felt familiar in the ways your brothers would question you after a night out or worse when you were on your little missions for them. Tamlin would do the same, jealous even though you knew he never truly loved you. Even when he had Feyre.

“I told you all there is to know,” You grit your teeth. “We’re wasting time on this useless topic when we would have been at Dawn already.”

“I don’t trust you.” He begins to walk in the direction of the border of the Dawn Court.

“Oh really?” Your voice is frivolous as you follow him, “I hadn’t gathered that. I can feel your shadows, they are not as obscure as you think they are. Even so, I have nothing to prove to you Shadowsinger.”

His jaw clenches, “You somehow have fooled everyone in my court that you are innocent but I will find a way to break you Firewielder.”

“And you will fail,” You stop walking when you step in front of him, blocking his way. “You think of me as some villain Azriel when I am just someone who is trying to get by in whatever way, whatever place I can. That is all I have been trying to do, all I have ever done. Gods, if your High Lady could forgive me, why can’t you?”

“You have caused my High Lady enough harm,” He says simply and starts to walk again but you block his path. “You do not deserve the forgiveness, Rhysand and Feyre have so graciously granted you.”

“I have paid for my sins just as I’m sure you have and will continue to do so, I do not need a constant reminder of my fuckups any more than you do.” Your words were like venom, you may not know all of what the Shadowsinger was made of but the whispers throughout the world of what he does to people, rumor or no- you knew would haunt him til the end of his days. “You are no better than I am Spymaster, you should do well to remember that next time you sink that knife into someone’s flesh.”

An astonished look featured on his chiseled face, you’d wager no one but his brothers dared to speak to him in such a way. You weren’t one to speak so flippantly, but Azriel brought out a side of you that you had to admit you reveled in. You hadn’t felt as strong as when you let all your anger out on him. Your brothers, your father, and Tamlin had made you cower into yourself so much so that you didn’t dare argue. Azriel lit a fire within you that fueled you to shed the weaker parts of your soul and fight back.

~~~

You were within the walls of the Dawn Court castle only minutes after your discussion with Azriel. Not a word was spoken after you said your peace, you stood next to each other with a generous amount of space between you as you waited for someone to attend to you at the front steps of the palace.

A friendly face appeared from behind the doors urging you both to come inside, the healer of the Dawn Court was a long-time friend of yours. You hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years yet her countenance was still the same. She hugged you in greeting and gave the Shadowsinger a nod.

“The High Lord is otherwise engaged unfortunately but he sends his regards and me of course,” Nuan clutched your arm that was already looped around hers. “I’ll be showing you to your rooms.”

“Thank you,” You smiled. Azriel repeated what you had said and followed close behind you. She guides you through a series of hallways with large pillars framing the view of the mountains.

“It’s not a problem, though I do ask that you join me for dinner tonight.” She pauses in front of a door, she’s still holding your arm so you assume this is Azriels room. “Both of you, it’ll be at that restaurant in town that we used to go to Y/n, you know the one.”

You nodded with pursed lips, “Yes, I do but I’m sure Azriel has other ideas on how he’d like to spend his night.” You tried to hint at her to leave him alone, you needed a break from him and his attitude.

“I’ll be there.” Was all Azriel said before bowing his head at her and closing himself in his room for the night.

Nuan raised her brows at you with a slightly agape mouth, dragging you through the long corridor lined with near-opalescent golden stone pillars. Once she had shown you your room a couple of doors down from Azriels, she shut the door behind her. “I had to give you this room so that I can talk to you without him hearing, Cauldron that male is astonishingly gorgeous.”

You snorted, “For a bat.”

She placed her hands on her hips, “Now I know damn well you have taste, Y/n and I know that you wholeheartedly agree with me.”

“I might have once upon a time, I’ve changed.” You smirked and strolled around the room, taking it all in. Your room had a balcony overlooking one of the many gardens, you would have chosen to stay at the Dawn Court if given the opportunity.

“Surely not because of the husband!” Nuan gasped. She reminded you of the one you were fake married to, Fae cannot lie but when one is desperate, the loopholes you find are wild.

You raised an eyebrow at her dramatics, “No, of course not.”

She walked toward you and reached out with her mechanical hand tracing the scar on your face, “Do you think he is that superficial? I have seen the scars on his hands Y/n, he is beautiful but not completely unmarred.”

“I forget how forward you are Nu,” You stepped out of her reach. “Have you heard the news of the faebane? It’s traveling all across the lands, the reason why we’re here.”

She nodded grimly, “Yes, I have heard but my information is limited. And you’re deflecting but that’s no matter, we shall continue that topic at dinner.”

“For an alchemist, you sure do like to gossip.” You teased, “You should seek out Azriel before dinner to discuss the faebane situation.”

“Why do you think I’m friends with an emissary? you make the most pleasant company for gossip.” She reached for the door handle and slipped out of the room.

~~~

You forgot how free-flowing Dawn Court fashion is, as you dressed you felt yourself grow self-conscious. The dress exposed your thighs, arms, and stomach with shibari-like knots around the torso and neck with layered sheer nude material covering. A huge difference from what you were wearing before. You reminded yourself of the fact that the fae of the Dawn Court were not judgmental people and they made dresses like this for all shapes and sizes and they saw every being as radiant. They were peaceful and kind and as you walked into the restaurant, you and Nuan had found one night, Azriel was sitting there in conversation with the dark-haired beauty.

Her dress was similar to yours, and her upturned eyes and olive-toned skin were complimented by the lavender color she was wearing. Azriel was talking intently, the loud chattering of everyone around you clouded your ability to hear what he was saying. Nuan was right, he was gorgeous. Beautiful in a way you could not compare to a male or female, he was otherwordly.

You scolded yourself mentally, as beautiful as he may be, his personality was not. His calculated, smooth-toned, encapsulating speech- your mind wandered again. You could not catch a break from him. Mentally or physically and you were sick of it. With a huff, you lifted the hem of your dress so that it would not catch onto your heel and strutted over to the table where Azriel was out of his chair and holding it out for you to take his place.

In the time you took to admire him from the entrance, you failed to see that they were sitting at a table for two. There was room for two more but you’d have to steal a chair from another table and he had given his chair to you. Your eyes flickered from the chair to him and hesitantly took a seat, he tucked you into the table, and you didn’t miss the way Nuan’s lips turned up on one side.

He pulled up a chair and sat. A Cheshire grin spread upon Nuan’s face, immediately nerves took over you.

“Now that we’re done exchanging information,” She nodded once to Azriel and directed her attention to you. “Y/n about that husband, how is he?”

Your jaw ticked, “I wouldn’t know, I don’t speak to him.”

She hummed, “Interesting. And your brother is he well?”

“Yes, he is, though I suspect you know that considering he visits you often.”

Her laugh came out in a bark, Azriel's eyes and shadows watched you two in a dance, silently observing your postures and hidden messages. He wouldn’t understand the game you and Nuan played, especially not the one Nuan was playing right now, you were beginning to lose track of yourself.

“So Tamlin is completely out of the picture now?” She went back to her original target. You coughed a little bit of the water you sipped a second before she asked. “No, Nuan.” You cursed. “I live in the night court now, everything's changed.”

“Just curious, Y/n/n-” She said lightheartedly. “Do you live there with him?” She glanced at the male sitting next to you. So this is what she wanted to know.

Azriels eyes widened, “Absolutely not!” You both exclaimed at the same time, creating looks coming from nearby tables.

“Apologies, really I thought you two were together, possibly in secret. I got a sense that you both were involved, please forgive me.” Nuan’s cheeks reddened as she stammered her apology.

You were entirely upset knowing that she was embarrassed by her display. You switch the topic as smoothly as you could, asking about how the faebane works and if there was any way she could create an antidote without knowing the exact ingredients in the newer version. She answered each question with ease, Azriel asked a few of his own and finished up the conversation they were having earlier about the theories on who could have made it. At that time your dinner was cleared, and the three of you lingered to pay for your meal.

“Excuse me, I believe I see a patient of mine who isn’t doing what he’s supposed to-” Nuan rushed out of her seat to an older-looking male.

You caught Azriels stare when you turned back into your chair. He looked pensive as he opened his mouth to speak, “How did you and Nuan…”

“Meet? Under the mountain.” You responded though you weren’t so sure why considering you still wanted to be petty for his interrogation. “She healed and made Lucien's eye, also helped me heal when I got the scar.”

A few moments of silence.

“I’d like to-” He cleared his throat “I’d like to apologize for earlier.”

Your eyes search his in suspicion, he continues. “I should have believed you. My shadows told me that you were speaking the truth and I didn’t believe you.”

“I have had enough overbearing males in my life dictating my life and questioning my every move without you being added to the list.”

“I’m trying Y/n,” He sighed clenching the table napkin.

“By telling me that your shadows tried to plead my case and even then you wouldn’t believe me?”

“When you put it that way.” He breathed out a laugh, the closest one you’ve ever heard from him that was meant for your ears. It was a small gesture, one that did not go unnoticed by you. Around you, he was always so tense.

“What is it then?” You inquire, “Do you hate me or could we call a truce?”

“As if you could hold your tongue for long enough for me not to hate you.”

You allowed yourself a small smile, “You are truly unrelenting, if this is how you are with me I wonder how are with the people you bring to your chamber.”

“You talk of my work with so much ease,” He grimaced. “You wouldn’t be able to actually stomach it.”

The humor that hung in the air was gone, you sensed a challenge. “I can’t do what you do but I am not afraid of you Shadowsinger.”

His hazel eyes beheld yours, exploring them, you weren’t sure what he was searching for but the intensity with which he stared unnerved you. “If you weren’t the sister of the male I despise the most and if you weren’t once married to the one who caused my lady so much grief, I could be inclined to like you.” His smooth low toned voice was hypnotic.

You reached for your glass of wine, the energy too much for you to take sober taking a sip before replying “If you weren’t such an insufferable bastard, I could be inclined to say the same.”

“I still don’t trust you,” Azriel said slyly.

You rolled your eyes, “Do you have mind healers in Velaris? Cause you desperately need one, you all do.”

That brought out a deep laugh from him, you looked at him in awe at the melody that came from his mouth and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time. Your stare fixed upon his smile, bright and angelic made your heart jump. He was suddenly aware of you and the wall he had when he was around you built up again.

Your mind felt the need to know if what he said earlier was true, “Is that really why you hate me?”

“You can’t just let a moment be, can you Firewielder?” He no longer carried that sharp grin that had you melting for a second.

“I am not my brother, Eris I mean, what he’s done. I have no part in it.”

He nodded slowly, “Now tell me why you hate me.”

You picked at your cuticle as you spoke- a nervous human habit that you picked up throughout your years. “I don’t. I don’t particularly like you but you have done nothing but make my life miserable since the moment you rescued us from the ice and every moment after that.”

You were being chased by your brothers along with Feyre and Lucien when Cassian and Azriel had come to Feyre's aid. That was when you had found out that Feyre was the High Lady of the Night Court when you and Lucien had been brought to Velaris and saw the city you’ve grown to love. It was the start of everything. Before and after the war.

You and Lucien were appointed as emissaries to the night court, Lucien had his assignments and you had yours. You served as both emissary and spy (occasionally), while Lucien had to send bi-weekly reports to Azriel, you had to report to him for every single assignment unless specified otherwise by the High Lord. This is the cause of the clash you had with the Spymaster.

That day was the only day you had peace from him, if only because nobody in the inner circle had warmed to your presence yet.

“My whole life I’ve heard of the monstrous fae who served the Night Court, the Court of Nightmares was real to me but I was never afraid of the stories- of you. All you did was prove that the stories were true, like the act you all put on when you go there, is real.”

“You should know that I do not find it easy to be around you Y/n.” You were about to ask him what he meant when Nuan’s figure came into view, pulling a lesser fae male along with her.

“Y/n I’d like you to meet Damian- Damian this is the friend I told you about.” Nuan shoved him your way as you stood, you stumbled into him and he steadied you by your elbows. “I took care of the bill by the way, I told Damian he should walk you to the palace. Azriel and I still have loads to discuss.”

You smiled shyly at the blond-haired guy in front of you and turned your head to where Azriel was once sitting, you were about to protest but Nuan was already dragging Azriel out the door. You appreciated your friend's efforts to set you up with the attractive male that was nothing short of a gentleman as he made easy conversation during the walk to the palace, but after dinner with Azriel, this guy wasn’t going to cut it. It would be too easy for you to bring him up to your room and spend the night with him but you were on a job and you were not going to give Azriel another to scold you. 

~~~

Next Chapter

Taglist: @americancowgirl19 - @feyres-fireheart - @brekkershadowsinger - @marina468

[hongcherry]

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 5

“After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?”

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (f)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: General tws + seungcheol's not smart with his words, name calling not in bed (bitch), degradation (no in bed), mention of murder (jokingly), slut-shaming

🍒 WC: 11.6k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 🤩

🍒 Author’s Note: I love seeing everyone's reactions to the chapters so far! The last chapter was the calm before the storm, so prepare for lots of angst in this chapter 🫣 Thank you for reading, and please enjoy the early upload ♥️

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

Waking up in Seungcheol's bed is a lot more relaxing this time.

Partly because Seungcheol has your back pressing against his chest, an arm slung over your body, and his head nestled against yours. You rest an arm over his as you take a deep breath, recalling the memories from last night. The events flash in front of you as if you’re clicking through a view master. From Dae and you drinking to both of you on the floor, to hitting Hajun, to the argument you had with Seungcheol, to having his body moving with yours.

You thought you were going to get closure last night, but you only opened the wound wider. It’s going to be harder to stay away from him. At this point, you don’t want to either. You just need to find a way to stop seeing his business friends every time you see Seungcheol. If anything, you are more willing to find alternatives than completely push him out of your life.

Seungcheol stirs behind you, body untangling from yours to switch sides. You think he’s going to get up, but he just stills again. You peer over your shoulder to look at him. He has his back to you now, so you can’t see his face. You decide to let him rest longer since it’s the weekend, after all.

You carefully climb out of bed and put on the hoodie and boxers he had given you last night. You walk to his bathroom, ready to freshen up, only to remember you didn’t come with anything. 

Your eyes land on his toothbrush. You can snoop around until you find a new one, but you don't want to risk his privacy. You can just use your finger… Ah, whatever, you’ll ask him really quickly, then let him go back to sleep.

Padding back to the bed, you carefully kneel in front of him. 

Seungcheol has never been unattractive, yet you didn’t find him that handsome initially. Though right now, he looks beyond stunning. Strands of his hair lay in front of his face, and his lips are in their natural downward position. Nothing has changed in his appearance from when you first met him, so why does your heart flutter at the sight of him at this moment?

Sighing at your never-ending thoughts, you reach out and shake him gently.

“Seungcheol?” you ask softly so as to not scare him awake. You expect to have to wiggle him a few more times, but he wakes up instantly. His eyes find yours easily and fill with worry as he starts to sit up. You begin to feel guilty waking him up for a silly toothbrush.

“You alright? Are you hurt?” he asks. His morning voice is as deep as you remember. Although it’s still attractive, you find it cute now. You’d fall asleep around him more just so you could hear his voice the next morning.

You give him a tiny reassuring smile. “I’m okay. I just wanted to know if I could have a spare toothbrush.”

Upon hearing your words, his body relaxes. He sits up fully and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. The covers fall down his body, pooling in his lap. You forgot he is naked. Now with the morning light, you can see his chest clearer. You had felt every inch of it last night, even saw it due to his lamp, but seeing it in a new light is another joy. Or perhaps it’s because your mind isn’t as cloudy.

“Of course, baby,” he rasps. The small chuckle accompanied by his response is low, and you want to hear it again.

Seungcheol steps from the bed, letting the cover fall half on the floor. You shake your head at his carelessness. While he retrieves a pair of sweats from his dresser, you pick up the cover from the floor.

“You could’ve just left it there,” he smiles as he strolls past you into the bathroom. You can’t help but make a mental correction in your daydreams—Seungcheol would wear sweats without a shirt.

“It was going to bother me,” you reply and turn to watch him. He leans down, opens the lower cabinet, and digs around until he lifts an unboxed toothbrush.

“For you,” he says and tilts it in your direction. You take it and free the brush. Seungcheol takes the trash from you as he stands, then points to the toothpaste on the counter. “Feel free to use it, okay?”

You nod. “Thank you. I’ll give you a new one in return,” you reply, starting to prep the toothbrush.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Seungcheol tosses the trash in the bin next to the sink, then pauses in his actions, as if debating on what to do. After a second, he quickly grabs his own toothbrush. You watch him silently while you brush your teeth. Soon, Seungcheol is copying your actions, giving you a smile in the mirror when he catches your stare. Your heart twists with affection, and seeing both your reflections—dressed in casual wear and doing a simple act—is all too domestic. 

Almost as if this is something that is normal for you two, but it isn’t. Not liking how comfortable you are starting to feel, you quickly rinse your mouth. Seungcheol reaches down and holds your hair back as you do so. Once you’re done, Seungcheol grabs the brush and places it in the container. He rinses his mouth next before setting his toothbrush down next to yours.

Who knew seeing two toothbrushes next to each other would be the cause of your mental spiral?

You walk from the bathroom and into the living room, trying to find your purse. He follows you slowly.

“You’re not about to make me a one-night stand, are you?” he asks. His voice is playful, but you know it isn’t a rhetorical question.

You think about it, but unfortunately, he’s your ride. The only other person you can call right now is hung over at another person’s apartment.

“I just wanted to see if Dae was okay,” you answer.

“Oh, right,” he says, seeming to have forgotten about her predicament. It doesn’t bother you, though. She isn’t his concern. “I put it over here.”

You turn to see him grabbing it. You walk over, taking it from him before fishing out your phone. Ah, of course. Dead.

Your pout must be evident on your face, because Seungcheol asks, “What’s wrong?”

You flip the phone over to show a black screen.

“No power,” you sigh and toss the useless brick of a phone back into your purse.

Seungcheol glances around, then leaves to grab something from another part of the room. It’s his phone.

He presses a few things on the screen before lifting the device to his ear.

“Hey,” he says and moves to sit on the couch. When he pats the spot next to him, you go over. 

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he continues.

From a close distance, you can faintly hear Joshua on the other end.

“That’s good,” Joshua says. “Dae’s up. She wasn’t doing too well earlier, but she seems better now.”

“Speaking of, Yn wanted to talk to her. Can you give the phone over?”

“Sure thing,” he answers.

Seungcheol gives you the phone with a small smile.

“Thanks,” you mutter and bring the phone to your ear. You lean back on the couch so your head is against the armrest. Seungcheol places your legs over his lap and begins massaging your calves. You give him a smile at his actions, his strong hands feeling nice against your skin. The sight of him shirtless doing a mundane act has butterflies forming in your tummy. You’re about to daydream about him, but Dae’s loud voice snaps you away from those thoughts.

“Did I really puke on you?!” Dae gasps on the other side. You pull the device from your ear slightly at the loud noise.

“Yeah, so not only do you owe me a pair of heels, you owe me a whole outfit too,” you tease.

“Pluh-ease, just take something of Seungcheol’s and call it a deal. I’m sure he’s got some designer clothes you can steal.”

Your eyes snap to him at her suggestion. Seungcheol has his focus on your legs, acting like he isn’t listening in, but the smile on his lips tells you he is.

“I don’t need his clothes,” you reply with a huff. “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Considering I’m at a cute stranger’s apartment, in a cute stranger’s room, I’m doing just peachy.”

“You think Joshua is cute?” you ask. Okay, so this isn’t the time for girls talk, but the question leaves your lips before you can stop it.

Dae giggles. “A little. Don’t you?”

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your legs as if challenging you to say yes.

Despite agreeing with Dae, you answer with a shrug, “He’s not ugly.”

Hopefully, that’s good enough to save your ass.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dae concludes.

Your eyes flicker to Seungcheol to see his reaction. There’s a hint of a pout on his plump lips. You hold back a laugh. Still a baby, you think with a shake of your head.

“Hey, did those assholes leave you alone eventually? I started to black out. I don’t quite remember,” Dae wonders.

At the mention of Hajun and Hana, you avert your gaze from Seungcheol. 

“Sort of,” you trail off. They didn’t, but you don’t want to bad mouth Seungcheol’s friends in front of him. Not that it probably matters; it’s not a surprise you don’t get along. 

“It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” You try to dismiss the topic.

“To an extent, Yn. I know you,” she says, more serious now. “Remember, don’t let them get to you. They’re the real whores. Oh, did they ever take that picture?”

Knowing Dae doesn’t want to let up on the conversation. You start to retract your legs from Seungcheol so you can go to another room. However, he grips your legs so you can’t move. You eye him confused, but he still doesn’t look at you. Sighing, you lay back down.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“Hm. I think Joshua stopped them. He said when he came out, neither of them had their phones out.”

“T-that’s good.”

“I just wanted to ask in case you saw otherwise,” she explains. “I know what I said before, but you’re right. Seungcheol should really lose them as friends.”

You speak fast before she can dive into the topic further.

“Look, I just called to see—”

“Well, besides that. Was Seungcheol nice to you last night?” she interrupts.

Your hands start to play with his hoodie as you try to ignore the fact he can hear everything. The answer depends on which part of the night she wants to refer to. He was not nice the first half, but the second half… You feel a shiver run down your spine at the thought of you two in bed. His hands and lips over your body as he made you feel so, so good.

Not wanting Seungcheol to question your response, you semi-lie, “Yes.”

“Hm,” she pauses. You can tell she thinks you’re lying by your delayed answer. “Did something happen between you two?”

Yes.

“No.”

Dae giggles. “I knew you liked him! You did the two-person tango with him, huh? You send me off to be babysat so you can have some freaky time.”

“Dae!” you scold and pull your legs from Seungcheol’s lap despite him trying to stop you again.

She gasps on the other line. “You haven’t had se—”

You jolt from the couch and briskly walk to the other side of the room.

“I should get going. I’m glad you’re fine though,” you rush.

“Alright, alright. We’ll talk later about that,” she laughs. “Do you need me to get Joshua to pick you up?” she asks. You finally looked at Seungcheol again. He’s looking at you now, face unreadable. Your heart races a little at not knowing what he’s thinking.

“No, I can get Seungcheol to drop me off.”

“Okay. I’ll be home soon and will probably go back to sleep.”

“Alright. Get back safely,” you reply.

“You too, Yn.”

You hang up the call and slowly walk toward him to give the phone back. You hate how silent it is.

“Pretend you didn’t hear anything,” you tell him.

You expect him to bring up your fight with his friends again, but instead, he asks about another part. One that takes you by surprise.

“You were a virgin?” His voice comes out hushed, but it’s so quiet you have no trouble hearing it. Rather than sounding frightened like some others may, he sounds doubtful. To your disappointment, he even chuckles under his breath.

Before you can completely digest his words, he adds, “So, I wasn’t number sixty-seven?”

Your body halts. 

Although you aren’t a virgin, you feel hurt by his implication that you sleep around. It’s then you recall Dae on the phone. You cut her off before she could finish her sentence. You haven’t had sex in a while, having dumped your ex for being a douche and not wanting to hook up with some rando from a bar in the meantime.

“You think I’ve slept with everyone on campus?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady as you look for your ruined outfit from last night. There’s a sense of foreboding as you await his reply.

“Well, maybe not everyone,” he says slowly and raises his head to look at you. There’s a teasing tone hidden somewhere in that sentence, but you don’t find it funny.

You stare at him incredulously, your movements halting at his words. Is he serious right now? You’re not sure where this is coming from, but you don’t need to hear more. Wherever your outfit is, it can stay there. You don’t care about it that much to last another minute here looking for it.

“Ah, right. I just have people lining up as I keep my legs spread. Oh! But there are always newcomers that enroll. We can’t forget them, so you’re right. Not everyone,” you hiss out, mind ripping up every pleasurable thought you ever had about Seungcheol. All those minutes thinking of him are wasted in a blink of an eye.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replies with a shake of his head, standing up. “I meant you’re just too pretty to have not had se—”

“What a fucking pig,” you berate. “Being pretty doesn’t have anything to do with being a virgin or not. I can be pretty without being a whore.”

Panic rises in his eyes. “You’re right. I didn’t mean—I just… Shit.” He closes his eyes tightly for a moment, but you don’t wait for him to collect his thoughts.

“I see why you let your friends talk shit about me now,” you say as you snatch your purse from where you left it. You lock eyes with him when you continue, “It’s because you agree with them.”

It’s like the light bulb above your head suddenly turns on. 

You know it was unlikely he wouldn't ditch those friends, but you thought you could deal with it if you didn’t have to see them. You could visit Seungcheol somewhere in private or with your mutual friends instead. You would have found ways to be with him because your feelings for him were too strong to overlook. Though, now you saw that would never happen. It truly was all an illusion.

And you were right earlier.

He already thinks bad of you.

“That’s not true at all,” Seungcheol urges. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised and joking before. I didn’t use my words correctly. Hear me out, Cherry.”

He definitely did not sound surprised earlier, and his “jokes”… Yeah. His words were ass. And so is he. 

You take a deep inhale, fanning the flames so as to not let your heart feel anything but anger.

“Joking... You and those ‘friends’ of yours always tell such hilarious jokes,” you laugh dryly and turn for his door. Recalling you don’t have a car, your gaze lands on his face. Well, since you are already a bitch in his eyes, might as well bring that persona to life.

“Where are you going? You’re not even dressed. Yn, stop! Just stay here, and let’s talk,” he implores, rushing to you.

You forgot you’re just in his hoodie and boxers. Heck, you don’t even have shoes on. None of that matters to you, though.

You quickly whip around to face him.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” you over-exaggerate your apology as you reach behind you. “I can’t stay any longer. My one o’clock fuck is waiting for me.”

Your hand snatches his keys then you’re storming out of his apartment. You hear him yelling after you, but you ignore it while you rush to find his car before he can catch you. 

Voices to your right catch your attention, which has you sighing with relief when you see familiar, friendlier faces. You’re not sure how they always pop up around you, but you aren’t complaining for once.

Chan, Jun, and Soonyoung are walking toward you while they chat. They don’t notice you at first, but the sound of your feet hitting the pavement catches their attention.

“Yn?!” Jun exclaims, eyes big at seeing you.

“What are you wearing? Where are your clothes?!” Soonyoung asks. His shocked expression quickly turns into concern.

“Yn’s here?” another voice asks. Jeonghan stands by the driver’s seat of the car the others got out of. He props an arm on the top of the vehicle, his door still open. You’ve never been happier to see his face.

“Yn!” Seungcheol’s voice calls out behind you. You don’t bother looking back and quickly maneuver around the three men to get in the car. Thankfully, it isn’t locked yet.

“Where are your clothes?” Chan asks Seungcheol.

“Jeonghan, get your ass in the car now, or I’m going to burn your legos,” you threaten quickly as you buckle, remembering his precious Lego collection you once saw in his room.

“Aish,” he grumbles and gets in, shutting the door. You quickly lock the doors and then point to the road.

“Drive now,” you demand.

“Woah, just calm down. Why are—”

There is a loud knock at your window, and you see Seungcheol’s face appear.

“Yn, please just come out. I can explain,” he begs.

You glare at Jeonghan, one that is a lot fiercer than you’ve ever given him.

“You think I’m joking about your fucking legos?” you growl, a finger pointing in his direction.

“Seungcheol’s going to beat my ass,” he whines as he starts the car.

“And I’m going to beat yours and burn down your Le—”

“I got it,” Jeonghan huffs and glances at Seungcheol apologetically.

“Jeonghan, I swear if you fucking drive off, I will—” Seungcheol growls from outside the car.

“Sorry, my grandma suddenly needs me!” Jeonghan shouts before he backs out of the spot, slowly at first so he doesn't run over Seungcheol’s feet, not that you care, then speeds out of the parking lot.

You glance in the side mirror, seeing Seungcheol still yelling as the other men watch, confused and shocked behind him. Your eyes finally tear away when they become little specks in the distance. A sigh leaves your lips as you allow your body to sag in the seat, head tilting back.

“There’s a jacket in the back if you want it,” Jeonghan says softly.

You glance back and find it folded on the seat. You grab it, draping it over your bare legs. “Thanks.”

He sighs. “Now, do you want to tell me what that was about?”

“Seungcheol’s an asshole.”

Your reply is curt. You think that’s a good enough reason to leave him in the dust.

“Okay,” Jeonghan answers slowly, “but that was a pretty big fight you two had.”

“Seungcheol’s a really big asshole,” you correct.

Jeonghan chuckles lightly. “Alright. Then explain your attire.”

“Dae puked on me last night; Seungcheol let me borrow clothes.”

“He didn’t give you pants?”

“He did,” you trail off. You don’t want to tell him you just didn’t put them on again this morning. How would you explain how they got discarded in the first place?

He’s silent for a moment, trying to put the puzzle together himself.

“Where’s Dae?” he wonders. You’re grateful he decides to let it go.

“Probably at home by now… Can you drop me off there?” you ask. You can’t go home dressed the way you are. Dae will probably be sleeping, as she told you, but a few loud knocks should wake her up.

“Sure. What’s the address?”

You inform him quickly then glance out the window. The sun is shining and the clouds are out. You can’t remember how it feels outside since you were only focused on getting out of there. 

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, letting the sound of the car on the road fill the empty space.

“Whatever Seungcheol did, I hope he can fix it. I know he cares about you,” Jeonghan comments.

Your gaze drops down to your lap. The hoodie you wear comes back into view. You hate how you can still smell him.

“I don’t think he can,” you reply. 

Your mind goes back to what he said to you. Anger was the only emotion fueling you at the time, but now that you’re settling down and your mind is becoming clearer, several emotions creep into your chest. 

Betrayal. Distress. Crestfallen.

Jeonghan releases a small breath. “That bad?”

“Yeah, Jeonghan. He really messed up.”

The ride is quiet now. While you are grateful, you actually wish Jeonghan kept talking. At least then, you would be distracted from your thoughts. 

Seungcheol was just holding you tenderly hours ago. Your body tingles at the mere memory of his gentle touch. He was acting so sweet toward you. For those blissful hours, you felt like you were his. Was he acting? Had he wanted you for different reasons?

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back. You don’t want to cry in front of Jeonghan. You refuse to. 

When you arrive, Jeonghan parks the car and gets out of the vehicle. He comes around to your door and opens it, holding out a hand. For a moment, you imagined his hand is Seungcheol’s. He would always open your door and help you out.

“You don’t have to walk me there,” you say, words mimicking what you’ve told Seungcheol before in the past.

“You’re barely dressed. I’m not risking anything,” he replies. His light, cheerful voice is stern now, and you know he isn’t going to change his mind.

People stare at you strangely in the elevator, but when they peer up at Jeonghan, who stands behind you—something about you hiding your front and him your back—they quickly avert their gaze.

It takes four loud bangs on her door until Dae opens it. Her half-lidded eyes open quickly at your state.

“Am I drunk again? Why does Seungcheol look like Jeonghan?” she asks.

“You’re not drunk. It is Jeonghan,” you reply, then turn to him. “Thank you for driving. I really appreciate it.”

You hope the sincerity in your words is conveyed with your tone. Given the non-cocky smile on his face, you know he understands.

“Even though I’m friends with Seungcheol, know I’m your friend too, Yn. If you need me, you have my number,” Jeonghan says.

You’re not sure if you will ever take him up on his offer since it’s unclear where his loyalties lie between you and Seungcheol, but his intentions are kind, and you’re grateful nonetheless. He starts to walk away but you reach out to stop him.

“Wait,” you quickly say. You pull a set of keys from the hoodie’s pocket. “Give these back to Seungcheol for me? Or toss them in a lake, I don’t care, but take them, please.”

Dread fills Jeonghan’s face when he notices what they’re for. He reluctantly takes the keys from your hand.

“He’s really going to kill me now.”

Luckily for both you and Jeonghan, Seungcheol does not murder him.

For him, it means he has another day to finish his Lego tower. For you, it means he can finish those flyers he promised you.

“There should be twenty-five in there,” Minghao says while pointing to the stack of papers in your hands.

Minghao and Jeonghan completed the flyers for your show, and you are at the latter’s apartment to pick them up. You flip through them quickly—having already seen mock-ups earlier. There are six of each element plus one extra to turn into Dr. Lim.

“These look great, guys,” you say as you finish looking at them again.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan says. “You need help putting them up?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You’re really offering to help more?”

“You’re not that bad to work with,” Minghao chuckles, standing from his seat to grab his bag. He came to see if you needed anything else before his class.

“Speak for yourself, Hao—Ow!”

Jeonghan whines when you smack his arm with the flyers.

“Kidding, Yn,” he grumbles, “but yes, we will help you. You’re our friend.”

Their friend.

After years of just having Dae, it’s odd to think you actually have more friends—a lot of them, for that matter. It’s not like you gained two new friends this semester. No, you gained thirteen. Fourteen, if you count Seungcheol, but is he really a friend? Do friends make your heart soar with just a glance? Are friends able to take your heart and leave you feeling like an empty husk? It doesn’t matter now. He isn’t in your life. If he was your friend then, he isn’t anymore.

“If you leave some here, we’ll hang them up later,” Minghao instructs.

You gaze at him, letting yourself focus on what is happening now. You can sorrow in the privacy of your four walls later.

Sighing, you nod and sort a few flyers out from the stack. You place them on Jeonghan’s coffee table.

“Thanks. Just let me know which buildings you put them up in,” you say. “It’ll just save me time in the future.”

“No problem. Well, I’m glad you like them! I should get going before I’m late,” Minghao replies with a small smile on his face. He gives you both a wave before exiting the apartment.

Once Minghao is gone, Jeonghan looks at you. “What are the plans today?”

You shrug. It probably will consist of finishing bringing your designs to life or maybe taking Seoah to get something to eat. Anything to keep yourself busy from your mind.

“Not sure yet,” you reply.

“You know, I’m kind of hurt you didn’t ask me to be one of your models,” Jeonghan says with a playful smile. “Mingyu’s overrated.”

You laugh lightly, rolling your eyes at his latter comment. “Mingyu has the face and body of a model. You…?”

You trail off as your eyes glide down his body teasingly. Jeonghan sits up when he sees what you’re doing, trying to pose nonchalantly.

“Mingyu doesn’t have this hair, though,” Jeonghan comments. His semi-long locks are tied in a half-up-half-down style. It looks good, but you aren’t going to admit that to him.

“True, and thank goodness for that.”

“Hey!”

You laugh at his reaction. “I just didn’t want to overbook you,” you finally explain. “You were already helping me with these flyers.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” he answers.

“Don’t get used to it,” you huff and start picking up your purse. It’s getting late, and there’s no reason to stay longer.

“Wait, I have something for you,” Jeonghan rushes.

“I already have the flyers,” you say and gesture to the stack.

He smiles, shaking his head as he stands. “Something else.”

You watch as he jogs to his room. There are sounds of things moving around before Jeonghan yells for you to close your eyes. After arguing for a second, you finally relent.

“Are they closed?” he asks from his room.

“They’re not about to be if you take any longer,” you grumble.

You listen to his footsteps become louder as he approaches. Suddenly something is set in your lap.

When Jeonghan instructs you to open your eyes, you peep down to see a bag. Jeonghan gestures to it when you don't open it right away. Hesitantly, you reach inside.

Your hands meet something textured, and you grip it gently to pull it out.

“H-how’d you get this?” you ask slowly. Your wide eyes don’t mask the surprise you feel upon seeing the fabric you had been wanting to get so badly a few weeks ago. However, instead of navy blue, it’s red.

Jeonghan shrugs and watches you nervously. “Do you like it?”

“I—” you start but for once, you are out of words. 

You lay the fabric over your lap as you admire the sheerness, small specks of glitter scattering across the surface. You aren’t able to use it as you originally planned since you’ve already adjusted the design to not use the fabric, and it’s also the wrong color. Regardless, it’s too beautiful to not use in some way.

You are about to thank him when you remember the cost. It isn’t the same color, but it’s the same design and brand, which means it’s probably just as expensive. 

“This was a lot of money,” you state and glance up at Jeonghan. His eyes are roaming around the room then moving to look at you when you speak. “You shouldn’t have bought this.”

Jeonghan smiles, albeit a little bittersweet for a reason you aren’t sure of. “We do a lot of things we shouldn’t when we like someone.”

“Is that your way of saying you like me?” you wonder, folding the fabric to place in the bag again. You mean “like” in a platonic way and hope Jeonghan understands this.

“I do,” he chuckles lightly. “You put up a tough front, but you’re not too bad of a friend.”

Your smile is small at his response. Glad you don’t have to have an awkward conversation about which version of “like” you mean.

“Too bad?” you tease and stand up, your bag and purse on your arm.

Jeonghan tilts his head. “You did threaten to burn my Legos three weeks ago. That wasn’t very friendly.”

“Just imagine that I said that lovingly,” you answer, forcing the memory of that day from your mind. Although you know it won’t be that easy since it already keeps resurfacing.

“Right,” he responds, dragging out the word in a knowing smile. He walks you to the door when he sees you’re ready to leave. He opens the door, watching as you step out with his head resting against the side of the frame.

“Jeonghan?” you say after taking a few steps away. You turn to look at him. He wears that same bittersweet smile on his lips from earlier.

“Yn,” he responds.

“Thank you for… for the fabric. That was very kind of you, and I—” you pause as you try to voice your truest thoughts. It still doesn’t come easy, but you want him to know how grateful you are. “I don’t know if I deserved it.”

“I think you deserve more, but that can be a topic for another day. Get home safely, Yn,” Jeonghan replies as he lifts his head from the door.

You stay still for a moment. His words register in your head slowly while you stare at him. You’ve experienced Jeonghan being nice to you despite his constant jokes, but he’s never said anything on this level before. There is a moment where you think he is lying to you, but even though Jeonghan is playful, you don’t think he would lie to you—especially not now.

You bid farewell to Jeonghan once you collect yourself.

You’re not sure if that day he speaks about will ever come, but you are content with just knowing he thinks highly of you.

Home is better.

Still not Hallmark-perfect, but better. As expected, your mother leaves for another trip somewhere. She stops by, and to your surprise, your father lets her talk to you and Seoah. For once, there is no screaming. No yelling. No hostile attitude from either of your parents. It’s odd yet refreshing.

Your mother apologizes for not always being there for you and your sister. She says she will message you both when she has time. You nod, but you don’t believe her. She has given you the “promise message” before, and it never happened. 

Additionally, if she is truly sorry, she wouldn’t keep leaving when she has a family here. Perhaps that’s a selfish thought, but it doesn’t matter. It won’t make a difference. You’re not sure when or if you’ll see her again. It’s clear she isn’t allowed to stay here if she comes back. Visiting is fine, but that’s all. Despite it all, you wish you are able to see her in the future.

Your father began attending dinners after your mother left. He reasons it’s time to start being more like a family again. You bite your tongue when you want to say he never was part of it to begin with.

The first night together is awkward. Seoah breaks the tension eventually, but it always reverts back to crickets. After a while, your father starts to make small talk. 

How was your day? Is your homework going fine? Are classes hard?

You never are one for small talk, but at least he is trying.

Though he only tries during dinner. As always, he stays inside his office the majority of the day. It’s like nothing changes until it becomes dinner time. Then you are a family. Once that is over, it goes back to normal.

You tell yourself it’s just baby steps, which is better than no steps at all.

“So, Savannah ate her homework as a… dare?” your dad asks at dinner one night.

“No!” Seoah sighs, having tried to get your dad to understand her story for the past five minutes. “It’s because she’s crazy!”

“But I don’t understand why she would do that willingly,” your father replies. He has food on his fork, but it’s paused in mid-air, completely appalled by his daughter’s story.

“No one really knows. The point is she’s insane,” Seoah says.

“And she did this in front of her teacher?”

“She did it in class, so I supposed you could say that. At least she ate the homework that was already graded,” she huffs before stuffing her cheeks full.

“Yes, at least it was graded,” your dad agrees slowly as if he is still processing the story. He then turns to you.

“How’s Dae?”

He finally takes a bite while waiting for your response.

“She’s fine. We’re already done with our projects finally,” you answer.

“Ooh, I’m excited to see them! Dad and I are coming, you know?” Seoah says with a bright smile.

“I know,” you reply, trying to hide the grin that wants to show. You were a little shocked when they first told you they had gotten tickets. Even though you were secretly hoping they would come, you didn’t want to expect it. After all, it would be less disappointing if they didn’t come when your expectations were already low. It’s not that they don’t support you, but with everything going on, you weren’t sure if either of them had the time.

“Are your other friends going too?” asks your father.

Your gaze drops to your lap as you recall the conversation with Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Wonwoo. Seungcheol planned to get his friends—now your friends as well—to come to the show; however, you haven’t spoken to him since that weekend. You don’t know if any of them are coming now that Seungcheol most likely isn’t organizing his “surprise” anymore.

“I’m not sure,” you answer as you roll your shoulders back, sitting up straighter. No reason to be sad over it. You don’t need to be upset about losing someone who looks down on you. If anything, you should be glad you’re not talking to him. Your life is better now. Less drama.

At least that’s what’s been repeating in your head.

“What about that one boy? The one who came here? Seungch—”

“Shh!” Seoah gasps and puts her hand out to stop him. “You’re not supposed to talk about him in this house anymore.”

“W-what? Why not? He was very nice,” your father says. He glances between the both of you puzzled.

They always start that way, huh?

“They’re not talking anymore,” Seoah whispers, but you can hear it clearly.

“Oh,” your dad says and then looks at you with a sympathetic expression. It has you wincing internally. You don’t need his pity. “I’m sorry to hear that, honey. I’m sure he meant a lot to you.”

His words fish out all those thoughts you tried to drown. You aren’t about to spiral in front of your family.

“I’m going to work on my project more. Final adjustments and whatnot. Seoah, do you mind doing the dishes tonight?” you ask as you push your chair back.

“Only because you’re sad,” she replies.

Sighing, you grab your dishes, and place them in the sink.

Before you leave, you mumble, “I’m not sad.”

Seoah makes a sound to let you know she doesn’t believe you but doesn’t bug you about it.

“Way to go, Dad,” you hear her grumble as you’re leaving.

Shutting your bedroom door is akin to shutting off the lights in the world. It transports you to a place only you’re allowed in. A place where you are able to feel everything you have been keeping under lock and key. 

As soon as you hear the familiar click of your door, you feel your knees buckle.

You stagger to your bed and let your body flop onto the mattress. There’s an influx of the thoughts and feelings you had repressed.

Four weeks.

It’s been nearly four weeks since you last saw him. Heard his voice. At least not in conversations.

The first few days after that weekend, you ran into him on campus. Well, more like he found you. He’d call your name; he’d tell you he was sorry and ask for you to listen to him. Though each time, you ignored him. You went the other way and never said a word to him. Eventually, he stopped trying. He stopped finding you. He stopped calling your name. The frequent texts he would send stopped too. Soon, you were truly left with just a memory of him.

You should be glad.

You should be relieved he stopped because each time you saw him, you had the temptation to actually listen to him. To hear his side because you don’t want to believe he had said those things in his apartment. However, that will never happen now. Even if you want it to, you aren’t going to crawl back to him after all this time.

The picture you had taken of both of you is still in your photo gallery. You deleted it when you accidentally stumbled upon it a few days after the fight. Pained at even the sight of him, your finger had hit the trash icon quickly. Despite that, you ended up recovering the photo a few hours later because part of you wasn’t ready to erase him from your life completely.

The words your dad said linger in your mind.

I’m sure he meant a lot to you.

Had he?

In the few months you got to know him, had he really made himself a home in your heart? Perhaps if you say no, you will stop feeling like there is a void in your chest.

The weeks went by quickly. It wasn’t like in the movies or books where the heartbroken character felt their life was moving in slow motion. First, you weren’t heartbroken. Second, you had so much to do regarding your project you didn’t have time to think about him.

A part of your mind told you that working nonstop was your way of coping, but coping with what? What you lost wasn’t meaningful…

He wasn’t meaningful.

Yet as you let that thought roll around your mind, the more your chest feels heavy. The more your vision becomes blurry. The more your body feels weak.

The more you feel suffocated.

Suffocated by the thoughts gripping you and trying to shake you into realization.

Seungcheol had meant something to you. The extent is unknown, but if you were to ever tell someone how much your heart was aching, they would probably say he meant a great deal to you. Though if you allow yourself to agree, it will only cause more pain. So for now, you are fine being in denial.

You close your eyes as you inhale slowly. You hold your breath for a few seconds and then exhale gradually. You repeat this until you start to feel like you can breathe properly.

Images of him appear uninvitingly in the darkness—from when you first opened Jeonghan’s door to see him instead of Minghao then to waking up in his arms while laying in his bed.

It shouldn’t have come to this point. He wasn’t even helping with your project, yet you felt as if you saw him more than anyone else volunteering.

In the recesses of your mind, you can feel his gentle touch on your skin. You recall the moments you had together, but more strongly, you remember the way you felt when you were around him. Your chest would tighten any time he smiled or laughed. Such simple actions had you feeling so joyful. Even more so if you were the reason behind the actions. 

Then you think back to his apartment—before that phone call with Dae. The way you both held each other so tenderly during such an intimate moment. It had you feeling a sort of love you haven’t felt before. You think back to how content you were waking up in his arms. The glimpse of what your life could be like if you were his in his home.

You don’t know how you got here. You don’t know when you started falling for him. You don’t know when the tears started to roll down your cheeks. For the first time since the argument, you let your emotions flow freely.

You can’t believe you’re wasting tears over a guy you met this semester. Though, maybe you're just crying over the fact you no longer feel those feelings anymore. The feeling of being cared for, thought of, loved… Even if neither of you had said that word to the other, it doesn’t take away the feeling of being cherished. Maybe you don’t feel in love, but you could see yourself getting to that point if that argument never transpired. Although his words hurt then, they sting ten times worse now.

Your mind is filled to the brim with thoughts of him. It’s taking such a toll on you that you eventually fall asleep reflecting on your relationship with Seungcheol, dried tear streaks painting your cheeks.

“Mingyu, stop playing around,” you scold for the third time.

Mingyu stops dancing, peering down at you to give you another teasing grin. Perhaps you would’ve found it amusing if you weren’t under a time crunch.

“God, what a shit show,” you hear someone giggle behind you.

You dismiss the voice, knowing it’s probably Tori or Siwon. You only have a limited time to do your dress rehearsal before it’s another student’s turn.

“Worry about your own show, ladies,” Mingyu says above you, voice so stern it has you looking at him a little surprised.

“You never know when something bad might happen during your section in the show,” Jeonghan adds. Although his responsibility for the show is already done, he whined to join you today. Something about being bored and needing something to do. You had said no, but you couldn’t really stop him from following you to the theatre.

You turn around to see Tori and Siwon. They have their bags on their arms, ready to leave since they finished their rehearsals before you.

“Is that a threat?” Siwon gasps.

Jeonghan smiles that not-so-innocent grin and shrugs. “No, but it’s just a general comment. Anything can happen.”

Tori scoffs and then looks at you. “If I find out you’re tampering with other students’ projects, I’m going to tell Dr. Lim so you’ll flunk.”

“As if I need to sabotage your stage,” you reply. “You’ll do that yourself.”

“Oooh,” Jeonghan chuckles, bringing a hand to his mouth for dramatic effect. You shake your head at his reaction, but there is a tiny part of you where you’re pleased.

“You better watch yourself, Yn,” Tori warns.

You smile. “Oh, I will. After all, why would I watch your shit show?”

“You’re—”

“Tori, Siwon, please let Yn get back to her work. Yn, you should be focusing on your fittings and makeup. Not talking,” Dr. Lim instructs as he walks into the backstage room.

Tori and Siwon quickly apologize before they hurry out.

“Yn,” Dr. Lim calls to get your attention. You tear your gaze from your two peers to look at him.

“I heard you, Dr. Lim. I’ll be done before my time ends,” you say.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile before leaving you.

“Sorry,” Mingyu mumbles once they all leave. You exhale gradually and gesture for him to lean down.

“It’s fine, Gyu,” you answer. You quickly fix his hair, then turn him around to show one of the students you selected to help with hair and makeup. “Like this, okay?”

The student nods, taking notes and pictures as they observe the simple style. You want the focus to be on the clothes rather than fancy hair-dos.

You attend to your other models and stylists, making sure the clothes fit well and that the stylists understand what you want them all to look like. You had met with Seokmin earlier to go over the music. It’s pretty simplistic since it’s just one track, but you still want to make sure things go smoothly from all aspects.

Luckily, you finish within your time slot. Mingyu and Jeonghan trail behind you as you exit the building, talking amongst themselves. You figure they’ll go their separate ways once you are done, but nope. You act as if it bothers you, but you kinda like the company. You’ve been so focused on finishing the project that you haven’t had the chance to hang out with many people. If you did, it was only to discuss the final details.

Now that the show is around the corner, you let yourself breathe for a little.

“I don’t need you to pay for me,” you tell Jeonghan when it’s your turn to purchase your drink at the register.

“Think of it as a thank you for letting me tag along today,” he answers and starts to lower his card to the payment device. However, you quickly snatch it from his grip.

“Aye,” he drags out in a whine.

“I said n—”

“Done,” Mingyu cuts in. Your eyes flicker to him, then down at his hand. He just paid for your drink. He gives you a cheeky grin before ordering for Jeonghan and himself.

“Kim Mingyu, you’re a little shi—”

“Shining star,” he finishes for you as he pays for his order. He guides you and Jeonghan from the line to the end counter as you wait for your orders. His mouth is spread into a wide, confident smile. 

Jeonghan laughs at Mingyu’s answer, but you simply glower at the taller man.

“Come on, that was good,” Mingyu pouts when you don’t say anything. He gives your shoulder a poke, trying to get you to agree.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announce instead, walking away before either of them can answer.

After you’re done, you walk out with your phone in hand to check on Dae who has her rehearsal after you.

You are typing your message when you hear something fall to the floor. Glancing down, you notice a stray pen.

“Think you can pick that up for me, princess?” a familiar voice asks.

You’ve heard the intolerable voice enough times to know who it is without looking up. Regardless, your eyes lift to see Hajun. 

You notice a change in her appearance. Her outfit is less boring than it normally is. You think she has dressed up for a class assignment, but the attire isn’t professional-like. After all the shit she’s given you for dressing “over the top,” she sure is heading down the same path. 

You grit your teeth in order to stop the snide remark you want to make. 

“Well?” she prompts smugly.

Two options run through your head. The first option is to stomp on the pen with your heel until you hear a satisfying crunch from breaking it. The second is to slam the pen down in her open palm—tip facing downward.

Instead, you chose the safer option. You step over the object and continue your way back to your friends; your text to Dae forgotten.

“Can’t even help a person out by doing a simple task?” Hajun asks. You pause in your steps to look over your shoulder.

“You’re a big girl and fully capable. I’m sure you can solve your own problem,” you reply.

“Bitch,” she mutters under her breath, but it’s loud enough for you to hear. As if that word is meant to make you cry.

Turning around again, you say, “Ditto.”

It isn’t anything rude, but you’re done dealing with her. Nothing is ever going to change, and there is no reason for you to put up with her bullshit.

“That’s why he left you,” she calls out after a few steps. You hear her footsteps near slowly as yours still once more. You know she just wants your attention, but you can’t help but give it to her. 

“He realized you were nothing but a slut who needed something between her legs to be satisfied.”

You stay silent for once as you listen to her words. You don’t need to hear his name to know who “he” is. Your gaze lowers as she stands behind you. Your heart rate is increasing as a mix of emotions courses through you, somewhere between fury and sorrow.

“Is he just one more check mark off your list?” she wonders. “He told us about how pathetic you were at his place. He said he needed a way to get you to leave him alone.”

“Are you sure he didn’t say that about you?” you ask and finally, turn to look at her. Despite your words, she smiles at you cunningly.

Ignoring your question, she continues with her high-horse speech.

“It’s a shame you had him so wrapped around your finger. I told him you weren’t worth it,” she tsks sadly.

You’re not sure why you stand there as she belittles you. Maybe in some sick way, you want to hear every bad thing she has to say about you. Let her get everything off her chest while she can. Not that you need to give her that opportunity. She doesn’t deserve an ego lift.

“I was right, though. He said you were one of the worst fucks he’s ever had,” she giggles. “Truly not worth the chase you were giving. I’m sure everyone you’ve had sex with feels the same. Eventually, they’ll stop chasing someone so worthless.”

The sorrow you felt earlier is overcome by anger. It doesn’t help that she’s staring at you with a Cheshire cat smile that makes you want to slap it off her face. Your hands fist at your sides at the thought. However, before the temptation takes over fully, someone calls your name.

Jeonghan stands at the end of the hall, a drink in each of his hands.

You glance back to Hajun.

She simply shrugs, not bothered by being interrupted. You doubt that’s all she has to say, but for now, it will do. She had gotten under your skin. You should have walked away.

“He’ll stop chasing you soon, too,” she tells you quietly before moving around you and toward Jeonghan.

“Hi Hannie!” she greets cheerfully. You watch as he smiles at her and tells her hello.

Unfortunately, the hallway to the bathrooms is a dead end, and the only way to leave is past Jeonghan and Hajun.

“Is she okay? What’s taking so long?” Mingyu questions as he rounds the corner. Following closely behind him is Seungcheol.

Seeing him should be like seeing a poster on the wall—one glance and move on. Yet, your gaze catches his, and your heart starts to break away from the bandaids you placed on it. Scattered memories of the argument flash before your eyes, yet between those snip-bits are memories of you in his soothing embrace. You can’t help but yearn to feel that one more time.

Besides looking tired, he seems fine. He must have known you were here since he didn’t seem surprised to see you. That, or he simply doesn’t care. The latter is difficult to bear.

Your feet want to move. You want to run and escape the situation you’re put in, but you can’t leave. You just need them to go so you don't have to walk past them.

“Hey,” Jeonghan calls out gently as he takes a few steps forward. He hands the drinks to Mingyu, who has to juggle a little to hold them, before walking toward you.

He gently moves your face so you aren’t looking at Seungcheol anymore.

“Did something happen?” he asks lowly so no one can hear.

“I just need to get out of here,” you mumble, casting your eyes down from his worried one.

“Okay,” he says unhesitantly. “Let’s go then.”

He hooks his arm in yours and starts walking toward the end of the hallway, forcing you to follow him.

“What about your drinks?” Mingyu asks when you both walk past and in the direction of the exit.

“Keep them,” Jeonghan replies, slowing his steps but never stopping fully. You keep your gaze away as he answers. “You paid for them anyway.”

“But—”

“We’ll take them. Here, Cheollie,” you hear Hajun say as you leave.

The air outside feels heavenly.

You inhale deeply, letting yourself breathe after feeling like you couldn’t for the longest time. You’re not sure what you’re more affected by—hearing what Seungcheol had said about you or seeing him for the first time in a long time. 

You should let her words flow from one ear and out the other, but some things she said already planted themselves in your mind. And of course, you water those seeds until they sprout to consume your thoughts.

Were you not worth it to Seungcheol to fight harder for you? Not just after the argument but before. His lack of loyalty to you was always an issue with him. You didn’t care if he had a project with Hajun and the others. You didn’t care if he knew them for longer. You were tired of not being his first. You had always split that position with Hajun. At least that’s what you felt. Maybe he kept her around for reasons he didn’t disclose. Even then, how much did she mean to him?

Loud footsteps sound behind you quickly. Before you can fully turn back to see who or what is emitting the noise, a hand is on the arm Jeonghan isn’t holding.

“Yn,” Seungcheol rasps, eyes wide and pleading.

Jeonghan stops in his tracks as he flickers his gaze between you both.

“Maybe another time, Seungcheol,” he says gently, so as to not offend him.

“Let’s let her decide that,” Seungcheol responds, his jaw clenching slightly as he gives a warning glare in his direction. You don’t like the expression he gives Jeonghan.

Even though his hand awakens sleeping butterflies in your stomach, you move it from you—catching his attention. His firm features immediately soften.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

You want to say yes, but after hearing Hajun’s words from earlier, you’re not sure if you want to anymore. He’s allowed to speak to his friends about whatever he wants, but you had hoped he would’ve done so respectfully.

“Depends,” you answer. “Are you going to go twist my words to your friends?”

His eyebrows push together. “What are you talking about? I wouldn’t do that.”

“And I wouldn’t use a needle to sew,” you reply sarcastically.

“Seriously, Cherry. Let’s go somewhere private and talk. Please?” he says, eyes glancing up at Jeonghan who still stands next to you.

Hearing that nickname after so long makes your brain short-circuit. You’re a little surprised that he used it since you aren’t on speaking terms. Nicknames are normally reserved for friends… Does he think you’re still friends with him? That’d be sad if he did considering how he treated you before.

“I’ve heard everything I needed to hear,” you argue.

“No, you haven’t,” he sighs. His eyes move to see Mingyu and Hajun leaving the building. It’s not going to be long until they catch up.

“Do you plan to whisper sweet nothings in my ear until I forgive you?” you question with venom.

“No, I—”

“One day, you’ll see my clothes in a shopping window and think, ‘Wow. How did I ever sleep with someone so out of my league?’” you hiss out, narrow eyes locking on his. 

“Instead of your clothes, he’ll see a used napkin in the wind and think, ‘Wow. I should’ve pushed her out of my life sooner,’” you hear Hajun's voice before you can see her. 

Seeing Hajun next to Seungcheol reminds you of all the problems you have with him. Even though you did miss him, you don’t miss this—feeling like you are getting ganged up on while Seungcheol stands there and does nothi—

“Be quiet, Hajun,” Seungcheol snaps. “I’m tired of you getting in my business.”

His aggressive tone takes everyone by surprise.

You never heard him like this; not to you, not to anyone. It’s a whole new Seungcheol you have yet to discover. One you don’t want to be on the receiving end of. You can only imagine how Hajun is feeling.

“W-what? But I’m only trying to help,” she sputters, trying not to look as startled as she probably feels. It seems it’s her first time seeing this Seungcheol, too.

“Did I ever ask for your help? For fuck’s sake, just stop bothering Yn.”

Hajun’s eyes widen like saucers, mouth opening slightly at his words. You watch the scene before you. Your expression is probably the same as Hajun’s.

She looks at you, shock turning into irritation.

“You said something to him, didn’t you?” she accuses. That pulls you from your surprised daze.

Rolling your eyes, you answer with a forced smile, “Ah, yes, I bewitched him so he’d tell you to fuck off. Isn’t that right, Cheollie?”

You glance up at him when using the nickname, eyelashes batting obnoxiously.

“Cherry,” Seungcheol scolds lightly with a groan, hand coming up to rub at his temples.

“Who the hell is Cherry?” Hajun questions, miffed.

“What did I say, Hajun?” Seungcheol responds instead. “Stop talking shit about Yn. Stop trying to fight her.”

Hajun scoffs. “If anything, she’s trying to fight me!”

“And I’ll win, too,” you comment under your breath, causing Jeonghan to yank on your arm slightly with a shake of his head. You forgot he’s here.

“What did you just say, bitch?” Hajun asks you. You open your mouth to repeat what you said, but Seungcheol’s voice interrupts you.

“Leave, Hajun,” he says and stares at her. Even though it isn’t directed at you, you can tell how intimidating it is.

“You’re really going to let her control you, Seungcheol?!” she exasperates, almost desperately.

“Now,” he demands.

Hajun’s mouth opens again, but nothing comes out. She glances at Mingyu and Jeonghan as if they will say something; however, neither of them does. With one last look at Seungcheol, she spins on her heels and walks away.

You all watch her for a few seconds. The awkward silence is starting to make you feel uncomfortable.

“She could’ve at least taken the drinks,” Mingyu says, trying to break the tense atmosphere. You peer at him to see he has all the drinks again.

Seungcheol disregards him to speak to you. His voice has lost that firmness to it. “Yn, just five minutes.”

You still want to say no, yet, this is your chance to listen to him without having to appear desperate for closure. Perhaps you can finally get him out of your mind if you agree.

“Fine,” you yield and glance at Jeonghan.

“I’ll wait here with Mingyu,” he informs. You would have told him it was fine, but after rejecting Dae’s offer to pick you up at Seungcheol’s that day, you want to have someone to turn to in case this conversation ends like the last.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

Seungcheol guides you both to sit on a bench nearby. You sit on opposite ends with your hands in your lap.

“I’m sorry” is the first thing he says as you get settled. He tucks his hands in his hoodie’s pocket, reminding you you still have to return the one you have someday.

His back leans against the bench while he shifts his eyes on you. “I’m sorry for the awful things I said. I don’t think you’ve slept with everyone on campus, and I don’t agree with what Hajun and Hana have said about you.”

You rub your lips together, staring at him at first but then averting. The events of that day come to the forefront of your mind. Though they’ve never been far from it to begin with. You wonder if you overreacted at the time, but you’re so emotionally involved with him it’s hard to tell. No doubt his words stung; especially after engaging in such vulnerable moments with him and slipping into that fantasy life you had created for the both of you. All for it all to evaporate with what? A so-called joke?

“You don’t have to forgive me right now, or ever, but I would still like to talk to you… to try to get back to where we were before I fucked up,” he continues when you remain quiet.

Your first response in your head is no, that won’t be possible. You just want to move on. But that answer spurs from having your defensive walls around you. What if you get close like before, only for something else to tear you apart?

Sighing, you begin playing with the end of your clothes.

“What did you tell Hajun?” you ask in lieu of answering his silent question.

Seungcheol tilts his head at the sudden topic change. “I told her to leave you alone.”

“No,” you shake your head and look at him. “What did you tell her after that day?”

He’s silent for a moment as he digs around his thoughts for an answer.

“I didn’t tell her anything. She just asked where you were,” he replies.

The look on your face conveys your disbelief.

“You didn’t tell her we had sex?” you asked.

“W-what? No. There was no reason to,” he says. You can see the shock on his face from your question.

“Then how does she know?”

“Does she?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Seungcheol ponders on the information. “Well, she did ask as a joke, but I didn’t tell her we did,” he answers.

You take a deep breath. Another joke, huh?

“Did you tell her we didn’t then?” you wonder.

He shakes his head.

“Seungcheol,” you scold while bringing a hand to your temples.

He pouts, scooting closer to lower your arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d figure it out. It wasn’t her business to know.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you concur sadly. The warmth of his hand spreads up your arm, bringing back a sense of familiarity that makes you want more but also want to pull away in fear of losing it again.

“What else did she s—”

The sound of your phone going off startles you both.

You pull away to grab it. Seoah’s name appears at the top.

“One second,” you murmur before answering and turning away.

“Yeah?” you greet.

“Are you almost home?” Seoah asks.

“No, did you need something?”

She releases a loud sigh on the other end. “Yeah. Dad’s cake. You’re going to be late.”

Shit.

You completely forgot about your father’s surprise birthday party. Seoah invited a few of his co-workers over to celebrate, and you’re supposed to pick up the cake on the way home from rehearsal. It’s going to be the first time in a while since you do anything big like this. Normally, his birthday consists of only you and Seoah singing him a happy birthday with a present.

“I’m so sorry. Look, just start without it,” you say and begin to stand. Seungcheol follows you, waiting patiently as you stay on the call.

You pull the device from your ear despite Seoah talking.

“I have to go,” you inform.

Seungcheol’s lips dip in a frown, but it quickly disappears. “Can we meet this weekend so we can talk more?”

“I can’t. I have the—”

“The show. I know,” he pauses. “I’ll be there.”

The phone call is forgotten instantly at his words. He’ll be at the show? The show you’ve been working on? You figured that would be the last place he’d be.

“Y-you will?” you stutter.

Seungcheol smiles, but it isn’t anywhere near his eyes. “We can talk the next day. I figure you’ll be busy after.”

“I-Uh… Yeah,” you reply, not sure what to say. You want to ask why and when he got the tickets. You want to know if he is being forced to go or if it’s a decision he made all on his own. Though, none of those questions come out.

“Are you even listening to me?” Seoah’s voice is loud. “Who are you with? Is it Jeonghan? Tell him to go away, so you can grab the cake.”

Seungcheol glances at the phone in your hand. His face morphs into something you can’t read, though you catch the way his jaw clenches briefly. You’re not sure if it’s because he recognizes Seoah’s voice or if it’s something she said. Regardless, you ignore it and change your focus to your sister.

“I’m on the way now, relax. You’re not cutting it at the start anyway,” you reason. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

You hang up the call before you can hear more of her complaining.

“Sorry,” you apologize as you look at Seungcheol again. He seems lost in his thoughts. It’s odd to see him this way since you feel you’re usually the one in his position.

You take a few seconds to scan his face properly. Even with his slightly visible eye bags, you find him handsome. Your fingers twitch with the desire to touch him, to feel his warm body against yours and see that smile that has you smiling back.

“Seungcheol?” you ask softly when you realize neither of you has spoken.

His eyes snap to yours. “Right,” he clears his throat. “So, the next day?”

“Okay,” you agree before you can overthink the decision. You know you need to resolve the issue in order to continue with your life—whether it’s one with him in it or not.

“We can go to that café? I can pick you up,” he offers.

Having been used to him driving around, you almost say yes, but you learned your lesson of not having your own transportation.

“It’s fine. I’ll meet you there,” you reply.

“Alright,” he says slowly, allowing you time to change your mind. When he senses that isn’t going to happen, he adds, “I’ll see you this weekend.”

“See you,” you say, gaze lingering on his for a little too long before you tear yourself away. 

You find Jeonghan with Mingyu a couple of feet away. They both look up when they hear you near.

“All good?” Jeonghan wonders.

You shrug. “For now, I guess. Thanks for waiting.”

Jeonghan stands, a drink in his hand. Mingyu still has the third.

“Anytime. Do you still want that?” Jeonghan asks as he gestures to the third drink. You glance at it, shaking your head. You don’t know if it’s contaminated.

“No one’s drunk out of it,” Mingyu reassures; however, you still shake your head.

“Thanks, though. I’ll pay you back for it,” you say.

Mingyu smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Still want some company to your car?” Jeonghan questions.

“That’d be nice,” you smile slightly. Jeonghan nods. After you both say goodbye to Mingyu, you lead Jeonghan in the direction of your parked car.

You haven't seen Seungcheol’s face in weeks. While seeing him again is difficult, it feels like you can breathe again. The temptation to glance back at him is strong. You want to see him again.

And so you do.

Only to find his eyes already locked on you.

Something about his look captivates your attention. His expression isn’t settled in a set emotion; it ranges from longing to worry to hope. Jeonghan guides you down the sidewalk, talking about something you don’t know. It’s not until you turn a corner that you’re forced to break your gaze due to a building obstructing your view.

You’re anxious about this weekend and unsure how your life will change. The fashion show is a big deal for you, but so is Seungcheol. It’s nerve-wracking to not know how everything will end.

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

A/N: Next chapter will be the last one in the series! Ahhhhhvfjsnbfgkvkd

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[pedrito-friskito]

Hi! I loved Fire and Whiskey and the dynamic set up there. Could I request a bodyguard!Joel x reader? Pretty please?

hi nonnie!!! oh thank you 🥺 fire and whiskey is one of my personal favourites too tbh, and I already know Joel Miller is gonna be one of my favourite pedro characters!

thank you for the request! hope you enjoy 🥰

sleepover saturday

expectations

(word count 1.9k)

It was only supposed to be a job.

That was it. An assignment. Get you from point A to point B, alive and intact, get the payout, go back to Boston. Easy. Uncomplicated. No strings attached.

He hadn’t expected you.

When Tess had first described you, he had been expecting someone meek and soft-spoken. Someone who would do as she was told and stay behind him. He certainly wasn’t expecting you, a full foot shorter than him and full of fire that seemed to burn icy hot. The mouth on you alone was enough to give Joel a run for his money.

The first stretch of the trip is hell. Absolute hell. It seems like every building you pass is crawling with clickers, the streets filled with runners. You have to go the long way around more than once, and all it does it set Joel’s teeth on edge.

At first, he can’t wait to get you where you’re going. He doesn’t ask questions, he shuts you down when you try to ask him anything. He doesn’t what to know you; he can’t know you. So he doesn’t let himself.

But then everything changes.

He can’t put his finger on it exactly, when the walls start to fall. One night, you’re curled up at the fire together, Joel taking the first watch, the pair of you sharing a blanket to stave off the chill. You’re asleep, turned away from him, curled up like a question mark, hands fisted under your chin. He finds himself watching you, leaning on his elbow, the shotgun pressed against his back.

You make a tiny noise as you roll over, and Joel stares down at you, watching your face to see if you’re awake or not. Your eyes don’t open, though your lashes flutter with dreams. After a moment, your hand flashes out, fisting in the fabric of his flannel, the buttons pressed between your knuckles. Joel flinches, hunching forward, still waiting your face as your brow pinches, lips pursed as you shuffle yourself closer to him, like you’re seeking out his body heat.

Then he hears it.

“Joel.”

That’s it, just his name, but it sounds like something else. Something he hasn’t heard in a long time.

Something like desire.

He doesn’t say anything, not when you wake the next morning with your head buried in his chest, his arm around your waist. He doesn’t mention that you said his name in your sleep; he can just imagine the way you’d stammer and protest if he even suggested it, and that’s enough.

It’s just a job, he reminds himself. But it’s half-hearted.

Another stretch of the journey, and you’re getting antsy. Things are getting more and more dangerous, it feels, and he’s glad he didn’t have to teach you to shoot; you’re a natural.

The runner comes out of nowhere, grabbing Joel by the backpack and flinging him to the floor. He goes down hard, body slamming into the pavement, before it’s on him. Clawing and shrieking, shredding the shoulder of his shirt, pushing him down so hard he can already feel the road-rash on his back.

The gunshot echoed through his ears, through the street, making birds explode from the tree line. The runner topples over, a mess of blood and gore, and Joel shoves the thing sideways, giving himself a quick once over as he gets to his feet. No bites, he’s clean.

“Are you all right?” you nearly scream, sprinting towards him, still holding the shotgun with both hands. You swing it over your shoulder as you get close, instantly reaching for him. You take his jaw in your hand, turning his head back and forth, looking him over. “Did it get you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, girlie,” he grumbles, grabbing your wrists, peeling your hands off of him. But he doesn’t let go of you. “Nice shooting.”

You grab at his shoulder, inspecting the shredded piece of his shirt, and then move around him, brushing the gravel from his back. It makes him wince. “We should find a place to lay low for the night,” you tell him. “I need to look at your back.”

It’s easy enough to find a place, blockading the door a few floors up in one of the apartments. By some miracle, there’s a can of peaches hiding in one of the kitchen cabinets, and you nearly cry with happiness when Joel cracks it open with his knife. You share the fruit standing at the counter, both of you sloppy with your bites, juice running down your chins. You catch sight of each other, cheeks crammed like a chipmunk, syrup on your lips, and you both just start laughing.

Once the laughter has subsided, you order him to sit and unbutton his shirt. It hurts like hell as you peel it of him, fishing some antiseptic out of one of the first aid kits. “Shit, you really hit the ground hard,” you murmur, and pull a seat up behind him. “This might not feel great.”

“Get it done, girlie,” he tells you, and reaches for the flash he’d stowed in his bag. “I’ll be fine.”

You’re gentle as all hell, and Joel has to stifle the way it lights a fire in his chest. You keep one hand on his good shoulder the whole time, your grip soft but secure. It makes him feel grounded.

You clean the worst of it once you’ve cleaned all the gravel from his skin. Joel grits his teeth, and you murmur apologies, rubbing at his shoulder as you do it.

And then, “I’m done,” you say softly, and Joel turns his head to look at you over his shoulder. “You’ll live.”

He smirks, and reaches up, covering your hand still on his shoulder. He squeezes your fingers and sees something flicker in your expression. Then you reach out with your other hand, brushing the hair from the back of his neck, and lean in, kissing the top notch of his spine, your mouth warm and soft. It sends a chill down his spine.

But the next day, it’s like nothing happened. You’re quiet, which is strange enough, and you keep your distance, a good five feet between you at almost all times. He thinks about making a joke — does he smell, or something? — but he doesn’t think it would land. So he sinks back into the silence; he’s used to it. Yes, the slight warble in your voice had made something spark in his chest, and the soft kiss to his spine had made his whole body feel like it could combust at any given moment, but he had to ignore it.

It’s just a job.

When you finally get where you’re going, you’re welcomed with open arms. They even take Joel in for the night, offering him supplies for the trip back to Boston. He doesn’t plan to stay long, deciding to leave first thing in the morning, rechecking his bags when there’s a knock at the door.

He’s not expecting you to be standing on the other side, but he’s learned well enough that you are not what he expected. He has to step back as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and leaning up against it.

“You need something, girlie?” he asks, quietly cursing himself for the nickname. It just slipped out.

“I don’t want you to go,” you say, and Joel balks.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to go,” you repeat, your voice more sure.

Joel barks a laugh, but instantly regrets the sound at the way your face falls. “We both know that’s not something I can do.”

“Why not?” you ask, and there’s a crack in your voice, something like the warble he had heard when you tended to his back. “Why can’t you stay with me?” You pause, staring down at your hands, fingers now knotted together. “Be with me.”

Joel shakes his head, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. For a moment, he can feel the ghost of the kiss you’d offered. “You don’t want me, girlie. I’m no good for you.”

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. There you are, his spitfire girl. His. He pushes the thought aside. “Why on earth would you say that?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I got…baggage.”

You actually laugh this time. “Don’t we all?”

He starts to protest, but you reach out, curling your fingers in his flannel like you had that night in your sleep. You haul him close, and he lets you, planting one hand on the door beside your head, the other hovering around your waist, not quite sure where to land first.

“Stay with me,” you say again, and he’s so close his chest is pressed to yours now. He can feel you breathing. “Be with me. Please.”

“Girlie…”

“We don’t have to stay here,” you say, and the tip of your nose drags against his, your breath warm on his mouth. “We could go back to Boston, if that’s what you want. I don’t care.”

“After I just got you here all safe and sound?” he quips, giving you half a grin. “Dunno about that.”

“I don’t care,” you say again, and you take his face in your hands, fingers diving into his hair, swiping along the planes of his face. “I don’t care where we go.”

“G—”

His protest is lost to your mouth. You kiss him hard, rough, all teeth and tongue, making that spark he’d felt turn to a damn forest fire in one fell swoop. He gives just as good as you do, sliding both arms around you, crushing you against him. You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, and he’s hooked on your immediately, pulling you closer. You groan into his voice, and he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, reaching down to grip your thighs, lifting you up and against him. Your legs lock around his waist, boots hooked against his lower back, and he presses you against the door, your shoulders pressed to the wood.

“I want you,” you breathe out, combing your fingers through his hair. Joel grunts, peeling you off the door again, carrying you through the room, laying you back on the bed.

It’s fast. It’s pawing at clothes, hands tracing scars, mouth meeting and parting and meeting again. You’re just undressed enough for him to move down your body, tasting your sweetness at the source, revelling in the moans he pulls from your lips. You don’t let him down there long however; it’s only a moment before you’re pulling his mouth back to yours, tasting yourself on his lips. He sinks his weight of you a moment later, bites back his own groan as you slide your hand into his boxers.

But he can’t keep quiet when he pushes inside you. It makes his eyes roll back, his forehead dropping against your collar as he moves over you, gripping your thigh as he starts to thrust. You pull him close as he rolls his hips into yours, lifting yourself to meet him.

“Please don’t go,” you breathe out as he drags his mouth along your neck. “Please, Joel.”

He nods against you, grunting as he feels you clench down on him. “I’m here, girlie,” he rasps out. “I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Something in the way you hold him close makes him think you’ll hold him to it.

He hopes you do.

[goosewriting]

Wherever you go, I go - part 2

summary: reader’s adventures on the Mantis continue.

relationship: Cal Kestis x GN reader

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, pure fluff at the end 

word count: 2.8k 

A/N: this one’s a bit shorter ;;w;; i’m planning on doing a third chapter, where we will finally learn what reader did that got a bounty on their head 

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here) | Part 3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

After admitting your mutual feelings, watching Cal leave the Mantis to go around risking his life was even harder. You knew about the importance of the mission, but still, it tugged at your heart a little stronger every time.

You had managed to convince the redhead to let you tag along on Zeffo, around the abandoned village at least. When he went into the ice caves and beyond, he told you to stay on the ship.

So that’s where you spend most of your time, mainly helping out as the “medic”. That’s your assigned role by Cere, so to speak. But you also help out by assisting her in intercepting and decoding Imperial messages. She taught you how to do it and you caught on quickly. You also help Greez with ship repairs and maintenance here and there. Really you’re an all-rounder, and while the Mantis could get a little too crowded sometimes with four people on board, they seem happy to have you around. Or at least you like to think so.

Right now, you’re headed to Kashyyyk to look for someone named Tarfful. After jumping out of hyperspace, you’re met with a giant Imperial ship lurking over the planet. They seem to be preoccupied with something else though, as the Mantis sneaks right past it. Still you can’t help holding your breath until you’re out of range from it. As you get closer to the jungle-covered surface, you almost crash into an Imperial fighter in pursuit of a guerilla fighter. Greez scolds Cal for not checking the scanners, but he gets up, already heading for the door. He claims to have a plan: hijacking the Imperial walkers wading through the water towards the edge of the jungle, where you assume there’s a battle front. 

Before you can even process what he’s about to do, Cal presses the button to open the main hatch, and the door opens with a hiss.

“Hey, do me a favour,” Cere says to him before he exits. “Stay alive down there?”

“I’ll add it to the plan,” Cal retorts with a grin and walks out onto the ramp.

“If you're gonna jump, you better do it now, kid.,” Greez calls from the cockpit.

“Hold on,” you say, approaching the open door, shielding your body from the strong winds with your arms. “You’re not seriously gonna just jump?!” 

Cal shrugs his shoulders in response, shooting you a smirk and a wink before letting himself fall backwards from the ramp.

“Cal!” you call after him, but Cere pulls you back and closes the door before you get any ideas of following after him. 

“Oh no you don’t,” she scolds you. “You stay on the ship.”

“I swear one of these days he’s gonna give me a heart attack,” you mutter as you go back to the cockpit, trying to spot him from the windows. But the ship is too high up, and there’s a veil of fog covering the water below, so you can’t really make out too much.

When you finally land, you exit the Mantis first and make your way to Cal with an accusing finger pointing at him. He raises his hands in defeat. You low-key want to smack him across the face, but you forgive him easily; it’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s that cute.

The rest of the crew joins you and Cal introduces everyone to Saw Gerrera. He and his fighters want to attack the refinery to free it from the Empire, where Wookiees are being held as slaves and prisoners. They quickly go over the plan and Saw leaves with his troops, telling Cal to join them when he’s ready.

You stay behind with Cere and Greez on the Mantis to intercept transmissions and offer support from here. Standing at the base of the ramp, Cal holds your hands, giving them one last squeeze.

“Be safe,” you plead, and you wish you didn’t sound so worried because you know he can feel it, but you can’t help it.

“I promise,” he responds with a smile, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your cheek, and then he takes off towards the refinery. 

After a couple of steps Cal turns back around one last time and you wave to him. You can hear BD’s beeps, probably saying his goodbyes. Even after they’re gone from view, you stand there a little longer, already missing the redhead. You huff and shake your head. I have to be brave for him, you tell yourself. So you go back to the ship to help Cere with the transmissions.

It isn't until about 20 minutes later that you try to contact Cal the first time to ask how it’s going, but there’s no response. In fact, you can’t get through at all. It’s like someone cut off the connection. You keep trying to get through, to no avail.

Immediately you fear the worst, so you tell Cere. 

“You think there’s an Inquisitor here?” you ask, fearful.

“Cal has fought them before, he’s strong,” Cere says, as she turns to Greez. He shifts in his seat.

“I mean, there’s a chance they caught up to him,” the captain starts, averting his eyes from both of you. “Cal did mention bounty hunters on Zeffo. Maybe…” He trails off for a moment. “Oh no.”

“They, who?” you question. 

– – –

You’re pacing back and forth on the Mantis, trying to get the worry and stress out of your system. You almost threw one of the tools lying nearby at the Latero when he confessed that he had a big debt from his gambling days that he hadn’t paid off yet. Because of it, bounty hunters were after Cal, apparently.

Sitting down on the cot, you exhale deeply. You had to remove yourself from the cockpit as Greez set course to Ordo Eris, the stronghold of the Haxion Brood. You didn’t want to say or do something you’d regret later. The only thing you could do now was pray to any deity you could think of that Greez was right and you weren’t just ditching Cal on Kashyyyk. And also hope that if he had actually gotten kidnapped, that he was still in one piece. From the few things Greez told you about their leader, Sorc Tormo, he didn’t sound like a pleasant fellow. Then again, Cal has BD with him. They’re a great team, and Cal has only gotten stronger in such a short period of time. Surely, they’re fine. 

You repeat that last thought in your mind like a mantra, until Cere finally announces you’re about to arrive. You quickly make your way to the cockpit and catch the Mantis jumping out of hyperspace, now flying towards a construction seemingly built into an asteroid. It actually looks kind of cool, and you’d take some more time appreciating the architecture if it wasn’t for Cal being in danger.

Greez flies the ship without hesitation towards a tower.

“Hold on to something!” he warns not long before the ship breaks through one of the big panels and into the building. 

Cere is already at the door, calling out to Cal. When he finally steps through the hatch into the Mantis in one piece, you’re so relieved you could pass out right then and there. But a new wave of worry comes crashing down on you as you the state he’s in; he clearly took a beating, and who knows how long he’s been like this. 

Greez makes quick work of getting the ship out of there. Meanwhile Cal tells everyone the bad news. It doesn’t escape you how he’s leaning onto the back of Cere’s seat for support. You also don’t miss the fact the only thing on his mind is the mission, and not his well-being, apparently. You lightly shake your head as you approach him.

“The Empire knows about the Holocron,” Cal informs everyone, then he turns to Cere with a slight grimace. “And I had a nice chat with the Second Sister, Trilla.”

You’re trying to have Cal lean onto you for support so you can take him to the back to patch him up, but you stop moving at his words. There’s an uncharacteristic venom laced in his voice. 

“What did she tell you?” Cere asks, calculating. 

“She told me you betrayed her to the Empire,” he spits. “Is it true?” 

Cere hesitates for a moment, and you can feel your heart sink to your stomach.

“She was my apprentice before the purge,” she finally states, and it’s obvious she’s deflecting the question. 

“You should have told me!” Cal retorts, and you can feel him shaking. 

“We’re getting an encrypted message from Kashyyyk,” Greez interrupts the two.

Cal and Cere share one last sour look before Cal moves towards the holotable. The message is from Mari Kosan, one of Gerrera’s fighters. They found Tarfful and he wants to meet Cal. But the Empire overran their position at the refinery. Some of the fighters stayed back while Gerrera went off-world. 

Back to Kashyyyk it is, then. Greez sets the course, and the ship’s engines roar as it enters hyperspace. 

You quickly lead Cal away before he can say anything else to Cere. When you tell him that you couldn’t reach his commlink, he tells you that Trilla rerouted all communications. He tried contacting you as well, but couldn't.

When you get to the cot, you sit him down and get the first aid box. You take off his poncho and his vest to take a closer look at his injuries. He’s a bit scratched up but luckily he looked worse than it actually was. 

After giving him a stim, cleaning up his wounds and discarding the used gauze, you take one last look at Cal before nodding and finally allowing yourself to properly breathe again. He visibly feels much better now.

“There, all done,” you say, cupping his cheek. 

“Thanks, cupcake,” Cal responds, and you feel the heat violently erupt on your face.

“Where’d that come from?” you manage to ask, failing to hold back a flustered chuckle.

“To be honest, I have no idea,” he responds with a sheepish smile, a blush spreading on his cheeks as well. “If you don’t like it–”

“No no, I do,” you’re quick to interrupt him. “I could get used to it.” 

After a moment, you turn around to put away the first aid box on the shelves on the opposite side.

“Oh, I remembered a new trick on Kashyyyk, by the way,” Cal says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Really?” you ask, turning around and leaning back on the wall. “I hope it’s better than the wall running.”

Cal extends his arms towards you, and you feel an invisible force pushing you off the wall and bringing you forward until you come to a halt standing between Cal’s legs, his hands gently holding onto your waist to help you keep your balance. He looks up at you with a stupid grin and raises his brows, as if to tell you “not bad, right?”.

“I guess it is better,” you laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders. “I wonder what other tricks you have up your sleeve…”

Suddenly his gaze shifts from mischievous to a little more serious, and his eyes momentarily flicker to your lips and back up. Involuntarily, your breath hitches, and you start leaning in, your hands travelling up his neck to hold his face. The butterflies in your stomach are out of control, and you swallow in an attempt to calm down and not mess this up, and–

Both you and Cal freeze as you hear your name being called from the cockpit. 

You pull away, removing your hands from him rather stiffly. The look of disappointment on his face has your chest tightening in pain for a second.

“I better go,” you say sheepishly. “Make sure to get some rest, okay?”

“Right,” Cal sighs, waiting just for a moment longer in case you don’t go just yet, but you turn around and make your way to the front of the ship, hiding your face with your hands in embarrassment once you have your back to him. He leans down onto the cot with a quiet groan, placing his arm over his forehead. 

The call came from Cere; she needs your help with some intercepted transmissions, so that’s what you work on for some time. Once you’re done, you start tinkering with Cal’s commlink, changing some parts and improving the wiring, so it wouldn’t be as easy to jam or reroute communications in the future.

It takes you a while to make those improvements, and once you’re finally done, you stand up with a yawn, stretching your arms over your head. It’s time for you to hit the bed as well. 

As you get up from the round table, you notice that Greez isn’t in his captain’s seat. You were so focused on your work that you must have missed him walking by. Shrugging it off, you make your way to the back, looking forward to cuddling with Cal, as you’ve had to share a bed ever since you came onboard the Mantis. You hope it wouldn’t be weird after what happened earlier, though.

Just as you’re passing the threshold to the back of the ship, Greez walks past you. Cal is sitting on the cot and not sleeping, as he should be. You push him back down onto the bed, telling him to scoot over so you can fit as well.

“What did Greez want?” you ask as you get comfortable. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. He apologised, actually” Cal answers, lying down behind you and pulling you into his chest. “For the whole Haxion Brood thing.” He pauses for a moment, and you look over your shoulder. “He also said I should cut Cere some slack for the whole… Trilla situation.”

You lie back down, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m actually not sure what I’ll do once I find the Holocron,” Cal admits, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you offer, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “For now, let’s focus on the mission at hand. A lot can happen until then.” 

Cal doesn’t answer, but he hugs you a little tighter. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to doze off into some much needed sleep.

When you wake up, it’s because of Cere shaking your shoulder not so gently, telling you to get up. You respond with a groan, hiding your face in the pillow. 

“Get up, we’re about to arrive,” Cere says with a warning tone that leaves no place for discussion. So you have no choice but get up. 

Again on Kashyyyk, Cal gets ready to go meet this Tarfful guy. Or rather, Wookiee. After plans are made and equipment is checked, it’s time for him to go. 

“Here, your new and improved commlink,” you announce to Cal, holding out the device. 

Cal thanks you with a smile, taking it from your hands and pocketing it away. BD beeps, telling him it’s time to go. But he stands there looking at you for a second longer. 

“Be careful, okay?” you plead in a quiet voice.

“I promise,” he assures you with his usual smile, but his eyes are searching yours for something else, and that’s all it takes for you to momentarily block out the rest of the world and do what you’ve been wanting to since probably the first day you ever laid eyes on the redhead. 

“Wait, come here,” you say and your hands reach up to hold his poncho. “You have something on your face.” 

You pull him down until his nose brushes against yours.

“Me,” you whisper, and capture his lips with yours. Cal makes an adorable sound of surprise, but is quick to kiss you back. By the way his hand snakes around your torso and comes to a sudden halt at the small of your back, you can tell it’s taking him a lot of effort to hold back right now. For some reason, that makes you feel even bolder, so before pulling back, you give his bottom lip a nibble. 

Cal lets out a “phew” with a cocky smirk, running his hand through his hair, and it’s illegal how handsome he looks right now. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one with tricks up my sleeves, huh?” he says and you laugh, now slightly embarrassed as you realise everyone on the landing platform just saw you. 

“Off you go,” you tell Cal, giving him a playful push on his chest, and he leans in to quickly steal one last kiss, then takes off with a wink.

— — —

A/N 2: i couldn’t find any info on how the bounty hunter kidnapping scene ties into the story (to me it felt kinda random when playing), so it seems a lot of the surrounding parts were scrapped and all that was left was greez’ dialogue about gambling. but i wanted to use the scene, so i hope it made sense lol // screenshot is mine

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings

[cositapreciosa]

Can I please request an Amado x reader fic where he slowly starts to fall in love with her? and, if it's possible, can she be a non-fluent Spanish speaker? Somewhat like Mimi. Thank you so much!

By proxy

Amado Carillo Fuentes x female!reader, (mention of you wearing heels/skirt/painted nails/lipstick, no warnings, the usual for the show) 1545 words

a/n : hopefully this is what you had in mind ! let me know how you like it

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

When he arrived, you were already seated in the chair next to his assigned one. Sunglasses perched on your nose, colored lips matching your nails, and satellite phone opened to your ear, ushering things in the receiver he couldn’t understand. Amado wouldn’t usually pay attention to all those details, but the space between the seats is narrow and you don’t seem to realize he needs you to get up so that he can finally sit down.

The heat is unbearable today. Of course he knew Belize was going to be hot, but the humidity mixed with little wind is making sweat run down his back. A temperature you don’t seem to mind, deeply invested in whatever conversation you are having, with your freshly pressed shirt, not a bead of sweat on your forehead. He has to cough to get your attention, and the look you give him makes him feel like he is intruding, your palm cupping the receiver so as to not disturb whoever is on the other side.

‘’ Puedo ayudarle? ‘’

That is when he notices your accent, the way the r comes out round and unrolled. You speak English, he thinks, but he can’t figure out more. He’s never really been one to notice the subtleties between accents.

‘’ That’s my seat, ‘’ he begins in English, ‘’ Do you mind if..? ‘’

‘’ Oh. ‘’

You are quickly on your feet, pressing the back of your knees to the chair to make more space for him to pass through. He can smell your perfume, feel the softness of your silk shirt as his hand brushes your elbow as he moves forward. You sit back down at the same time as him, one of your legs moving on top of the other. Before he can even say thank you, you are back on the phone, throwing phrases and fancy words he can’t understand. Is English is good, but it clearly wasn’t fluent enough for whatever business conversation you were having. You close the antenna with a snap.

‘’ I’m sorry about that, not very lady-like of me. ‘’

There is no point for you to try talking to him in Spanish anymore, and as much as he can’t shake away his own accent, he knows his English is probably better than your Spanish. You don’t really mean it, half an apology, half small-talk, too focused on what is happening up front, the first plane being manoeuvered on the tarmac. He offers you a polite smile nonetheless.

‘’ It’s all good. ‘’

The plane isn’t even stopped behind the podium that the auction starts, loud voice coming from the speaker, bragging about the size of the crew cabin, the space in between the seats. Nothing he needs to know, nothing that would make a difference in the type of business he plans on making with those buys. Rip it all out, he would say, start loading it up. It goes pretty fast after that, when the auctioneer finally stops talking about the whys and the hows and starts selling the plane.

He can feel you watching, chin turning his way every time he buys a plane. Probably because, compared to him, you haven’t bought much so far, no one did really.

‘’ May I ask you what all those planes are for? ‘’

You are bold, he can give you that, biting your questions, answers rolling off your tongue just as quickly. He doesn’t even realize when he started smiling, cheeks touching the underside of his sunglasses.

‘’ I could ask you the same question. ‘’

Your bite the inside of your cheek, as if you are thinking it through, if you should actually give him an answer or just another question in response.

‘’ Fair enough. Maybe our bosses’ business isn’t for us commoners to talk about. ‘’

‘’ Oh, no, you’re mistaken. I’m the boss. ‘’

That catches your eyes, knees turning to his side, body following shortly as your own sunglasses slide down your nose with the movement. He knew it would, maybe that is why he said it. There is something fun about you, carefree, that feels like it could turn this chore into something enjoyable for once. He never liked making small talk, but he does appreciate this back-and-forth that is happening. Amado watches as your elbow drapes over the back of your chair before you speak.

‘’ What’s your name again? ‘’

You do be asking many questions, he realizes, but he gives you his name nonetheless, finding himself to enjoy it when you give yours back.

‘’ Then, Amado, ‘’ You continue, ‘’ Why do the dirty work? It’s hot as hell on this tarmac. No budget for shades, the paddles are plastic, no wine bar, what’s in it for you? ‘’

‘’ Good company, clearly. You seem to be doing those a lot. ‘’

He loves the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You barely acknowledge his statement, raising your own paddle for a small luxury plane as your attention turns back to the front. A few second passes, before the gavel smashes the podium. As the applause dies down, the auctioneer talks into his microphone, voice booming and with more spectacle than he usually enjoys.

‘’ Told my boss I could speak Spanish, but I’m more at a 4-year-old level than anything else. You mind translating that for me? ‘’

He can tell you are flirting, trying to keep the conversation going. Your eyes are playful, meeting his and twisting his insides, sparkling warmth to his chest. This feels different, and he wonders if he has gotten too old for this. Still, he plays into it.

‘’ He said the plane’s all yours, mija, but that you have to pilot it back to the US if you want to keep it. ‘’

Your laugh makes the people in front of you turn, you don’t mind them though, continuing to look at the vendors as they parade the planes around.

‘’ I would crash the damn thing. You don’t happen to know a good pilot, do you? ‘’

He leans his head to your side, close enough to smell your perfume again, almost tasting the salt from your skin.

‘’ Hmm. I got someone in mind. ‘’

‘’ Well I hope he’s any good, I plan on coming back in one piece. ‘’

You are raising your paddle again, two, three times until the sale is yours. He is sure you get more Spanish than you let him on, or maybe you just go for looks and hope the plane fits your budget, if you have any. You haven’t talked much about why you are here either, and he can’t help but wonder who would buy almost as many planes as him. It is not as much, clearly, he is here to buy the biggest ones, all of them, but you have been weirdly focusing on the smaller ones, the cleaner ones, rivalling all the white heads on the tarmac.

‘’ Don’t worry, ‘’ He says as he adjusts himself on the chair, ‘’ I’ll land us safe and sound. ‘’

You find this funny, beaming at him, smile wide and refreshing in the heat. He can tell your eyes are curious, squinting from the sun as you look at him over your sunglasses.

‘’ How romantic. ‘’

There is no real implication behind your words, mostly mocking him, brushing off your actual surprise that he is in fact a pilot. Amado buys the last three planes, it is a quick process, raising his paddle, gavel knocking, and before he knows it you are on your feet, heels clacking on the asphalt the moment they end the auction.

He watches as you pull down your skirt, gathering your things in one hand while the other moves towards him, wide open for a handshake.

‘’ Well, Amado, the pleasure was all mine. I guess I’ll see you at the next one? ‘’

Probably not, he thinks, but he gets the sentiment, appreciates it even. He shakes your hand, your warm palm against his, a fingernail grazing the inside of his wrist.

‘’ I thought I was supposed to fly you back home? ‘’

‘’ Are you asking me out on a date? ‘’

‘’ Maybe. Are you saying yes? ‘’

You don’t answer him straight away, sizing him up and down. He can’t tell what you are looking for, but the small smile on your lips makes him think whatever he is doing is working. You take your hand back, pushing hair behind your ear.

‘’ I’m staying in San Ignacio tonight. The hotel’s bar is pretty good if you’d like to drop by for a drink. ‘’

You don’t wait for him to answer, turning on your heels and walking down the aisle, waving to a man in a suit that is quick to walk you to a black suv. He can do nothing but mirror your smile, pushing his sunglasses up his head. He wouldn’t mind doing the drive, especially if it means he could see you again.

He doesn’t have to think more about it, you had him at ‘bar’, ‘drink’, the notes of vanilla in your perfume. A cold Whiskey actually sounds like a good idea.

[pascalsimp1479]

You're my ass

Javier Peña x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, mentions of murder

Description: Javi witnessed something he'd rather forget and said some things he'd rather take back. now he's just trying to make up for it. No mentions of y/n

Word count: 2.5k words

“Hola mi amor.” Javi greeted you with a tender kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey.” You smiled as you joined him at his desk “got one of those for me?” You gestured to the crowd, cigarette in his hand. He handed you the one already lit before lighting his own.

“Are you finished for the day?” He asks with the dumb  smile only you got to see.

“Yup, I was thinking I could head to the store and get some things for a good meal. What do you say?” You lean over his desk revealing just slightly too much of your chest, your outfit was practical for work l but you loved teasing Javi at work, it always made him so desperate for you. He never complained either.

“Is the meal really necessary? I have one right here.” He bit his bottom lip as his eyes scanned your body, fixing indefinitely to your chest.

“How does Arepas sound?” You blush as he takes your hand and plays with your fingers 

“Whatever you want, baby, I just have to go with Carrillo to hunt down some of Pablo’s spies later on.” He said taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“Okay then, but make sure you’re careful, last time i was in that area was to clean up the mess of another narcos shootout.” You say in a worried tone, ever since Carrillo had returned police and the neighbouring cartel had been having shootouts all around the city and every time Javier returned even the slightest bit late your mind always assumed the worse.

“¿no te preocupes estaré bien? I’ll be fine.” He smiled

“I know but promise me you won’t make any ‘heroic decisions’” 

“Baby, when have I ever done that?” He smirked sarcastically 

“¿sabes que el sarcasmo te pone como un idiota? You know sarcasm makes you sound like an ass.” You joke as you walk away.

“You know you love me.” He yelled 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

……..

You loved cooking colombian dishes, they were far better than anything you had ever made back in the states. Once the government got closer to Escobar and realised that the Us government were actually a big help, you were assigned to the DEA and that's when you met him. You were paired with agent Peña and Murphy on day to watch a suspected deal go down, you had taken shifts in watching in pairs while the other slept and to pass the time Javier tried and somewhat managed to teach you some spanish, it wasn’t perfect but it got you alot further then if you could only say hello and thank you. 

And after weeks of trying your best not to fall for his charm like pretty much every other girl in Bogotá, you finally succumbed. But unlike with every other girl Javier was crazy about you and he could never understand why, all he knew was that his body craved you and his mind longed for you. And that's what made him stay, he was yours and you were his.

It was about 8:30 that night when Javi burst through the apartment door, slamming it behind him as he threw his badge and keys on the counter top. He didn’t stop to kiss your cheek or steal the food that was being prepared. He took a bottle of bourbon and hid on the balcony, ignoring your existence and lighting a cigarette.

“Javi? Is everything okay?” You put down the food and follow him outside. He didn’t say anything, he kept his eyes on the city and took a drink from his glass. “The food is almost ready.” You add hoping to get an answer, to which he just continued to drink. “¿javi estas bien, que paso? Javi, are you okay, what happened?” 

“I’m fine” he said quietly, visibly annoyed 

“The food is ready” you repeat again

“¿No tengo hambre, está bien, por el amor de Dios, déjame en paz, mujer?” He shouted, throwing his cigarette off the balcony.

“You no I can’t understand you when you shout. Don’t fucking start. I spent hours making all this.” You yell back

“I said just leave me the fuck alone, i’m not hungry.” He huffed and then looked away and lit another cigarette.

“¿Vete a la mierda entonces? Fuck you then” you say leaving him to the balcony to continue his sulk. You spent the rest of the night in silence, watching him sit on the balcony as you ate, you could tell whatever job he had with Carrillo had really gotten to him. He never liked to talk about what he did with Carrillo but word travels round the office. You want Javi to know he could talk to you, but because of the way he spoke to you, your stubbornness made you give him the silent treatment. It was around 4am when you felt another body enter the bed, you turned over and pretend to be asleep until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and lips press into you neck.

“Is this your way of apologising?” You pull away and turn to him.

“¿Lo lamento? I’m sorry.” He said, his tone sounding genuine 

“What happened out there?” You ask

“It doesn’t matter.” He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling 

“It obviously does if its making you act like this.” You say resting on his chest 

“I promise I’m fine ¿no volverá a suceder? It won’t happen again” his kissed your head and wrapped his arm around you.

“¿Javi por favor dime, estoy aquí para ti? Javi please tell me, i'm here for you” you gazed into his big brown eyes giving your best puppy dog look , he sighed and began to open up.

“We rounded up some of the spies Pablo had been using to get theough the city ¿Ellos donde solo niños realmente? They where just kids really” he gluped and gripped your shoulder tightly 

“What happened, its okay.” You encouraged him

“One of the kids tried to mouth off on us. Carrillo held his gun out to one of them, thought he was just gonna   threaten him. He just pulled the trigger. Didn’t even think about it.” His breath hitched slightly 

“¿que haces? What did you do?” 

“Nothing, that's the problem, i just stood and watched” he sighed “and it makes me wonder, are we actually on the good team.” You look at him concerned, you never knew he was bottling this up

“Mi amour, of course we are. Carrillo shouldn’t have done that. He’s let his hatred for Escobar get too far.” You say kissing his cheek

“It will probably get swept under the rug.” He says 

“You have to tell me when these things bother you, its not good to bottle it up.”

“I know” he grips your waist

“¿lo digo en serio Javier? I mean it Javier” you look at him sterlny hopi g to avoid issues like this in the future. He just smiles and tumbs your cheek. “Have you eaten?” You say with a smile

“I told you baby, you’re all the food I need.” He began kissing an nibbling at your neck causing you to let out a giggle and a sigh of pleasure. You spun yourself around, straddling his waist and locking it in with your thighs. His hands began to play with the fat of your ass as you began rocking yourself against him, kissing his neck. He welcomed this touch by helping set the pace with his arms

“Fuck baby feels so good” he purred, he slifterd you shirt over you head and began kneeding your boobs, pinching the nipples. He sat up so he could lavish your chest in kisses as you continued to grind on him, the slick beginning to soak through your pantys and onto his boxer shorts. “You gonna let me taste you?” He smirked as he pinned you under him.

He slid his hand down your abdomen using his thumb to tapp delicately over your clothed cunteasing you.

“Javi please i need you.” You whimpered 

“Need what? Tell me” he asked

“You, touch me please” you begged 

“¿si eso es lo que quieres bebe? If thats what you want baby” you lifted your waist allowing him to pull the panties of, then he began his work. He kept his hands gripping on your thighs, parting your legs allowing him to leave a trail of kisses to you sweet spot where he stopped for a moment to make sure you were looking so he could watch your face when he licked that first stripe up your cunt.

“Fuck” you twitched at the sensation of him tucking in, tounge fucking you, the vibrations of his groans adding to the pleasure. He licked and sucked at your clit, he kept pressure on your thighs knowing you would often squeeze them together at the overstimulation he brought you. His movements caused a sensation of reactions throughout you body, coils tightening and loosening dieing to reach the feel of release tightening at the sensation of his tongue pushing its way into you. He pulled back for a moment to the admire the wetness he had created, still keeping his fingers circulating around your clit. “Fuck baby, got you all wet you gonna cum for me?” 

“Sí, Sí Javi” you groaned “¿tócame más por favor? Touch me more please.” You grinded into his touch, whimpering as you felt him dive in again. You could feel the knot beginning to loosen as he worked, you snake your hand through his thick dark hair pushing him In further.

“You gonna cum huh?” He mumbled between your folds

“Sí, sí fuck!” You cry as your body releases the knot and your body relaxes around you, with javi’s tongue making sure he gets you to completion.

“God damn baby” Javi smiles and sits up admiring the state he had left you, licking his fingers clean “¿Tan dulce? So sweet” you sit up on your elbows admiring the man man knelt infront of you, before you lean forward trailing your hand along the ever growing bulge of his boxers.

“Are you going to let me have my dessert?” You ask

“Be my guest.” He smirked. You continued your approach, pulling down his boxers and discarding them easily. You take him into his hand and pump him while you press kisses along his pelvis. You kiss his shaft moving upwards towards his tip, he releases a sigh of pleasure as your tongue edges around him. You carry this on for a while, enough to frustrate him., he grabs your chin and pushes his thumb into your mouth to which you began to suck on.

“¿No seas tan molesto bebé? Don’t be such a tease baby.” He bit his bottom lip as you released his thumb with a pop and moved towards his cock. You wrap your hand around his base and take his tip into your mouth and swirl your tongue around him. You push down further, swallowing as much as you can gagging slightly at his thickness, the noise he made was pornographic making the wetness between your thighs grow.  You bob your head up and down, sinking as far down as you can, moaning and making vibrations only adding to the pleasure. He hissed as you hand moved down from his base to his balls, cupping and massaging them as you sucked. He grabbed the back of your head, balling your hair and moving you up and down. “Fuck, calm down I don’t wanna cum yet.”

You moved up again, moaning as the salty taste of pre-cum hit your tongue. You swallowed happily looking up at him and watching the way he melted at your touch. He mouthed curse words and closed his eyes, wiping the sweat forming at his brow as you bobbed up and down. You felt the muscles in his butt begin to flex and he pulled you off him leaving a trail of saliva connecting his cock to your mouth. “Not yet.” He managed to speak out breathlessly 

“¿Cómo me quieres? How do you want me?” You ask leaning back on your elbows.

“¿Recuéstate boca abajo? Lay on your stomach” he demands and you follow, spreading your legs slightly so he could see you fully. He hummed and livked his fingers and began rubbing your entrance. “Still so perfect, you want me huh?” His tone deepened and his eyes became full of lust.

“Yes.” You moaned

“¿dilo apropiadamente? Say it properly” he ordered 

“¿Sí, Javi, lo quiero mucho, te necesito, fóllame por favor. Yes Javi, i want it bad i need you, fuck me please.” You begged “Javi- please I-“ he cut you off thrusting hard into you, the skin on skin sound echoing through the room. You muffled your whimpers into the mattress as he worked, pounding hard and pulling you close to him and wrapping his arm around your neck.

“Don’t silence yourself, you know I like it.” He whispered into your ear. You were both up on your knees, making it easier for him to to scrape along your g-spot.

“¿Oh Dios. si, por favor, mierda? Oh god, yes, please” you cried out.

“¿Carajo me encanta cuando hablas español? fuck I love it when you speak spanish.” He kissed your cheek and groaned of the sensation of your pussy clenching around him.

“¿oh mierda, me voy a correr joder? Oh shit I'm gonna cum.” You cried out, he understood the assignment and pounded into you harder pulling you closer reducing the distance between you. The coil releases itself around his cock again adding to the slick he was creating. Your orgasm lit a match within him, bringing him closer to his release. He pushed you down onto the bed where he pushed his hands on your lower back giving him the perfect angle to push into you all the way to the hilt. 

“¿joder bebé, eres tan apretado, vas a hacer que lo pierda. mierda? fuck baby you're so tight, you're gonna make me lose it. shit.” His hips began to stutter as his thick white ropes pumped into you. He collapsed over you while you both panted, the sweat causing your skin to stick to each other. “Pretty good meal baby.” He moved off and walked into the next room.

“Thanks mi amor.” You replied, he came back with a washcloth and wiped your legs clean.

“I’m really sorry about earlier” he climbed into the bed and pulled you towards him.

“I don’t doubt it, this city is full of people who want to kill Escobar. And a lot of them will do anything to get to him, even Carrillo.” He hummed and kissed your head 

“I’m gonna take tomorrow off, I can’t promise I'll act professionally around him.” He says lighting a cigarette 

“Or is it because you don’t want Murphy to see that you have a heart?” You laugh taking a drag from his cigarette.

“¿Tienes suerte te amo o estarías en problemas? You’re lucky I love you, or you’d be in trouble.” He did a fake laugh and took the cigarette from your hand.

“¿eres un asno? You’re an ass.” You laugh

“¿si pero soy tu culo? Yeah, but I'm your ass.”

[abbatoirablaze]

Criminal Minds, Season 1, Episode 9, Part 2

Word Count: 2k

Warnings:  angst, gun violence, mention of death.

Samantha Reid

“Alright kid, you can do it.”

You looked back at Aaron, instantly needing him to tell Spencer that he couldn’t.  But he remained quiet.  He put his hands on his hips and gave both your brother and Morgan a firm look, “what happened to the practice?”

“He’s not getting it,” Spencer said quickly, hoping that he would be able to jump in and do it, “Hotch, trust me.  I know I can do this.”

“We only have one shot at this,” he answered, holding up the miniscule chip, “are you sure that you’re able to do it?”

Spencer nodded, taking it in his hands, “I got this.”

You watched as your brother went to do the trick, but the chip fumbled to the ground. 

Your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach.  You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I-I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Of course it is.  I’ve just never worked with something this small,” he said quickly, blowing the dust off the chip and trying again, only for it to fall back onto the ground.  You could hear the sighs from Hotch, Morgan, and Gideon.  You tried to look at each one of them for help, “guys I can do this.”

“Spencer, if you can’t do this, he’ll kill you!” you answered quickly, when none of the men were willing to say anything, “he’s in a psychotic rage.  He’s delusional and he’s got no problem killing some scrawny looking kid who’s claiming he’s a technician if he gets tricked!”

“I can do this, Sammy!” he growled, trying the trick yet again.  He cursed when it fell to the ground, “see what you’re making me do.  I need to focus.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“I’m not!” he spat.  He glared at you, “why can’t you be okay with me doing this, Samantha?  You’re my twin sister.  You should have the most faith in my capabilities!”

“Spencer-“

“I need to do this, Samantha!” he said, cutting you off, “you don’t get it.  I have to do this!”

“Let someone else-“

“NO!  Don’t tell me what to do!” he said quickly, “I’m the older sibling.  I-“

“You’re two minutes older than me and only because the doctors pulled you out first!”

“Well I’m smarter and-“

“You’re an ass!”

“I HAVE TO DO THIS!” he all but yelled at you, “You’ve always been able to keep up with me, but you’ve also always been better than me in the field.  Always more physical.  More social.  Could take on assignments and got more opportunities.  And friends.  I have to do this, Samantha.”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you die then!” you whimpered, making your way away from the tent and towards the command center.  Spencer didn’t bother to stop you when you left the area. 

He didn’t bother to come after you when you went to the back of the command center that had a small room where you closed the door and pinned yourself in the far corner. 

You allowed yourself to slide down against the wall.

With every inch, you found your anxiety and sadness swelling around you. 

Your heart ached with the thought that in a few minutes your twin brother would board a train and try to trick a delusional schizophrenic.

And his final words were blaming you for it. 

He had to do it, to prove that he could keep up with you.

Had someone said something to him about his shortcomings with physicality in the field?

You looked up when the door opened.

You half-expected and hoped that it would be your brother. 

But your throat went dry when you saw Aaron standing there. 

He looked all business.

Until he closed the door behind him and rushed over to you.

“It’s all my fault!” you cried as he came to his knees and wrapped his arms around you, “Spencer’s going to go in there and that psycho is going to blow a hole righ-“

“Honey, none of it is your fault.  No-“

“He’s doing it because he said he has to, Aaron,” you whimpered, pulling away from him, “because he felt like he has to keep up with me in the field...Spencer’s doing this because of me...”

“Samantha, this is your job.  It’s his job,” he reminded you, “you can’t fault him for wanting to take the opportunity where he shines...he wants to get Elle and your team member out of there just as much as the rest of us.”

“He’s being stupid...he just wants to be the hero.”

“Funny...I remember him saying that when you agreed to take on the Quantico Killer with us when you were just a probationary agent in training.”

“It’s not the same,” you whimpered as he started rubbing the tears from your cheeks.  He raised a brow, but he said nothing as you repeated it, “Aaron...it’s not the same!”

“Isn’t it?”

“Sammy, this is stupid...yo-you’re being stupid!”

“I am not!” you argued, “I’m doing this because it’s what needs to be done, Spence.”

“Then let someone else do it!” he retorted, “Someone that has training and experience in the field.  We haven’t even graduated the academy.”

“And the killer did this!” you reminded him, gesturing to the board, “he came into our backyard, Spence.  He put the victims there.”

“And you ran out into an active firing range, finding them when they were set up there to die!” he reminded you, “isn’t that enough?  You found victims, Sammy.”

“We need to stop him!  And SSA’s Gideon and Hotchner asked me to be part of the team!”

“You’re being stupid, Sammy,” he argued once more, “y-you’re trying to play hero, and for what?  To prove that you’re better than someone or something?  To-“

“I AM!” you all but screamed at your twin brother, “god, what will it take for you to see me as an equal instead of your baby sister?”

“You are my baby sister!”

“And I’m your equal!” you reminded him, “I’m just as smart as you.  I’m just as important as you are!”

“I never said that you weren’t!”

“Bullshit!” you scoffed, tears lining your eyes, “you and mom loved throwing it in my face that I wasn’t in your little circle.  When dad left, my whole world left.  You and mom had your own little galaxy that I wasn’t a part of!”

“S-Sammy...yes you were...”

“No I wasn’t!” you cried, “you and mom had your stories...I exceled in school just like you did, but me and dad...we had sports.  He coached our tee-ball team.  He got me into soccer.  He got me into Judo.  When dad left, that all became background noise.  You and mom spent time reading stories while I walked to the park to go to practice or have games at the field.  You guys weren’t there to see me win the state champs with my soccer team, or when I got my black belt in Judo!  I was alone.”

“S-Sammy-“

“Do-don’t touch me,” you cried, pushing your brother’s hand away, “don’t touch me, Spence.  I’m not a baby that needs coddled.”

“I’m not trying to treat you like a baby,” he said softly, reaching out once more, “I’m reaching out to my twin sister...because she needs me...and I need her.”

“Wh-what?”

“I-Sammy, I’m not good with speaking about emotions,” he answered sadly, tears lining his own eyes, “but-but what I do know is that I never meant to make you feel that way.  I-you’re my twin sister.  We came into this world together.  And I-I don’t want you leaving it and me to be here without you.”

“Spence...”

“You are my baby sister, but you are also my equal,” he began, “you’re just as smart and important as I am.  You’re kind and sweet...and loving.  You have the ability to show the empathy that I feel too, but can’t express in regular ways.  Sammy...ther-there’s a lot of ways that you’re better than me too...I don’t want you thinking that I don’t value you.  I love you so much.”

“I have to do this, Spence...” you whimpered, allowing yourself to fall into your twin’s arms, “I have to, Spence.”

“Just-please...come back to me in one peace,” he begged as he held onto you, “we lost dad...and mom...you’re the only one I have Sammy...I-and I can’t lose you too!”

“Samantha...”

“I can’t lose him, Aaron...”

“I think you need to tell him that!” he answered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.  You sniffled and nodded, allowing him to pick you up off the floor.  You gave him a sad look and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “you need to tell your brother that, honey...because you and I know that we’re too far in.  We can’t call this off.”

You nodded and leaned up to press a small kiss to his lips.  His arms found their way around your waist, and you looped yours around his neck.  He sighed and leaned his forehead against yours when you pulled away, “you’re too good a man, Aaron Hotchner...”

“Go tell your brother what you need to say, Samantha.”

You nodded once more, and he let you go.  You brushed past him and made your way out of the command center, Aaron on your heels.  When you saw Spencer at the tent, still practicing your heart raced. 

Gideon and Morgan looked at you, and Hotchner rejoined the team. 

And then your brother turned, freezing in his place. 

The two of you shared a look. 

“C-can I talk to my brother for a second?” you asked softly. 

There were a number of mumbles and everyone departed, splitting off into little groups to go inform the snipers and other officers that the rouse would be starting in a few minutes. 

Spencer didn’t move an inch. 

You flinched when one of the walkies went off on the table between the two of you.

“I-I’m not going to back down, Sammy.”

“I know,” you said slowly, your eyes not meeting his again.  You looked down at the table and turned the walkie off, “I-I know why you have to do this, Spence...”

“You do?”

“My first assignment!” Some scuffling from in front of you brought your eyes to his.  They were filled with tears.  You bit your lip, “yo-you better come back to me...”

“I will!”

“We lost dad...a-and mom...”

“You won’t lose me, Sammy.”

“God, I can’t lose you, Spence!” you whimpered, the tears restarting once more.  A few slid down your cheeks and you sniffled, “I-we came into this world together...y-you don’t get to leave me now...”

“Actually, I came into the world two minutes before you!” he reminded you with his own teary reply.

“The doctor pulled you out of mom two minutes before me, you ignoramus.”

“That still makes me older...”

“Doesn’t make you any wiser.”

“Tell that to the IQ tests!” he remarked smartly.

“Hey...is everything okay here?”

You nodded, wiping away the tears once more.  Gideon looked between the two of you, and Spencer stepped towards him, “I’m good to go.”

“Alright,” he answered, reaching out to him, “you get in there.  You do it...then you make a quick exit...like we talked about.”

“Got it!” he nodded. 

You felt another pair of arms wrapping around your waist, and then Aaron was sweeping you into the command center with a number of other agents, including your own team leader.  She rubbed your shoulder as everyone loomed around the monitors, watching the footage of your brother entering the train and performing his trick. 

But he’d removed his vest to prove that he could be trusted...and things turned sour when the unsub fell into another wave of his delusions.  One of the hostages stood and everything felt like a blur as a Spencer got in the way, trying to de-escalate the situation.

And then you heard a gunshot ring out. 

And then another.

Instinctively, you turned into Aaron’s chest, fearing for the worst.  Your tears stained his jacket.  You sobbed into his chest and he held you.  When you went to look at the monitor he kept your head turned away, “you don’t need to see this, honey.”

S1, E10, Part 1