#since it’s a ghost town tonight

[rosicheeks]

Ok ok ok ok fiiiiiiiiineeeee

[scorpieuns]

GIRLS NEED LOVE | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: you can’t seem to listen when your best friend says her older brother is off limits.

word count: 3.2k

warnings (18+): smut. fluff (if you squint lmfao). swearing. alcohol. kissing. nipple play, fingering (f. receiving).

MINORS DNI!!

A/N: back again after my usual cycle of deleting and remaking accounts here (hopefully this is my last lol). edited and remade this just in case it sounds familiar!

The summer heat was relentless tonight, a thick, suffocating blanket that clung to your skin and refused to let go. You tossed and turned beneath the light sheets, frustration building with every huff of breath.

The air was humid, making it impossible to slumber. Despite having your eyes shut for what felt like an eternity, sleep remained elusive, teasing you from just beyond reach.

You’d like to think there were other reasons besides the warmth of the summer evening that had you feeling hot and bothered. The muffled hum of cicadas outside droned on, an irritating cacophony that seeped through the walls, mingling with the soft snores of your best friend beside you.

But, it wasn’t really the noise that kept you awake—it was the swirling thoughts in your mind, each one pulling you deeper into a mixtape of memories you wished would stay buried.

Your brain, ever the tormentor, delighted in replaying moments you’d rather forget. Moments that belonged in the past, locked away and never to be revisited.

You wanted to blame the events at Jake’s party on the alcohol—specifically that cursed, yet sinfully good, cherry vodka Jay made.

It was the vodka, after all, that led you to kiss your best friend’s brother in the first place.

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. It was the alcohol…it had to be the alcohol.

It wasn’t the fact that you had a raging crush on him for months. If anything, it was his fault. Sunghoon was the one who escaped from the party to join you. Somehow letting aimless conversation fall into enamoured glances, droning about how pretty you looked that night.

He was the one who slid his hands around your waist and pulled you closer, lips ghosting over yours and pleading to kiss you.

Passionately. Feverishly. Hungrily.

Your eyes snapped open with a frustrated sigh, the darkness of the room doing little to calm the rapid thrum of your heart as you sat up. The memory of Thursday night played vividly in your mind, leaving your chest tight and your thoughts tangled.

Since that night, you hadn’t seen much of Sunghoon, his summer job at the beach keeping him occupied while you and Sooah roamed the town, searching for anything to distract yourselves from the blistering heat.

A part of you was relieved not to see him since Thursday night. You preferred the silence over the possibility of hearing him downplay what happened, blaming it on ‘party spirit’ or the alcohol.

With a sigh, you slipped out of bed, your feet softly padding across the carpeted floor as you made your way out of the room.

Maybe a midnight snack would help ease your restless mind, you thought, as you quietly descended the stairs, the faint glow from the living room spilled onto the wooden floor signalling that you weren’t the only one awake tonight.

But, preoccupied with the sole quest to sleep, you brush it aside, entering the dimly lit kitchen and making a beeline for the fridge.

When you open the fridge you close your eyes with a sigh, the feeling of the cold breeze hitting your skin making you feel a thousand times better.

“Can’t sleep?” Sunghoon’s voice tickling the shell of your ear startles you, slightly jumping with a stifled scream. “What the hell?!” You whisper yell, “don’t sneak up on people like that!” You chide, clutching your heart in an attempt to regain your composure.

Sunghoon’s smirk grows into a smile, seemingly humoured with scaring you shitless and you roll your eyes at him. It only takes a few seconds to notice how close he is to you, swallowing thickly as your eyes scanned his appearance.

Nothing but a pair of sweatpants and white socks…great, he was shirtless.

“I don’t think I will sleep anytime soon, thanks to you.” You grumbled in response to his question, awarding yourself for not sparing another glance at his naked upper half.

“Oh come on princess, it wasn’t that bad.” You roll your eyes again before returning to the fridge, trying not to mull over the nickname he had just given you.

You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze remain fixed on you, studying you intently, until he eventually turned his attention to the fridge. You felt as though he could feel the heat radiating from your skin as he moved closer— the gentle breaths escaping his lips and teasing the hairs on your neck, causing you to shiver.

You quickly emerge from the little world of the icy machine, settling with the first thing you see to avoid being with him in such closeness—which is a simple vanilla bean yoghurt.

The tension in the air feels painfully thick and awkward, and you silently mutter prayers in hopes that he leaves the minute he finds what he’s looking for— but he doesn't.

Sunghoon emerges with an energy drink, the crisp sound of the can opening cutting through the white noise. He effortlessly leans against the marble counter, taking a slow deliberate sip of the drink, Adam's apple rising and falling as he swallows. As he pulls the can away, he casually wipes his bottom lip with his thumb, gaze locking onto you again.

Your yoghurt suddenly looks really interesting, reading the indecipherable scientific words in the ingredient list and immersing yourself in the brand's origin story, all in an effort to avoid the intense presence of the guy in front of you.

“We should talk about Thursday night.” Your heart sinks in dread. Your face begins to burn and you nervously clear your throat, “talk about what?”

“You know what Y/N.” He says, stepping closer to you. Sunghoon settles the sweaty can onto the counter, surveilling your surroundings before he lowers his voice, “So you’re just gonna pretend like you don’t remember?”

You finally glance at the guy, whose brown eyes are already boring into your soul, searching for any sort of answer in your stoic expression. You swallow thickly as you revisit Thursday night’s events for the umpteenth time and it all still feels like a dream.

The way Sunghoon kissed you in a way that left you breathless, hands gripping your waist so tight as though you’d slip away any second.

You clearly remembered it as though it were yesterday, the tingling sensation of his fingertips on your skin, the scent of his cologne filling the air, the lustrous look in his eyes when he pulled away, only to have you lean in for more.

You indeed did kiss your best friend's brother.

“Sunghoon.” You sigh, "Can't we just put it behind us? We weren't in the right state of mind,"

Sunghoon shook his head with a frustrated sigh, leaving his spot beside you and positioning himself in front of you. His hands gripped the edge of the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you and preventing your escape.

“Y/N, both of us know that isn’t true.” Sunghoon pauses and your breath gets caught in your throat when his hand meets your cheek, his cold touch sending delightful shivers down your spine.

"Are you honestly telling me that didn't hold any meaning for you?" His voice was low, almost tinged with frustration.

You finally look away, unable to keep the nerve-wracking eye contact but Sunghoon makes a sound of disapproval, his hand swiftly moving to your chin and turning you to meet his face again.

He emits a hum, eyebrows raised and anticipating a response, and your mouth opens, but you struggle to articulate any kind of excuse.

You hate just how much you dwindle under Sunghoon’s presence, hoping that he can’t hear the hammering of your heart, along with the nervous breaths that slip past your lips whenever he looks at you.

“Well it did for me.”

“I liked it.” He shrugs, leaning in, dimples denting his cheeks with a knowing smirk when he catches the way your body reacts.

“And I’d give anything to feel those lips again” He admits desperately, voice below a whisper. You can only let out a shaky breath as Sunghoon’s thumb toys with the plump flesh of your bottom lip, slowly inching closer to him and finally closing the gap between you two.

Kissing Sunghoon feels just like the first time, an electrifying sensation coursing through your body, with your heart pounding so loudly that it could reverberate off the kitchen walls. It's like a breath of fresh air, a mixture of exhilaration, longing and relief washing over you.

You sigh, hands finding his face as he kisses back, desperately leaning into the kiss as he matches your fervour, hands slipping to your waist and pulling you closer as if there were still some distance to bridge between you. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling his face closer as the passionate kisses gradually blend into a makeout session.

The sounds of kissing fill the room, the fridge’s hums doing nothing to drown the rather lewd sounds out. Sunghoon breaks away from you, his breathing uneven. His cheeks carry a faint blush, and his hair is a cute mess.

It takes everything in you not to gravitate back to the solace of his soft and pretty lips and you’re taken aback, nearly letting out a surprised yelp when his hands swiftly reach for the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up and placing you onto the chilly surface of the marble countertop.

You’re now at eye-level and without warning, he is back on your lips, hands finding themselves under the thin material of your tank top and the cold metal of his rings against your flaming skin make your arch your back reflexively.

He pulls away, teeth softly tugging your bottom lip, with a breathy groan before he moves your jawline, sloppy open mouthed kisses travelling down your neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin, softly whimpering and sighing as the sensation blurred any rational thought that was left in your mind.

His hand slipped past your sternum, over your flimsy tank top and under it, brushing over your hot skin and on landing your breast, giving the flesh a soft squeeze.

Sunghoon’s lips follow suit, lips gliding over your collarbone before lifting your shirt up and attaching his lips to your nipple without warning, soft moans filling the quiet room as his tongue swipes over the erect bud.

Your fingers weaved in his soft hair, tugging on it as he moved to the other, kissing, nipping and sucking, the feeling snowballing the ache between your legs.

He finally pulled away with a ‘pop’, glancing back at your clouded state, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re so, so fucking beautiful.” Sunghoon groans, gently grabbing your face, kissing you messily. His hands glide to your hips, lips moving sloppily and hungrily against yours.

His pulls you closer to his body, legs hooked around his waist and that’s when you feel it, something hard poking the inside of your inner thigh and when you pull yourself closer, it perfectly hits your aching cunt, a dizzying wave of pleasure coursing through you, your moans being swallowed by mouth— and you can tell you’re not the only one who feels this way when you hear Sunghoon’s lewd groans.

You can't help but subconsciously roll your hips against him, grabbing at his waist and looking for some kind of friction– chasing the same feeling of pleasure that you felt before. You shamelessly moan at the lovely feeling of his clothed dick hitting you in the right spot, only making you more impatient and needy.

Sunghoon’s low moans make your stomach flip, and you want to hear more of them but he stops—pulling away from your lips and gripping your waist so tightly you're sure it would leave a bruise.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll have to fuck you on the counter.” He warns, but you can’t take it seriously, not when his voice is so breathy and raspy.

“Then do it.” You whine, begging the man to throw you onto the counter like a rag doll and fuck you into oblivion.

But he only shakes his head, hands cupping your flushed cheeks, “I still want to make you feel good.” Sunghoon presses a soft kiss on your swollen lips.

His fingers tug the waistband of your shorts, and you lift yourself up as he swiftly removes them— the warmth of your skin meeting the contrasting marble. “As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans, try to be quiet, alright?” You nod quickly, impatient and desperate for him to just touch you already.

You suck in your stomach with a quiet gasp when his fingers trail across the smooth skin of your thighs, “So soft…” He mumbled against your lips, hands sliding to the inside of your thighs, higher…higher, until his fingers find their way to your underwear toying with its lacy hem, before reaching the place where you need him most.

You inhale sharply, almost failing to hold back a moan when he finally touches your clothed clit, fingers rubbing over the wet fabric. You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you lean into his touch, inaudibly yearning for more.

“Fuck Hoon.” You breathe out, hands covering your mouth, muffling your needy moans as he traced over the wet spot in circular motions, whimpering every time his thumb

“You’re so wet.” Sunghoon hisses, bottom lip between his teeth as he stares at you, eyes dark and pupils slightly blown.

“Shit, is this all for me?” Sunghoon's velvety whispers against your lips seem so far away as your eyes flutter shut, “Sunghoon, please.” You manage to whimper out, hands meeting his naked chest.

“Please what?” He hums, feigning obliviousness and you groan, feeling your pride slowly wither away. “I…I need you.” You whined. “So bad.”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon coaxed and you nodded desperately, a smirk creeping onto his lips that you wished you could wipe off— if it wasn’t for the pent up sexual frustration you felt and its fate lying in his hands…literally.

He wasted no time meeting your pleas, dragging the fabric to the side as fingers slid against your slick glistening folds, hand flying to your mouth and head falling back at the newfound pleasure coursing through you.

Your other hand gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the skin of his back and earning a hiss from Sunghoon’s lips. His fingers easily slip into your hole, your arousal more than enough to let his fingers move with his ease— and you feel like you’re seeing stars.

“Fuck” A choked moan slips past your lips with a gasp, hand falling limp– overwhelmed with pleasure. “You like that baby?” Sunghoon coos, and you only hum in content, breaths coming in hitches as Sunghoon worked his fingers inside of you, pumping in and out at a satisfying and rhythmic pace.

Holding in your moans was getting harder and he could tell, watching your face contort in frustration and both pleasure, surprised your lips hadn’t started bleeding from biting too hard.

“...feels so good” You manage to let out, half lidded eyes meeting the man before you, practically enamoured by your presence. “I d-don’t think I can...fuck” You choked out. “Come on baby, I know you can take it.” Sunghoon’s words almost send you over the edge. Your head lulls forwards, mouth falling agape as strings of curses spill out of your lips.

As though he wanted to taunt you, you felt his thumb press onto your swollen clit, letting out a shocked and rather loud moan into the air. “Sunghoon-” You moaned, lips pursed together as you tried to compose yourself, but you were already falling apart.

The obscene noises of your drenched cunt and your choked moans and whimpers fill the kitchen, feeling your face grow warm. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and you hear Sunghoon chuckle, leaning back and lifting your head with fingers holding your face, “Come on baby, I wanna see your beautiful face when I make you come.”

Sunghoon could feel your legs beginning to tremble, as your walls fluttered around his fingers, chest heaving and soft moans becoming just a pitch higher.

His fingers quicken its pace, curving at an angle that seems to send you over the moon, failing to hold back your moans as he moves faster.

Afraid of another slip up, Sunghoon lips meet yours, swallowing your broken moans that can’t be helped as you near your high. An aching intense feeling begins to brew at the pit of your abdomen, driving your nails down the skin of his chest undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You cry his name out, followed by a mutter of profanities as you finally come around his fingers. “So beautiful.” He whispers, hand meeting your face as his thumb brushes the tears coating your lashes. He presses a gentle kiss on your parted lips— still a bit lightheaded to return it, slowly coming down from your high.

Sunghoon’s fingers finally slip out, a broken mewl leaving your lips at the lost feeling. He takes the liberty of cleaning his fingers with his tongue, heat rushing to your face as hums at the taste of you.

“What?” Sunghoon’s shrugs, “You taste good.” He smirks, hands finding the mess of your hair and pulling you into his lips, the kiss softer and more saccharine than the ones before.

You can still feel something poking your leg and your eyes flicker down to Sunghoon’s sweatpants, but before you can say anything, you hear the sound of a door click open upstairs and you and Sunghoon both exchange a look of alarm and horror.

The sound of Sooah’s voice sends you two in a frenzy, Sunghoon helping you slide off the counter as you pull down your shirt and scramble for your shorts.

“Y/N?” She calls out, feet pattering against the wooden stairs, as she descends to the first floor.

You both grab your long forgotten midnight snacks, settling yourself on a chair across from Sunghoon while he stands behind the counter…rightfully so.

When Sooah enters the kitchen, she thankfully doesn’t speculate anything, you two are both glued to your phones, scrolling on some sort of social media platform.

“Sooah, hey!”

“Hey…I was wondering where you went.” She smiled at you before her eyes flickered to her brother, exchanging their usual sibling formalities by grimacing at each other.

“I just came down for a snack, that's all.” You smiled, trying to conceal the mild shakiness of your voice.

Instead she moves closer to you, hands brushing your stray hairs into place, “Okay, well…I’ll see you upstairs.” And with that she leaves the kitchen.

Both of you let out sighs of relief, glancing at one another. Your face feels hot again, and you rise to your feet, a slight tremble in your thighs.

“I should…probably head back too.” You sigh, nodding your head upstairs.

“Oh! Yeah, right.”

The ceiling light highlights the rosy hue flushed on Sunghoon’s cheeks, his messy hair and plump lips, flashing you one of his pretty smiles, “I’ll see you later princess.”

As you leave the kitchen, Sunghoon fights the urge to pull you in for just one more kiss. His eyes linger until you disappear from view, and with a soft sigh, he runs his hands through his dark hair.

Now how was he going to fix his hard-on ?

[notquitecanon]

Keep talking // Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Summary: Simon really likes your new sundress AND wants to hear about your day. These things can coexist

Tags: established relationship, pretty domestic, yapper wife x silent husband, sunshine x grumpy kinda??? Whatever tropes the kids are saying these days suggestive but not NSFT, dumbification if you really squint, husband Simon Riley, pg-13 at worst

—

Simon was staring at you. Intensely. Him staring wasn’t exactly a new thing, he was a silent creature by nature. He watched, he listened. Especially to you. He loved listening to you.

You’d barely noticed his intense gaze as you flitted about the kitchen of your shared home, putting away the things you’d bought while you’d been out, all the while chittering on about your day, the people you talked to, the things you’d seen, things you’d bought, things you’d almost bought, things you didn’t buy, what you had for lunch, what you were thinking for dinner… And Simon listened like always, absorbing your presence like a plant absorbs sunlight.

Anyone else would have been cowed under the weight of his stare, but not you. Not only were you used to it, you loved having his attention. Every now and then you’d offer him a sweet smile when you looked to him or press a kiss to his cheek or jaw or wherever you could reach easiest as you’d squeeze past where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, absolutely dwarfing the appliances. His face gave away nothing, it never did so you kept talking- yapping, you’d call it jokingly.

“Anyways, that’s when I told her-“

“New dress, love?”

His interruption cut you off. You set down the purse you were unpacking and looked to him as you trailed off.

“Hm?”

Simon kicked off the counter, closing the short distance. It was then you noticed that his eyes weren’t on your face or eyes or even lips, but instead tracing the line of the strap laying on your shoulder.

“‘aven’t seen that one. Is it new?” His eyes roamed to the skirt where his fingers had caught a sliver of the bow in the back, “Soft.”

You cleared your throat as you turned around to face him, “I got it a few weeks ago, since it’s getting hotter, sun dress season and all, but it might be a little much for running around town…guess you haven’t seen it though-“

You cut yourself off again when you felt the tension in the tied back slack. The snapped your eyes to Simon, realizing he hadn’t dropped the bow’s string as you turned.

“I’d remember this one, lovie.” He was still gazing at the hem line appreciatively, where the delicate pattern you loved so much revealed your thighs.

“Well, then it’s new to you.” Your voice was quieter now that you’d realized the specific intensity in his gaze. Simon grunted in response, his large calloused hands resting at your hips. You could feel the roughness and warmth through the thin summer fabric.

“You were saying?” He reminded you with a slight smirk, knowing he’d derailed your train of thought. Cheeky bastard.

“Oh, uh,” You started again, preoccupied with the little circles he was rubbing on your hips, “I told her that, well, that-“

Simon nodded along to your barely coherent dialogue, as if he was listening to a TED talk. Heat was rising up your chest and neck as the solider kept getting closer until your chests were basically flush and your legs were interlocked, your chatting was only slightly better than babbling but you continued choking through your story. Even when he’d slowly moved you backwards so that you were the one pressed against the counter. You hadn’t realized you stopped once again until his brows raised, “that all?”

“Si-“ You all but whined, sharply gasping when he suddenly and effortlessly lifted you unto the kitchen counter, the stone counter chilling the backs of your thighs. Even sat on the tall counters, you still only came up to his broad chest, “We have your friends coming later-“

“And I cleaned up the yard just like you asked, love. Wearing this dress tonight?” Simon questioned gruffly, brushing a kiss first across the top of your head and then leaning down to dust a trail of kisses down your neck.

“What? Probably- but” you stuttered, the heat of his breath making it hard to track the different tracks of conversation.

“Good, does this come in any other colors?” His questions almost fell on deaf ears as he brushed the straps off your shoulders so he could continue his path down your chest. The hands on your hips had traveled first to your knees and were slowly hiking the hemline of your dress up. He paused when you didn’t answer, cutting those sharp eyes up to yours, squeezing your thigh to get your focus back on him and not just his hands. You hummed in confusion, “colors, love?”

“Oh, uh, a couple I think,” you nodded as the squeeze to your thigh turned to a kneading moving further up, “I wanted to try one, but it was hard to decide-“

Simon was sinking to his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact, “Keep talking, love. I’m listening.”

Simon was a hard man to say no to, so you kept talking. Jumping from thought to thought as they became fewer and farther between, a hand in his hair to ground yourself as he’d offer questions from between your legs until you could no longer say anything but his name.

___

I wrote this in 20 minutes on an airplane. It’s not proofread nor is it really in character. First time writing for COD but hopefully not the last… we shall see where the hyperfixation takes me

[sidekick-hero]

“Hey, have you seen Harrington? Guy’s totally wasted. Can't even stand. Tried to get up, fell down like a goddamn turtle. Garrison's over there throwing chips at him. It’s hysterical, you gotta check this out, man.”

The upside to being the guy everyone calls ‘the Freak’—the guy no one wants to talk to unless they’re looking to buy—is that Eddie can disappear whenever he wants. And tonight, he’s been in full stealth mode, almost ghost-like in the way he drifts through the shadows of this overcrowded house party. When he’s not standing on lunch tables at school, giving speeches, or taunting the assholes who think they run the place, Eddie finds that people tend to forget he’s even there.

Which makes it real easy to hear all kinds of things he probably shouldn’t. Not that Carver's announcement is any kind of secret, not with the way he’s broadcasting it to the entire room. Ever since Harrington lost his King Steve status, the rest of the jock squad has been scrambling to claw their way to the top. It’s desperate. Pathetic, really, if you ask him. But no one’s ever asking Eddie for his opinion.

He should get out of here. Most of his stash is gone, and it’s getting late. There’s leftover mac and cheese in the fridge with his name on it, and if he bolts now, he might just catch the midnight rerun of The Thing.

Eddie tries to ignore the mental image of Harrington—Steve, Steve—sprawled out on that grimy carpet, covered in crumbs and dirt, drenched in stale beer. He must feel defenseless. The kind of defenseless that Eddie knows too well, the kind that gets you laughed at, or worse. But just because Harrington buys a dime bag off him every week doesn’t mean they’re friends. Even if they’ve had a few surprisingly not-awful conversations. Even if Steve’s actually kind of funny for a rich kid, for a jock.

There’s no reason for Eddie to care about what’s happening to Steve Harrington, just like Steve never cared about him.

So why the hell are his feet carrying him toward the living room instead of the back door? Why is he elbowing people out of the way, pushing through the circle of gawkers around Steve? Why are his hands grabbing Steve by the shoulders, hauling him up, and dragging him out before anyone even knows what’s happening?

And why, for the love of God, is he driving to his trailer with Steve snoring in the passenger seat, instead of dumping the guy at his parents' mansion and going home?

Eddie wishes he knew. But his body’s on autopilot, and he’s watching it all happen like he's outside himself, like he’s not the one doing it.

The trailer park is quiet, too quiet for a Saturday night, but that’s January for you—cold as a witch's tit, and getting colder. The van’s heater barely works, and Eddie can see both their breaths fogging up the air, little puffs of steam in the dark.

Eddie cuts the engine, and the sudden silence fills the van like a held breath. Steve shifts in the seat, muttering something incoherent, his head lolling against the window. For a split second, Eddie considers just leaving him here. Would serve him right, honestly. Let King Steve wake up alone, freezing his ass off in a busted van in a trailer park at the edge of town. But then Steve lets out a soft groan, and Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes.

"You're a real piece of work, Harrington," he mutters under his breath, pushing open the driver's side door.

The cold air hits him like a slap, biting through his jacket and sending a shiver down his spine. He makes his way around to the passenger side, yanking open the door and catching Steve before he can tumble out. The guy's heavier than he looks—dead weight, limp as a rag doll. Eddie grunts, struggling for a grip, and finally manages to sling one of Steve's arms over his shoulder.

"Okay, big boy, up you go," Eddie mutters, half-dragging, half-carrying Steve toward the trailer. Steve's head drops forward, his hair brushing Eddie’s cheek, and he smells like a mix of beer, Steve's usual cologne, and something else—something clean, like laundry detergent or fresh air. It's weirdly comforting, and Eddie has to shake himself out of it.

Inside, the trailer is dim, lit only by the glow of the old TV Eddie left on. He kicks the door shut behind them, maneuvering Steve over to the sagging couch. Steve flops down with a heavy thud, eyes still closed, mouth slightly open. For a second, Eddie just stands there, looking at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing.

Why didn’t he just leave him there at the party? Why did he care?

Maybe it's because Steve looks different like this. Not the smug, popular guy who used to strut down the halls like he owned the place. Not the guy who had everything and then lost it all. Just... some kid, really. Some scared, drunk kid who probably doesn’t know where he fits anymore.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty,” Eddie mutters, leaning down to untie Steve’s sneakers. “Let’s get you comfortable before you choke on your own puke.”

As he pulls off one shoe, then the other, Steve stirs, his eyelids fluttering. For a moment, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, but then his eyes lock onto Eddie’s, and there’s a flicker of recognition.

“Munson?” Steve’s voice is low, rough from whatever he’s been drinking. “What the hell…?”

“Yeah, it’s me, genius,” Eddie says, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “You got yourself in a bit of a mess tonight, Harrington.”

Steve blinks, slowly piecing things together. “Why’d you bring me here?”

Eddie shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Seemed like the right thing to do, I guess.”

Steve snorts, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Right. The Freak playing Good Samaritan. What’s the punchline?”

Eddie’s smile fades. It inexplicably hurts to hear Steve call him that. “There’s no punchline, man. Not everything’s a joke.”

Steve stares at him, as if searching for something in Eddie’s face, something to latch onto. Finally, he just nods, leaning back against the couch, eyes half-closed again. “Thanks,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear. “I guess.”

Eddie feels something strange twist in his chest. “Don’t mention it,” he says, a little too quickly, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Steve. He turns away, grabbing an old blanket from a nearby chair and tossing it over Steve. “You sleep it off. I’ll be in my room.”

But even as he walks away, he can't shake the feeling that something’s shifted tonight, some invisible line crossed. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe in the morning, Steve will wake up, make a snarky comment, and it’ll all go back to the way it was.

Or maybe, just maybe, it won’t.

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[gojos-thot-patrol]

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Starring: True from! Sukuna in a cabin in the woods... Synopsis: You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? Content Warning: Tonight we are serving True form (two dicks) Sukuna, double penetration, tummy bulges, cunnilingus, kidnapping, marking, slight dubcon, and a soft Sukuna if you squint. reader discretion is advised

“So, remind me again why we’re taking a walk in the woods on Halloween night?” You asked your friend, narrowly avoiding a thorn vine as you pushed past the brush. 

“Because, historically speaking, people tend to see it on Halloween!” She explained, holding up her camera, “It’s our best chance of finding evidence of the spider demon.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her optimism.

“I don’t know if “Historically” is the right word to use there,” you grumbled softly as you continued your walk together. Ever since the two of you had started taking that Folklore Studies class for an extra college credit she had become obsessed with the local urban legend: The Spider Demon. To her credit, it was a genuinely interesting topic. 

As far back as town hall kept records of, there were sightings of the beast: a giant humanoid man that was covered in ancient markings, with four arms, four eyes, and a giant mouth on his abdomen. Rumor has it, he was the one at fault for all the disappearances that plagued your small town, dragging poor, innocent souls into some far off lair and feasting on their flesh. 

The sane people knew the real reason for the disappearances though; most of those kids hopped a train and got the fuck out of that dying town while they still could. You couldn’t say you blamed them. If you didn’t go to school here, one of the cheaper colleges around, you wouldn’t be here either. 

Your thoughts came to a halt as the two of you came up on an old stream. You knew it well as the boundary between where it was acceptable to play in the woods, and where was off limits. Everyone in the town had followed this rule. Your great grandparents had this rule engraved in their soul as kids, just as your parents and grandparents had, just as you had. And just as your kids would one day. No one really knew why you weren’t supposed to cross the water, just that you weren’t.

And your best friend was trying to hop across. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” You yelled as you grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She looked at you as if you had just grown two extra heads.

"I'm crossing the stream?" She asked as if you were the insane one here.

"Yeah, I can see that dipshit!" You snapped, "Why the hell would you do that?!"

"To get to the other side?"

"What are you, a chicken?! You know we're not supposed to cross this stream." Your friend dramatically rolled her eyes, making her annoyance clear.

"The only chicken here is you Y/n." She scoffed. "Come on, it's just water. It can't hurt you." She said in a tone meant to mock assurance. It grinded your bones and made you wonder why you were friends to begin with.

"Don't be like that. Everyone in this town has been told since birth not to cross that stream, there has to be a reason why."

"The reason why is probably so little kids don't drown." She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. It made you want to rearrange her teeth. "I'm going to cross the stream and keep the hunt going, are you with me or not Y/n?" She asked.

You took a deep breath. You absolutely were not with her. Every fiber in your being was setting off red flags, you could hear your ancestors screaming at you to turn around, somewhere from the great beyond, both Cain and Abel look at you and say "girl, don't do it." 

And yet, you started to jump across the rocks. As annoying as your friend was, she was still your friend, and you couldn't let her go alone. Your ancestors all collectively face palm, your nerves explode, Cain turns to Abel and shakes his head. There's no saving you now. You swore the air temperature dropped by at least three degrees as you made it to the other side of the stream. You cursed softly as you wrapped your jacket tighter around you, and rushed to catch up with your friend.

“See? We crossed the water and we didn’t explode! Some rules are just made to be broken.” She seemed confident in that, but you still weren’t. Something was so…off. Wrong. But you couldn’t figure out what. The moon was still as full as ever, lighting your way as the two of you walked. Your friend seemed fine, as chatty as hell even. And you were physically okay. Leaves crunched under your shoes, and the crickets chirped-

Wait. No they didn’t. “Hey, shush.” You demanded of your friend.

“What!? Why should I-”

“I said Shut. Up.” You snapped, an unfamiliar edge to your voice taking even you by surprise. She shut up, and you struggled to listen to the sounds of the forest. Except, there were no sounds of the forest. No crickets singing, no owls hooting, not even the rustle of a field mouse in the grass. The woods were completely silent, filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing. 

“Do you hear that?” You asked your friend.

“I don’t hear anything.” She scoffed.

“Exactly. We need to turn back.”

“What?! No way!” She protested with a stomp of her foot. You were really starting to think that Darwinism would not look kindly upon your friend.

“The woods are completely quiet.” You pointed out, “That doesn’t happen unless it has a reason to be quiet. We’re not welcome here.” You tried to argue. You would have been better off arguing with the moon itself. Your friend just shook her head as she continued to walk.

“The woods are always quiet Y/n, its what makes it so peaceful, or whatever.”

“But not this quiet!” You pleaded as you chased after her, still not willing to let her die out here alone. “Dude, please, we need to go-!”

“Ooo, whats that!” Your “best friend” quickly changed the topic as she pointed out a building off in the distance, running off to check it out. You felt your stomach fall to the floor. Who would build anything out here? You ran to follow her, deciding to just drag her back home if you had to. 

“Its a house!” She pointed out with a laugh as the two of you reached the edge of a lawn, “And they even decorated for Halloween, how sweet.” You looked at the house, an old wooden cabin that looked like something a pilgrim would have built back in the 1700s. You were shocked to see lights glowing in the window, indicating the building had electricity. That wasn’t what unnerved you the most though.

That would be the bones littering the yard. Animal and human alike, some looking older than others. All strewn about as if thrown there without any care, or sense of design. They looked more like discarded trash than they did decor, and a morbid part of your brain forced you to ask; do those maybe look a little too real to be made of plastic? You blood felt colder than ice as your throat contracted, an unseen anaconda choking you as your knees threatened to give out.

This place was cursed. “You should go knock.” Your friend smirked.

“I would rather die.” You whispered.

“I’m serious!” She laughed, “Go trick or treating! You’d probably be the first one to do so here.” 

“No way, this isn’t right. Why would they “decorate” for Halloween all the way out here? Why are they out here to begin with? It doesn’t make sense, we need to go.”

“Well, I’m not leaving until you go knock on the door.” Your friend shrugged as if she wasn’t signing your death certificate. “These kind people deserve trick or treaters, and I deserve to take a picture of you scared shitless as you knock on the door.” She laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You snapped, your patience growing thinner as your anxiety grew.

“Oh come on Y/n! Don’t be such a bitch, just go knock on the door and then we can go, okay? I promise.”

“...Swear?” You asked softly, at this point willing to do whatever it took to leave these woods and go home.

“Swear.” Your best friend smiled, locking her pinky with yours. Her smile as angelic, enough to trick you into a facade of ease. You took a deep breath as you approached the door, carefully avoiding the skeletons as you walked. Did they looked chewed on? You didn’t want to think too hard about it. You could feel your heart in your throat, the false courage of your friends pinky promise fleeing faster and faster with every step you took closer to this house. It radiated death.

Climbing the creaky stairs was harder than you anticipated, your jittering joints protesting the very act. You reached a trembling fist to the splintering wooden door, knocking as soft as possible. “H-Hello?” You called out, hating the way your voice quivered, “Trick or Treat!” Your entire body tried to collapse in on itself, the only thing keeping you from doing so was the primal instinct to maintain your ability to run should you so need.

You waited a few seconds, then let out a shaking breath as no one came to the door. As you turned back to your friend, you were blinded by the flash of a camera, freezing you in your place. The sounds of her cackle filled you with rage. You really needed you friends. 

You rolled your eyes. “There I knocked. Are you happy? Can we please go home no-” your words died in your throat as you heard the door open.

“Trick.” a rough deep voice said, deeply unfamiliar to you. You watched your friends face contort into fear and her jaw unhinged itself into a scream as she scrambled to get away. Though, you weren’t able to hear her panic, the ringing in your ears becoming deafening as you felt your feet fall from underneath you, a python of an arm squeezing your stomach as you were lifted into the air, and into the house. 

You tried to grab the door frame as you were dragged into hell, becoming aware of your own screaming ripping through your throat as the frame was ripped from your fingers and the door shut in your face.

“Quite mortal.” The voice said again, and you almost instantly shut up. Something primal in your DNA sequencing knowing better than to piss off this devil. The monster turned you over in his hands, turning you to face him. Your soul left your body. You took in the visage of the beast, your panicking brain struggling to process what was in front of you.

 A giant humanoid man, with four arms, four eyes, and a face and chest full of ancient markings. He was holding you too close to properly see it, not to mention the fact that he was wearing a regal robe, but you would bet an unreasonable amount of money he had a sickening smile on his belly. You were in The Spider Demons claws.

And worst of all, he was kinda cute? Like, maybe it was the unshakeable sense of death that rattled your soul and turned your brain into mush, but if he was like- a normal guy with a normal amount of arms and eyes, you would have been smitten! You were kinda smitten now, even if you didn’t want to admit that. God you…really really hoped this whole experience wasn’t awakening something in you. This would be something to unpack in therapy later- if you survived this.

The demon took your chin in a free hand, turning your head as he examined you. You smelled divine. If you had been a sacrifice for him, he would have given whoever picked you out an A++ for finding you, and a bit more leniency for a while. But, he knew you weren’t a sacrifice. The townsfolk had declared him their enemy long ago, and had been facing the consequences ever since. So, that begged the question.

“Tell me, whats a pretty thing like you doing at my doorstep on the most haunted night of the year?” He asked, turning your head to look him in the eye. 

“Wishing you were a myth.” You went with the first thing that came to your head and instantly regretted it. That might have been a little too honest for this situation. But, at least he seemed to find humor in it, snickering at your quip.

“Keep wishing then human, I’m all too real.” He chuckled darkly. 

“Yeah, I-I see that…Are you going to kill me?” Your voice was shakier than you intended as you asked. You hated it, but the anticipation of what he was going to do was more painful that anything he could have actually done.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He mused as he continued his examination of you. He smiled cruelly as he felt your pulse quicken under his hands. He could smell your fear, and it was intoxicating. Your eyes, blown wide with fear, were stirring something deep down inside of him, and making you far more interesting than any other human he had come across in years.

Or, maybe it had just been a while since he had anyone to fuck. Granted, he had stolen plenty of mortals from your small town, but most of the time they died in the process. Corpses held no interest to him for anything other than food. But you? You were alive and warm, and vulnerable in his claws. That fact alone made the notion of keeping you alive for a little longer far more enticing than killing you just yet. 

“Um, anything I could do to help you make that decision?” You asked softly.

“The decision to kill you?” he questioned

“Well, the decision not too!” You quickly clarified, “Dying sounds kinda, well, not fun  and with you being like, a real thing that kinda makes me question well everything as far as mythology goes and that makes dying really fucking scary and-”

“You’re rambling mortal.” He sneered in annoyance.

“Right! My bad I just- please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything not to die.” You begged, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you grappled with being forced to face the unknown. You had the beasts attention though, an eyebrow raising at your offer.

“Anything?” He purred, his eyes falling to the swell of your chest and making you greatly regret your word choice. “Anything at all?”

“Anything.” You whispered softly. You reasoned with yourself that this was for your life and definitely not because the thought of getting railed by a blood thirsty demon made you squish your thighs together in anticipation. You for sure didn’t feel a rush of arousal as the thought of something meant to kill you making you cum instead crossed your mind. That didn’t happen, no way, not at all. You weren’t wondering if his dick was as monstrous as he was, or if his markings graced it as well.

“Alright then Human, deal.” He grinned wickedly as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “I’ll let you live, if you give your body to me first.” You felt your face burn at his proposal. Something felt fundamentally wrong about spreading your legs for a demon. You weren’t religious or anything, but that had to be some sort of sin. But, if it was for your life, surely you could indulge- I MEAN- endure. 

“Before I agree, we’re not talking about possession, right?” You had to clarify. He smirked at your words. You were cleaver to ask, it showed a familiarity with the supernatural. Maybe you weren’t as foolish as you first seemed after all.

“Smart girl. But no, we’re not talking about possession.” He confirmed. 

“Okay, cool, just checking.” You chuckled nervously. “You got yourself a deal.” His smirk turned into a dark grin as his free hands rushed to your clothes. You panicked, knowing he was going to rip them off and you’d be forced to walk back in the nude. That would have been mortifying.

“Wait wait wait!” You yelped, holding up your arms to stop his hands. 

“What?” He growled, annoyance flooding his tone.

“Let me undress myself.” You requested, “Please? I’ll make it worth your while.” He seemed intrigued and amused, setting you on the ground with an almost unnerving gentleness. 

“Will you now? Lets see.” He hummed. You nodded, taking a few steps back. You took a deep breath and shrugged your jacket off your shoulders. You had never been particularly good at being sexy, at least not in your opinion. But, The monsters eyes could have convinced you otherwise. The way he watched you undress, as if he was a starving man looking at a thanksgiving feast, or a hungry demon looking at his next meal. It gave you the confidence to put on a proper show, teasing him as you slowly shed your clothes.

“I’m Y/n by the way,” You said as your hands reached to unhook your bra, “You got a name, or is it just spider demon?” He huffed humorlessly at your quip. He never liked that title. 

“Ryomen Sukuna,” He said, his eyes setting fire to your skin as you finally dropped your bra for him, “you can call me Sukuna.” 

“Noted.” You nodded as you dropped your panties. His lustful grin showed off his incredibly sharp fangs as he dropped his own robe, the only thing covering him. You confirmed the mouth theory, seeing it spread and hungrily panting across his toned abs. Your breath hitched when you saw when he was working with. 

His dick- or rather, dicks- looked human enough despite the markings, but they were longer and thicker than anything you had taken before. And again, there were two of them. They stood hard and proud against his stomach, twitching to be inside you. You didn’t know if the buzzing in your hands and legs was from regret, or excitement.

You didn’t have time to figure it out either before you were taken back into the demons arms, this time with less violence and more neediness. He pressed you to his stomach, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and leaving you open to him.

“You’re pretty brave for a human, you know that?” He complimented as a large tongue lolled out of his stomach mouth and against your soaking core. He chuckled darkly as the muscle shoved itself into your weeping cunt, making you gasp at the sudden stretch, “And such a slut too.”

“Hey, this was your idea, not mine.” You reminded him though breathy moans, trying to ground yourself as your hips bucked against his giant mouth. Every movement of the tongue felt like being touch for the first time, a ripple of pleasure coursing though your stomach and legs, and making you wonder there was something supernatural going on to make a demonic act feel so heavenly.

“True,” He agreed, “But you’re the one that's gushing for a monster when I’ve hardly touched you.” he reminded you, watching the way your face contorted with pleasure as you dropped the act of innocence. He didn’t know what was more arousing to him, watching your resolve dissolve, or just how sweet you tasted as you desperately you rode his tongue. “I was going to kill you just a few moments ago, you know that right?” He growled into you ear.

“Yeah, but you’re fucking me instead. Sounds like a win to me.” You grinned and he laughed at your sudden audacity. He knew he liked you.

“You really are a whore, Aren’t you?” He teased as his tongue slipped out of your cunt and into your ass instead, watching the way your breasts bounced as you flinched and moaned at the sudden intrusion. 

“Not a whore if it’s for my life.” You whined, digging your nails into his shoulders. You were starting to feel light headed from the pleasure pooling in your stomach, your cunt clenching around nothing, pissed off from the loss.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He chuckled as his face fell to the crook of your neck, taking in your intoxicating smell. He could feel his dicks twitch with need as he kissed you there, fighting every instinct in his body to keep from digging his teeth into the thin skin. He tasted your sweet slick as it dripped from your cunt and onto the middle of his tongue, and finally he withdrew the muscle. 

You whined as he did, head dropping to his chest, both holes now clenching around nothing. “No, fuck-” You whimpered, only for him curl a clawed finger under your chin and lift your head to face him. “Sukuna..” You whimpered as you looked into his fire red eyes, darkened by lust. His lips crashed into yours, capturing you in a heated kiss. You sighed against his mouth, hands rising to tangle into his soft pink hair as his tongue tangled with yours.

You screamed into his mouth as you felt him shove both of his cocks into you at once, one for each hole. He growled, biting down on your lip as you clenched around him. “Sukuna!” You gasped as you pulled back from the kiss, your body trying hard to push out the sudden intrusion.

“Relax for me Darling,” He groaned softly, the pet name slipping out without his permission. He pressed his forehead to yours as he rubbed your stomach, trying to ease your pain.

“I-I can’t. Too big..” You panted, trying desperately to release the tension in your shoulders. The stretch was searing you from the inside out. You felt overwhelmed, the pleasure in the pain feeling like static shocks. “It’s soo much..”

“You can handle it,” He assured you, extremely (perhaps overly) confident in your ability considering you had met less than an hour ago. You shook your head, tears slipping from your eyes. He lapped them up from your face, then captured your lips in a much softer kiss this time. Slowly, your body came to accept his, the tension melting away as his tongue tangled with yours and he eased his way further into you. The burn faded, leaving just the pleasure there, pulsating through you as he pushed deeper. 

He groaned into your lips as he bottomed out into you, stilling both to give you time to adjust and so he didn’t immediately cum in you like a fucking virgin. It was almost embarrassing how good you felt around him, taking him better than any other being had before. You clenched and fluttered around him in a sinful way, bringing him closer to his climax than he would like to admit.

“Told you.” He smirked as he pulled away from the kiss, licking at the string of saliva that connected the two of you. You whined as you looked down to where the two of you were connected, watching a bulge in your stomach appear and disappear with every thrust of his hips. It should have hurt, but no- quite the opposite.

 Every thrust of his hips electrified you with pleasure, sending wave after wave of intoxicating bliss through your nervous system. You had never felt so full before, so complete. You could feel his cocks rub against each other, against your walls inside of you, a dizzying sensation that you had never experienced before. Your hips bucked against him greedily as he fucked you, chasing your high.

“Look at me Y/n,” He demanded, pulling your head up so your eyes connected with his again, “I want you know the demon making you feel so good.” 

“Ryomen-” You whined, forgetting in your sea of lust that wasn’t the name he told you to use. His eyes widened a bit from shock. Mostly because he wasn’t filled with rage by your insolence, but instead a surge of lust from hearing his name fall from your lips. It really had been awhile, he was feeling himself getting attached far too easily. If he knew what was good for him, he would have finished and disposed of you as quickly as possible. He wasn’t interested in what was good for him.

“Say it again.” He demanded, a hand slipping in between you to rub circles into your clit. 

“Ryomen..” You whined, staring at him with fucked out, lust clouded eyes as you trembled in his arms, thighs clenching around his abdomen as the ecstasy crashed through your core and through out your body. You felt your muscles ripple and tense in anticipation. 

“Again,” He growled, pulling you closer to him, and dropping his forehead down to yours. “Who does this cunt belong to?”

“Ryomen..” Your brain was too clouded to make out the rest of his command, your body buzzing and bliss building up inside of you. He picked up his pace, chasing his own high and making you scream out his name in a truly embarrassing and needy moan. 

You clung onto his shoulders and neck, digging your nails into the soft skin there as the euphoria in your veins finally boiled over and hit the fire inside of your stomach, igniting it in an explosion of ecstasy and lust. Your vision exploded with stars and your brain officially clocked out of work as you melted into a puddle. Your legs shaking around him as you leaned against his strong body, unable to keep yourself up any longer.

Your velvety walls quivered around him and sucked him in impossibly deeper, needy and lustful for him. It drove him mad. He watched as your face scrunched in pleasure, your body reacting to him greedily as you melted into the pleasure he he was gracing you with. 

It send him over the edge watching you cum for him, feeling you cum over him, feeling you gush around him. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, holding you in a grip tight enough to bruise. His fangs buried themselves into your neck, marking you as his and his alone as he came deep inside of you, the warm strings gushing in you and filling you to the point of spilling over.

He held you close to him, head hung back as you both tried to catch your breath. Your mind was starting to clear the fog out, looking up to ask him to put you down before you felt him move inside you again. Your breath hitched as you realized he didn’t even get a little soft. You looked at him with almost horrified eyes as he bucked into you, only acting to encourage him. He looked back at you with lustful and wicked eyes, nipping at your lip as he set his pace and grinned.

“Whats wrong Darling?” He asked, the pet name now fully intentional in its use, “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?” 

🎃🎃🎃

You were warm when you woke up, despite still being in the nude. Probably because of the huge body pressed against yours, radiating heat and holding you close as he slept. Visions of last night ran though your head, making you almost painfully aware of the cum still dripping from between your thighs, and sending another wave of arousal through you. When did you pass out? When did Ryomen?

You stayed still for a few seconds, listing to your bedfellows steady breathing. The bed, despite being made from feathers and thin quilting, was surprisingly soft, and the late afternoon sun filled the old home with a warm hazy light. You realized you couldn’t stay here any longer. You couldn’t get attached to an urban legend. 

You slipped out of his arms, freezing as he groaned and only breathing again once he was softly snoring. You sighed as you slipped out of the bedroom and found your clothes again. You quickly got dressed, and went to open the front door. It didn’t budge. Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you pulled the knob again. What the hell? You pulled with all your might, almost screaming with frustration as the door didn’t even move a centimeter. 

“Don’t bother with that Dove.” You gasped as you heard Ryomens voice behind you, a wave of dread blanketing you as you spun to face him. He was leaning casually against the door frame of the bedroom, a content smile painted on his face. “It has my seal on it. I’m the only one that can open that door.”

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Spooktober Prompts Masterlist 2023

"They are calling us…" "Don't listen to them. Do you hear me? Don't listen to a word they promise you!"

The cameras show five people enter an elevator, but only four of them leaving it. Those four never remembered a fifth passenger.

"Aww, are you so afraid of the dark that you need me to hold your hand?" "I'm not holding your hand." "Then whose..."

At first, they believe it to be a bad joke, but when more and more graves of people who haven't died yet appear in the graveyard, they start to panic.

The camera she bought at a flea market already has photos on it. Since the people are wearing clothes from centuries ago, they believe them to be from a play. But they soon realize that those photos and events were real.

A child actress turned cult leader feels her power slipping and she needs to gain control over her following again.

When they started building the new school, they had expected to maybe find unexploded WWII bombs, but what they found instead was nothing they could have expected.

She heard footsteps behind her coming closer, but when she turned around, holding her breath, she could only see the dark and empty alley.

"Why did you choose the cemetary as our meeting place for tonight?" "Because only the dead can keep our secrets."

Going to your own funeral and see who would cry - it sounded almost fun. If it wasn’t for the fact that they could hear and see everything, but could not make a sound to stop them from closing up the grave around them.

A medium without a voice of her own, can only speak when a ghost speaks through her.

They had always felt that shadows seemed to beckon to them. But this time, when the shadows beckoned, they wore a sinister grin. (Submitted by: tumblebumblebee-63)

"I'm not haunting a filthy public bathroom, I'm a ghost with class."

A fun survival game TV show on a remote island becomes a reality when one contestant after the other turns up brutally killed. Right in front of hundreds of cameras and millions of watchful eyes.

Waking up to a child that you've never seen before, but that everyone assures you is your own that you've raised for years, is terrifying.

"Did you see that?" "Did I see what?" "That man... he touched the leaves and they immediately blackened and fell off. Please, let us go back before he sees us!" "Too late." The man in the dark cloak suddenly stood right in front of them and slowly reached out his hands to them.

What started as a fun midnight activity suddenly turned into one of them missing and the others running for their lives, trying to escape freaking zombies.

He always dreamed about being in a kdrama. He didn't imagine it to have a horror side plotline that feels way too real.

They said that when you die, you return to earth as your one true self. Why then, when he opened his eyes after being killed, were his teeth long and he hungered for blood? (Submitted by: ouilah)

She didn't think it would come to this point. She felt the cold stone of the gravestone in her back and before her the red glowing eyes of the creature crept slowly closer.

There are perks of being a ghost. Walking through walls was fun. Or haunting annoying people. But nothing was quite as nice as being able to just fade out of a conversation that you didn’t want to be a part of.

"I dare you! Come on, stop being a coward. There is no such thing as ghosts."

Someone wakes up to a text saying 'It's your lucky day!' and it turns out to be the worst day ever.

A family of vampires that lives unidentified in human communities, becomes paranoid and starts to believe all their neighbors are also supernatural creatures.

There are stories and superstitions abound about the seaside bluffs, but that's to be expected in a town of fishermen. One night, from the bluffs' direction, you hear someone singing, softly. (Submitted by: someoneoffthestreet)

Astronauts coming back to earth keep talking about hearing songs from outside the space shuttle. What they don't say, is that those songs followed them home.

Someone stared at her through the window. She had always felt safe in her own home, shutting out the scary, real world. But a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily…

A plane disappears from the radar and then reappears multiple hours later at the exact same location in the middle of the ocean with no place to land and not enough fuel to just fly around for hours.

"We shouldn't enter! This place was abandoned for a reason!" "Come on, don't be a coward. We will be the only ones here!" "Okay, okay... I'll follow you. You don't have to push me!" "I... I didn't push you..."

A session of reading tea leaves ends in chaos when every single participant reveals a bad omen.

Something tells the home owner that the kids trick-or-treating in front of his house are not wearing costumes - and are not human at all.

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[ceesimz]

Stand By Me

Two weeks.

That's all it had been since you last saw each other.

Considering it was only the start of the relationship, it felt like a life time. Work had kept the two of you apart; Alexia seemed to have to travel constantly at the moment, and the busyness of your own job had picked up too. Even when you were in the same city as each other, there still wasn't enough time, and it felt like torture knowing you were just miles away from each other.

But that's what made your relationship so sweet. When the pair of you got together, it was like the rest of the world went away. If it was just the two of you, you saw a different side to Alexia and she saw a different side to you. You felt invincible when you were together. You could never take for granted the soft, tender, shy, and tooth-rottingly sweet persona of Alexia Putellas off the pitch, and you thought maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way about you.

Apparently not.

Here you now were, sat alone at the restaurant that you were supposed to be meeting her at, slowly harbouring a glass of wine as you watched the time tick away on the clock opposite you. Despite the chatter, laughter, music, and general background noise of the restaurant, bustling as it was on this Friday evening, you swore you could hear the hands move on the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Five minutes - fine! Not a problem.

Ten minutes - still alright.

Fifteen minutes - well... a text sent.

Twenty minutes - a bottle of wine ordered.

Thirty minutes? This was unfair. Not even a reply of warning. In fact, you hadn't gotten a single text all day.

Still, the clock, tick, tick, ticking away, mocking, teasing.

Where the hell was she?

"Perdónarme, señorita, if you are not going to order, we have a lot of people waiting for a table."

There we go. The last straw.

At the waiter's words, you stood abruptly from the table, gulped down the rest of your wine, before grabbing your coat and storming out. That was nothing short of utterly humiliating. You were in half a mind to take the bottle of wine with you and drown your sorrows on the walk home, but you'd already had enough embarrassment for one night. Walking out of a restaurant full of lovers on your own with nobody holding your hand, nobody carrying your coat for you, nobody guiding you out to a pre-booked taxi with their hand lingering on your lower back. You had yourself and yourself only, and being seen gaining comfort from a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine was not the impression you were trying to achieve.

Still, that didn't stop you from throwing your heels off in the corridor of your small Barcelona flat and heading straight to the fridge for one of the beers you kept in there. You could only fall asleep later that night after your best friend back in your home town in England called you up and criticised the woman you thought could do no wrong, having you belly laughing until you succumbed to your exhaustion, feeling significantly lighter.

Frustratingly, that was only a temporary thing. The first thing on your mind the following morning, was how badly you missed the feeling of a certain Catalonian's arms being wrapped around you. Again, it was just the start of the relationship (if that was even a thing anymore), so there had only been a few... sleepovers, but that didn't diminish the longing you had.

"Fuck sake." You grumbled, swinging your body to sit on the edge of the bed as you sighed heavily, head dropping back and eyes closing.

Waking up sad and alone in a foreign country, no matter how long you had lived there, never got any easier - especially when you had been so cruelly ghosted the previous night. The embarrassment lingered heavily in your chest, and you wanted to do nothing all day but sulk in your flat, then get drunk in one of Barcelona's many night clubs. Previously, you had rejected your friends' plans for tonight in the hopes of spending time with Alexia, but that had obviously flown out of the window after last night's events, or rather the lack of events.

So, you sent a text to the group chat containing your favourite friends you'd met so far in this beautiful city, informing them of your new decision, smiling when you instantly received an influx of messages conveying their joy. However, to your own annoyance, you found yourself pressing on Alexia's chat to see that she had left you on read.

Un-fucking-believable.

That night, you made sure to put on the little black dress you'd been keeping at the back of your wardrobe, hoping to one day wear it when you were going out with Alexia. But boy had she ruined that chance now.

When you got drunk whilst carrying a variety of angry emotions (especially when it came to relationships), you knew you had a habit of acting a little... petty, to say the least. That habit came in full force at 2am, when you decided to post a picture of yourself in your outfit, a smug and knowing grin on your face, hoping for Alexia to see it on your Instagram story.

Still drunk and awake at 6am, however now thankfully in the comfort of your own bed, you checked your Instagram story views, and there it was. Alexia had seen it. And... liked it? Was she serious right now? With a frustrated huff, you threw your phone down on the bed beside you and tossed onto your side angrily, refusing to let this get to you. Admittedly, that was a little hard to do in your drunk and emotional state.

You weren't entirely surprised to find your pillow coated with the after effects of tear-streaked mascara the next morning, but you were more worried about the pounding on your front door that caused your head to throb. Not quite jumping out of bed, it was more of a stumble really, you threw on your dressing gown and very quickly washed your face as to not scare off whoever was meer minutes away from bashing your door down.

"Fucking hell, it's early, who are-" You cut yourself off when you swung the door open, only to be met with the one person you were not expecting. "No."

Spiteful laughter bubbled out of you before you could control your reactions, and you slammed the door shut in her face.

...okay, maybe that was a little harsh, but in your hungover state, you didn't really have the sympathetic capacity to feel sorry about it.

"Please. I need to talk." Alexia pleads, a tired frown on her face as she held onto a bouquet of flowers.

"Why?" You leaned back against the door, bending over a little to rub stressfully at your face.

"I messed up, I know it. Please. I want to, to explain myself."

You would be lying if you said her English accent, sounding much sadder than you'd heard it before, didn't pull at your heart.

"I'm not in the mood right now, Alexia. It's early."

"It's two o'clock." Comes Alexia's confused voice.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at the digital clock on your coffee table, seeing it was indeed 2pm.

"Well... just not now, Ale!" You groan, rubbing your temple.

"Vale, vale." You just about hear her sigh exasperatedly on the other side of the door. "Soon, por favor. Tengo algo qué admitir." (I have something to admit.)

"What, that you're an arsehole?" You snort, before grimacing at yourself. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm sorry."

"No, it is okay." Alexia sounds a little humoured rather than offended. "I did not mean to... not show up to our date. There was a confusion with my schedule, and I did not mean to hurt you, guapa. I would really like to explain it. Please let me have a chance."

It falls silent between you both for a second as you consider your options. Your head was pounding, you were in a horrendous state appearance wise, and judging by your peculiar actions within the past few moments, you're pretty sure you're still a little drunk.

"How about we meet for coffee in an hour?" You suggest, because you really needed a shower and perhaps 1 or 2 or 10 glasses of water.

Sure, she'd already seen you in your current state, but you were not about to have an adult conversation with panda eyes and awful morning breath.

"Sí, I would like that." Alexia lets out a breath of relief. "At our bakery?"

You smile sadly at that - there was a bakery down the road from your apartment, a tiny but heavenly place with the best coffee and pastries that you had immediately claimed as your favourite breakfast spot within days of moving to Barcelona. When you introduced Alexia to it after your first night together, she had grown to love it just like you. From then on, most times you were together, you would go there.

"Yes, at our bakery." You confirm, closing your eyes as you picture her solemn face behind the door.

"Okay, I will be there. I... your flowers?" Alexia says, again with a hopeful lilt to to her voice.

You pause, before turning to open the door ever so slightly, half your face showing in the gap. This gave you the chance to take in Alexia's appearance, and it caused your defiance towards her to crack a bit. Her eyes were quite red, there seemed to be a frown permanently etched onto her face, and a pair of dull bags under her eyes seemed to drag her skin down. It was quite heartbreaking, to say the least. You're brave enough to think even you looked better than her right now in your current state of appearance.

"Gracias, Ale. Qué son hermosas." You take the bouquet from her, looking down at the abundance of stunningly colourful flowers organised perfectly.

"Tus favoritos." Alexia offers a semi-genuine smile as you meet eye to eye. You return the smile, seeing hers grow at the sight. "I swear I am so sorry for my actions, guapa."

"It was really humiliating on Friday, Ale." You admit. Alexia pinches the bridge of her nose as her frown somehow intensifies.

"Lo siento mucho, de verdad." Alexia mumbles, looking at the floor as she's too ashamed to look you in the eye. "It was not my, my... intentions?" She looks up at you briefly as you nod to confirm she's said the right word. "Sí, it was not my intentions to have you feel like that. I need to explain, please."

Alexia Putellas was not one to beg, you knew that.

"You can, later." You tell her. She nods and brushes her hair back with her hand.

"Gracias. Really, thank you."

"I'll see you soon."

"Vale. I will show up this time." She jokes light-heartedly, making you let out a huff of laughter and shake your head.

"If you don't, I'm never talking to you again." Her eyes widen at that and she nods nervously as you hold back a laugh.

"I will be there." She states firmly.

"Good." You offer a small smile. "Bye, Ale."

She nods once more and takes a few steps backwards, just gazing at you.

"Bye, amor." She murmurs, before turning around and walking away.

To your relief, Alexia stuck true to her word. An hour later, you saw her sat at one of the outdoor tables of the bakery, a hat and a hood allowing her to stay mostly incognito. But you knew her all too well and instantly recognise her despite her shoddy disguise. Her posture was slumped slightly, another sign that maybe mentally she wasn't doing that great.

"Hola." You greet her, making her raise her head immediately and look at you with a face of relief.

"You are here." She states simply, almost in disbelief.

"I could say the same about you." You hit back, wincing as the words leave your mouth.

"Mm." Alexia grimaces, trailing her eyes back down to where her hands rested on the table.

You take a seat across from her, noticing she'd already ordered your favourite pastry and hot drink for you.

"Thanks for these." You smile up at her.

"You want me to... get straight into it?" The English phrase sounds funny coming from her, it sitting unfamiliarly on her tongue.

"Please."

You watch as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair and sighs, folding her arms on the table and keeping her eyes cast down.

"Friday, I was with my family. Friday was... ten years of my Papí's death."

Well, shit.

"Oh my god." You freeze, eyes wide as you stare at her. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I-"

"You didn't know, amor, it is not your issue." Alexia reasurres you. You put your head in your hands and groan quietly.

"I could have been less petty and immature about it though. Fuck, I am so sorry, Alexia. I had no idea." You ramble, mentally kicking yourself and looking at her through your fingers. She responds silently with a soft smile as she gently pulls your hands from your face.

"No, I am sorry, guapa. I didn't talk to you, I left you... in the dark. Or, alone at a restaurant." She jokes, and you let out a breath of relief.

"A text would have been nice." You mumble after a few moments, eyes focused on your connected hands as Alexia brushes her thumbs over your knuckles.

"I know. That is another reason why I feel bad. I left you, and I didn't send you a text to tell you. Really, I am so sorry. It was just... a hard day." It's said in a quiet tone that's laced with emotion, and that paired with her appearance, you knew instantly she was telling you the absolute truth.

"I bet it was." You smile sadly at her.

"I know I should have been... should have told you the truth. But I am now. I did not mean to hurt you, no way. My head was... full. It did not stop running and running. I didn't look at my phone on Friday at all, I just noticed yesterday what I had done. When I knew, I was so angry with myself." Alexia explains. "Alba shouted at me too."

You giggle at that, and she chuckles along with you.

"I believe you. I'm not mad." You admit.

Alexia drops her head so that her chin is to her chest, her anxiety now almost entirely eased thanks to your understanding.

"Dios mío, muchas gracias. Lo aprecio más de lo qué crees, amor." She mumbles, shaking her head before looking back up at you with tears in her eyes. (I appreciate it more than you know.)

"Just please don't do it again. Let me in next time. If we want to have a relationship, we need to communicate better, we need to be clear and honest, okay?" You tell her.

"Sí, I know. I know. I will try." Alexia says affirmatively. "I am not perfect. But I will try. I want this, I do."

You stand up from your chair, and at first Alexia panics internally, but when you offer your arms out for a hug, she leaps up and embraces you tightly.

"Neither of us are perfect, pero tengo muchas ganas de qué funcione también." You whisper in her ear, rubbing your hands up and down her back. (But I want it to work too, so much.)

"Yo también, cariño." Alexia places a handful of light, apologetic kisses on your neck.

"I'm sorry for being rude and petty earlier. I think I was still drunk." You admit sheepishly, Alexia laughing into your skin.

"I think you were. That was not like you." You grimace and nod in agreement. She pulls her head away and clutches at the back of your neck, her eyes searching yours. "We are okay?"

"Sí, amor. Más qué bien." (More than okay.)

When your lips finally connect, all is forgiven.

It's three weeks before the next incident.

In that time, Alexia had done a lot of grovelling. You had reasurred her many times that, as long as it was a one off occasion and due to the event she had missed your date for, you weren't angry. Not only had she surprised you with weekly flowers, date nights, and a night away together, she'd also asked you to be her girlfriend. It was a no-brainer, of course you said yes. Both of you had never been happier.

However, as you lay on the sofa of your apartment, sick supplies and tissues surrounding you and a blanket borderline suffocating you despite your temperature, you could only focus on the pain you felt for your girlfriend as the whistle blew for the Champions League Final.

Barcelona 1 - 3 Lyon.

You felt tears brewing uncomfortably at the sight of the white-kitted team celebrating, but that was nothing compared to the sight of your girlfriend lay on the field, sobbing her heart out.

If you were heartbroken, you can't even begin to imagine her pain. This was her dream, every footballer's dream, and it had been brutally pulled away from her and her team at the very last stage. And it all felt worse because you couldn't be there for her. Instead, you were stuck on your sofa, your whole body hurting and your chest rattling with every breath, completely ruined by a nasty chest infection.

It wasn't meant to end like this for the Barça Femení team. You knew it.

But Alexia... she couldn't even begin to fathom what had occured.

The moment the whistle blew, she went into shock. When she awoke the next morning, she couldn't remember much. The whole evening was a blur. She vaguely remembers the utter disgust she felt when a silver medal was placed around her neck, the anger she felt giving the Lyon team a guard of honour, and the stab in the heart when golden confetti landed on her.

She remembers feeling her mother's arms wrapped around her along with the reasurring whispers of her sister, but she had no idea what was actually said. She doesn't remember picking up her phone once at all that evening. She doesn't remember the silent coach journey back to the hotel. She doesn't remember getting into bed, and she has no idea how she fell asleep. Most importantly, she doesn't remember just how ill her girlfriend was.

Fuck.

Her girlfriend, her sick girlfriend who was devastated to not be able to fly to Turin with Alexia and her family. Her sick girlfriend who was all alone back in Barcelona, feeling worse than she ever had in her life.

Alone.

Alexia was completely unaware of the fact that you had managed to get ahold of Alba to try and find out how your girlfriend was. And when Alba had cared for you more in the space of a twenty minute phone call than Alexia had in the past 24 hours, you knew just what kind of situation you were in now. Despite the pain your girlfriend was feeling, you were nothing short of furious. Not that you could do much about it though, considering everytime you moved, you would cough so hard your vision went fuzzy. But your closest friend, who had dropped whatever she was doing to come to your flat and stay with you, at the request (demand) of Alba, she took all of that fury on for you and held onto it until you could handle it.

Even still, Alexia went down to breakfast shortly after waking up like she hadn't just ignored your messages that she briefly glanced at, along with the flurry of other messages from family and friends. She ate on her own in silence, airpods in with nothing playing in hopes of some peace. That wasn't achieved though, it was a futile and pathetic attempt. Her mind wouldn't stop.

For the whole of yesterday evening and this morning, the defeat ate at Alexia more than any other mistake she'd made. But as she sat there, alone, staring at her empty plate, she knew she had royally fucked up again with you, and this realisation took over every other mistake she'd made. Not only that, but she had also left her phone in her hotel room, and right now that felt like adding fuel to the fire.

Her chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it back quickly, darting off to the elevator and spamming the button for it to pick her up. When it arrives, she almost runs straight into some other hotel guests, but she doesn't apologise. She steps to the side and waits for them to get out, before pressing the button for her floor and willing the doors to close before anyone else could get on. They did, thankfully, and she urged the lift to move quicker, watching the floors increase until finally she got to the right one. As she ran to her room, going past a few of her teammates who simply just stared at her, she stopped outside the door and checked her pockets for her keycard.

She'd left it in the room.

"¡Joder, no!" She shouts, banging her palms against her own door angrily. Her chest heaved as she rested her forehead against the door, finally feeling the tears she had resisted.

"Ale? ¿Qué paso?" Mapi approaches her cautiously, Ingrid standing back and watching on with concern.

"Dame tu teléfono." Alexia demands, holding her hand out. (Give me your phone.)

"Ale-"

"¡Dame tu teléfono ahora!" She shouts, Mapi glancing back worryingly at Ingrid before handing her phone over immediately. As quick as she could, Mapi unlocks the phone for her and Alexia types in your phone number.

"¿Hola?" It's not your voice.

"Where is she?" Alexia questions, hastily wiping away the tears dripping down her face.

"No, Alexia. Too late." Your friend replies angrily.

"Let me talk to her, ahora." Alexia requests weakly, her cold, strong demeanor cracking by the second.

"She is asleep. She cried herself to exhaustion after staying up all night worrying for you. No way am I letting her talk to you." Your friend spat out brutally, before hanging up.

Alexia drops the phone and slumps back against the wall, sliding down against it until she's on the floor.

"Who did you call?" Mapi asks softly, sitting beside her friend.

"Mi novia." Alexia sighs, resting her elbows on her knees and covering her face.

"You have a girlfriend?" Mapi couldn't stop the surprised answer from bursting out of her, and in turn she received a kick in the shin from Ingrid.

"Do you need a new key?" Ingrid questions. When Alexia nods behind her hands, Ingrid looks expectantly at Mapi.

"Why me?" Mapi responds but she gets up immediately when her girlfriend glares at her. She walks away with her hands in the air, going back to the elevator. Ingrid sits in her place.

"¿Qué paso?" Ingrid wonders softly, wrapping an arm around Alexia's shoulders.

"She is really sick. And I have pushed her away, again." Alexia reveals, grabbing her shirt by the collar and pulling it up to cover her face.

"Again?" Ingrid pushes gently.

"Sí, again. I am an idiot. I keep doing it and I do not know why." Alexia groans, angry at nobody but herself.

The two women talk for a while, Ingrid managing to help Alexia work through some of her emotions before Mapi comes back with a new keycard.

"Gracias, mis amigas." Alexia mumbles, being pulled into a hug by Ingrid, quickly joined by Mapi.

"Let us meet her." Ingrid requests with a smile, Mapi nodding in agreement with a grin.

"Who has tamed Alexia?" Mapi teases, earning a smack on the head by her girlfriend. "Ay, lo siento."

Alexia shakes her head at the pair of them, a tiny slither of a smile on her face as she turns to open her door. The couple walk away with a wave, before Alexia closes the door behind her and rushes over to her phone.

The influx of messages from you break her heart. You sent your last text at 04:17AM, and even though Alexia sensed you were angry at her, it was still filled with love and care.

Yes, she'd hugely messed up.

She was sat on the end of the bed, head in her hands, when her phone rang. Her heart hoped it was you, but her brain knew it wasn't. Instead, it was her sister, and she knew she was about to be in for a lecture and a half.

As expected, she answered and was immediately met with an overload of Spanish being bellowed at her down the line. There was no way she could get a word in as Alba went on and on, and with every word that came out of her sister's mouth, the guilt she felt increased tenfold.

How had she done it again?

"Sí, lo sé, Alba. Lo sé." Alexia mumbles when Alba finally pauses. (Yes, I know, Alba. I know.)

The younger woman goes to speak again, but she's interrupted by broken sobs that wreck through Alexia's body. That's when Alba realises her sister didn't need a lecture now, she had realised her mistake, and what she needed was advice. So, for an hour, that's what she gave. Until the cries of her older sister finally subsided, and there were only background sniffles to her solutions.

After they hung up on each other, Alexia went onto your contact and took her time typing out a message to you. She knew the likelihood of receiving a reply was very low, but it was the first step in making up for her idiocy.

Alexia: Amor, I have no words, no excuses for my actions. I have messed up and broken your trust again. I should not have let the defeat get to me as much as it did, and because of it, I neglected you. It is unforgivable but I know I really messed up and I will really try hard to win you back. I'm coming back to Barcelona tonight, I want to see you so bad but if you don't want me I understand. I hope you're feeling better, I'm so sorry I have been so selfish and I wish I was there to look after you. I hope to see you soon, amor. Feel better soon ❤️

Turning her phone off, she drops it beside her and lays back on the bed. Her forearms cover her eyes as she takes a few deep breaths, overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

"Venga, Ale, tenemos nuestra reunión de equipo ahora." Mapi knocks on her door and shouts through. (Come on, Ale, we have our team meeting now.)

With a heavy sigh, Alexia once again wipes her face on the inside of her t-shirt before getting up - taking her phone with her this time - and leaving her room, accompanied by her good friend.

Meanwhile, back at your flat, you had woken up to the sounds of clattering from your kitchen as your friend made you some grilled cheese toasties and tomato soup. You notice your phone wasn't anywhere around you, so you clamber out of bed, not without a cough, and head towards the kitchen.

"Bon día!" Your Catalonian friend smiles brightly at you from her place in front of the stove.

"Have you got my phone?" You croak out, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"Sí. I'm not sure you want it." Your friend sighs angrily as she turns back to the food.

"Why?" You ask with a frown. "Has Alexia replied?"

"Yes."

"Well, let me see then." You reply flatly, walking over to take your phone from where you spotted it in her jacket pocket. She steps out of your reach and shakes her head.

"I'm so angry with her, chica, I'm not letting you just walk back into her arms." Your friend warns you.

"I'm not just gonna walk back into her arms, I'm not stupid." You argue, and your friend sighs again.

"I never said that. I didn't mean that. Sorry. I just mean... she always throws you to the side when she's going through a hard time. You are the most caring person I have met, I don't see why she acts like the way she does when she's upset. It makes no sense, chica, and you don't deserve that. Especially when you are so ill like you are." Your friend tells you softly, dishing up your food.

"I know and I am fucking angry about it." You mumble, moving to sit at the tiny dining table in your kitchen.

"Good. You better know your worth, because that woman doesn't." She mumbles, bringing your food over and placing it in front of you. "Te amo, amiga."

You smile as she sweetly kisses your forehead before going off and cleaning her mess. The two of you make small talk as you eat, until she sits down in front of you with a pointed look.

"Hm?" You hum, waiting for her to get out whatever she was about to say.

"I will give you your phone. I'm going to do a grocery shop for you, so I'll give you your phone, but please do not sit on it and just make yourself more upset. I will be quick as I can, sí?" You nod and smile at her as she slides her phone over to you. "Call if you need. See you soon."

She grabs her coat and walks out the door. When she's gone, you immediately go on your phone and look for Alexia's message. You read it, your heart being pulled in about a million different directions emotion-wise, and... as much as you hate to admit it, you believe her. Ultimately though, you choose not to reply to it. She doesn't deserve that yet.

Instead, you move over to the sofa and collapse onto it, a devastated frown on your face as your bottom lip quivers. Tears sneak their way out, soaking the pillow you rest your head on, tired of being ill and tired of being cast aside by your girlfriend.

A few hours later, as you sleep with your head on your friend's lap, there is a knock at your door. You don't hear it of course as you got some more much needed rest, so your friend gently slides out from underneath you and answers it.

"Are you fucking serious?" She growls when she opens the door to see Alexia on the other side. "Are you really here right now?"

"I know you have looked after her when I've been gone, but I am here now, and I need to see her, please. I am so sorry." Alexia pleads, her infamous frown seemingly etched permanently on her face nowadays.

"She is asleep, so I'm going to lower my voice but don't forget how angry I am with you." Your friend takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "She has been desperate to speak to you. She didn't stop crying for you and your loss all evening yesterday, and then all night too when she realised you had begun to ignore her again. Imagine how she feels, knowing you are in pain, but being shoved out? And then double her feelings, because she knows that you know she is so sick right now, yet you still choose to act how you have. Her head is all over the place: one part of her is so unbelievably angry at you, another part of her just wants you to hold her until she is better, her mental state seems to just take constant hits because of you. So no, while I am here, you will not see her. I'm taking care of her, giving her my love, doing chores for her since she can hardly breathe, all the things you as a girlfriend should be doing. You are childish and selfish and so fucking egotistical if you think you can march in here and say 'ooh, lo siento bebíta' and expect her to fall back into your arms. You do not deserve her, so go away."

Despite the supposedly calm voice your friend speaks with (it was not calm, it was brutal, spitting, and patronising, with each word hitting Alexia like a bullet), you were woken up by the commotion just a few metres away from you. Neither of the two at your door could see your face where you were on the couch, so you laid still and listened to them.

"I know I have done wrong. I'm a shit girlfriend, I fucking know it. But I still care for her, more than anything in my life. I forgot that for a few hours and I regret it more than anything in my life because I... I love her."

Your eyes widen at that - you and Alexia hadn't admitted that to each other yet. Was she saying it now just to get to you, or did she actually mean it?

"You better mean that, if you are saying that just for the sake of an argument, just to try to win her back, I swear... I can't even think about that. Are you being serious?"

"Sí, absolutely serious. I love her. So much." Alexia's voice cracks from emotion, and you lift your head up a little to see her wipe away a tear. "I can't even explain how much I love her. She... she is the best thing in my life, and I don't know why I keep messing it up but I hate it as much as you do. I cannot even stand myself."

She talks about herself with so much disgust in her voice, it's unsettling to hear.

"You..." Your friend sighs and shakes her head. "Why, Alexia? Why do you do it?"

"I don't know. My, my head gets so... so dark and... clouded. I don't even remember what happened after the game. Uh... mi hermana says I went into shock. I think that's true because I remember nothing. I didn't drink, I had no alcohol. But I don't recall anything. There are... hours that are empty for me. All night. Until I woke up this morning and it's like my life outside of football slowly came back to me and I felt terrible. It's never my intention to neglect her, never. I'm ashamed when it happens because I know she is perfect for me and doesn't deserve me when I am being selfish and stuck in my head. But I love her, I have loved her for a while and I'm sad and fucking disappointed of myself that she doesn't know that." Alexia explains, her hands constantly swiping at her face, determined to not let her tears fall.

"I do know that, Ale." You say quietly, coming to stand beside your friend at the door.

The woman next to you has to suppress an eye roll, but she'd be lying if she said her anger towards Alexia hadn't diminished a little at her seemingly honest words.

"Amor..." Alexia breathes out at the sight of you.

"You can go back to rest, I have this." Your friend reasurres you softly, but you shake your head.

"I want to talk to her." You say, not taking your eyes away from your glum looking girlfriend who gazes at you wordlessly.

"You are sure?" You nod, and your friend walks away to give you both some space.

Alexia watches you, unsure if she should be the first to say anything. But before she can ponder that any longer, you wrap your arms around her tightly. You hide your face in her chest, knowing your friend is watching from the sofa absolutely seething at the image in front of her, but right now you needed this. And judging by Alexia's reaction of crying quietly into your neck, she needed it too.

"I... I am so, so sorry." Alexia says shakily, pulling back and tenderly cupping your face. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit." You mumble, not meeting her eyes. "Do you mean everything you just said?"

"All of it, every word." She answers, and for now, that's all you need.

"We will talk another time because I'm so angry at you, Ale, but right now I think we need each other more than anything." You state in an exasperated voice. Alexia doesn't think she's ever heard a more relieving sentence.

"Sí, sí, amor. I understand you are angry, I really do. Anything you want." Alexia rambles, softly stroking over the skin of your cheekbones.

"Give me a second. Wait here." You tell her. She nods vigorously and doesn't move a muscle when you're away from her.

"Amiga, are you sure this is what you want? I will beat her puta ass right now." Your friend offers, standing up from the couch and placing her hands on your shoulders.

"You don't need to do that. Not right now, anyway." You reply, chuckling at the suggestion and the subsequent image in your head.

"Vale. You call if you need me, I will be here in seconds, you know it. Let me know how it goes. Eres como una hermana para mí, te amo mucho." (You are like a sister to me, I love you so much.)

You smile up at her and gladly accept the hug she offers.

"I love you too, chica. Thank you for everything you've done. I'll speak to you soon." You tell her, squeezing her arm before she walks away.

Silently, you laugh as she glares at Alexia and bumps into her shoulder on her way out of the door. That girl.

"May I come in?" Alexia questions in a shy voice. You nod, and she quietly closes the door behind her. "Is there anything you would like me to do? Anything you need?"

Now that you were alone with her, you were torn. Your brain told you that you should be cautious, that you shouldn't trust her, but your heart wanted you to dive right into her arms and never leave again.

"I, um... I think I need to take my tablets now. The doctors gave me some antibiotics." You answer, your cheeks flushed red as you spoke sheepishly.

"Get yourself comfy on the couch. I will get them for you, and anything else you need or want." Alexia takes a few steps closer until there was less than a metre between you both. "Tell me. It's my job to look after you."

You bit back a nasty response to that, it wasn't the right time. If you wanted to keep the atmosphere as civil and comfortable as possible, now was definitely not the right time to spill every insult and emotion pent up inside you.

"I... I just want my girlfriend, Ale." You admit tearfully.

Alexia didn't think it was possible for such a short sentence to completely crush her heart.

"I am here. Here now." Alexia tells you, pulling you tight against her as yet more tears fall. "I will never forgive myself, amor."

"Please, just..." You sigh frustratedly, moving back from her arms. "Don't talk. I need you, not your words."

Alexia nods affirmatively, and from then on, the evening was spent with no more than a handful of words shared between you both. She helped you take your tablets, held you tightly on the sofa as a movie played on the TV, rubbed your back comfortingly whenever you coughed, cleaned your apartment quickly when you went off to get ready for bed, and whispered the sweetest words imaginable in your ear until you drifted off to sleep.

She didn't sleep at all that night, instead simply just cradled you in a position to ensure your chest wouldn't bother you. It wasn't exactly comfortable for her, but she'd go through anything to you make you feel better. As it often did, her mind spiralled uncontrollably as she sat in silence, the only sounds being your wheezing breaths, and she couldn't stop the stupid tears that leaked from her eyes.

Alexia despised crying. That was only something she had discovered later in her adult life, but she loathed it more than anything. It wasn't something relieving for her, she didn't 'feel better' after it like everyone always says, if anything she felt worse. Frustrated, pathetic, weak, and fucking tired.

But what did she hate more than crying?

Crying because of her disgraceful actions. Crying because you were crying as a result of her.

Whatever it was that was so fucked up wrong with her, she had to deal with it because she couldn't live like this anymore, you couldn't live with her like this anymore. She knew if she got this time right and you forgave her, she had no more chances. One more time of acting like this, you were gone. You didn't even have to say it for her to know it.

Life had no guarantees, she knew her future wasn't going to be perfect and there will be occasions that will have her hating the world, so she must sort through her mind to figure out why she reacted this way and how to fix it, how to react better.

Barcelona had a team of trusted psychologists and psychiatrists, so after her next training session, she would pay them a visit and ask for help.

"What's on your mind, Ale?" You croak out, feeling her tense body underneath you and knowing she was awake. The sunlight was shining through the curtains of your room, signifying it was now the next morning.

"Nada, amor. Vuelve a dormir." She shushes you, lightly trailing her fingers up and down your back. (Nothing, love. Go back to sleep.)

"No." You reply, shifting off of her to sit up against the headboard beside her, mirroring the position she'd been in all night. "Talk to me."

"It's early, we don't have to right now." She brushes you off and feels the temperature of your forehead with the back of her hand. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

It was a lie, you still felt like crap, but you just wanted to talk. Alexia was probably right though, first thing in the morning wasn't likely the best time to talk, but you wanted it over and done with.

"Are you sure?" Alexia checks with a shaky sigh.

"I want to talk. I want you to talk." You demand gently, Alexia nodding. "Be honest with me, Ale. Really fucking honest."

"Sí, I will." Alexia tells you. "Where do you want me to start?" You just stare at her wordlessly. "Okay. Okay."

She clears her throat nervously before she begins.

"Everything I said to your amiga yesterday was absolutely the truth. I swear it. I really don't remember much from after the match, but that's never really happened to me before. It's... a bit scary."

She pauses, fiddling with the drawstrings of her shorts.

"I didn't want it to happen. And I already know I need to speak to somebody about it because it was so scary when I realised what happened, and I never want it to do it again. I was just so set on us winning, getting revenge, defending our trophy, I guess I... didn't even consider us losing. It wasn't an option. But then we did lose and I was..."

She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes glazed over and unfocused as she absentmindedly stared off into your room.

"I was hurt. I gave it my all and it wasn't good enough. I felt like I had no more to give. I must have been really tired, I think I was for a long time, because when I got to my hotel room I think I went straight to sleep. Which again, never happens. I can't really sleep after a game, so for that to happen was really unusual. But I know this isn't what you wanted to hear or expected to hear, you want to hear me talk about how I felt about you. About the situation I put you in again."

She takes a deep breath and turns to look at you.

"I told you all that because I want you to know it wasn't a... a con- conscious?" You nod. "It wasn't a conscious decision or a purpose to act like that. I wasn't even in my head to make my own decisions. But I'm not going to blame my actions on that, I still blame myself for it. I need to make sure that won't happen again, it's only my responsibility, nobody else. It's not fair for me to react that way and for it to affect the people around me. I promise I am going to talk to a mental health helper about it."

Your lips turn up into a tiny smile at her skewed English translation of a therapist.

"But sometimes, when bad things happen, my head gets so negative and it's not a nice place to be. It's dark, and I don't... I don't want you to see that, amor. Because I get really negative. Mamí told me I apparently said I don't even want to play football again after the loss yesterday. That's how bad my mindset was."

The look on Alexia's face is one of pain as she speaks, and you're quite shocked to hear what she's saying right now - you can't remember a time she's ever let you in to her headspace like this. So openly and honestly, telling you her most intense and personal thoughts.

"I think I automatically push people I love away from me when I'm like that because I really, really don't want to hurt anyone. I am going to talk to the mental health team at Barca and set up some sessions with them because I am so serious about you, amor. I want to have this relationship, I want it more than anything. And I would choose to quit football than choose to upset you on purpose. I should have checked on you, cared for you, and let you in. But I was in my own head too much and acted like a selfish... selfish brat."

You huff a breath of laughter at the description choice of herself, something that sparks a bit of hope in her chest.

"If you choose to forgive me, I'll never let you forget how grateful I am. If you want to take it slow, I will take it slow. If... you want me to leave, I will leave. The ball is in your box."

"The ball is in your court." You correct her humourously. She blushes and shakes her head.

"The ball is in your court." She repeats, looking at you with such sincerity and tenderness that it takes away your breath away slightly.

"I'm going to be honest now, okay?" Alexia nods, ready for whatever you're about to say. "I was so upset when I realised you had started to ignore me again. All I ever want to do is care for you, Ale, and when you need it most you push me away. It hurts, it makes me insecure, it makes me feel like I'm not good enough or I'm doing something wrong or-"

"No, no, no, you don't, you never have." She wants to carry on, but you stare at her, unimpressed, and that's enough to stop her in her tracks.

"I know it might be hard for you to open up, but when it comes to hard times like this, the relationship feels quite one-sided. I'm not doing that, Ale. Plain and simple. That's not how a relationship works, you have to let me in. You have to let me be there for you. No protecting your reputation, no shutting off, none of that. You let me do my job as your girlfriend because I care for you. You can rely on me, you're allowed to lay off some of your emotions onto me because that's the only way to survive healthily; accepting help from others when you need it. You can only survive on your own for so long, and this relationship can only survive for so long if you continue like this."

You warn her sternly, looking at her with a firm glare that strikes fear in Alexia.

"If anything like this happens again, Alexia, I'm out. I'm not doing it."

There you go, your last line delivered to perfectly finish off your explanation. To be honest, at such a time in the morning and when you're ill, you can't really believe how well-put together your argument is.

"I hear everything you say, amor. I hear it and I'm going to do better. You are an incredible person. You deserve better than I have given and I swear to you I'm going to be better from now on. I recognise my stupid mistakes and I know how I'm going to start fixing them. I cannot promise I will be perfect, but I do promise that I'm going to work on my flaws and be the best version of myself for you. All this, because I love you."

Is it a bit soon to forgive her? You hope not, because right now you don't think you've ever felt more admiration for someone. She's done everything you've asked for and more in terms of being honest and opening it. Perhaps it almost came too late for other people's standards, but you can't just forget the person she is when she's not being a stubborn mess. You just have to trust her now; trust that she's going to stick to her word, trust that she's going to be better for you. And if she doesn't, well... you'll be ruined.

"Am I... do you forgive me?" Comes Alexia's insecure, tired voice.

"Almost. You just need to stick to your word, please, Alexia." You sigh, returning back to your previous position on her chest. She freezes for a moment, before delicately wrapping her arms back around you and pressing a firm kiss to your warm forehead.

"I will. I promise. I promise." She rests her head atop yours, closing her exhausted eyes.

The room falls silent as you take in the feeling of each other, both relishing in it more comfortably than last night now that everything is mostly just water under the bridge.

"Ale?" You say, lifting your head up to look at her. She hums, smiling slightly deliriously down at you, completely sleep deprived. "I'm so sorry about your game. I know how much it meant to you."

She smiles sadly this time, shrugging her shoulders a little.

"Thank you. Let's not think about that now though, amor. I will be okay with it soon." She responds, leaning her head back against the headboard and closing her eyes.

"Ale?" You say again.

"Mhm?"

"I love you too."

Her eyes shoot open and her head jerks forward at that.

"¿Hablas en serio?" She asks immediately, moving a hand to rest on your cheek. (Are you serious?)

"Sí, absolutamente en serio." You tell her in a quiet giggle. "Te amo, Ale." (Yes, absolutely serious. I love you.)

Alexia gazes down at you, this time not loathing the tears in her eyes, before hugging you tighter than she ever has. It's a moment you'll both cherish forever - the absolute whirlwind of the past 24 hours were an important turning point in your relationship, for the better.

And when it gets to July, that turns out to be more true than you could have ever guessed. Your relationship was thriving, you didn't think it was possible to stay in the 'honeymoon phase' for so long and so intensely, but you were. Every moment possible was spent together, you introduced each other to your individual friends, and even went on holiday together to spend some important time together pre-tournament. That holiday was the best time of your life, being there with Alexia's family and closest friends outside of football, it was a special time that bonded you closer to each other and you'll never forget it.

Now though, you were back to being hundreds of miles apart. Alexia was in training camp in England for the Euros, whilst you were still in Barcelona for unmissable work events before you were due to fly out the night before Spain's first game.

However, you were in a terribly familiar predicament. It had been a few hours since Alexia had finished training that day, it being a morning session, but you hadn't heard a thing from her. That might not seem like something to worry about for others, but nowadays when you two were apart, you were both teased by your respective friends for constantly being on your phones texting each other. So now, you were beginning to worry.

Surely not.

Surely, it cannot be happening again. You had given her a clear warning last time, if she was to do it again then you were gone. Three strikes, and she was out.

But it was indeed radio silence from her for the past few hours. It was nearing 4pm now, signalling the end of your work day, and you had a bad feeling.

No, not anger, it was worry.

And as you reached the door of your apartment a short while later, your worries were confirmed.

Alexia: Hi guapa, sorry for not replying. I got injured in training and they sent me to hospital. Nothing serious but I had scans and they said I have broke my ACL. Not great but I'm okay🫶🏼

"Ale! ¿Eres estúpido?" Mapi scolds her friend after peeking at her phone to see the message she had pressured her to send for the past hour. (Are you stupid?)

"No quiero qué ella se preocupe." Alexia mumbles, sliding her phone back in her pocket and looking out the window of the van. (I don't want her to worry.)

"Ay ay ay." Mapi sighs. She knows what she has to do. "Mujer tonta." (Silly woman.)

Mapi: Chica do not listen to your girlfriend. She is stupid, she is not okay. She needs you, please ring her!!

You read the text from Mapi as soon as you get it. Quickly, you barge through your door and set your bag down before going to your room, flopping down on your bed, and ringing your girlfriend.

"Ni se te occura ignorarlo. Contestarlo." Mapi demands when your call comes through, slapping Alexia's shoulder lightly from her seat in the row behind. (Don't even think about ignoring it. Answer it.)

"Hola." Alexia answers your call quietly.

"Ale. How are you?" You ask in a concerned sigh.

"Um." Her eyes shift around uncomfortably at the question, struggling to answer. "I don't know."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry." You close your eyes and will the tears to leave; now was not the time.

"There is nothing to do now." Alexia states harshly, not really directed at you but just at the world in general.

"I know." You frown. "So many people are there to support you though, my love. So many people. Including me. I'll be with you every step of the way, okay?"

"There isn't anything you can do. I don't need you to do anything, this is obviously something I have to do on my own. I don't need you."

Alexia's response feels like a stab in your heart. You know in her current circumstance, with it being so fresh still, you shouldn't take it personally. But after everything you've been through together, everything she's put you through, it slips through the cracks of your insecurities. The only comfort you get is the background noise of Mapi swearing and shouting at Alexia in thick and fast Spanish.

"Don't be like that, Ale. I want to support you, do you not remember everything we've been through?" You hit back instantly.

Alexia feels a lump forming in her throat as she recognises herself slipping back into that mindset she had tried so hard to destroy. She hadn't planned for this to happen though. As naïve as it might be, she didn't think this would ever happen to her. But, it has. Now not only does she have to accept that, she has to accept that she has people around her to make the journey easier. And that starts with you.

"Sorry, amor. I didn't mean that. I need you. More than anyone, I am so sorry for saying that. I really, so wish you were here." Alexia admits brokenly, covering her eyes and clutching at the phone almost desperately.

"I wish I was there too." You whisper back, placing a hand over your heart. "Let me in, please."

"I will, I do need you. I just... never thought this could happen." Alexia cries silently as she hides her face in her jumper. "I don't know what to do."

"What you are going to do is take the necessary steps to ensure your health, Ale. It's going to be as much a mental journey as it will a physical one, so you need to take time to come to terms with this, however long that takes, before doing anything else. But we've got you. We're going to take care of you, and you will get through this."

"I don't know, amor. I... it's too soon to know." Alexia admits as much as it pains her. There's too many thoughts in her head, too many possible outcomes, setbacks, and challenges she could face along this long road before she even considers the end result.

"Okay, I understand." You get up from your bed and dart back to the main room to get your diary from your work bag. Checking it quickly, you make a key decision. "How about I pack my bags and get on a flight to you tonight?"

Immediately, Alexia's first instinct is to tell you no, tell you she doesn't need that, that you don't need to worry, it's not necessary. But that's muscle memory, not her true feelings.

"You would really do that?" Alexia mumbles hopefully.

"I absolutely would. I want to be with you, and you need me." You tell her truthfully.

"What about work?" Alexia wonders, looking down at her swollen knee that really hardly even hurt anymore.

"Forget work, amor. You are more important." You answer definitively.

"I would feel so much better if you were here."

That's all it took. By midnight, you were 36,000 feet in the air, on your way to your girlfriend.

When you arrived at the hotel in the early hours of the morning, she was awake and waiting for you in her room. You hug her immediately, and Alexia can't recall a time she had desperately needed to feel the warm embrace of another person outside of her family. It was tender, sensitive, and healing in its own way despite everything that was down the road.

The first and probably the most important challenge came a week later, back in Barcelona. You were sat in the pre-surgery waiting room with Alexia who had been prepped for her reconstruction surgery, gripping one of her large hands with both of yours as she lay, wracked with nerves.

Questions, worries, and insecurities bounced around her mind so intensely, she could hardly even land on a single thought. It was severely overwhelming, which she knew was not needed right now before such a crucial moment. Yet, she couldn't stop the barrage of questions that began to spill out of her.

"What if I never recover?" Alexia murmurs, an arm behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. You frowned and squeezed her hand - this wasn't the first time you'd heard this question.

"We can't know that yet, Ale. Qué será, será." You remind her. (Whatever will be, will be.)

"Fútbol es mi vida." She states ever so quietly, it was hard to catch but of course you did.

"I know. I have no doubt you'll be back playing football, Alexia. But if for some reason you don't, there are so many options. You can do anything you put your mind to."

"What if... I am not Alexia again? On the pitch?"

You sigh and stand up to move towards the top of the bed where her head lay.

"Mírame." You request in a soft voice. She turns to look at you with glossy eyes and a quivering lower lip. "We have to get through this surgery first, vale? I hear all of your concerns, amor, they are normal and I understand each and every one. But the most important thing right now is ensuring you are in the right head space going into this operation. So, we're going to take some deep breaths together, wipe those irritating tears-"

She chuckles and at that and rubs her eyes; one time, she had voiced her distaste about crying to you. You found it so endearing that she felt that way, much to her annoyance, and spent the last couple months convincing her it was okay to cry. To your face, she still hated it. Behind your back? She loved that she now had a person to go to when she felt the inevitable tears coming. But of course she still despised doing it, it was just slightly more bearable around you.

"And we're going to replace this knotted, messy string of anxious thoughts with our favourite memories. Breathe with me now, sí?"

She nods and you breathe in sync together for a few minutes until Alexia's mind is back present in the room, in the current situation, and not stuck in a nasty cloud of anxiety.

"So, memory one: our holiday this Summer. It was the best holiday I have ever been on. Not because of the location, although it was beautiful, but because of the people I was with. I saw a new side of you, amor, you were so relaxed and it was so fun being with your family and friends. I can't wait for next time."

You're both wearing matching smiles as you reminisce the best few weeks you'd had in a while.

"It was amazing having you with us, guapa. The best guest."

"Gracias, bebé." You place a quick kiss on her cheek, followed by her lips. "Memory two: the first time I met Mapi and Ingrid on that double date at our favourite restaurant."

Alexia laughs before you've even finished telling the memory.

"When she put her wine all over herself and the waiter?" You nod and laugh with her, beyond relieved to see her with a genuine smile on her face. You hadn't seen too many of them recently.

"Yeah, when she spilt her wine. And then tried to blame it on the waiter- he looked so young! He's probably never had a drop of alcohol in his life!"

The two of you laugh and share memories for a little while longer, until the time arrives for Alexia to be taken into her surgery. You whisper a seemingly endless amount of reassuring words in her ear, before she's wheeled away out of your sight. For just under three hours, you sit nervously in the family waiting room, praying for probably the first time in your life, wishing that the operation went well.

Honestly, you could have been sick with relief when the surgeon came out and gave you every detail possible about it, ultimately saying it went off without a hitch. Then, you were being led to Alexia's room where she would stay for the night, excited to see your groggy but possibly loopy girlfriend.

"Hi Ale." You greet quietly, walking in.

"Hm, hola amor." Alexia rasps out, giving you an awkward wave that makes you giggle.

"How do you feel?" You take a seat in the chair next to her, placing a comforting hand on her forearm.

"As long as I still have two knees, bien." She gives you a dopey grin, one you don't think you've ever seen before, and you wish you could get your phone out to photograph it.

"The doctors tell me you do indeed have two knees, so I don't think you need to worry about that." You smile at her, seeing her nod and rest her head back.

"¿Estás bien?" She wonders with a light hum, shakily taking your hand and covering it with both of hers.

"Yes, I'm okay, don't worry about me though." You answer humourously.

"Sabes, te amo muchísimo." Alexia states, and from the sounds of it, it sounds like she's about to make some kind of speech. "I did some thinking waiting for you to come here. I just love you. You are perfect para mí. I did two bad things to you, but here you sit with me. Perfecta. Niña mía. I almost did another bad thing, when my knee broke for no reason, but Mapi stopped me and then you saved me. What's that song you like?"

The random question seems disjointed and out of place in the things she was saying - which had you completely melting - but regardless you answer.

"I like many songs, Ale, you'll have to be more specific."

"No. You know which one." You squint at her confusedly, causing her to give a dramatic sigh. "Ay. The old one. That you did not stop playing on holiday, from that night on the beach."

"Stand by me?" You ask in a laugh.

"Sí, that one. I never tell you, but I love it too." She smiles bashfully, then suddenly frowns. "Sing it, please. I can remember the words but not the song."

"There's no way I'm singing right now." You laugh at her, only resulting in her frown growing. So much so, she looks like an angry toddler.

"Por favor, guapa. That is how I feel about you, that song. 'I won't be afraid if you stand by me'. This stupid ACL can go fuck itself because I have you."

You've never heard her say that phrase in her life, but right now you couldn't even laugh. Your heart warmed at her words, completely falling in love with her all over again.

"You really want me to sing it right this second? In the middle of a hospital?" You respond, because at this moment in time there's not a thing you'd say no to, not when she was being so adorable and honest, even if it was partially due to her pain meds and the anesthetic.

"Sí. Come lay with me, here." She shuffles to one side of the bed, scaring you since she was a little shaky and not very coherent, but she managed to do it.

"I'm not sure I'm allowed." You say, unsure.

"I'm sick, my rules." She shrugs.

"You're not sick." You laugh, but nevertheless, you stand from your chair, slip your shoes off, and slot onto the bed beside her.

"Venga, canta." She orders sweetly as she looks up at you from her position slightly lower down on the bed with her beautiful, irresistible face. With a sigh, you clear your throat gently and do as she says.

"When the night has come." Your voice is soft and quiet, but it's enough for Alexia, who gazes up at you with more adoration than you thought ever to be possible. "And the land is dark. And the moon is the only light we'll see."

"Ay, I remember now." She says quietly as not to disturb you.

"No I won't be afraid. Oh, I won't be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

Alexia simply smiles contently and rests her head on your shoulder, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and humming along with you.

"So darlin', darlin', stand by me. Oh, stand by me. Oh stand... stand by me, stand by me."

Her body grows heavier beside you and her breathing slows down, so you stop singing, thinking she was asleep. But...

"If you stand by me, I can do anything. Mi mundo no es nada sin ti, pero me siento invencible cuando estoy contigo." (My world is nothing without you, but I feel invincible when I'm with you.)

She mumbles her statement quietly, before she drifts off into a peaceful rest. Your eyes are burning with tears at her words - just two simple sentences, whispered quietly on the brink of sleep - but they have an impact larger than either of you could ever recognise.

And when she returns to the pitch ten months later, that song being the anthem of her recovery (only to yours and hers knowledge), three words are chanted in her head. Not 'I love you' - instead, the three words of a song which became your own love language for the rest of your relationship.

[boyfhee]

SIGHT & SIN ⌇ LHS

g neighbours to lovers w drinking, no drinks specified in case of reader though wc 0.6k notes for @isoobie pookie your neighbour hee in robe is delivered i hope you like him

“you come here often?” 

a voice interrupts through your afternoon self-desolation session with drinks, few words that drive your gaze to your right. you scan the man in question up and down— brows furrowed, half confusion, half amusement. “this is my apartment,”

and he chuckles, giving his wine a little twirl, shifting the weight on his other leg as he leans against his balcony, and you swear he’s trying to show off in that robe of his. “right, hello neighbour,”

satin suits him. 

it’s your first thought. the way that robe adorns his body decently, yet leaving just enough uncovered for anyone to be intrigued and attracted. you look away, though, taking a sip from your glass, not wanting to think about his exposed collarbones, out of all the things plaguing your mind.

“not much of a talker, huh?” but he speaks again, sounding ever so alluring. he chuckles again, and you see the smile on his lips from the corner of your eyes— a sight to die for, a sin you’re being led to. 

you simply roll your eyes, now facing him as you lean against your balcony as well, almost mimicking his stance. “what do you want, heeseung?”

“you know what i want,” he shrugs, taking a step towards your balcony, and he could really jump to your side if he really wanted to. he chooses not to, it’s only a matter of time before you tell him to do so yourself. “i’ve been trying to ask you out for a while now,”

“and i’ve rejected your thrice,”

you don’t know if it’s his obsession with you or with getting rejected, but he keeps coming back closer every time you push him away.

the first time was a week after you had moved in. ‘i could show you around the town, take you on a nice date,’ is what he had said. one would consider it a smooth move, you simply weren’t interested. the second was when someone broke into your apartment. ‘or you could be my girlfriend and we can sleep in the same bed every night, or safety, of course.’ his response to your decision of changing locks. it was a tempting offer, especially after seeing him shirtless the night of the incident, but you had rejected him regardless. the third was when you were complaining about your fatigue that comes with work and chores. ‘i will cook dinner and all you’ll have to do is kiss me goodnight,’ you rejected, he laughed, your heart fluttered, and the cycle went on. 

fourth is now, and you’re waiting for him to pull up another one of those words that give you butterflies when you think of them before bed. 

“you know, you can just say yes and make this easy for both of us” and it seems that he knows he’s growing on you now. it’s evident in the way your eyes ghost up his lips and fall down to his chest as the knot of his robe loosens. you can trace his ab lines if it slipped off anymore, and you gulp down a sip of your drink before looking back into his eyes. “especially since you like looking at me,”

“whoever lied has got you bad,”

“and i can take you out for dinner tonight and later you can get a better look of what’s beneath the robe?” he steps back, his wine glass is empty and you can hear the faint melody of his ringtone from his apartment. he simply shoots you a slight smirk, backing into his apartment. “seven pm, pretty, if you’re down,”

which he knows you are.

“okay,” which you know you are too. 

[cupidkenji]

ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves -  I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet. 

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach.  Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good. 

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask. 

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis. 

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.” 

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist. 

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents. 

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him. 

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out. 

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?” 

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.” 

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it. 

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up. 

No, it wasn’t. 

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room. 

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.” 

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job. 

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost. 

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder. 

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.” 

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.” 

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.” 

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

– 

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling. 

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed. 

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team. 

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.” 

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.” 

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.” 

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.” 

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief. 

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human. 

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours. 

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place. 

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass. 

“I’m Matthew.” 

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area. 

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink. 

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.” 

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.” 

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed. 

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored. 

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.” 

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.” 

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core. 

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke. 

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.” 

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately. 

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless. 

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden. 

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

 “He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if  I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past. 

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.” 

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes. 

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought. 

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive. 

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own. 

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car. 

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car. 

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to. 

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you. 

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels. 

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

[explosionkatsu]

Fulfilling Desires

Human!Alastor x Killer!F!Reader

Warnings: Gores, mention of killing and blood 🩸

Early 1929 - 1930

You were one of the people who were entertained by the Black Tuesday, known as the Stock Market Crash in 1929. You were one of the pessimistic bearish investors who betted against the market making you instantly rich in no time. But after this occurrence, you were somewhat delighted that it didn't cause the ‘Great Depression’ is what they named it. You can still catch a glimpse of how everything went to an ordinary state as if nothing major happened, but the trash and debris around you say otherwise.

As the year 1930 came close, a sudden number of murder cases ascended. You were unbothered by this though.

As the sun began to set, an eerie silence fell over the city streets. The once-bustling roads now lay almost deserted, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle, as if the very air was thick with a sense of fear. Shops and stores, usually open till late, are now closing their shutters and locking up their doors much earlier than usual, as people seek the safety of their homes. The only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of leaves in the wind and the distant hum of the city, almost as if it was holding its breath, waiting for the danger to pass.

You find this odd since you haven't slaughtered anyone for a few months, so it seems like there's another murderer in town. You couldn't help but grin inwardly as you observed the group of people scurry towards the shelter of their homes, seeking refuge from whatever threat or danger loomed in the distance. The sight of their hurried movements and anxious expressions was both amusing and intriguing, and you found yourself quietly contemplating the amount of emotions that must be coursing through their minds at that moment. But it made you question, who is the murderer and what is their purpose.

Well, you know why you slaughter, and you wouldn't even deny the sense of rapture whenever you listen to the cry of your prey who was pleading for mercy. Just thinking back to this made you chuckle.

‘Oh, those poor souls’ You pondered to yourself as you now gazed upon the deserted street of New Orleans, Louisiana.

It's been months since you slaughtered, and you took it upon yourself to take a break after seeing how people do the same measures when you were still active.

Feeling sufficient at glimpsing out of your window, you fixed yourself a hot coffee before resting on one of your cozy settees and shifting on the radio, tuning to your favorite radio host.

Alastor, with a wicked smile on his face, finds it amusing knowing the sudden transformation of a bustling street into a lifeless ghost town. The fear and terror that radiate from every corner of the abandoned street only fuel his twisted sense of pleasure, driving him to keep moving forward with confidence. Nothing and no one can stand in his way as he relishes the power he holds over the once-bustling town.

But it is not yet the time to strike.

"Good evening, wonderful people of New Orleans! As you settle into the comfort of your homes tonight, I do hope that you are all secure and cozy. I cannot wait to share the latest news with you, but before we proceed, I would like to take a moment to express my gratitude to the hardworking authorities. These amazing individuals have been working overtime on some important cases these past few days, and their dedication to keeping us all safe is truly commendable! So, let's give them a big round of applause!" Cue the sound effect. "Now, let's dive into the evening news!" Alastor leaned in closely to the microphone as he spoke. He carefully flipped through the pages of his script, making sure to stay on track with the prepared content. As he read, his rich voice filled his home studio with a sense of confidence. Despite being live on air, Alastor remained calm and composed, delivering each line with precision and clarity.

"Another civilian was found in a gruesome situation in an alleyway near a club. The authorities recognized the body to be Daniel Thompson who's a worker in a men's boutique." Alastor smiled wickedly as he performed his unnatural serious yet saddened voice. "Authorities said they found him with a few of his organs missing, including his heart. Up until now, the perpetrator responsible for the incident is yet to be identified due to insufficient evidence."

Alastor's grin was so wickedly mischievous. As he scrutinized his script, he was transported back in time, reliving every moment with vivid clarity. The words on the page had the power to evoke memories and emotions he felt, almost as if he were living the scenes all over again. Oh, what a pleasure!

Alastor leaned into his microphone, his resonant. "It's truly astounding the thoughts that run through people's minds these days, isn't it?" he mused. "But let's not forget about the safety of those working the night shift. Take extra care on your way home tonight. We don't want any more victims to fall prey to the dangers that lurk in the dark. With that being said, please enjoy this music while I'm off-air! Have a lovely evening everyone."

As soon as Alastor finished his performance, he switched off his microphone and decided to treat his audience with some smooth jazz. After that, he stood up, leaving his script behind in the studio. He walked towards his basement to retrieve a few items that he needed for his later agenda. He carefully checked if everything was secured before speaking, "I'm pretty sure you must be feeling famished by now."

Suddenly, his shadow appeared beside him, grinning playfully. "You know me too well," his shadow replied.

Alastor chuckled at his shadow's response. "Don't worry, we'll be out in a while after I present my final script to the audience," he said confidently, feeling proud of himself.

With that being said after the final music played, Alastor went back to his studio for his final script before bidding goodbye.

Alastor's voice echoed through the microphone, "I'm afraid it is now time for me to leave. Let's give my colleague, the next host, a round of applause. Thank you for listening, and once again, this is your host, Alastor, signing off." With a click, he turned off his on-air light and proceeded to unplug all the devices he had used in his studio.

He then reached for his velvet trench coat, which was hanging on the back of his chair, and put it on. He tipped his black trilby hat and walked towards the door with a small bag on his back. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way out of the studio, leaving behind the dimly lit room, and proceeded to the front door for his next agenda.

It was now 10 pm as he left his home with all the lights switched off. Every step he takes is hushed as he makes his way to the deserted street. He knew that he'd find every drunkard going home at this hour, especially since almost every club was still active at this hour which he was grateful for.

"I'm craving for a woman.." Says his shadow in his head.

Alastor arrived at a well-known club, his heart pounding with excitement. He made his way to a dark corner, where he could observe the establishment without being noticed.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a group of friends who were leaving the club. Among them was an intoxicated blonde woman who caught his eye. Despite her friends' attempts to convince her to ride with them, she declined and instead began walking away, waving goodbye.

Alastor's heart raced in excitement as he saw his opportunity. He followed the woman from a distance, his footsteps silent as he moved closer. He could hear her soft laughter and the gentle sound of her footsteps on the pavement.

'What an idiot,' Alastor thought to himself as he kept an eye on her.

As he trails her in the shadow, he watches a fleet of police vehicles zoom past without offering any assistance to the vulnerable woman. The sound of their sirens fades away in the distance, leaving her alone and helpless. It's as if they deemed her unworthy of their time and resources. When he finally noticed the coast was clear, he watched her vomit in a nearby alley.

He then began his approach.

"My, my. A pretty woman like you shouldn't be alone at this hour!" Alastor approached the woman with a friendly ambiance. "May I offer you assistance, my dear?" He smiled offering her his hand to hold.

Too drunk, the woman looked at him, captivated by how handsome the man who was willing to help her. Without thinking, she nodded and grabbed his hand. "You look so handsome~"

Alastor chuckled at this, "So I've been told, darling." He responded, ushering her to walk. "May I ask, why a lovely woman like you alone at this hour? Didn't you hear about the murderer on the loose?"

"Nah! I know I'll be fine~" The woman giggled. "Now that you're here. I know you'll protect me~"

"Oh, don't worry darling. I will keep you safe." Alastor smiled.

Guiding her to the unlit alleyway was too easy, especially when the woman suddenly passed out on him. 'This is too easy.' Alastor thought as he smiled viciously.

"Keep an eye on the area. Make sure no one sees." Alastor commanded his shadow who immediately nodded and left.

Of course, without letting any more seconds go by, he put a gag on the woman, as well as blindfolded her eyes.

As he lifted the weight of the woman in his arms, he turned his head and his eyes met yours. A smile played on your lips, and for a moment, the world around him faded away as he felt a small dread over him.

Alastor's smile twitched. 'Fuck' He thought to himself.

You noticed him staring at you with a tense expression. Without a word, you raised your index finger to your lips in a shushing gesture, indicating that he should remain silent. The suddenness of the gesture seemed to surprise him, and he watched as you walked away with a sense of bewilderment, wondering what had just happened.

He now knows who's his next target.

The morning sun shone brightly as you stepped out, breathing in the fresh air. The street was slowly coming to life, with stores opening up and people bustling about. You walked with purpose, your steps confident and elegant.

As you walked, people couldn't help but notice you. Women scanned your outfit as you passed by, admiring your choice of clothing and the way you carried yourself. You were a sight to behold, a true embodiment of grace and poise.

Suddenly, a gloved hand grasped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to see the same man from last night, Alastor, standing before you with a smile on his face.

"What a stunning elegant woman you are," he said, his voice smooth and confident. You giggled in response, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Why, I appreciate the compliment, Sir," you said, slightly bowing your head in acknowledgment.

Alastor watched you with half-lidded eyes, admiring your beauty. "A polite one as well!" he beamed. "What do you say I treat you to breakfast? I couldn't help but admire you from afar as soon as I saw you."

"Aren't you a charmer," you giggled, your hand covering your lips in amusement. "I don't mind the offer."

"Shall we?" Alastor gestured towards the door of the nearby cafe, his eyes never leaving you.

"Why, thank you," you smiled as you entered the establishment with him following close behind.

The sound of smooth jazz filled the cozy and inviting cafe, creating a relaxed atmosphere that put everyone at ease. As you walked in, the patrons briefly looked up from their coffee and newspaper, taking in both you and Alastor's presence before returning to their affairs. The chimes hanging near the door suddenly made a delicate sound, adding to the already pleasant ambiance.

Alastor courteously escorted you to a cozy corner seat in the bustling cafe, carefully selecting a spot where there were fewer people having their breakfast. He pulled out a chair for you and patiently observed as you comfortably settled into it.

"Thank you." You smiled and watched him sit across from you.

As you settled into your seats, a courteous waiter appeared at your table, menus in hand. You both took your time reading the extensive selection of dishes, taking note of the appetizers, entrees, and desserts. After a few minutes, you both decided on your meals and handed the menus back to the waiter, who gracefully took them and jotted down your order. He then returned to you with a small card bearing your table number, ensuring your meals would find their way to the right place.

Alastor's gaze fell upon the withdrawing waiter, his eyes half-lidded as he commented, "Hm. Such a nice young lady." His voice carried a sense of intrigue thinking what would her flesh would taste like before turning to face you. You could feel his presence looming over you as he continued, "I'm quite sure you know why I invited you." The tone in his voice made it clear that there was something important he wanted to discuss with you.

You smiled at him knowingly and replied, "Oh, believe me, I already know why." As you looked at him, you couldn't help but notice his striking eyes and his calm demeanor. "It is an absolute pleasure to have this unexpected encounter with you. My name is Y/n L/n." You extended your hand towards him, hoping that he would reciprocate the gesture and shake it.

Alastor's lips curved upwards into a charming smile as he reached out to take your hand. He didn't shake it, but instead, he pulled it towards his face and planted a delicate kiss on your skin. "I must say, the pleasure is all mine, Y/n. I am Alastor," he said, introducing himself with a suave tone. "Quite a pleasure."

Once Alastor let go of your hand, he spoke with a hint of closeness, "I'm quite positive you know me from my broadcast."

‘I see.’ A realization dawned on you, and you couldn't help but smile, "I am a big fan of your evening stories, Mister Alastor. They're my absolute favorite. Although, I was quite baffled when you didn't share any tales last night." You pouted your lips playfully, trying to taunt him. "I was truly saddened," you added with a tinge of disappointment.

Alastor couldn't help but stare at you as you made that face. He knew that you were trying to pull his leg. "I truly apologize, Y/n. But something suddenly came up, and I just couldn't make it," he responded while taking your hand in his and gently caressing it to comfort you.

You flashed a smile, trying to mask the growing emotions that were brewing inside you. "Do not worry, Mister Alastor. I quite understand your reasoning." A glint in your eyes almost showed your true as your smile slowly morphed into a knowing grin. The corners of your natural pink lips curled up, revealing the hint of a sinister plan that was about to unfold.

Alastor's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the familiar smile. He knew right away that this person was not as naive as he had previously thought. "If it would interest you," he said with a smooth and charming tone, "I would be delighted to invite you to my humble abode where I perform my nightly broadcast." His smile was inviting. "You can watch me live tonight if you so choose."

You flashed a smile at Alastor, conveying you're accepting his offer. "That would be lovely, my dear sir," you said politely.

Alastor's eyes lit up with excitement as he exclaimed, "Wonderful! I will have you taste my mother's secret jambalaya recipe!"

You couldn't help but giggle at Alastor's enthusiasm. "I'm sure it will be a delight," you replied, eagerly anticipating the dish.

For a brief moment, you both stared at each other, as if silently communicating through your eyes. However, the arrival of the waiter carrying your food broke the spell, causing both of you to avert your gaze.

Alastor hummed, his eyes glinting as he watched the waiter approach their table carrying their orders and placing them on the table. You thanked the waiter and gestured to Alastor to tuck into your much-awaited breakfast.

As you finished, Alastor pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled his address on it. "Make sure you arrive before dusk," he said, his voice low and intense.

You took the paper from him, tucking it safely into your bosom. "Thank you for the delightful breakfast and your company, Mister Alastor," you said, bowing your head in respect.

"Please, call me Alastor," he insisted, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You're not some peasant beneath me."

Your lips graced a smile reaching your eyes as you locked eyes with Alastor, feeling a sudden and intense connection with him. "I'll see you this evening," he added, his voice dropping even lower.

The smile never left your lips as he kissed your hand and turned to leave, his back straight and his head held high. You watched him go, his figure disappearing into the crowd.

'This evening will be unforgettable,' you thought to yourself, turning to walk the other way your smile dropping.

Arriving at his home, Alastor quietly entered. Not a small squeak was heard from any of his movements. His eyes are still half-lidded while he makes his way to his cellar.

The cellar is dark, the only source of light is coming from the small window located at the end of the room. But it wasn't enough to illuminate the entire place.

Alastor took a few steps into the dark room. The scent of rotting flesh was all around the room, the floor was stained with dried blood, and the walls were full of scrapes, claw marks, and even a few splatters of blood. There sat the now awake blonde woman who was gagged and blindfolded. Her arms are tied behind her back and her feet are tied together. Next to her was a stainless bowl with a spoon and a water bottle which Alastor used to feed her before he left.

"It seems like you won't be alone any longer in here, hmm." A wicked smile appeared on his lips as he gazed down at the woman who was crying in the corner. "Don't cry now, darling. I don't want my meat to taste bad."

You had a fast-paced day and were now making your way towards Alastor's house. The house was located in the middle of the woods, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of calmness as you approached it. However, you were ready for anything, with a rapier in its sheath strapped to your thighs. As you walked closer to the entrance, you noticed the house was much like a cabin in the woods, but much bigger and tidier, almost like a mansion.

Once you knocked on the door, it was instantly pulled open by Alastor "Ah! Y/n. Please, come in," He said, welcoming you inside and locked the door behind you, which you couldn't help but notice.

You could see a bunch of deer antlers hanging on his wall, and the seemingly decomposed head of a deer hanging in the middle of the room where his chimney was located caught your attention, "I see that you hunt. Mostly stag." You slightly smirk turning your head to look at him. You could see that Alastor was a skilled hunter, with his collection of deer antlers and other hunting trophies on display.

"Ah, yes. I hunt for fun. But I sometimes crave venison meat, my dear." He chuckled and admitted. "They are quite softer than any ordinary meat."

"How curious." You giggled. "Now you made me wonder what they taste like, Alastor," you said, expressing your curiosity about the taste.

"I don't mind giving you one, my dear." Alastor chuckled. "But it might take a while for me to get my hands on it."

"Is that so." You mumbled looking at him. "But I know one type of meat that was indeed soft and scrumptious."

"I'm not quite sure what you are talking about, my dear." Alastor smiled walking toward his studio with you following behind.

"Alastor, dear. I am not foolish." You chuckled. "I am fully aware of your intentions after what I saw last night." Once you mentioned this, Alastor halted and turned to look at you. You can see his smile thinned. "And I do know this is the reason why you invited me here." You giggled covering your lips with your hand. "I know your game." You said as you confidently walked into his studio without asking for his permission, ready to take on whatever was waiting for you.

"Then I believe I don't need to hide anything from you, Y/n," spoke Alastor, his voice like velvet. As he gradually made his way towards you, he wrapped his arm around your waist in a slow, almost dancing motion.

You didn't feel uncomfortable with his touch though. You simply let out a carefree laugh, which delighted Alastor. You took your time gazing into his half-lidded eyes, which were staring back at you, before slowly pulling away from him. You dusted off your skirt, a small action that didn't go unnoticed by Alastor. "It's for you to decide, Mister Alastor," you said, your voice laced with a hint of playful mystery.

Alastor arched an eyebrow inquisitively, his piercing gaze fixed on the object of his affection. 'Is she teasing me?' he wondered out loud. Without missing a beat, he reached out and placed a strong, reassuring hand on her lower back. "Perhaps you'll find this a lovely present, my darling," he said with a hint of mischief in his voice.

As you both stepped out of his studio, you looked around and asked with curiosity, "Hm? Where are we headed now?" You couldn't help but feel intrigued by the unknown destination as you walked alongside him.

"You'll see."

You decided to go along with his plan, despite feeling uncertain. You wanted to be prepared for whatever might happen next. However, your suspicion began to grow when you realized that he was taking you down to the basement. This sudden change in direction made you feel slightly uneasy.

The scent of rotting flesh was the first thing you noticed once you both reached the cellar. Despite the utter darkness that engulfed the room, you cautiously trailed behind Alastor, trusting his lead. As you neared the threshold, a faint glimmer of light illuminated the scene just enough to reveal the silhouette of a blonde woman. She appeared to be the same person he had carried on the night you apprehended him.

Alastor anticipated that you would be frightened upon witnessing the sight of the weeping woman who was captured. But instead, you displayed a devious gaze and a vicious smile. He became more interested in you.

With measured steps, you closed the distance between yourself and the mysterious woman. The soft click of your heels beneath your feet echoed in the stillness. As you drew nearer, you could see the delicate features of her face and the strands of hair that had fallen across her sweaty forehead. Finally, you knelt beside her, feeling the coldness of the ground beneath your knees before taking the blindfold off of her. The woman looked at both of you, terrified. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks as she whined through the gag as if begging for freedom.

"You poor thing.." You mumbled looking at her eye to eye. "This is why you should never walk in the dark." As you uttered words, your hand stretched out, delicately brushing away a solitary tear that trickled down her cheek.

Alastor stood there, his eyes fixed on you, as you went about your task. He couldn't help but wonder if the way you were doing things was your usual method.

"Such beautiful face, my dear." You whispered. "Too bad it will go to waste.." With utmost care, you slid the gleaming rapier out of its scabbard, the metal glinting in the light. You held it up for the woman to see, her fearful gaze fixed on the sharp edge that seemed to shimmer in the air.

"Nothing is as beautiful as you are, my darling," Alastor spoke behind you, brushing your h/c locks to the side. He then sensually leaned down, placing an alluring kiss on your nape just as he wrapped his arm around your waist and leisurely held your hand where your rapier was.

Your eyes narrow as you watch the woman closely, who is frantically attempting to flee from the both of you using her abilities. You can see the fear in her eyes and the desperation in her movements. As she tries to escape, you notice the subtle quiver in her hands and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Despite her efforts, she seems to be struggling to try and escape, making her attempts all the more frantic. "Oh, I would assure you. Nothing is as beautiful as her bathing in her own blood.." You spoke.

The woman's final screech was heard through the night followed by your rapier's blade slithering against her neck bringing her blood to splatter on the pair of you.

But as he witnesses the death of the woman by your hands, Alastor can't help himself but bring fingers to your face, clutching you by your jaw and wringing your face to him before he aggressively places his lips against yours. His actions caused you to drop the rapier and wrap your arms around his neck, returning the kiss almost too desperately.

Your lips danced against his as you felt him fighting for dominance. You felt his arm unbuttoning your blouse, drenched in blood. This causes you to do a similar action, unbuttoning his clothes and sliding both your arms in, feeling his bare skin brushing against your palm.

You felt him pushing you gently, bringing you to lie on the blood-soaked floor while he pulled your maxi skirt.

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 23: Up and Coming

Word Count: 999

Rating: M

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, f receiving

Summary: After a show the audience might be calling for their favorite Corroded Coffin lead singer, but he only has eyes for you.

@corrodedcoffinfest

“Thank you, guys! Thank you!”

Eddie opens the door to the tour bus, ushering you inside before him as the crowd that waited outside the venue cheers and screams.

The moment you’re both inside, Eddie shuts the door and locks it behind him.

“Thank God,” he mumbles as he steps into the living area. 

He pins you up against the nearest wall and uses his large ringed hands to hold your arms above your head.

“Something you wanted?” you tease, lifting your chin in defiance. 

Your boyfriend smirks and lowers his head to press feather light kisses to the side of your neck. A soft hum rumbles against your skin.

“Been waiting to get you alone since I stepped on stage tonight,” he murmurs as he makes his way up your jaw. 

“Well, now you’ve got me.” You close your eyes and bite your lip as Eddie starts kissing the spot on the side of your neck that drives you crazy. It’s getting harder to keep your composure and your slightly bratty facade. 

“And I don’t intend to let you go until I’m finished with you,” Eddie whispers against your neck, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive area his mouth was just attached to. 

“What about when I’m finished?” you ask breathlessly. 

Eddie drops your wrists and roughly grips your waist. He yanks you into the bedroom at the back of the bus and snaps the door shut.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eddie croons, backing you up until the mattress meets the back of your knees. You fall back on the tacky yellow floral blanket and your boyfriend crawls over you. “You’re gonna finish at least three times before I’m done with you.”

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you murmur, your eyes dropping down to his plush lips.

A mischievous smile lights up Eddie’s face.

“What a wonderful idea.”

So quickly that you gasp at the movement, Eddie drops down to the floor and gets to work undressing you. First the boots, then the fishnets, and lacy panties. He leaves your skirt on though, letting it bunch up around your hips as he slips his hands under your knees and tugs you to the edge of the mattress. 

You can feel Eddie’s breath on your inner thighs as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

“Fuck, been waiting for this all night,” he murmurs. “All I could think about.”

“Could be because of the song you wrote about my pussy,” you laugh.

“Hey, it’s coated in metaphors,” Eddie teases. “Very poetic shit.”

Your responding chuckle is cut off as Eddie licks a stripe up your folds. His tongue flicks over your clit and you grip the ugly blanket below you.

“Fuck,” you whine. 

Eddie smirks and spreads your legs wider so he can really go to town. 

And he does. 

His mouth devours you, tongue expertly prodding at your hole while his nose brushes your clit over and over again. The grip he has on your thighs is bruising but you couldn’t care less.

Over your labored breathing and the obscene wet sounds coming from Eddie’s mouth, you hear a dull roaring. Curious, even as you experience euphoria, you try to make it out. When it clicks, it somehow makes this moment even hotter.

“Edd-ie! Edd-ie! Edd-ie!”

The fans outside are cheering for him. For their favorite rockstar who just performed his heart out for them. Who currently has his tongue inside you. 

They’d all kill for a second of his attention, but he’s giving it all to you. 

The thought mixed with the sinful dance of Eddie’s tongue has your orgasm coming in hot.

“E-Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna, I-I’m gonna…”

He hums against your pussy in acknowledgment and the vibrations send you over the edge. 

Sparks dance behind your eyelids. Through every strangled breath that escapes you, Eddie works you through it all.

“Mmm, that’s my girl,” he says as he pulls back. 

Your slick covers his mouth and chin. The sight mesmerizes you as Eddie lets your legs drop and begins crawling over you again. He helps you scoot yourself up towards the pillows before he leans in and claims your mouth with his own. The taste of you is mixed with cigarettes and spearmint from gum he had earlier. 

Too soon for your liking, he breaks the kiss. He gazes down at you with an adoring grin and it’s all you can do not to burst into flames at his undivided attention.

Eddie ghosts his right forefinger down your jaw and uses his thumb to gently cup your chin.

“You’re my good girl, huh? Always such a good girl for me.”

If his gaze was kindling, his words are the steel flint. Fire roars through your veins and somehow you feel even hotter where Eddie’s skin meets yours. 

Your hands reach down and fiddle with Eddie’s belt. His cock is straining so you quickly free him from the denim prison. As he kicks them all the way off, you yank his shirt over his head. The rest of your clothes come off next until it’s only Eddie in his boxers—but he promptly removes them too. 

Your bodies know how to move in sync with one another, sensual and lustful. Eddie lines himself up and slowly pushes in.

Twin moans fill the air as the two of you are joined. Eddie rests his forehead against yours as he begins a steady pace, going deeper with each thrust. 

“I love you,” he whispers through his labored breaths.

“I love you too.” 

“Edd-ie! Edd-ie! Edd-ie!”

He hears it too this time. A smile quirks his lips, growing even larger when he sees that you’re enjoying the chanting. 

“Like that they’re cheering me on?” he asks.

“No.” A whimper bubbles out before you continue. “They’re all cheering for you. They all want you. But you’re inside of me. You’re mine.”

The possessive look in your eye makes Eddie’s cock twitch.

“All yours, baby girl. All fucking yours.”

[writingoddess1125]

Relationship Fluff

Simon 👻, Soap 🧼, König 👑

They realize they are getting chubby being in a happy relationship

Simon, Soap, König x GnReader

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Ghost - Comfort Meals

You and Simon had been dating for well over a year now, it had been a happy accident how you two had met. What was anquick tumble in the sheets after a drunken night you had woken up early and made breakfast for the solider much to his surprise. Truthfully it had been far too long since he had a home-cooked meal so it had been a delight to his senses and heart.

Assuming it was just a one off, Simon did agree to take your number and 'maybe' stop by if he got the need or chance.. Which ended up backfiring on him wonderfully, It took 6 months for you two to move in together, 8 months for you to see his face and Simon taking leave more often to be with you.

This was one of those times, having 3 weeks to himself to spend being pampered in your love and affection. That and the cooking- he hadn't realized how much he missed good hot meals that weren't from a bag or a mess hall, So he was practically a garbage disposal for you. Eating all the food you had to make, every treat you wiped up from a pinterest blog.

It was heaven!

He had gotten up early, like every morning and sat out on the patio taking in the morning air while reading. He did some basic chores and straightened up, knowing you preferred the kitchen area to yourself. Saying it was 'Yours' afterall.

"Honey! Breakfast is ready" You call out, Simon quick to set down his book and roll up. Knowing a nice breakfast and black coffee was waiting for him.

"Thank you Lov" He said softly and kissed your cheek as you set out both plates, pouring a cup of black coffee for himself as the plate of waffles, eggs, and bacon greeting him.

"My angel" He said and kissed your cheek lovingly as you sat next to him to tuck into the meal.

Mindless conversation taking place between you two as you guys ate, Simon getting seconds and a cup of tea for himself as well.

"Oh before I forget, Si can you go to the market to pick up some things? I was going to make cakes tonight" He nodded at the simple request, the closest market at around a 20 minute drive from your home anyway so it wasn't an issue.

"I can head out now, Get it done with" He said calmly, Standing up to take both your empty plates and cleaned them up. Always cleaning since he felt it was fair before heading upstairs to change to head into town.

Deciding that his jeans and coat would do fine started to change into that quickly, Mumbling about needing gas and.. and?..

Simon Paused- The pants felt tighter then it had before.. even if these were admittedly older pants they should have been fine not a new tightness around his admittedly full stomach.

Pulling off his shirt he took a look at his for in the bathroom mirror- while still seeing his muscular and admittedly large build however around his stomach and sides there was a new thin layer of.. Fluff? Some pudge that had defiently not been there before and just slightly dampening his abs.

"The hell?" He mumbled, look over himself. You walking into the room as well and seeing him staring at himself in the mirror.

"Something wrong?" You question, walking back to him as you see him looking at himself in the mirror.

"I've gained weight?" He questioned as he looked back at you, This surpsing you as you personally didn't see any difference.

"You look fine to me, Sexy too" You wink which earns a laugh from the man who quickly pulls you into his arms.

"While I do appreciate your support I've gained some weight. Seems I've gotten too comforble with the nice suppers and cakes" He said with a sigh, surprised he had let the comfort of food do this. You kissed his cheek gently and giggle.

"It's probably relationship weight"

"Relationship weight?" He questioned with a brow as you laugh and blush softly.

"It common for people in a comforble and happy relationship to sort of- Get comforble physically if you will" He hummed at hearing this smirking at the idea.

"Well if that is the case, I'm going to end up like the Stay Puff Marshmellowman" He said with a chuckle and kissed you.

Soap - Candy Monster

Candy- candy everywhere. That's how you two even found each other was by candy. Johnny wasn't a man huge of sweets till he met you, working as a repair specialist for the team you would fix all the toys they constantly broke- often eating on candy or giving out candy whenever any of the team members would stop by to gather their things. Johnny enjoying your clear sweet tooth always partook in your offers, which lead to hour long talks, sharing different candies from around the world and eventually dates. Who knew that just some candy could lead the Scot to the happiest time of his life-

Two years of relationship bliss which had fulfilled the Soilders life in ways he didn't know possible. While he was still in the service with you in his life, he was starting to take some steps back in order to create a distance for you to be in his life. The nice condo adding to this as well since you two had moved in together the year previously.

"The new candy bag is here!" You call out as you walk into the kitchen area seeing Johnny sipping his drink and excitedly looking to see what was brought. The monthly surprise bag of candy was your idea and truthfully he had found it genius.

"Uh let's see, some yuzu japanese white chocolate, Lucas chamoy candy, oh Cream savers! I used to love these" You say cheerfully ajd quickly open the bag- Johnny curious as well as he held out a hand which you happily handed him a few.

Johnny unraveled the strawberry sweet and put it to his lips as normal. Used to the constant wave of new confectionery that you passed to him, humming as he tasted the waves of strawberry and cream that filled his senses.

"Oh these are good- a little odd?" He hummed as he bit through the hard treat making your face scrunch up.

"Impacient as always" You muse as he crunched through the hard candy with a grin.

"Just like to get to the good part" He winked taking a few more candies into his mouth as you giggle at his reaction.

"Still ready for dinner tonight?" Johnny questioned, a gleam in his eyes as he watched your enthusiasm at it.

"Yeah- Also the show is on tonight" You remind him earning a knowing smile from the man, His eyes drifting to his phone to check the time which prompted you to do the same.

"Oh the shows almost on! Wanna watch it then head to dinner?" You said cheerfully, always watching to catch your favorite TV show before leaving anywere. Johnny of course agreeing before he headed upstairs to get a head start on changing.

"I'll be right down!" He called out, having a outfit in mind already as he reached for his 'sexy jeans' and a nice botton up.

Johnny huffed as he jumped up and down to get the jeans over his body. Stopping as he looked, sure they must have shrunk in the wash or- thays when he looked again.. noticing the thickening of his thighs and admittedly his ass.

He stared for a moment at the jeans before breaking out in a laugh. Grabbing some sweats instead as he headed back down to you with a smirk.

"You Husband weight me Darlin" He said with a almost proud smirk, you raising a brow at this.

"Husband weight?" You question, Watching him slap his plushed hip with a laugh.

"You are fattenin me up like I were ya husband" He said calmly as he plopped next to you, pulling you into his lap.

"I hope that's not a bad thing" You giggle, assuming he enjoyed it.

"It means ya make me happy darling" He said with a laugh before kissing your cheeks and leaned back to enjoy the show, well hidden in his sweatpant pockets a velvet box laid.

König - Taste Tester

Now most would find it cliché that a soldier ended up with a medic- and König would have no issue telling them to mind their own. You had saved his life, and gained his heart in one swoop.

After a rather nasty battle he had been rushed to the nearest Army Hospital were you had been, saving him from the brink of death and respected his boundaries. You two spending hours just talking about books, shows and different foods you had tasted while in the military- Both of you being quite the foodies.

It had been a long time to build trust between each other, however it had been worth it to say the least. After several years of a slow and steady relationship it had become clear you two would be permanent in each other's lives, moving in together and creating a routine for each others wants and needs.

It was a rare moment but both of you were on leave at the same time, having a nice long break from the hard demands of your guys jobs. König was sitting at the dining room table finishing a Lego set, this time being the Van Gogh one, a hobby he had taken up to help him relax and focus.

"Hey Love, How does this taste?" You question and hand him a spoon of something which he eats without question. His eyes lighting up as he nodded- Fried rice, some form of gravy or curry, and nice soft eggs.

"Ja, gut Schatz! (Its food Love), What is it?" He questioned as he hands back the cleaned spoon and you give him another spoonful which he inhails.

"It's Omurice, I found the recipe and wanted to give it a go. I don't know if I got the egg constancy right but I'm more concerned about taste" You shrug truthfully König clearly agreeing as he turned to look if you had anymore- this drawing a laugh from you as you make him a fat plate which he accepts happily.

"Danke" He says quickly before tucking into the large plate, happily chatting away setting his lego project further on the table so it didn't get disturbed. You only pausing the conversation to point to the larger males shirt which had a large stain on it.

"You got sauce on your shirt love" You say with a giggle, the Austrian make looking down and sighing softly. Giving a quick curse as he stood up to change his shirt.

Heading upstairs he took off his shirt and went to grab another when he paused and looked at himself in the mirror-

Now König knew he was a big guy- that was no surprise however he was defiently noticing he was becoming a bigger guy. Mainly his shirts didn't fit the same around his stomach and sides region but he hadnt really noticed till now, Looking himself over he saw a nice thin layer of plush over his whole form.

He blushed at this, realizing he may have been getting way more comforble then he realized. Remembering his mother telling him that once a person finds themselves in a life long relationship they can get bigger due to being comforble.

Had he truly gotten that comforble? He thought back to the days they would spend together, how he found everything that you did to be adorable and you had just become a part of his life. His heart fluttering at the thought as his need for a new shirt was forgotten and be stepped out of the room.

He walked back down, shirtless still in deep thought as he held his stained garmet. You raised a brow at seeing him so out of it and holding the shirt, Stepping forward you gently touch his hand to gently bring him back to you.

"König? Love you okay?" You question as he finally comes back to reality and blinks at you. Like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

"König?.." You question again but he leans down and instead captures your lips in a deep kiss. A blush forming over both of your cheeks at the suddently passionate kiss, he pulled away after a moment after the need for air won out. After a moment of catching your breaths he stared you in the eyes.

"Let's go to the Juwelier (Jewlery Store) Tommorow Liebling~" He said with a shy smile and hands on your hips, A new sparkle in his eyes.

[minastras]

dear stranger, do you remember me too? // sunghoon

When you were sixteen, you betrayed Park Sunghoon. Or he betrayed you. Whichever it was, you knew two things for sure: 1) kids were cruel, and 2) you would spend the rest of your life trying to make up your mind. Well, until you saw him again. It was a strange feeling, meeting him in the flesh even though his ghost had been haunting you for three years.

at a glance: childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reformed bad boy! sunghoon, university au, pure angst (i received High Level Clearance from @end-hyphen to put him through the wringer sorry), ft. hyung line

words: 12.3k

warnings: swearing, mild mentions of blood, sexual harassment, and fights (nothing serious), alcohol and cigarette use

——————————

For as long as you could remember, Park Sunghoon had been the centre of your solar system, the axis around which your universe revolved. You’d known him since the day you were born. You lived on the same street, four houses apart, and as the only two kids in the area you naturally bonded instantly with each other. He was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime.

As soon as you both were no taller than his coffee table, you spent nearly every day together at the playground behind your street, running through the neighbourhood blowing bubbles and chasing butterflies.

“Do you think we could both fit on the same swing?” You could still hear your voice, light and flowery back then, asking.

“Let’s find out,” his equally childish voice rang back, before he yanked you into his lap and struggled to get enough leverage with his feet to push you both off the ground.

That ended with you tumbling out of the swing and onto the tarmac just by the playground, scraping your knee. You both must’ve been only five years old then, but you didn’t cry, instead stubbornly getting to your feet and ignoring the blood trickling down your calf until you were back in the privacy of your living room.

He had carried you home on his back, even though you could walk just fine, and sat you down on the sofa while he cleaned your broken skin with a tissue.

“You can cry if you want,” he had said simply, in that innocent manner only kids have.

You were with him all the way through kindergarten to middle school to high school. Neither of you had many friends; you were both quiet and shy and somewhat rough around the edges. But that didn’t matter, because you had each other.

As you grew from toddlers to precocious children to teenagers, you continued spending nearly every day together. When you weren’t glued to each other’s sides in school, he was spending the night at your house after class, or you were playing video games in his room on weekends.

You always looked forward to Fridays. Sunghoon finished school an hour after you did and he would wait for you in an empty classroom. Afterwards you would take the bus into town and waste away the rest of the afternoon at the movies or in the arcade. You’d buy fried chicken for dinner and eat in your room, and he would spend the night. In the summertime, you’d climb up to the roof and stargaze and eventually fall asleep beside him, only to be rudely awakened by middle-of-the-night summer showers.

You had never known anything else but you and Sunghoon against the world.

——————————

When you were sixteen, things began to change.

“Do you want to do something special tonight?” Sunghoon asked. You were hanging out in your bedroom, him lying on your bed and you sitting on a bean bag on the floor, listening to music and studying.

“Like what?”

He grinned excitedly and handed you his phone.  “Jeongmin invited me to join him and his friends. He asked me to bring you, too.”

You read the brief text exchange and frowned. “Jeongmin? As in, iljin and leader of that gang of dickheads, Jeongmin?”

“He’s actually nicer than he seems, you know,” Sunghoon told you. “He said he wants us all to hang out.”

You gave him his phone back, incredulous. “Hoon, the four of them beat up Ahn Jinho so badly last month that he’s still in hospital. You can’t seriously be considering taking him up on his offer. He’s going to drag us out into a park and kill us.”

“I think he just wants to show us how to have fun. You know, live a little. Why else would he invite two nerd loners like us?” he asked.

“Because we’re weak, lonely, and easy to take advantage of?” you pointed out. When he didn’t respond, you sighed. “Do you really want to go?”

“I do.”

“Fine.”

He shook his head rapidly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“And let you get killed all by yourself? No thanks. We die together.”

——————————

You knew it was a mistake the second the conversation ended, but, as you said, you weren’t very well going to let Sunghoon go alone. And he was adamant, longing for friends, and desperate for an adventure. He clung to your arm as you walked from your house to the abandoned car park, thanking you repeatedly the entire journey.

Regret set in almost instantly. For you, anyway. Sunghoon seemed to be having a blast.

Jeongmin was already there waiting for you, with a case of cheap alcohol in his hand and his three lackeys in tow. You sat in the car park watching as Sunghoon drank and smoked with them, pretending to enjoy himself even though you knew he despised the taste of both of those things.

Jeongmin respected your assertion that you wouldn’t smoke (a shocker), but continued pushing you to drink the entire night. You fidgeted under his leering gaze, only growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and he kept trying to ply you with alcohol, kept sitting closer and closer to you, kept returning his hand to your thigh no matter how many times you shifted away. Sunghoon didn’t stop him.

At the end of the night, you dragged Sunghoon back to your house and managed to get him up to your room without waking up your dad. He was wasted and reeked of smoke, incredibly lucky that his parents would just assume he’d spent the night at yours like always. You dumped him on your bed, aired out his clothes, and mixed honey and lemon juice into a glass of warm water for him to try and stop his cough.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, already changed into some of his sleeping clothes he kept in your room. His words were slurred and his cheeks were red, but he was coherent enough. “God, my throat feels like shit.”

“Because you smoked half a pack in one sitting like you were cosplaying as a forty-five year old weathered truck driver. Drink your honey lemon water,” you ordered, opening your bedroom windows so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger. “And no, I did not.”

He pouted but complied. “They’re not that bad.”

You took the empty glass from his hands and pulled the blankets up over him, touching his forehead. His skin was warm and flushed from the alcohol. “We’ll agree to disagree,” you said, heading downstairs to wash the glass.

“Lie down with me,” he whined the second you came back, somehow having managed to tuck himself into your bed like a sushi roll.

You switched off the lights and climbed into bed beside him, close but not touching. “I really don’t think you should be mixing with them, Hoon. They’re bad news,” you said quietly.

He’d fallen asleep before you ever got the chance to finish your sentence.

——————————

Over the next few weeks, Sunghoon started going out on more of these ‘adventures’. You stopped tagging along, but he still relied on you to shelter him in your room so his parents wouldn’t find out where he was disappearing to. And you continued to keep your phone right by your pillow while you slept so you could go bring him home if and when he called you.

He kept smoking around Jeongmin and his friends, even though he hated it and it made his throat itchy. You had started doing your own grocery shopping so your dad wouldn’t notice how fast the lemons and honey ran out nowadays.

When you and him were together, he acted exactly the same. He was still sweet, thoughtful, and just a little bit snarky. He still stuck to you in school, still waited for you every Friday afternoon, and still followed you to whichever new restaurant you wanted to try out on the weekends. He still lit up with a smile when you came by to his figure skating practice to cheer him on, much to the chagrin of his coach.

But whenever he went out to get wasted with Jeongmin and his gang and you had to go pick him up, you caught glimpses of the person he was becoming. He was picking fights and losing his temper at the smallest things, aggressive and hot-headed and dripping in machismo. No longer charmingly sarcastic with a gentle side, now he was just mean.

As soon as you two were back in your room, however, that all melted away. He would cuddle up to you, apologise, and thank you for always bringing him home no matter how ungodly the hour. If he woke up before you, he would tidy your room as a way to return the favour and leave a snack on your bedside table.

The snack was always accompanied by a yellow post-it note which he took from your desk (you didn’t even use those, but you kept them around specifically for him) with a dumb doodle or lots of hearts or both.

You weren’t happy about this development, but you didn’t do anything to stop it. It was his life, not yours. And you weren’t really in the business of speaking up about things that bothered you anyway. You kept your head down and your mouth shut, and stayed out of Jeongmin’s way.

Until one fateful Tuesday, about two months after the first invitation.

Sunghoon rarely talked to you about his newfound friends; he knew you didn’t approve of them and he didn’t want to upset you. This particular piece of news, though, was just too exciting to keep from you. After all, you were his best friend. He wanted you to be a part of his new life.

“Guess what the guys and I are doing on Sunday,” he said. You nodded for him to continue, somewhat distracted by the cinnamon rolls you were baking together in his kitchen, not entirely sure when ‘the guys’ had become a thing. “Jeongmin’s cousin is in town, and he has a fancy new car. We’re gonna hotwire it, drive it down to the cliff, and set it on fire.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping open. “What? Sunghoon, that’s too dangerous.”

“That’s why we’ll do it at the cliff. There’s nothing around there that could burn down,” he explained, like that made it okay.

If it weren’t for his completely serious tone and expression, you would have thought he was joking. You set down the mixing bowl you were holding. “No, you could get hurt,” you said, adding, “And what if you get caught? That’s grand larceny and arson.”

“The guy’s an asshole anyway,” he said nonchalantly, not listening to you.

“That doesn’t make it legal, Hoon. Or safe. I’m serious. You can’t do that.”

He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “You’re just jealous,” he said.

“I don’t want you to go to jail,” you corrected.

“No, you’re jealous I finally have friends other than you. Like, cool, normal, friends,” he snapped, angrier than you’d ever seen him.

Never in your life had he raised his voice at you. You pretty much never fought, aside from short bouts of time when one of you was upset for one reason or another, but you always smoothed things over through calm, measured conversations. Not arguments like this.

You paused, stepping away from the counter, from him. “Is that what this is about? I’m not good enough for you?” you asked, your voice soft.

He had never once indicated he was unhappy with your friendship, with your relaxed hangouts in each other’s houses and comfortable outings to cinemas and restaurants and bookstores. But clearly he wanted something else: to be cool, normal, and have friends that weren’t shy recluses.

You trusted him. He was your whole world, and you’d always assumed you were his too.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, pulling back his words as you turned to leave. He followed you, pleading, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m going home,” you stated firmly, rushing out of his house and slamming the front door shut behind you.

——————————

By Sunday evening, you cracked. You had been avoiding Sunghoon for the last two days, and both of your families had noticed. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, if he would be caught, if he was going to be okay. There was no way you’d be able to talk to his parents without him finding out unless he was out at figure skating training, so you confided in your dad. And he called Sunghoon’s mom right then and there.

“You did the right thing, Y/N. I’m proud of you,” your dad said after he hung up, patting your head.

“It doesn’t feel like I did,” you mumbled, your insides twisting and twisting away.

“I know, honey.” Your dad rubbed your shoulders comfortingly, before offering, “Do you want to go out for ice cream? Take your mind off it? I can call off work.”

You clung to him for a few more seconds, then let go. “I just want to be alone for a while, if that’s okay,” you said, retreating to your bedroom while your dad left for his night shift at the plant.

You weren’t sure how long you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling in complete silence, numbed by guilt, before your bedroom door swung open and Sunghoon barged into your room. In your state, you hadn’t even heard him enter your house. You scrambled to your feet.

“Did you fucking snitch on me?”

He was in all black, with a graphic t-shirt over a long sleeved polo, ripped jeans, and boots. With his hair styled and jewellery on, he must’ve been ready to leave the house, because that was how he normally dressed to meet Jeongmin and his gang.

“Hoon-”

“I told you that in confidence,” he snapped, shutting your bedroom door. His eyes, narrowed in hatred, glowered at you. You walked over to him and reached for his hand, but he slapped you away, recoiling at your touch like you were a hot stove. “How could you do this to me?”

“I was worried about you,” you said, your tone begging, mollifying. You rarely saw him this angry, and never had that anger been directed at you.

“Bullshit. My parents just screamed at me for two hours. Jeongmin’s gonna be pissed at me,” he fumed. “You weren’t fucking worried about me. You didn’t want me to be doing things without you.”

You dug your nails into your palms, trying to stop yourself from crying. It seemed to work, for a while, anyway. “Is that how you see me? As a needy pest who won’t let you go?” you asked, each word a chore to get out, your eyes already stinging. Not from his words, but from the sheer contempt in his expression.

Had he really spent the last sixteen years so desperate to get rid of you, like you were a persistent barnacle on a ship that refused to leave? Did he hate you that much? How had you never known?

He took a step towards you. His eyes were cold, his jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t even recognise him. You stepped back cautiously.

“Oh, like you’re some perfect angel,” he spat through gritted teeth. 

“I’m not. I just don’t want you to throw away your future. I-”

“You know what your problem is?” he shouted, cutting you off. He took yet another step forward, and you again stepped back. The backs of your knees hit your bed frame. “You’re a hypocrite. You hold everyone to such a high moral standard that no one is ever good enough for you. Not me, and not yourself. That’s why you fucking hate yourself so much.”

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat. For several agonising seconds, the only things you could hear were his furious breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I think you should go home,” you finally said after a long pause. Your voice was shaking as you held back tears. “We can talk about this when you’ve calmed down-”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

Sunghoon raised his hand to push back his fringe, but you didn’t know that. Because when his hand came up, you flinched. 

He lowered his hand immediately, only then noticing that he’d backed you into a corner. Instead of shock or anger or hurt, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated fear in your eyes.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” he whispered, stepping back.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, walking to your open window and resting your hands on the windowsill. “Please leave,” you said simply, fighting to keep your voice stable as tears began to roll down your face, not looking at him.

He stood and waited for a minute, watching you. You could feel his gaze. But when you refused to turn back around, he sighed and left. You heard your bedroom door close, and then your front door a few seconds later, and then it was so, so quiet.

——————————

You and Sunghoon avoided each other like the plague after that fight, although that torture hadn’t lasted long. Within two weeks, he’d withdrawn from school and vanished. His parents told you he’d gone to a boarding school in a different town, but they didn’t say where or why.

You never saw him again.

Being in your hometown for those last two years of high school was difficult for you. Having to live just down the road from his family home, constantly surrounded by all of your old haunts, made it hard for you to get him out of your head.

After high school you’d gone to a small university to do your first year with a conditional offer from your dream school in your back pocket. You needed time to save up money, and you were hoping to secure a scholarship with your first year grades.

You’d been lucky enough to make a new friend, Heeseung. Like you, he was only in that university temporarily to work his way into a scholarship. Your relationship was initially one of convenience and comfort — neither of you were particularly keen on mixing with the other students you never planned to see again after your first year — but you quickly became genuine friends.

You kept each other motivated, and both managed to secure transfers before your second year started. In fact, you’d done so well that your then-university had begged you to stay, offering you scholarship after scholarship and full fee remissions. But you both turned them down. You had loftier ambitions.

Once you moved away to university, things got better. Of course, the vestiges remained. You still had Sunghoon’s Spotify playlists in your account, your shared arcade membership card in your wallet, and some of his socks mixed in with your own. Before you fought he’d borrowed your favourite pair of red shrimp socks, and now you were never going to get them back.

But you didn’t think about him nearly as often as you used to. He was no longer a ghost living in your head, but a will-o’-the-wisp that occasionally caught your eye when you saw something that reminded you of him.

And now you and Heeseung were standing in the foyer of your new dorm with nothing from your past but a small suitcase each, in the university you’d been chasing your entire lives, ready to start your second year. 

“We made it,” Heeseung whispered to you, still not fully comprehending it all. You were really here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life,” you whispered back.

“Me too. If we weren’t roommates I’d be shitting bricks by now.”

The school had been gracious enough to allow you and Heeseung to live together in a small apartment within the music students’ dorm, since you were pretty sure at least one of you would have gone bonkers if you were separated. You would be sharing the floor with another similar apartment housing three students who would meet you in the foyer to help you move in.

Right on time, one of them (you presumed) came bounding down the stairs excitedly. He broke into a broad smile the second he saw your suitcases, his originally stern-looking features softening instantly as he did.

“Are you the transfers? Nice to meet you! I’m Jay. We spoke on the phone.”

You spoke up first when it became clear Heeseung was far too anxious to talk. “Hi! I’m Y/N, and this is Heeseung. Nice to meet you too.”

“Welcome aboard,” Jay said, easily picking up your suitcase before you could object. Heeseung fumbled for his own. “My roommates are just finishing getting your apartment ready. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Shouldn’t that be the school’s job?” you asked, following him up the stairs.

“This place can be a bit of a circus, believe it or not,” Jay remarked, making you and Heeseung exchange glances. When you reached the fifth floor, not a single hair on his head was out of place even though your bag was heavy as fuck.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem. That’s us over there,” he said, pointing to the first door on the level, “and this is you guys.”

The apartment was modestly-sized and simple, but clean and otherwise perfect. Jay introduced you to his first roommate Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen counter when you arrived.

“Thanks for setting all of this up for us. It must’ve been a lot of work,” Heeseung said, finally speaking after you elbowed him in the side (be normal, man). “You’ve been so helpful.”

“It’s nothing. Jay and I both transferred here last semester too, so we know how hard it can be,” Jake said kindly, waving away your gratitude. “Our other roommate did the same for us back then.”

“Speaking of which, Hoon! Come out here and meet the new students!” Jay called.

A third voice came floating from down the corridor. “Coming!”

When the aforementioned roommate emerged from the corridor, your heart stopped. Your blood turned to lead in your veins. Your ears began ringing, the sound so loud it washed away almost everything else.

You could barely hear Jake as he said, “Hoon, these are our new neighbours, Heeseung and Y/N. Guys, this is-”

“Sunghoon,” you finished. His name came out of your mouth, but it didn’t sound like your voice. Your hands were numb.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said, at the exact same time.

Although he was taller now, with a broader frame, a sharper jaw, and a deeper voice, it was still him. He was frozen in shock, looking right at you, unblinking. He had on a white t-shirt that read ‘rise above’ that he’d had since the first year of high school — you bought it for him for his fifteenth birthday. It had been massively oversized on his thin body back then, but now he filled it out nicely.

Right there, as you stood in the kitchen of your new apartment, all the guilt and heartbreak and mourning that you thought you had left behind in the child that died three years ago came rushing back to you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

And in that moment you were reminded yet again of the lesson you had spent the last three years of your life learning day after day after day: movies lied.

The real heartbreak was never the big fight. It was every time after when the other person crossed your mind in idle thoughts or memories, every time you saw or heard something that reminded you of them, every time you pulled up their contact on your phone and read the distant timestamp of your final conversation.

It was every belonging of theirs they left behind in your childhood bedroom, and everything you owned that had been a gift from them. It was every food you ever ate together and every song you ever listened to together and every place you ever went to together.

It was every time they reached out from beyond the grave and touched some part of your life and you had to lose them all over again.

You looked at him, and he looked at you. His eyes hadn’t changed at all. You were sixteen once more: standing in his kitchen making cinnamon rolls, locking your bedroom door behind him after the last time you spoke because you were scared he would return, desperately running away from him in the school halls.

He glanced down at your hands, your fingers laced together to hide the fact that they were shaking. You had a habit of doing that when you were nervous. Around your left wrist was a silver bracelet, one that he’d gotten you on a whim six years ago. You still had it. And you still wore it. And it was you.

Jay smiled cheerily, oblivious. “Do you guys know each other?”

——————————

Your first week of your second year was amazing. You were finally at your dream university in your dream major, with a full-ride scholarship under your belt and your best friend right by your side. It was everything you and Heeseung had worked so hard for.

The building you lived in was a dorm just for music scholars, a small, close-knit group of under thirty students. Most of them, like Jay and Jake, also bled money.

But your experience was somewhat soured by one thing: Park Sunghoon. He was everywhere.

Of course, that was to be expected. It was a small cohort, the only new friends you’d made so far were his roommates, and you were literally neighbours.

After the day you’d moved in, neither of you had spoken a word to each other. You ran into him constantly, and you were always going to classes and grabbing lunch together, but you’d never talked to him directly. He was just always there.

On Thursday, as the five of you left a lecture together, Sunghoon politely excused himself. “I won’t join you guys for lunch today. I need to pick up something from the shops.”

So you found yourself sitting in the food court with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. When the conversation naturally fizzled out, it was only quiet for a few seconds before Jay clapped his hands together and asked, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with you and Sunghoon?”

You looked at Heeseung for guidance. On that first night, you’d already told him everything. He shrugged.

“Uh- well. We grew up together, and when we were sixteen we had a falling out,” you answered cautiously.

“Then you lost touch?” Jake frowned.

“You could say that,” you said, reaching for Heeseung’s hand under the table and adding, “I think Sunghoon should probably be the one to tell you the rest, though. When he’s ready.”

——————————

At Heeseung’s insistence (listen, you’re clearly still hurting over this, and it would be good for you to talk to him, at least), you bullied yourself into texting Sunghoon at the end of your first week. With trembling hands, you asked him if he would meet you in the botanical gardens on Sunday. He replied almost instantly: what time?

Waiting for him on a park bench, chronically early as you always were, you were bouncing your leg so much that the entire bench was shaking. The last time you’d spoken to him was over three years ago, when you’d pleaded with him to get out of your room.

You had drawn up an agreement with Heeseung that morning: if things went south, you would send him an S.O.S. message so he could come by and pretend to whisk you away to tend to an Urgent Apartment Matter. You even programmed your phone to text him automatically if you pressed your power button five times in a row. He called you ‘insufferably paranoid’, which you took as a compliment.

Sunghoon was a minute late, and, by the looks of it, just as anxious as you were.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sat down next to you, a polite distance away. It was almost like how you used to sit in your neighbourhood park late at night after you’d aged out of the playground, eating convenience store ramen together until a concerned stranger or annoyed police officer told you to go home.

You both looked around for a while before you couldn’t take it anymore and bit the bullet. “How have you been?” you asked, stilted.

“Good. I’ve been good.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, nodding at nothing. “What about you?”

“Good.” You paused too, searching your brain for something to say.

“I went to military school,” he blurted out, knowing you were too polite to ask him directly. “Um- for the last two years of high school. That’s why I disappeared.”

Military school? So the rumours floating around the town had been right.

“Madam Choi kept asking me about you,” you told him after a while. Madam Choi was the sweet, grandmotherly owner of the convenience store on the corner of your street who always asked how you were doing and chastised you for eating too many snacks even though your unhealthy diets kept her shop afloat. It was the only topic you could think of that wasn’t too painful to bring up.

Sunghoon laughed at that, a sound you hadn’t heard for years. He loosened up, and you did too. Your awkwardness gradually began melting away as he told you about Jay and Jake, about his time at military school, and about all the cool spots in the city you should check out. You told him about Heeseung, your previous university, and how you didn’t know how to navigate your new university’s portal because it was designed to frustrate.

Conspicuously, neither of you brought up the past. Reminiscing was off the table, an arrangement implicitly reached between you two at some point during the conversation. Even when you finally worked up the courage to ask what you’d been wanting to ask for the last three years, you still couldn’t bring yourself anywhere close to acknowledging what happened.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate for even a second, which made you smile. “No.”

As he continued talking, however, it became clear that he was considering every word he said before he said it. He was careful, deliberate, holding back.

“I’ve grown up since then,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been mad for a long time. Actually, I wanted to thank you for doing what you did. I could have been sitting in jail by now.” He clasped his hands together and turned to you. “Are you still mad at me?”

You were equally as assured and quick with your own response. “No. I was never mad at you.”

“You should’ve been,” he joked. “I caused you so much trouble, always waking you up in the middle of the night and crashing in your room.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m happy things worked out for you, Hoon. And that you got into university despite everything that happened,” you said.

“Thanks,” he smiled. Although the rest of him looked older and more mature, his smile remained the same.

“If I’d done those things I never would’ve gotten a second chance,” you mused, more to yourself than to him, but he heard it anyway.

Instantly, his mood soured.

“Okay, so did you rat on me to protect me and my future? Or because you were jealous? Because that sounds like jealousy,” he snapped.

Shit. You reached for your phone and pressed the home button five times. But he wasn’t wrong.

Yes, you had been worried about him as you’d said back then, but you were also jealous. Not of his new friends, but of his life. His parents were rich, and he had two of them. If he had gone out that night and been caught, there was a non-zero chance that he could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist.

His parents had the money to ship him off to a private military school for two whole years at the drop of a hat, and he’d been able to come straight to your dream university. If you had joined him and Jeongmin that night, you would’ve been locked up without question.

“You ruined my life,” Sunghoon hissed, his eyes now dark and his body tense. “Do you know that?”

“You ruined your own life when you were planning to commit arson and didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop,” you countered.

He set his jaw and turned away with a scoff. “I can’t believe you.”

In the distance, you saw Heeseung jogging over to you. He must’ve been hiding in another part of the park, waiting. You weren’t the only insufferably paranoid one, it seemed.

“This isn’t how I wanted today to go, Hoon,” you sighed.

“Don’t call me that,” he spat, standing up.

“Y/N!” Heeseung shouted as he reached the bench. His face fell the moment he saw the look in your eyes. “There is an Urgent Apartment Matter. We must tend to it right away,” he stuttered, grabbing your hand and yanking you to your feet before Sunghoon even had the time to blink.

The two of you ran.

——————————

You and Sunghoon had swiftly gone right back to ignoring each other, which was pretty impressive considering you were almost always together. Jay and Jake seemed annoyingly hell-bent on taking you and Heeseung under their wing — as fellow transfers themselves, they wanted to help you acclimatise — and Sunghoon didn’t have any other friends. So he was constantly with you in classes, at parties, or hanging out in your goddamn apartment.

He spent more time staring at you than he would have liked to admit. In between gaps in conversations, or when you were distracted by one of Jay’s dissertation-length speeches about some inane topic or stupid fact, he got the chance to really look at you for the first time in years. Every time he did he felt a strange ache in his chest. You were like an actor he already knew playing a character he’d never seen before.

“Dude, why would you even say that? You called them a hypocrite?” Jake chastised, when Sunghoon finally revealed the details behind your falling out in high school a few days after Sunday.

“I just can’t imagine you as that kind of guy,” Jay said, stunned. He was still trying to picture Park Sunghoon, the would-be arsonist. 

Often, Sunghoon found himself staring not when Jay was rambling or Jake was telling you a joke, but specifically when you were with Heeseung. There was something about the way you two interacted that made his heart sting. You were comfortable with him, and he with you.

You knew he liked to sit on the inside of restaurant booths facing the door, and he knew your Subway order by heart. You kept track of the stock of his favourite drinks in your fridge, and he always had a spare charger in his bag for all the times you forgot to bring your own. You were so in tune with each other that you would tell when the other wanted to go home without needing to ask and built effortlessly on each other’s jokes. You even kind of talked the same.

“And then you said it again? Are you serious?” Jay groaned in frustration when he heard the park story. Everyone had noticed the considerable shift in mood between you and Sunghoon since Sunday, but no one had dared to mention it.

“They’re trying so hard with you, man. Why would you do that?” Jake sighed.

Sunghoon pulled hard at his hair, equally frustrated, and flopped face down on the sofa. “I don’t know! It just came out.”

There was a substantial part of him that kmew it was because he was scared he hadn’t changed. That he was still the kind of person who called their best friend a hypocrite and accused them of being jealous when they tried to protect him. That you could see that, and that Jay and Jake would realise it soon too.

The other day at the juice bar Heeseung bought you a warm honey lemon tea. When he ordered it, you and Sunghoon immediately looked at each other before turning away. Windows open to air out the stench of cigarette smoke. Your secret stash of lemons and honey. Yellow post-it notes on your bedside table. All the hours you spent taking care of him, even as he spiralled out of control.

You hadn’t even asked for it; Heeseung somehow knew you had a sore throat that day without you telling him. Apparently he could hear it in your voice, which was (according to him) slightly scratchy and hoarse. Sunghoon couldn’t hear a thing, though. You sounded the exact same to him.

It was clear that Heeseung was familiar with the person you were now, that he knew you, and he knew how to be your best friend. That was a skill that Sunghoon had lost years ago, and clearly he didn’t quite know you anymore.

At the park you hadn’t cried once, although he was sure the sixteen-year-old you would have. Perhaps you just cried less now. Perhaps you’d given up on him and no longer expected anything else from him but to be disappointed.

“You need to apologise to them,” Jake scolded.

“They won’t forgive me,” Sunghoon mumbled into the sofa fabric.

Jay threw a pillow at him. “No offence, Hoon, but from what you’ve told us I think you’re a pretty shit judge of character.”

——————————

You had the apartment to yourself that Thursday night because Heeseung had rented a studio to practise after-hours and wouldn’t be back till sunrise. Someone knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer it immediately, a painfully familiar voice rang out from the other side.

“It’s me.”

Dread was not an emotion you’d ever associated with Sunghoon, but it was all you felt when you opened the door for him. When you were kids he never waited for you to do so; he always just let himself in. You sat down at the kitchen counter together, side by side.

“Since when do you watch Queer Eye?” he asked, noticing your laptop screen.

“Heeseung introduced me to it,” you said, pushing a glass of water across the counter to him. His face darkened at the name, but you chose to ignore it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sunghoon bit his lip. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he started, wooden. While he’d seemed guarded and on edge on Sunday, now he seemed scared. “For what I said to you. And for- for everything.”

You sat rigidly on the bar stool, self-conscious, not knowing what to say.

“I had a lot of time to think over the last three years, and I realised I was insecure. I was so desperate to be seen as ‘cool’ and Jeongmin knew that. You were right; he was preying on me because he could tell how much I wanted to be a part of his world. You saw right through me because you knew- you know me better than anyone. So I lashed out at you.

“I tried so hard to put that part of my life behind me — I never told Jay or Jake about it, even — and when you came back I panicked. It was a reminder of all the fucked up things I did and the person I used to be. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, and I took it out on you again.

“I’m sorry. And thank you. For always being there for me to pick up the pieces. I never deserved that sort of kindness.”

He watched you nervously, waiting for a response. You reached for the rubber band around your wrist and snapped it. It didn’t hurt, but it helped to distract you. He glanced down at your hand, recognising another of your old habits.

“Stop doing that,” he chided, his eyes watering. At that moment, he sounded just like he used to when you were younger. You remembered him saying those exact words in that exact tone. Of all the things he had said, that was what made you want to cry.

“I missed you so much,” you finally admitted after a long pause, inhaling shakily. “I felt like I ruined our friendship. I never stopped wondering if I made the right decision, I- I thought I’d lost you forever.”

He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. His hugs were just comforting as they had been when you were growing up. He was much stronger than you remembered, although perhaps you should have expected that. He’d changed his cologne since.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he told you, stroking your hair gently. When you separated his eyes were shining with tears. He laughed, sniffling, holding your face in his hands.

“Can we be friends again?” you whispered.

“I’d like that,” he said, letting you go and hesitating for a few seconds before he next spoke. “Do you know what motivated me to change when I was in military school?”

“What?” You hugged him one last time before unconsciously reaching for your rubber band. Catching this, he raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at your wrist. You stopped, feeling scolded.

“The last time we talked back in high school, you thought I was going to hit you,” he began carefully. He took a deep breath, suddenly unable to look you in the eye now. “Seeing how scared you were, the fear on your face, I- I never wanted to make anyone feel like that again. Especially not you. I’m sorry.”

He’d started crying. He hardly ever cried when you were kids. You wiped away his tears with your shirt sleeve.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” he begged, clutching onto you with a vice grip. Between you and him he had always been the calm one, but now he was shaking and you could feel it.

You squeezed his hand. “I won’t.”

——————————

Something in you was repaired that day.

You were telling the truth when you said you had never stopped feeling guilty about what you did. Not being able to speak to Sunghoon after, not even knowing where he was or what he was doing, it had wrecked you.

For years you’d lived with the thought that the only person you’d ever trusted had always secretly resented you. Maybe everyone did — maybe you were a pest, a hypocrite, a loser. It made it hard for you to form new connections. Heeseung had chipped away at your defences for months before you felt safe enough to call him your friend.

But now you were sitting on the floor of Sunghoon’s living room, sharing a vodka Sprite with Heeseung while you watched the others play Mario Kart, and everything was fine.

You hadn’t spent too much time with Sunghoon alone, although the five of you were constantly together. Jake had even joked about blocking off the fifth floor from the other scholars and just leaving both of your front doors open to form one big apartment for the five of you. Functionally, it wouldn’t be that different from how you were already living.

“I’m hungry,” Heeseung piped up, pouting and nudging you. “Go buy me some chips?”

“Why can’t you go?” you asked.

“My head hurts,” he whined. If he was dehydrated, the smallest drop of alcohol could give him splitting headaches. “Don’t kick a man while he’s down.”

Before you could retort, Sunghoon handed him his Switch controller. “Hee, you play. I’ll go with them,” he offered.

“Thanks, man. Use my rewards card,” Heeseung said, handing you his wallet instead of just taking the rewards card out and passing that to you.

You used to joke that you could so easily max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to, but he swiftly pointed out that you also had a habit of giving him your entire wallet when he asked to borrow money or your transport card.

“I still can’t believe we've been in this city for just over a month and you already have six rewards cards,” you laughed, putting on your shoes.

As you and Sunghoon were walking out the door, Heeseung was still shouting, “Think of the points, dude! The points!”

The convenience store was just across the road from your dorm building, which was, as its name suggested, pretty convenient. Not as good for your heart health and nutrition, but whatever. It was drizzling slightly, but not enough for either of you to have bothered with an umbrella.

“Heeseung is so obsessed with collecting rewards points,” you joked, fiddling with his rewards card.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Is he always like that?”

You nodded. “Since I met him. You like him, though, right?”

“Yeah, I do. He’s fun,” he said. He wasn’t lying; he did actually like Heeseung. But he would be lying if he said your closeness to him didn’t bother him at all. Sunghoon didn’t want to think too much about the possible implications of his jealousy.

“I’m glad. I really like Jay and Jake, too,” you told him, pushing open the convenience store door. “I’ll go get Deungie’s chips, because he likes some weird obscure flavours.”

“I’ll get the normal stuff for everyone else,” Sunghoon said, asking, “the usual for you, yeah?”

You thought of the convenience store in your hometown, of Madam Choi, of your regular weekend sleepovers back in school. Rehearsed and practised, you two were in and out of the store in under two minutes. What did that say about either of you, that you were so skilled at buying snacks that you worked together like a well-oiled machine?

The drizzle was marginally heavier when you left. It was a short walk, but Sunghoon took off his white baseball cap and fixed it atop your head anyway.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you smiled. You never bothered fighting him when he did things like that for you; you hadn’t as a kid and you still didn’t now. He wouldn’t do it unless he wanted to, and he wasn’t the type to accept your refusals of help.

But it felt different years later, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, amused.

You quickly averted your gaze, not having noticed you’d been looking at him. “It’s just weird to have you back,” you said.

You’d had this conversation with him at least a dozen times over the last month. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he was back in your life and you were back in his. That you hadn’t destroyed the life of your best friend by being a hypocrite.

Since then, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about the person you used to be: full of self-loathing and insecurity and fear that you would eventually ruin every relationship you had. Heeseung had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told him about Sunghoon when it all happened. You admitted to him that you were scared he would think of you as a bad person.

Sunghoon smiled. “Is it a good weird or a bad weird?”

“It’s a good weird. I missed this,” you answered, holding up the bag of snacks in your hand. As was your usual routine, you carried the snacks and he carried the drinks, having immediately fallen into step.

He playfully bumped into you as you walked, though not nearly hard enough to knock you off balance. “I missed you,” he said, before reaching for his keys.

The conversation was the same, but the butterflies in your stomach were definitely a new development.

——————————

Since you reconnected, Sunghoon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

“Dude, are you jealous of Heeseung?” Jay asked him one night, out of the blue, after you and Heeseung left their apartment to head back to your own. Well, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue; even he couldn’t deny that.

“Can’t I be jealous of my ex-best friend’s new best friend?” Sunghoon replied, already defensive.

“That’s not why you’re jealous, though, is it?” Jay pressed. “You’re posturing around him and you can’t stop looking at Y/N.”

“Shut up.” He was right, and deep down Sunghoon knew it.

He was never going to be your best friend again, and he wasn’t trying to be. Neither of you were the same people you had been three years ago, and you were different enough that if you met now, you probably wouldn’t have been close. You both had new friends, people who suited your current selves better.

He wanted to be something else.

“You need to tone down the staring, man. It’s getting a little too obvious,” Jake said. “Even Heeseung mentioned it to me the other day.”

Sunghoon swore under his breath. “He did?” Heeseung, of all people, noticing — had he mentioned it to you?

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure they’re just friends,” Jay added, trying to be comforting.

Sunghoon sighed and finished his drink. It was a gin and tonic which he’d made so strong that it was basically straight gin with a drizzle of tonic water. He winced.

“I know, but they do everything together,” he mumbled, just barely self-aware enough to realise he was whining. “That used to be me.”

“They’re happy, you’re happy, and you guys are friends again. Isn't that what you wanted? Why focus on the past when you could be focusing on right now?” Jake asked.

“Because they trusted me for sixteen years and I basically told them I’d secretly hated them the whole time,” Sunghoon said, his voice rising. “I ruined them, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Jay scowled and crossed his arms, kicking Sunghoon’s foot with his own. “You didn’t ruin anyone. They’re fine. You’re not the only thing that’s ever happened to them, and if you keep thinking like that you’ll never fully repair your relationship.”

Sunghoon stared at his empty glass. He needed another drink.

——————————

“It’s been two months since we moved here,” Heeseung told you randomly one day. You were at a ramen bar for dinner with him and Sunghoon to celebrate getting through the first half of the semester. Also, you were all out of food at home and neither of you were in the mood to cook.

“Has it?” You checked the date on your phone. Sure enough, he was right. You hadn’t even realised.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sunghoon said. You’d started looking at Sunghoon differently.

Firstly, he looked different. He towered over his former self, his shoulders were much wider than you recalled, and he’d lost some fat on his face, making his cheeks and jaw more angular. He wore his black hair longer than he used to and he didn’t have nearly as many dark colours in his wardrobe.

He’d always been good-looking, but you had never really recognised that before. Now, though, it was always on your mind. Now, when he smiled at you or fixed your hair after he put his cap on your head or leaned over you to plug in his laptop in lecture theatres, you got nervous.

His gestures had always made you feel warm and comfortable, but now they were also starting to make you feel shy. You’d never been particularly touchy with him even as kids — you shared beds with a wall of pillows in between you two — but now you couldn’t even bear the thought of holding onto his sleeve in a crowd so you wouldn’t get separated.

“Oi.” Heeseung kicked you hard under the table and pointed at your nearly empty bowl. “Earth to Y/N. Are you done?”

They were both staring at you. How long had you been zoning out?

“What? Yeah, I’m done. Did you say something?” you asked.

Heeseung laughed and pressed his index finger to the top of your head, pretending to push you down like a button, which he always did when he was making fun of you. He definitely knew what you’d been lost in thought about (do you know how much Sunghoon stares at you nowadays? I think he hates me).

“Heeseung said he’s meeting Jay and Jake at the studio,” Sunghoon filled you in, much more helpful. “So we can go home, or if you want we can walk around some more.” He sounded expectant, like he was hoping you’d agree to the latter. You did.

——————————

Once you saw Heeseung off at the bus stop, Sunghoon brought you to a run-down building four streets away from the ramen bar. In the hip, fashionable district of the city, amidst the trendy shops and cafés, the mould and peeling paint and water damage of the building made it stick out like a blister. 

You looked at the building, and then at him, and then back at the building. “Is this an assassination attempt?” you asked.

“Trust me,” he said, pushing the rusty steel door open with his foot.

“That’s not an answer. And your refusal to touch the door with your hands doesn’t exactly inspire trust,” you laughed, but you followed him with no hesitation.

It felt almost like when you used to go exploring the outskirts of your hometown by yourselves, far too late at night for kids your age. But this time, you didn’t have any snacks with you, nor games to keep yourselves occupied.

Sunghoon made a face at you and ushered you inside. “Shut up. I’m the city native here.”

“You’ve only been here a year longer than me,” you pointed out, looking around. The building wasn’t so much a building as it was a stairwell. Stuffy, dark, and dingy, it made you feel suffocated. “I’m going to die here,” you declared, sighing in resignation.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. It’s not even that bad.”

As if on cue, the door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the tight space. What little light that had been coming in from the street lamps outside disappeared, except for a sliver of amber forcing its way through a gap in the door frame. He cursed under his breath.

“Hoon,” you called, desperately trying to spot him in the darkness, the rising panic clear in your words. “I swear, if I die tonight I’ll never stop haunting you.”

His reply came immediately, calm and measured, reassuring. “I’m right here. Give me your hand.”

You turned around at the sound of his voice and reached out blindly in front of you, hitting his shoulder. He found your hand and took it in his, the feeling of his palm against yours somehow soothing and stressful at the same time.

“You’re still scared of the dark?” he asked, joking, trying to ease your fear.

He used to scold you all the time for always sleeping with your light on, but no matter how many articles he sent you about why sleeping in the dark was important for healthy melatonin production, you never listened. Whenever he slept over in your room, he used an eye mask.

“Shut up, please.” Your voice was quiet and unconvincing; actually, you wanted nothing more than for him to keep talking. You couldn’t see anything, and all you had to ground you was his voice and his hand in yours. 

He squeezed your hand, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it would be this dark. It’s worth it, I promise.”

He led you up three flights of stairs by the hand and walked face first into what you assumed to be a locked door. “Ow. Motherfucker.”

You cackled at that.

The room (if you could call it that, since it was barely bigger than a cupboard) was lit with a single filament light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Aside from a couple of cardboard boxes, some pillows, and a bean bag, it was empty.

“That’s your old bean bag. The one you had in your room,” you said, recognising the green fabric immediately. You tensed when he brushed past you to shut the door to the room (supply cupboard?), but you tried your best to ignore it.

“Yeah, I brought it with me. I get homesick sometimes, so it helps,” he told you, sitting down on the small pile of pillows. You took the bean bag.

“It smells worse than I remembered,” you said, patting it. He pushed you in retaliation, laughing at you when you lost your balance.

“I have snacks and drinks in this box, and comics and books in that one,” he explained. “I wanted to get a mini-fridge in here but there isn’t an outlet.”

This was exactly how you used to spend your weekends when you didn’t have to study: snacks, drinks, and reading. Except now he handed you a can of hard seltzer instead of his yoghurt drinks of yore. 

“Is this legal? Does the building owner know you’re here?” you asked, somewhat sceptical. But you opened the can anyway and took a sip. It was warm, but not unpleasant.

“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen.”

“You just jaywalked about ten minutes ago.”

“I’m generally a law abiding citizen.” He dug around in the box some more and produced a can of sangria (you despised sangria), gesturing to the room. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right?”

“Very,” you nodded, making yourself comfortable in the bean bag. You felt like you were in high school again, although you didn’t recall your spine hurting nearly as much then. Perhaps you were getting old. You needed proper back support now.

He kicked off his shoes. “Fuck off,” he laughed.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” you yelled, before you noticed- “My red shrimp socks!”

“Oh, right.” He glanced down at his feet and started casually taking the socks off. “Do you want them back?”

You gagged. “Not right now, dumbo!”

He used to be able to detect your sarcasm perfectly, always reading your tone with no margin of error, although it was probably unfair to expect him to still be able to after so many years.

“Come home with me,” Sunghoon said suddenly, still looking at his (your) socks. You looked at him, puzzled. “After the semester ends. We should go visit our families,” he added.

You thought for a minute and agreed. “I think my dad misses you.”

“My parents miss you too.” He leant back against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and rested his head on your shoulder, declaring, “I’m tired.”

The room was so dark and small and quiet. His black hair tickled your neck, even though you could tell he was trying not to move around too much. You prayed he couldn’t hear how fast your heart rate had become. He’d always been a sleepy drinker, and you’d all been drinking pretty liberally during dinner earlier.

You tried to relax, as much as you could with his body pressed against yours, and closed your eyes too. So you didn’t see him reach for your hand until you felt his touch directly. He took your hand and pulled it into his lap, interlocking his fingers with yours and fiddling with your silver bracelet. You froze, your breathing shallow and your muscles tense.

“This is from that old charity shop behind the fruit store,” he mumbled, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. You could feel the vibrations of his throat against your shoulder as he spoke. “I bought it for you.”

“Hoon,” you said softly, your eyes now wide open. He hummed in response, still playing with your hand. “What are you doing?”

His reply was a non-answer. “I miss home.”

Tentatively, you lifted your hand to his head, stroking his hair in what you hoped would be a comforting gesture. He stayed quiet. His closeness was simultaneously the most nerve-wracking and most comforting thing. In all your life, you couldn’t ever recall sitting like this with him.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk?” you asked, pulling your hand away, worried now.

He grabbed it and returned it to his hair, moving even closer to you. “That feels nice,” he sighed. His breath was warm against your neck, while the tip of his nose was cold. It made you shiver. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been home in a while.”

You felt terrible for never really having thought about what his two years in military school, being ripped away from his family at such short notice, must’ve been like. As far as you were aware he didn’t get to visit his family until he graduated, and you only knew that because you spent your own high school graduation period locked up in your house to avoid running into him.

Against your best efforts, the guilt came rushing back. You closed your eyes again and continued playing with Sunghoon’s hair, just how he liked it.

——————————

Two weeks later, you still didn’t know what to make of that night. You told Heeseung everything and asked him if you were going insane.

“Do you like him?” Heeseung asked as you two got ready to leave the house. You were going out to get drinks with the others.

“I don’t know,” you groaned, yanking the windows shut much harder than you had intended. He jumped at the sound, and you winced. “Sorry. I hate this, man.”

“Do you want my opinion?” he asked.

“It depends on what it is.”

He snorted. “I think you do like him and you don’t want to admit it. Why is that?”

You rushed to put on your shoes as he waited for you. “I just- what if this fucks up our friendship a second time? There’s too much history between us, right?”

“Well, your heart doesn’t seem to think so,” he said, opening the front door. The neighbouring front door opened too, at the exact same time, and out stepped Sunghoon. He broke into a wide smile the second he saw you.

Heeseung lowered his head and said quietly, “Clearly, he doesn’t think so, either.”

——————————

You were far too nervous to drink even after the forty minute journey to the bar. Heeseung’s words hadn’t left your head for even a second, and he could definitely tell from the way he kept grinning at you.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Heeseung asked for the third time, offering you his glass. You had the same taste in drinks, so you usually shared.

“I don’t feel like drinking tonight,” you said, again for the third time.

“Guess who else isn’t drinking tonight,” he teased, way too loud, nodding to Sunghoon and his glass of water. That didn’t even make sense.

“Shut up,” you hissed. Heeseung giggled, already tipsy, and leaned on you. Sunghoon caught your eye from across the table and smiled. If he’d heard what the other man said, he showed no indication of it. You smiled back.

Jake returned to the table, tapping Heeseung on the shoulder.

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s your turn,” Jake sighed, exasperated, collapsing into his seat. He’d been on wingman duty for Jay, and (apparently, because you’d never been unlucky enough to witness it yourself) Jay was a terrible flirt.

Heeseung picked up his glass, downed what was left in it in one gulp, and set it back down on the table with a loud thump. “Alright, here I go,” he declared. You watched him carefully as he walked over to the bar, but he didn’t seem too drunk yet. He’d be fine.

At the booth behind where Jay was, however, you saw someone else who made your blood run cold.

“Hoon, don’t turn around, but Jeongmin is here,” you began. Jeongmin was staring intensely at you. Sunghoon sat up straight in alarm. Maybe you looked familiar to him and he was trying to place you. 

Jake, ever the quick thinker, said, “You guys should leave. I’ll stay and let Jay and Hee know what happened.” Sunghoon was still frozen.

“Thanks, Jake. Pass these to Heeseung for me.” You fished your keys (Heeseung hadn’t brought his own) out of your pocket to toss them to Jake, grabbed Sunghoon by the arm, and dragged him out of the bar.

“Aren’t you sober? Why don’t your legs work?” you grunted, trying to shake him to attention and pull him down the street at the same time. A passing car revving its engine snapped him out of it, whatever it was.

“Fuck, yeah. Sorry,” Sunghoon mumbled. Before you could even ask him if he was okay, what you’d been trying so hard to avoid happened.

“Park Sunghoon.”

You could pick out Jeongmin’s voice anywhere. It was low, rough, and sharp. He somehow looked identical to how he looked back in high school, if only slightly thinner and more tired.

“You. You called the cops on us that night,” Jeongmin hissed. jabbing an accusatory finger at Sunghoon.

“I didn’t,” Sunghoon stated calmly, but you could tell he was on edge. He subtly pushed you behind him.

“Yeah, right. On the one night we get busted the new kid just happens to not show up,” Jeongmin scoffed, taking a step towards you. 

Sunghoon held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I didn’t call the cops on you.”

Jeongmin squared his shoulders and punched him hard in the jaw without warning. The silver ring he was wearing drew a deep red gash across Sunghoon’s cheek.

As if on auto-pilot, like it was second nature to him, Sunghoon immediately returned the blow with a punch of his own before you even had the time to think. You gasped, Jeongmin’s nose cracked, and Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction to kick him hard in the knee, knocking him to the ground.

Then he grabbed your hand and ran.

——————————

The walk back to the dorm was silent. Sunghoon’s lips were pressed tightly together, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched like he was trying not to cry. You remembered the days when you, not him, were usually the one who needed comforting.

It reassured you to some degree, though, that he wouldn’t hide his sadness from you like he used to. You reached for his hand the second you were out of Jeongmin’s line of sight and threaded your fingers between his. His knuckles were bruised.

Wordlessly, he handed you his keys and you unlocked his front door.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” you asked.

“Under the kitchen sink,” he said flatly, sitting down on the sofa.

You pulled it out from the back corner of the kitchen cabinet with great difficulty, joined him on the sofa, and started cleaning the cut on his jaw. He winced when the alcohol swab made contact with his skin.

“Sorry. I’m almost done,” you promised, tossing the swab aside and covering the cut up. It took all of twenty seconds. “Do you want to talk?”

Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his head. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I thought I was past that behaviour. I don’t-”

He stopped talking. You put your hand over his and waited. His bottom lip started to quiver as he held back tears.

“I don’t want to be that person again,” he sobbed, and the sound broke your heart.

Through the school grapevine you heard about fights with kids of neighbouring schools, breaking and entering, the like. But even now, so many years later, you didn’t fully know what he did with Jeongmin and his gang. You never asked, and he never volunteered that information.

He was crying. “I let my parents down. Every time I see them I just remember how angry they were at me. I’m a terrible son. Nothing I do will ever be able to erase that I humiliated them, I failed them, I brought shame to the whole family, I-”

You pulled him into a hug, feeling how his body trembled as he fought to speak.

“You’re not a terrible son, Hoon,” you whispered, as he sobbed into your hair.

He shook his head and pushed you away. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I think I broke his nose,” he repeated, almost frantic in his insistence. It wasn’t a state you’d seen him in before.

“But he hit you first,” you noted.

Finally, at your childish response, he cracked a small smile. “Weren’t you always the one who said violence was never the answer?” he laughed. His eyes were still glistening with tears, but at least he’d calmed down.

“Usually it isn’t, but I don’t subscribe to universal codes of human conduct anymore,” you told him. “Do you?”

He paused for a bit, staring at you, unable to find the words to reply. You smiled, swiped the tears on his cheeks away with a gentle hand, and got up to put away the first aid kit. It was late, and you were both tired.

“I love you,” Sunghoon said over his shoulder, his voice still thick with emotion. He said that often nowadays, although it wasn’t something he did previously. Neither of you ever felt the need to declare that when you were younger; it was a given.

“I love you too, Hoon,” you replied, still busy trying to make room in the cluttered space under his kitchen sink for the kit.

All the traces of his crying vanished when he next spoke. “No, I’m in love with you.”

You dropped the package of sponges in your hands. Your mind went blank.

There was something about the phrase ‘in love’ that you had never really understood. It implied love was all consuming, like a physical swallowing whole of your being. You felt love for others, but you’d never felt it so much that you were in the state of love.

Until you heard it from him. And then you realised you were already there.

“Say something. Please,” he begged, panicked by your silence.

“Hoon-”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, cutting you off, leaning back against the sofa with a hand over his eyes.

Sunghoon was not an interrupter. In all the years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever interrupted you was during your big final fight in your bedroom, when you’d snitched on him.

You left the first aid kit on the floor and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. You tapped the back of his hand to get him to look at you. Reluctantly, he did, but only through the gaps between his fingers.

“I’m in love with you too,” you admitted.

He was speechless at hearing his words echoed back to him, frozen for a good ten seconds before his gaze flickered down to your lips.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, and he kissed you. He placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer while his other hand, bruised knuckles and all, grabbed one of your own. He laced your fingers together tightly, like he never wanted to let you go.

Your free hand ghosted over the line of his jaw, past the bandage you’d just put on his face and down his neck to his chest, warm and solid. He shivered under your touch.

“I love you, Hoon,” you breathed when you separated.

He gave you one last quick kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he whispered giddily, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

For the first few weeks after you reconnected, both of you had tried to return to what you once were. But it quickly became clear that that was never going to happen. Even after you had paved over the road, underneath the new asphalt the old potholes were still there, and nothing you did would ever fully correct them.

You had to look forward. Sunghoon was never going to be your best friend again, not like before. You would never get back your old relationship, full of childlike innocence and void of conflict. But that was okay. You were here, and he was here, and that was enough.

“Then I’ll keep saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated, leaning into his side and laying your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too. So much,” he said, putting his arm around you and letting you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “You have no idea.”

He was tired of running and hiding from who he used to be, and going on the defensive and lashing out every time he was confronted with his past. He was done torturing his sixteen-year-old self.

You and him had something new. It wasn’t better, it wasn’t more. It was just different. You had your whole lives in front of you — an endless stretch of even, untouched, fresh road — waiting for you, and it would be stupid to focus on what lay behind you. You still had so much left to explore together.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Grays II

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays - Part I | Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, matchmaking elements, meddlesome mother, lots of teasing, not-quite-friends to lovers dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, oral sex (F and M receiving), protected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 8.5k

Notes: It's here - 4 months later! First of all, thank you so much for the love for Grays Part I. I still can't quite believe the reaction to Frankie and Shiv, you guys sure know how to make a writer feel special 🥰 This one was so much fun to write, and nervous as I am posting this follow-up, I'm telling myself to let go of my insecurities and just enjoy it because that's what it's all about. I hope y'all will have a good time at this wedding with the gang 😘

Francisco Morales likes to think of himself as a reasonably competent man. 

He can pilot a helicopter under intense enemy fire. He can take out a target from miles away in the tightest of spots. 

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

He glares at himself in the mirror. He can’t put his finger on it, it just doesn’t look like how you did it. He’s already washed it out and started over twice, and for a second, he considers driving to your salon. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s far too late for that now.

Leaning over the sink, he says to his reflection, ‘Focus, pendejo. You can do it.’

He’s a pilot for fuck’s sake. He’s a man of procedure, he can follow steps. He just needs to break it down.

Hair half-dry - check.

Hair mousse applied - check.

Now he just needs to dry his hair all the way and style it - but the how is where it gets hazy. 

Frankie closes his eyes and casts his mind back to your salon. He’s sitting in the chair and you’re standing behind him. He wills himself to recall what you were doing with your hands, but all he remembers is the scrape of your of your fingertips on his scalp, the ghost of your breath on the back of his neck, and then -

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

He scrubs a frustrated palm down his face when his cock twitches in his haphazardly ironed dress pants, not for the first time… hell, not even the fourth time since he left your salon on Wednesday afternoon.

‘Goddamnit,’ he bites out, dropping the hairdryer with a clunk and grips the porcelain sink. He needs to calm the fuck down. 

He didn’t ask for - this, whatever this is. You’re you. You’re Shiv. The loudmouth with the wild hair he’s known since fifth grade. The fourth wheel at guys’ drinks when Will can’t make it. A relentless tease on a good day, and downright insufferable when you get enough tequila in you.

And quite possibly, the only person who’s ever driven him to the brink of unconsciousness with just the touch of their bare hands.

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe you’re right. It has been a while since he’s been with a woman. He just needs to get laid at the wedding, get this weird tension out of his system. And then hopefully, he’ll be able to go to sleep without being kept up by you telling him to go harder, deeper -

By the time he gets his head out of his ass, it’s too late for second-guessing. He rakes his fingers through his hair, sets it with hairspray, and quickly rubs the beard oil he bought in town yesterday into his whiskers. He takes a moment to look himself over while he clumsily does up the tie he borrowed from Pope.

This is as good as it’s gonna get.

He’s the designated driver tonight. By some miracle, he’s only five minutes late when he cruises into Pope’s driveway, where all three of the boys are waiting and sipping on beers.

‘Damn Fish, you look good,’ crows Santi as he climbs into the passenger seat, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You should get your hair cut at Shiv’s from now on.’

‘Only if you keep paying for it,’ retorts Frankie while he backs out of the driveway. He pauses as he changes gears, and adds in a grumble. ‘She’s making me use shampoo and conditioner.’

Pope barks in laughter, twisting in his seat to give Benny a knowing grin. ‘Someone had to, you caveman.’

The younger Miller brother ribs good-naturedly, ‘You ready for some action tonight, Fish? I brought some extra rubbers just in case.’

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’ 

The car erupts with playful jeers, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile as he palms the steering wheel.

‘That’s some fighting talk, Fish!’ goads Santi, punching him on the arm.

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Benny grins. ‘Ok, I see how it is. Let’s make it interesting, Fish. Whoever picks up a one night stand first wins a hundred bucks.’

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

Benny chuckles and clasps his shoulder. ‘You’re on, man.’

It’s eight on the dot when you lock up the salon. While you did RSVP for wedding drinks - opting out of the sit-down dinner earlier in the evening - you hadn’t planned on actually going. But it seems like the whole town did, you’ve barely had two customers walk through the door all afternoon. 

So you let Ashton go home early, and after a quick snack, you take your time getting ready. Might as well have a Saturday night out - your first in many months.

The hotel is just a short Uber ride away. When you climb out of the car, you bite your bottom lip at the unfamiliar tension humming under your skin.

Nerves.

You’re nervous.

And worse, you know exactly what you’re nervous about. 

Or more precisely - who.

‘Pull it together, Shiv,’ you mutter under your breath. Steeling yourself, you stride into the hotel.

From his vantage point at the bar, Benny watches in amusement as Frankie glances towards the doors of the reception hall yet again. He doubts the pilot even knows he’s doing it, or at the very least, he doesn’t think that anyone would notice.

Grabbing his beer, Benny sidles up to his friend. ‘Looking for something, Fish?’

Frankie takes a sip of his Coke and feigns nonchalance. ‘Yeah, looking to win that hundred bucks from you.’

‘Dunno ‘bout that. I don’t see you trying very hard.’

‘Biding my time, Miller. Just make sure you have enough cash to -’ 

When Frankie breaks off in the middle of his sentence, Benny doesn’t need to look to wager a guess what caught his attention.

Turning around as you approach, he flings his arms out to give you a hug, eyeing you up and down appreciatively. ‘Babe, look at you all dressed up! Doesn’t she look nice, Fish?’

In lieu of an answer, Frankie stares intently at some invisible spot over your shoulder until Benny elbows him right in his stomach, jerking him out of his trance. ‘Fish?’

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t know if I look nice?’

Benny has to stopper his mouth with beer so he doesn’t laugh out loud at the panic on Frankie’s face as he fumbles for a response. ‘I mean. Um, nice… pants?’

‘It’s a jumpsuit, Morales. Try to keep up,’ you reply and take two steps towards him, which has him backpedalling so fast that he upsets the table behind him, sending half-empty glasses spilling wine all over the white tablecloth.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he growls at you like a cornered stray.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull him upright by his tie. ‘Is he ok, Ben? He’s even jumpier than usual.’

‘Well, it’s a funny night for him. Watching his ex get married and all.’

‘I swear to God, Benjamin Miller, if you don’t shut the fuck up -’ 

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Smoothing the lapels of his slightly crumpled suit jacket, you probe, ‘You’ve been using shampoo and conditioner like I asked?’

Frankie huffs a dry laugh. ‘I don’t remember you asking.’

‘Someone’s mouthy tonight,’ you tease. ‘And the beard oil?’

He concedes with a sigh. ‘Yes, Shiv.’

‘You look good, Francisco,’ you grin and reach up to push his curls back from his eyes.

He looks away as he admits, ‘Took three fucking tries.’

At least he holds still when you make small adjustments to his hair, shoulders stiff with hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You catch yourself missing the way he leaned into your touch in your salon, and you have to forcefully push that thought away as you push your fingers through the roots to boost the volume. His curls feel softer already than you remember them, with a noticeably healthier sheen. 

After a final rustle to loosen up his fringe, you wink at him. ‘Mark my words, the bride will rue the day she dumped your ass when she sees you.’

A voice from behind you interrupts. ‘It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?’

Trading a look with Frankie, who gives you a sarcastic thumbs up, you put on a smile and turn on your heels. ‘Mrs. Morales, it’s been too long!’

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

Frankie’s taunt is so quiet that you nearly miss it. ‘Told you she’d come after you.’

Without skipping a beat, you elbow him in the ribs, ignoring his pained oomph from behind you. ‘You look wonderful tonight, ma’am.’ 

‘You can’t sweet talk your way out of my question, young lady.’

You cross your arms with a sigh. ‘I didn’t dye it because he looks good with the grays.’ 

‘Well, I don’t think so.’

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

Frankie throws his hands up in exasperation. ‘Gee, thanks a lot ma.’

You turn to Benny, who has been silently watching you two spar. ‘What do you think, Miller?’

He dithers, eyes darting around in desperation until he spots Santi and his older brother coming back from the bar. ‘Look! Here are the guys, let’s ask them!’

‘Ask us what?’ asks Santi, giving you a kiss on the cheek and a glass of bubbly.

‘Do you think my son looks good with the grays?’

Your eyebrow twitches when Mrs. Morales carelessly ruffles his hair to emphasise her point. To your surprise, Frankie bats her away with an irritated ma!, before hastily rearranging it.

‘Your honest opinion, if you please,’ you add.

The boys hum and haw, sipping their beers and shooting uncertain looks between you and Mrs. Morales, clearly uncomfortable being caught in the middle. Upping the heat, you narrow your eyes at them, and Will folds first. 

‘Yeah, I mean - he looks good,’ he mumbles, avoiding the Morales matriarch's glare.

‘Pope?’ you prompt.

‘Cabrón rocking those grays,’ he nods supportively.

‘Ben?’

‘Uh huh,’ he replies vaguely, but at your menacing glare, clarifies, ‘Yes, I meant - yes, ma’am.’

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Ah, that’s the easy part. You look around, scanning the crowds - and bingo, you see a brunette staring openly from across the dance floor. You hold up a finger for dramatic effect. ‘Excuse me for one second.’

Frankie looks ready for the earth to swallow him whole by the time you return with the said woman in tow. Pointing straight at him, you ask, ‘Lucy, this is Frankie. Do you think he’s hot with the grays?’

To her credit, she’s a good sport, and plays along with a cheeky wink. ‘Yeah, he is. You wanna dance, handsome?’

‘Yes, he absolutely does!’ you answer quickly before he can get a word in.

‘What the fuck, Shiv?’ Frankie seethes through clenched teeth, literally digging his heels in, but to his despair, his shoes skid uselessly on the tiled surface as you push him towards the dancefloor with this complete stranger. 

Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

‘Have fun, Fish!’ calls out Pope impishly, which earns him an emphatic middle finger. 

You beam at Mrs. Morales smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done.’

‘You better keep it up, young lady,’ she says over her shoulder as she turns to leave.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

Santi is minding his own business, sipping on his beer as he stakes out the ladies, when a hand shoots out from nowhere and snatches the bottle from him.

‘What the fuck, man?!’ he bristles indignantly.

Frankie polishes off the drink in one mouthful, before slamming it onto the table and demanding, ‘Where’s Shiv? I’m done. I’m not fucking dancing with anyone else.’

Pope jerks his thumb to the other side of the room. ‘She’s arguing with your mother.’

Frankie flops into a chair, the dress shoes that he never wears are pinching his feet and he fights the urge to kick them off. He folds his arms across his chest petulantly, one palm over his mouth as his eyes wander across the hall to you, where you’re gesturing madly at his ma, embroiled in an impassioned discussion, probably still about his damn hair.

You’re all dressed up tonight, which is new to him - he’s only ever seen you in jeans when you go out drinking with them, and he’s certainly never seen so much of you. The ‘jumpsuit’ (he learns something new every day) is black and cut low both front and back, and fuck, all he sees is soft skin and the dip of your curves and red lipstick -

Pope must have nipped to the bar while he wasn’t looking, and a fresh bottle of beer appears under his nose. Glancing up at his best friend, Frankie mutters, ‘Thanks.’

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

He chokes violently at the casual non-sequitur, spraying beer everywhere. ‘What the fuck, Pope.’

Santi beams. ‘You got that look on your face, man. I’ve seen that look before.’

‘I don’t have a look on my face.’

He chuckles, mostly to himself. 'Damn, I really should've seen this coming.'

‘What are you even on about -’ Looking up, Frankie spots you making your way over and panics. ‘Shut the fuck up, pendejo.’

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

Santi chortles and takes his leave, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, Fish.’

You sink into the empty seat next to him and he deliberately twists his body away from you, drinking deeply from his bottle to drown out Santi’s words ringing in his ears. 

‘So, I heard you have a bet going on with Benny. I want splitsies if you win.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, staring resolutely anywhere but at the swell of your cleavage. ‘No.’

‘40/60.’

‘Fuck off, Shiv.’

‘30/70?’ you counter-offer.

He sighs. ‘You’re impossible.’

Ignoring him, you jump up with a happy squeak when someone Frankie vaguely recognises as a girl who used to be in your class approaches with a shy smile. You pull her close by the crook of her arm and ask, ‘Morales, you remember Sadie?’

He tries not to scowl too openly as he too gets on his feet. ‘Sure, hi Sadie.’

Herding them towards the dancefloor, you grin, ‘Go dance, get reacquainted.’

As he passes by you, Frankie grits his teeth and curls his fingers into the meat of his palms to crush the urge to reach out and touch you. 

But it’s easier to fall into your well-rehearsed roles, to toe the line that has been drawn in the sand since you were teenagers. And easier is certainly the safer option when it comes to you.

So he throws you a deliberate glare over his shoulder, with a deadpanned, ‘I hate you.’

You blow him a kiss and grin wider.

Frankie can’t hold back a relieved sigh when the interminably long song finally ends, and the woman he’s dancing with - he won’t even pretend he remembers her name - tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket after tapping in her number. ‘Call me, gorgeous.’

He stopped counting after the eighth woman you shepherded his way. This is it. He’s not above hiding in the toilets if that’s what it takes to make this stop.

Except he’s not quick enough. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, marching straight towards him with a fresh glass of water and a look of purpose on your face.

He doesn’t exactly know what came over him. He could probably blame it on the one and a half beers that he downed, or being pushed to the end of his tether. Whatever it is, there’s something he has to say to you, and it can’t wait.

You push the glass into his grasp. ‘Here, hydrate.’

‘Shiv -’

You’ve already swivelled around, your focus somewhere else. ‘Where is she? She was literally just behind me -’

‘Shiv -’

‘Mind you, she’s a sweet girl, but clearly not the brightest tool in the -’

His patience snaps, and he barks, ‘Shiv!’

You spin around, brow furrowed in confusion, and snarl back, ‘What?’

Frankie pauses, and you blink as his warm eyes hold yours. On an exhale, he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’

You’re vaguely aware that your jaw has gone slack, but only because his eyes follow the movement, dropping to your mouth. He considers you for a moment, head tipping just slightly to the side as he watches you. Then, satisfied that he has your attention, he brings the glass of water to his lips, throwing his head back as he drinks. 

Your breath catches in your throat when his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow, before he leisurely swipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

In a perfectly mirrored imitation of what transpired between you earlier in the evening, he takes two measured steps forward, prompting you to back up against the table behind you. The tinkle of glasses falling over hardly registers in the back of your mind. 

The fabric of his suit is cool on your skin, brushing your bare arm as he looms over you, so broad and warm. Though his front barely makes contact, your peripheral vision gives and all you can see is him.

‘What are you doing?’ you croak the same words back at him, hating the way your voice shakes.

Frankie smiles - really smiles at you, with no colour of the usual irony or sarcasm. Warmth settles into the creases in the corners of his eyes as he holds up the empty glass. ‘Just putting my glass away,’ he says coolly, an edge of cockiness at your tragically obvious reaction to him.

You feel your cheeks heat up as he does just that - the back of his hand bumping into your forearm as he moves, the breadth of him pinning you against the table. He doesn’t pull away, clearly basking in the way the tables have well and truly turned -

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

Frankie squeezes his eyes shut in irritation at the voice behind him, nostrils flaring as he collects himself. A resigned smile tugs at his lips, and he tips forward, his words grazing your ear. ‘Catch you later, Shiv.’

You only let your knees buckle when he’s safely out of sight.

You’ve barely stepped back into the reception hall from a much needed bathroom break to clear your head when someone grabs you by the arm, tugging you onto the dancefloor.

‘Benny!’ You reprimand, stumbling over your feet. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Relax, Shiv. Frankie can survive on his own for a second.’

‘You’re just jealous that he’s hogging all the ladies’ attention.’

He scoffs, palms on your waist as he sways to the music. ‘He has an unfair advantage, ok? How do I compete with the bride’s ex?’

Clasping your hands around Benny’s neck, you catch Frankie’s eye over his shoulder. You wink at him casually, having somewhat recovered your bravado - it’s easier to pretend from a distance anyway. He rolls his eyes at you over Jan’s head, but he doesn’t look away, watching you with a hint of something you can’t quite make out.

Glancing up at Benny, you ask a tad bashfully, ‘I know we give Frankie a hard time about all this, but is he - ok?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

You hesitate. ‘Well, we’re not exactly that kind of friends.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the kind who sit around having heart-to-hearts and painting their nails.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of friends are you, then?’ 

‘I don’t know, he probably doesn’t even count me as one,’ you admit. ‘He barely tolerates me on a good day.’

Benny shoots you a cryptic look, but before you can quiz him on it, he changes the subject abruptly. ‘Can I swing by the salon tomorrow morning? I have a promotional shoot at half past eleven.’

‘As long as you bring donuts and coffee.’

He twirls you around. ‘Deal.’

Frankie slinks out of the hotel, somehow managing to dodge both you and his mother on his way out, which he takes as a win.

It’s cold outside. He inhales deeply and feels it burn down his throat. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watches his breath mist in front of his face, savouring the quiet.

‘Hey.’

His shoulders stiffen. He knows he should’ve been the bigger man. Should’ve sought her out first, to congratulate her.

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.

When he turns around eventually, she smiles brightly at him, her engagement ring catching the lights.

Closing the space between them, he presses a kiss to her cheek. ‘Congratulations. You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she replies. ‘I’m glad you came. Your mum too - it was a long way to travel.’

His gaze falls to his shoes. ‘Yeah, well. You know she loves you.’

‘How are you?’ she presses on, always one for polite conversation. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

Frankie shrugs but doesn’t answer.

‘Just because it didn’t work between us doesn’t mean I want you to be happy.’

He nods slowly. ‘I appreciate that.’

She points behind her. ‘Well, I should go back inside.’

‘Of course. I’m happy for you,’ he says. And he means it.

The hotel doors swing open, and Frankie looks up at the sharp clack of heels on the concrete. You pause at the sight of them by the curb.

‘Are you leaving, Shiv?’ the bride laments as you walk over to give her a hug.

‘I am, I’m afraid, gotta open up shop early tomorrow,’ you pull back. ‘Come by the salon any time, my treat.’

Once the bride is out of earshot, you turn to Frankie, hands on hips. ‘Alright, no more shirking, Morales. Get your ass back in there, your mother is on my case again.’

He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Oh no, I’m not going back in there without you.’

You sigh dramatically. ‘Am I the only one in this town who’s not scared of your mother?’

‘You should be,’ he snorts, then nods towards the parking lot. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

Taken aback by his offer, you hesitate. ‘Um - I thought you were the designated driver for the guys tonight.’

He brushes off your concerns with an easy shrug. ‘I’ll come back to get them after I drop you off.’ 

Typical Frankie - he walks off without even glancing back to see if you’re coming with him.

You smile to yourself and follow.

You must be drunker than you realised, because you’re staring. Again. For what must be the fifth time in the ten-minute drive.

It’s a lot of staring, even for you.

His jacket lies abandoned in the backseat, his tie jostled loose and the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, sleeves bunched up to his elbows. You watch from the corner of your eye as his left hand grips the top of the steering wheel steady, fingers flexing every now and then on straight stretches of road.

As if you’re not already discreetly squeezing your thighs together, he’s also rubbing his right palm idly on his leg, the innocent rustle of fabric against skin getting you far too hot and bothered under the metaphorical collar. 

And then - your eyes trail higher - settling on the heavy bulge at the top of his spread thighs.

Fuck. You’re definitely drunk.

You mull silently to yourself that you actually prefer him in his beat-up jeans and threadbare t-shirts before catching yourself. You weren’t aware you had any preferences when it comes to Frankie Morales. And you have no business doing so.

Clearing your throat, you break the tense silence. Well, tense for you, anyway. He seems completely oblivious to your inner strife.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t win the bet.’

His lips quirk, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

‘I had another five girls lined up for you, you know.’

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

You reach over to punch him on the arm playfully. ‘C’mon, you know you enjoyed the attention, Morales.’

‘You don’t know me very well, do you?’ he peers at you.

You make a face of disbelief. ‘If you hated it that much, why did you go along with it?’

Cruising into your street, his truck rolls to a smooth stop outside your salon. Frankie kills the ignition, then turns towards you. His answer is simple, and hits you right between the ribs. 

‘Because you wanted me to.’

You force a chuckle in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Since when did you care about what I wanted?’

He smooths his palm over the steering wheel and holds your gaze. ‘Sometime when I wasn’t looking.’

It would be simpler to pretend you didn’t understand what he means. To brush off this pull between you as a champagne-induced episode that you could sleep off. If you did, you could still show up at Tuesday nights drinks next week as if nothing has changed, and carry on.

It would be simpler. So you ask -

‘Do you want to come in for a nightcap?’

Frankie follows two steps behind you as you grapple with the keys on the doorstep. Once inside, the salon is quiet, and you strategically turn on the lights by the backwash, the semi-darkness making it more homey than it would have been if fully lit up. 

‘I would invite you upstairs -’ you pause and add hastily, ‘I don’t mean upstairs like, upstairs in that way - it’s just that my apartment is tiny, and the backwash is the closest thing I have to a couch. Are you okay with beer?’

‘Beer’s good, thanks,’ he answers. ‘Need a hand?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Oh god, please no - it’s a disaster upstairs. I’ll be right back.’

The rickety stairs creak loudly under your heels, and once you let yourself into your studio, you fall back heavily on the door, taking a second to catch your breath.

You invited him inside. 

He said yes.

You leap into action, shoving all your dirty laundry into the already full hamper. You try not to think too hard about why you’re cleaning up, you just hope you’re not making too much of a ruckus while you’re at it - because you have a boy waiting for you downstairs. 

Francisco Morales, of all people.

Despite having been in each other’s lives since high school, you’re pretty sure you’ve never been alone with him. Not even once. There’s always a buffer with Pope on his side, Benny on yours, and Will in the middle. And while some find Frankie hard to read, you’ve always known exactly how to act around him. You have an unwritten playbook - you bait him with cheap jokes, more often than not joining forces with Benny to gang up on him. He rolls his eyes and snaps at you to shut up. It’s the longest running show in town.

But this? Alone, after his ex’s wedding, in your salon? You’re going off-script and off-piste. Dangerous enough on a good day; outright stupid after a night of drinking.

Frankie is quick to help when you reappear, armed with beer and a bag of ice, using the backwash sink as a makeshift cooler. Your shoes clatter onto the floor as you settle in the chair next to his. Hugging your knees, you hold out your bottle, which he clinks with his.

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ you ask, rather mundanely.

‘As much fun as one is expected to have at an ex’s wedding,’ he answers with a sardonic smile. Taking a sip of beer, he adds, ‘Gotta admit, you winding up my ma pretty much made up for it.’

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

You startle when Frankie chokes on his beer, his eyes visibly watering as he thumps a fist on his chest. When you ask if he’s ok, he won’t meet your gaze, downing more of his beer.

Not thinking anything of it, you move on. ‘You know, she sent a bunch of customers my way when I first opened up the salon.’

His voice is still a bit tight from his coughing fit. ‘And I’m sure she’ll deny it till the day she dies.’

‘I can’t figure her out,’ you admit. ‘I can’t decide if she hates me or not.’

‘She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t understand you.’

You hum, unconvinced.

He nudges your knee with his. ‘She was really proud of you when you opened the salon, you know.’

You toss him a sidelong glance. ‘You talk to your mum about me?’

He’s ambiguous in his answer. ‘She asks after you sometimes.’

‘And how would you have anything to say to her? We’re not exactly bosom buddies.’

Frankie concedes with a wry smile, ‘Benny talks.’

‘Ha!’ you laugh, echoing his words from a few days ago back at him. ‘Benjamin fucking Miller.’

He goes quiet for a second, looking around your salon as if taking stock. ‘It’s pretty amazing that you’ve built all this.’

The unexpected compliment catches you blindsided. You reply diplomatically, ‘Ashton helps me loads.’

Frankie’s eyes widen in feigned surprise. ‘Are you going humble on me now? What have you done to Shiv?’

‘Shut up,’ you grumble good-naturedly, adding, ‘Ben tells me you’re doing really well yourself.’

‘Yeah. I got promoted at work last month, and I’m saving up for a house,’ he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘Things are looking up.’

‘You’re actually acknowledging your achievements?’ you gasp in mock outrage. ‘What have you done to Francisco Morales?’

With a shrug, he leans forward to put his empty beer bottle in the sink, but he doesn’t sit back. Instead, he sways even closer, one palm landing on the leather of your seat next to your knee, eyes darting to your lips. His voice is deep as he rasps, ‘Can I kiss you?’

It would be so easy to say yes, but when have you ever made things easy for yourself? 

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

Frankie looks amused, like he expected this from you. Slowly, not wanting to spook you, he gently plucks the beer that you’ve barely drunk from your grasp.

‘Because all fucking night, while you were throwing woman after woman at me, I just wanted to have a drink with you.’

He leans in close. 

You stop breathing.

‘Because since Wednesday, every time I wash my hair, I get hard thinking of you touching me.’

Closer still.

Your lungs ache.

‘And because when you told me to go harder, deeper - I nearly lost my fucking mind.’

He’s hovering over you now, and you can almost taste the bitter sweetness of the beer on his breath. He smirks at you, but there’s only warmth and mischief in it when he teases, ‘Speechless for once?’

‘Shut up, Morales,’ you breathe and grab him by the collar of his shirt.

And then you’re kissing him. You’re kissing Frankie, and he’s kissing you back.

It’s messy, and disorientating, and you clumsily fumble over each other until he’s sitting up in one of the chairs, with your thighs on either side of his narrow hips as you straddle him. He’s licking up into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, his hands gripping your sides almost painfully hard.

‘Is this really happening?’ you garble into his lips, ripping off his tie and undoing his shirt buttons as fast as your shaking fingers allow you to.

‘If you want it,’ he mumbles back, loath to pull back from you even for a second to shuck off his shirt. ‘If you want me.’

He kisses you wet and insistent, but he doesn’t push you, waiting for you to make up your mind. Reaching behind you, you tug on the tie that holds your jumpsuit together with a decisive pull, letting the fabric ripple down your bare front and pool around your waist.

Frankie bites his bottom lip so hard it goes white. ‘Fuck,’ he cusses, his grip on your hips twitching as he stares at your tits. ‘Can I, please -?’

‘Touch me, Francisco.’

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

This being the way Frankie effortlessly tosses you onto the mattress, his arms flexing with an easy strength that goes straight to your head, as you stare giddily up at him.

His hair - your handiwork - has been well and truly undone, errant strands falling over his eyes as he watches you, his broad frame looming over the foot of the bed. He pulls at his belt, which falls open with a careless clink, and he makes quick work of his now crumpled trousers, kicking them off impatiently.

Your head is swimming, yet somehow, you muster the strength to shuffle towards the edge of the bed, rearranging yourself to sit on your haunches, knees folded neatly beneath you. Boldly, you reach out to slide his dark boxers down his hips, and they fall around his knees and onto the floor. His cock springs free, half-hard and heavy, and Frankie swallows thickly as you tilt your face towards him.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

His eyes close as if he’s in pain, nostrils flaring at your words. Taking advantage of his distraction, you wrap one careful hand around his length, and he jerks violently at the first velvety slide of your palm against him. 

‘Fuck, Shiv -’ he chokes, eyes flying open at the contact, pupils completely blown. He protests weakly, ‘No, stop, need to get you off first -’

You shoot him a lopsided smile, pumping him slowly, your pulse racing at the way you feel him swell in your grasp. ‘Can we not argue this one time?’

You lean forward and, holding his gaze, flatten your tongue and lick your way up the underside of his cock. His breath stutters, one big hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his eyes wide and almost frantic as you press open-mouthed kisses on his sensitive flesh.

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

He whimpers, and you know you have him.

His size is obvious by sight, but you really feel it in the pressure bearing down on the hinge of your jaw as you sink down on his cock, fighting to squeeze the girth of him into your mouth. The guttural groan from Frankie makes your pussy clench, and he tastes like he looks - clean, and all man. 

There’s no way you can take all of him, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. He’s hot under your touch, muscles pulled taut with tension that you can feel thrumming under his skin as you take your time with him. Focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, you bob patiently up and down on him, slicking up his length with your spit, working him slightly deeper with every stroke - until you’re so full of him that you gag, hard.

Frankie is slack-jawed when you release him with an obscenely wet pop, spit trailing from your lips to the swollen tip of his cock, eyes wild as swipes his thumb across your puffy bottom lip. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ he declares, almost solemnly.

Slinking down his front, one hand securely around the base of his cock, you take him between your lips again, moaning at the salty taste of his precum, which makes him quake above you. As you swallow his length and pump your fist in tandem, your spit wetting your fingers, you peer up at him through your lashes - nothing could’ve prepared you for the utter wreckage that you find on his face. 

His lips are pulled back, baring his tidy teeth into a snarl as he very clearly struggles to hold himself back from fucking your mouth. You feel every bump and vein in his cock with each descent, the wet squelches filling in the gaps of his low grunts and moans. His grip in your hair stings as he starts panting in earnest above you, and somehow he gets even harder on your tongue, making it harder to breathe - 

‘Stop, stop,’ he wheezes suddenly, pulling back in a hasty retreat that has you whining at the sudden loss of him. ‘C’mere.’

He practically hauls you up against him, kissing you deeply, delving into your mouth to taste the bitterness of himself on your tongue. The world tilts on its axis when he tips you back onto the bed, and holding himself above you, he peels the jumpsuit off, leaving you in just your panties.

‘Gonna eat you out, baby,’ he drawls by your ear, trailing one palm up your body, which stops at your tits and squeezes. ‘Get you good and ready to take my big cock. How does that sound?’

‘Fuck, yes, Frankie, please,’ you beg.

There’s no shyness when he pushes your legs up and apart, and instead of taking your panties off, he hooks a finger under the thin fabric and pulls it to the side, his eyes darkening as he stares down at you.

‘So pretty,’ he praises you lowly. Holding your breath as he sinks onto his front, you breathe heavily in anticipation as his shoulders slot neatly underneath your legs. ‘Look at how wet you are for me. All this from sucking my cock?’

You nod frantically. ‘Frankie -’

Straight to the point as always, he ducks his dark head and drags the broad of his tongue over your clit - and you’re gone.

Admittedly, you have not had the best experiences with your exes. There was always too much gratuitous moaning and too little finesse, and afterwards, they always act like they deserve a medal for failing to get you off. But even if your past lovers had been more adequate in the field, you’re sure it still wouldn’t have prepared you for this. 

Frankie goes about it with a quiet focus that veers on reverential, the intensity in his dark eyes watching you makes your knees weak. He’s obviously picking up signs and reactions from you and adjusting his game plan accordingly, the pilot in him clearly in the driver’s seat. 

Not that he’s silent - far from it, you feel the reverberation in your core with every satisfied  hum deep in his chest, and the occasional, muttered fuck, so wet, want more in between licks and groans. But there’s nothing performative or showy about it, just a forthright competency that has you hurtling towards a toe-curling orgasm.

‘Frankie,’ you whine when you feel it about to hit. ‘Frankie Frankie Frankie -’

‘Eyes on me,’ he slurs against your sopping folds, and you listen - for once - watching him watch you fall apart on his tongue, thrashing in his hold as he grips you harder to keep you in place while he laps you up, until the burn of his patchy beard on your inner thighs makes you arch away from him from overstimulation.

Your pussy is still fluttering when he sinks two thick fingers into you, and he hisses at the way it clenches around him as he fucks you, leaving his digits slicked and slippery.

‘So tight, baby,’ he declares through gritted teeth, working you open for him. ‘Gonna feel so fucking good on my cock.’

You point towards the nightstand. ‘First drawer,’ you pant.

Needing no further prompting, Frankie yanks your panties off and flings the soaked scrap of fabric over his shoulder, then lunges at the cupboard where the condoms are. You scrape your nails over his thighs as he kneels over you, his usually steady hands visibly trembling as he tears into the wrapper and rolls the rubber over his heavy cock. He watches you with hooded eyes and settles between your legs, kissing you desperately as the swollen tip of him nudges at your entrance.

‘Ready?’ he asks, nose skimming yours sweetly.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him close. ‘Fuck me, Frankie.’

The first push is a tight squeeze, and you can’t help the wince at the slight pinch as he sinks into you slowly. With a grunt of effort, he buries face into the slope of your neck and breathes, ‘Fuuuuck. You ok?’

‘Give me a second,’ you gasp, feeling your walls throb tightly around his length. ‘You’re so big, Frankie.’

He tangles his tongue with yours lazily in a deep kiss, before brushing his way down your throat and sucking on one nipple, making you cry out. He murmurs against your skin, ‘I know, but you’re doing so well for me, baby.’

Shifting your hips, Frankie groans when you slide him in deeper, the friction making you quiver beneath him. ‘Move, Frankie, please.’

He starts carefully, his strokes measured and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him as he draws back then sinks back in, exhaling shakily. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

‘Harder,’ you demand when you feel your pussy relax around him. ‘Fuck me harder.’

‘Shit,’ he growls and snaps his hips, drawing a squeal from you as he hits somewhere deep inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, bracing yourself as he drives into you again and again and again, the bedframe hitting the wall with each thrust.

‘So good, Frankie,’ you plead in between hard pants. ‘Keep going. Don’t stop -’

Looking up at him, you admire the way his hair falls over his eyes, swaying with his movement. Absent-mindedly, your fingers wander into his curls and his reaction is instant - he cries out, arching into your touch, his hips faltering as he seems to lose his rhythm. ‘Oh fuck, baby, been thinking about those hands all fucking week, just wanted to feel you touch me again -’

As wrecked as you are on his cock, you smile at his confession and slide your hands languidly in his locks, dragging your nails on his scalp, your chest swelling with pride when you watch his face - dazed and completely wrecked - fucking you so hard that you’re sure the bed is about to break.

When he finds his voice again, it’s your real name that slips past his lips. ‘Gonna cum so hard, oh fuck - I’m gonna -’

Frankie’s thrusting frantically into you, eyes screwed shut until his hips stutter and then - after one perfect moment of stillness suspended in time - shudder after shudder thunder through his body, your name a broken record as he spills into the condom, his scratchy baritone moaning into your neck as the frenzied energy bleeds out of him.

His weight pins you to the bed as he catches his breath, and you play with his curls gently, basking in the rumbling purr in his chest as you run the strands between your fingers. Eventually, gathering himself, he rolls off you to let you breathe, tying the condom neatly and tossing it into the trash can.

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

You laugh, which makes him grin. One strong arm reaches out to tuck you into his side, securely beneath the duvet. You hum at the tickle of his beard on the back of your neck and the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

Right on the cusp of sleep, you sass, ‘Guess you’ll have to split the winnings with me after all.’

Any other day, you would’ve woken up if you heard someone on the stairwell. Hell, you’d hear if they were knocking on the salon door downstairs.

When you’re rudely shaken awake by frantic knocking on the studio door, you realise it’s because your hearing has been impaired by the side of a very warm body smooshed into your ear.

‘Shiv! Open up! I need to leave in fifteen minutes for my photoshoot!’

‘Shit,’ you croak, throat dry, limbs flailing as you try to sit up. ‘I forgot about Benny.’

‘Fuck him’, grouses Frankie, pulling you back into his arms, eyes still closed.

‘I can’t, I promised to help him with his hair. Fuck, do we need to hide you, or -’

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

Frankie lets you go with a grumbled Benjamin fucking Miller under his breath, but he visibly perks up when you stumble out of bed naked.

You half-jokingly shield your boobs from his view. ‘Are you perving on me, Morales?’

He smirks, leaning back into the pillows with his hands folded behind his head while he eyes you appreciatively. It’s not fair how his triceps flex deliciously with the movement. ‘Why bother covering up? I’ve seen everything already.’

Trying - and failing - to shoot him a stern scowl, you pull on a robe and yank the door open, nearly careening backwards at the sight of Benny’s grinning face right in the doorway. 

‘Since when did you bang paying customers?’ he demands in lieu of a good morning.

You roll your eyes and usher him downstairs. ‘He’s not a paying customer. He’s on Pope’s tab.’

Benny flops into his usual chair, making it squeak, one eyebrow up as he does the air quotes. ‘Well, I guess we now know what kind of friends you guys are.’

‘Shut up, Miller,’ you gripe, but your mouth twists into a grin, giving you away as you set up.

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

You point your styling scissors at him menacingly. ‘Shut up, or I won’t be held responsible if my hands slip by accident.’

Benny feeds you a sugar donut while you work quickly, trimming the ends before styling it, going for a tousled bed head look. You hear the water pipes run upstairs and the carpeted floors creak when Frankie gets up. Trying to play it cool, you only briefly glance up, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror as he makes his way down the stairs in his rumpled shirt and trousers, zipping up the fly when he reaches the bottom.

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

Frankie loiters behind you for a second, scratching the back of his neck, before pulling you to one side. Not that it affords you much privacy anyway, with Benny wriggling his eyebrows impertinently at the two of you in the mirror.

‘I - uh -,’ he starts haltingly, one hand rubbing at the silver patch in his beard sheepishly. ‘I had a really good time last night.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ you smile.

His voice dipping lower, he asks, ‘Can I take you out to dinner sometime?’

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

‘She’ll get to you when she gets to you, Benjamin,’ snaps Frankie, one hand on his hip and the other pointing a stern finger at him.

Something about him being so assertive sends heat running up and down your spine. Stepping into his space - beaming when he doesn’t back away - you smooth a palm over the front of his shirt, unintentionally catching the rabbiting of his heart underneath.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug nonchalantly. ‘Do you intend to come back as a cash-paying customer?’

His eyes flash with want, one hand closing around your hip and he leans down to let his heated words brush by your ear. ‘Not if I can keep paying in other ways.’

Reaching up, you run a hand through his curls, preening at the way he closes his eyes at your touch. ‘Alright then, take me to dinner, Francisco.’

Peering around you, Frankie barks, ‘Miller, I’m cashing in on our bet.’

‘Fuck’s sake. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,’ he gripes, digging into his wallet reluctantly.

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

With a roll of your eyes, you shake your head and playfully push him towards the door. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind!’

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

You’re not sure which makes your jaw drop - his cocksure declaration or the roguish confidence with which he walks out the door. In either case, Benny howls with laughter as you struggle to stay on your feet, your kneecaps having been rendered completely useless.

Just as Frankie climbs into his truck, Ashton whistles to a stop outside the salon on his wheels. Jaw dropping at the sight of the disheveled pilot nodding at him through the windscreen, he abandons his bike right on the curb and dashes into the salon, the door banging against the wall as he rushes in.

‘Excuse me - what the fuck did I just miss?’ he demands frantically.

You roll your eyes. ‘Calm down, Ashton, it’s not what it looks like -’

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

He breaks off with a yelp when you stuff a donut into his mouth to shut him up, sugar flying everywhere as Ashton picks you up and spins you around, squealing like a banshee the entire time.

‘You guys are the fucking worst,’ you laugh, out of breath by the time Ashton lets you go.

Glancing outside, where Frankie is still parked watching the whole embarrassing episode, he gives you one last wink and an amused grin before he pulls away from the curb.

In an almost exact repeat of the scene from a few days ago, Ashton joins you at the window, and the two of you watch, shoulder to shoulder, as Frankie smoothly steers his truck out of your street.

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

You grin. You know you are - and luckily, it’s not a spot of bother that you’ll be in a hurry getting out of anytime soon.

Notes: I'm so excited to have finally completed this little two-shot. The two of them have been hanging out in my head all these months, it feels amazing to finally yeet this part into the world! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you had as much fun as I did with these two 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ❤️

Now that I've got you here, if you want more of Shiv, I wrote some silly little drabbles of her hair appointments with our handsome Pedro boys for a recent milestone celebration. There are also some fun thoughts that came out of an impromptu Grays sleepover we had last week 🤍

I'm sure we'll see more of Shiv and Frankie somewhere down the line. For now, thank you again, I love you all so much ❤️

[yeonkimintakecare]

Bad Friends

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: After your friends abandon you on your birthday your forced to interact with your ex for the first time since you broke up with him.

Author's Note: this was very therapeutic to me >_<

This is heavily based on situations from my life, and I kind of went crazy while writing this. So enjoy :)

Warnings: angst, lack of communication, as the title says... bad friendships.

You swam through the sea of drunk people looking for a familiar face. Your efforts were useless, it would seem that your friends have abandoned you while you were 4 drinks in. And it was your birthday. You check your phone to see if they have responded, but there’s no notifications. You check their location on snapchat and it tells you that they are at another club on the other side of the city.

'Some friends you guys are' you think to yourself.

You start to tear up, you felt like your friends had been growing away from you lately, but this cements that feeling. They were the ones that insisted on doing something for your birthday and then they stranded you at the club.

As much as you don’t want to you call your brother, knowing he told you not to go out with these girls, but you have no other way of getting home, your friends had your wallet in their car and they had been paying for your drinks prior to this. You dial your brothers number.

“Hello? What's up? I thought you were out with Ashley and Witney? Are you okay?” Your brother, Taehyung, asks and just like that you can’t hold back your tears. You had missed being this close with him. You guys used to talk all the time, but when you moved away you ghosted him and his girlfriend, Minji, who was like a sister to you.

“I went to the bathroom and they were gone, *sob* I’ve looked all over, they didn’t even text me. I think they left me to go to another club and I have no money and my phone is almost dead and I’m way too *hic* drunk for this.” You say while sobbing.

“Calm down, ____, I’m out of town with Minji but I’ll send somebody to come and get you, just send me your location.” He said calmly.

“Send who?” you ask weakly, fearing that you may already know the answer.

“I’ll ask some of my friends in the city, but most likely it will be Jungkook, I just got off the phone with him and I know he’s not doing anything.” You groaned at his response.

'Fucking great.'

“I know, but you need a ride home and we don’t have a lot of options. Send me your location quick so I can get you home, loser.” He said with a chuckle. You send him your location and 2 minutes later you receive the text

“Sorry dude, Jungkook was the only person who could come and get you right away.” You put your head in your hands and leaned up against the side of the building.

Jungkook was your brother's best friend, but also your ex.

They had been friends since they were preteens and you had dated him for 4 years in high school and college, but you ended things with him because you guys had been fighting constantly. Then you suddenly got a job in another state.

The break up was part of the reason you lost touch with Tae and Minji, you didn't want to make them choose between you and JK. You were scared that they wouldn't choose you, so you left before they could disappoint you.

Unfortunately, things didn’t work out there and you had recently moved back. You started talking to your brother again, you apologized to them both, realizing it was stupid to think that they wouldn't move heaven and earth for you.

but... you haven’t seen Jungkook since you broke up with him. But of course you were so unlucky that you were going to have to see him tonight... while you're drunk... and crying... and completely alone...

Fifteen minutes pass before you see a car that you know too well roll up. You see Jungkook in the driver’s side of the car. He stares at you for a second before giving you a small wave. You give an awkward smile and a head nod before you make your way to his car.

‘God. This is going to be awkward.’

When you step into the car it immediately smells like him, his cologne mixed with his natural smell. There was many times where you smelled something similar that would make you think of him while you were away. Now here you are and it's actually him.

Neither of you speak besides small a small 'hi" and when you briefly asked if it was okay to plug your phone into his charger.

You stare at your lap, twiddling your thumbs. He focuses on the road, eventually your phone turns on and you see decide to go check social media. You open up instagram and you see Witney’s story, and her and Ashley are at a bar with two guys you had seen them talking to earlier. You scoff at the idea of your only friends ditching you on your birthday for men that were strangers. You were beyond pissed.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, putting a hand on one of yours and rubbing his thumb on the back of it. You thought this would make it awkward, but it didn't it felt almost normal. Like this is how it always should have been.

“Maybe, I’m just really drunk right now." You paused. Unsure if you should ask this question. But again, you're too drunk to make normal decisions, so you just do it. "I’m going to ask you a question and I want an honest answer, don’t use kid gloves for me." You stare at him until he gives a small nod, his eyes darting between you and the road.

"Am I really that unlovable?” You say while you feel the tears start to well in your eyes again. You saw his hands tighten around the steering wheel while so hard his knuckles were turning white.

“Now, what in the fuck makes you think that?” He said, obviously trying to not make me feel bad but also wanting to yell at me.

“If I was a lovable person wouldn’t my friends WANT to hang out with me on my birthday? I just feel like I’m such a fucking failure, I couldn’t even make it work at my job and I can’t make friends. And the only person, that’s not my brother, who made me feel safe and comfortable, I pushed away.” You hide your face in your hands as you start to cry. You really must be drunk because somehow this turned into you venting about your feeling to your ex… including your feelings about him.

Jungkook pulls his car over onto the side of the rode and he turns to you and grabs your hands. “You are one of the people in this whole wide world who deserves to be loved. You are one of the kindest people I know and you are beautiful inside and out.” He used one hand to grab yours and the other to hold your face and to make you look at him. “You are not a failure. Sometimes jobs just don’t work out, its okay, you’ll get a new one, and eventually you will find the place that you are meant to be at."

You stare into each other's eyes for awhile. For the first time in awhile, you realize how much you missed this. how much you missed him. He always brought you so much comfort back then, and then you broke his heart. Why couldn't you have just made it work? Why did you feel you had to leave?

"Also your friends suck, that not on you, that’s on them to let you slip away.” he says, breaking the spiral that you had been falling into.

It made you think about why you left back then. You pull your hand from his and turned to look out the window. "Well they always leave anyways, so there's never a reason to get too attached." you say solemnly.

"That's sad that you think that." you turn to see him staring at you, eyebrows furrowed, you look away again, not wanting to see his pity for you. "And also, very untrue."

Your head snaps to look at him. "Excuse me?" you ask, getting defensive.

"it's not true. I think on some level it might be, but at some point you started pushing people away before they could leave you. You pushed me away, I know you're getting close to your brother and Minji again, but when you moved away you ignored them the whole time."

You stare at him, slack jawed. "I'm not the only one at fault here. Not in this car at least. I will admit that I ignored Tae and Minji, and I have apologized to both of them and made my amends. But, need I remind you about what happened between us? We had issues long before I decided to move away. You were distant, you know you were." You start to tear up. This was a constant fight between the two of you back then.

~ flashback - 3 years ago ~

You were sitting on the couch, seething. It was your anniversary and he was going to take you on a date to celebrate the 4 years you have been together. You had been sitting on the couch, ready, for the past three hours. No messages from him, for why he might be late.

Normally, you wouldn't be mad about this, but recently it's become a real problem with him. He never used to be late, but now he always was. You fought with him about it last week, when he was going to help you prepare for a big presentation at your job, but he never showed up.

He called you the day after, apologizing, claiming he got caught up at work, and passed out as soon as he got home. You told him that it hurt that you were "forgettable" to him. This presentation was a big deal for your career, and that you couldn't focus on it because you were wondering if something bad had happened to him. You left a million messages and got nothing back from him.

You still did well on the presentation, but you had stayed up most of the night worrying about him and had forgotten your lunch at home and was going to have to skip it because you were in such a rush to get to work that morning. You fought with him for a while longer and then hung up, needing to get back to work.

An hour later, Jungkook showed up with food from your favorite restaurant and a promise to make it up to you this weekend for your anniversary. You chat with him for a bit, pushing aside your anger, because he's here, right now. putting in the work.

When you return from your lunch you get called into your bosses office. "____, you did amazing in our meeting this morning." You give a smile and a a small nod in thanks. "There's an opening in one of our other city locations. It's quite far away, but I think you might be just the right fit for it."

You sit there, slack jawed for a second. You heard about the position opening in the Chicago location, but you never dreamed of getting it. It's a higher position than you are currently and its highly coveted. "oh, um, thank you, I appreciate the offer, when would I need to go by?" You ask, there are so many details you'd need to know, I mean what about your friends and family here?

"As soon as possible, we have housing that we can provide, and we will pay for your transition there." She says, with a smile. She's been your boss for 5 years now, and you've always gotten along.

"Can I have a couple days to think about it? I just have a lot of things up in the air in my personal life right now, and I don't want to make any decisions without really thinking about it first." She gives you a comforting smile again.

"Of course, take the time you need. We will need to know by next week Friday if we need to find somebody else for the position though." You give a small nod and thanks. "Ok, now tell me about your anniversary, that's today isn't it?" she says, you laugh and tell her about your plans with Jungkook.

You think about her offer all day, deciding to talk about it with Jungkook tonight. Chicago is halfway across the country and it would be really hard for you guys, and you aren't in the most stable place right now.

You get dressed up, you guys always go to the restaurant you had your first date at for your anniversary and then a walk in the park. But instead, here you are, alone on the couch. You sit there for another hour, trying to get in touch with your boyfriend.

Once it hits hour four you decide to go take a shower and have a good cry. You were used to this kind of stuff from your friends, but never your boyfriend. And he knew how insecure you were about being an afterthought to most people.

You woke up the next morning with dozens of missed calls from Jungkook and various texts apologizing and asking for you to call him back. You don't. Honestly, you're tired of it all. You thought you'd wake up today feeling better, but you just feel a pit in your stomach.

It was the weekend and you decided not to leave your apartment and do a deep cleaning of your home. Maybe if you could get a clean house, you could also clear your head. You talk to your brother on the phone while you clean.

"Maybe something came up again, I know he's been working really hard lately." Tae offers. For some reason this made you mad. Tae was your brother, he shouldn't be defending Jungkook. He should be mad with you, or at least pretend to be.

"You know, I don't really care, he should still communicate with me. It's one thing to miss a date, even though it's actually been several dates that he's missed, but he's not showing up, and then when I'm worried about where he is... he's not answering. It's not usually until the day after when I finally hear from him." You rant for awhile.

Tae stays pretty silent and you feel like he's staying quiet because he doesn't agree with you. You abruptly stop your rant to say "Okay, well I guess I have stuff to do and I'd rather talk to a wall, they might actually give me something to work off of" you say, giving more attitude to your brother than he probably deserved, but you were angry right now and his silence was just making it worse.

You blast your music when you get a text from Minji.

"Hey, I heard you were having a rough go of it." she texted.

"yeah, I'm angry cleaning my whole apartment right now." you respond.

"Yeah, I saw on my laptop that you have been listening to your punch that fucker in the face playlist. Pretty intense name btw."

"yeah well, i feel pretty intense right now. if the grout on my bathroom floor was a person, I would want to punch it in the face."

"Are you sure that it's grout that you want to punch in the face or a certain boyfriend that has been flakey...?"

"maybe both. i have the capabilities to be angry at multiple things at once, i'm talented in that way."

"I'm sure you are, but is that good for you?"

"maybe it's not, but it's the way i feel right now."

"I'm just worried that you are letting this anger seep into your other relationships... like the one with your brother..."

You roll your eyes. of course, now you're the bad guy. You just wish, literally, anybody would be on your side. But instead you're the unlovable one, and nobody is every going to put you first.

You leave Minji on read the rest of the day. No longer answering any messages, you turn your phone off. You start to feel better after you're done and take a shower. You do a full care routine and come out with a clear head.

You turn your phone on to see your boyfriend has been trying to get in touch with you again. You ignore his messages to start making dinner instead. You're almost done cooking when you hear your doorbell ring. The pit in your stomach that you spent all day trying to get rid of comes back.

You look in the security camera to see Jungkook at the door. You start to walk away from the door when you hear him say "____, I know you're in there. I can hear the music from out here." You sigh and open the door.

"What do you want?" You say, holding the door open enough so that only you can fit into the crack.

"Can we talk? Like actually talk, not fight." He asks. You want to get angry at the way he says it, but you can see he meant it genuinely and not in a backhanded way. You open the door all the way to let him in.

"Fine. Talk." You say after you both step in to your home.

"I'm sorry." He says and you immediately want to forgive him, but you know you won't forgive yourself if you give it to him that easily.

"Sorry about what?" You say, not letting up.

"I'm sorry about missing our dates. I've just been working so much lately, I've-" You start to feel the anger bubbling to the surface, you cut him off before he can make you any more upset.

"You think I'm mad because you're missing dates? I don't care about going to dinner. I care that you aren't communicating with me where you are. I wait up into the night and I worry about you, whether you got into an accident, if you're eating okay, if you're getting enough sleep. That is what I care about."

He stares at you, obviously not sure what to say to you. He finally says a small, quiet "I'm sorry." and you stare at him. You want to forgive, you so want to just hug him and be over all of this, but you just don't trust him anymore. You've been in this situation with other guys and you're not about to have your heartbroken again.

"I think we need to take a break." You say, he looks away from you.

"If that's what you think is best."

"it is."

"Okay then." he gets up and walks out the door. You let yourself cry and then finish making your dinner. You keep your phone off the rest of the weekend, you make some decisions.

On Monday morning you walk into your boss's office and accept the position. You vacate your home in the next week and move as much as you can to Chicago.

You tell your brother and Minji, they agree to send you some of your harder to pack things, and house some of the other valuables until you can figure out what to do with them. They seem upset with you about your sudden break up and sudden move, so you contact them less and less. You've only spoken to Jungkook a handful of times and it's mainly short, one-word messages.

You grow so depressed while you're in Chicago, your personal and professional life suffer as a consequence to it. You essentially go to work, bide your time there, come home, maybe eat if you have it in you to make a meal, and go to bed.

One day, you get a call from your old boss. "____, I haven't heard from you in forever, how are you?" she says with that warm voice. It's been months since you've let yourself talk to somebody who cares and it immediately brings you to tears. You cry and tell her about everything your break up, your isolation, your depression, everything you've been feeling for the past 8 months.

"I see, well I'm very sorry to hear that ____. Would it help if I could get you transferred back to here?" She offers, that immediately eases the pit in your stomach that you've been feeling for weeks.

"Would that be possible?" you ask, your voice small with embarrassment.

"Of course that would be possible, Your position here is filled but there is an opening in the higher ups, let me see what strings I can pull."

You immediately feel at ease. You might be able to go home! Then realization hits you. You've spent the last couple months isolating yourself from all of your loved ones, and now you're going to have to make amends.

You immediately call your brother and you both have a long talk over the phone. You open up about how you felt like they were judging the decisions you made and that you were scared that if he had to pick you or his friend, that he would pick his friend.

"____, there is literally nobody in this world that I would choose over you." he says.

"Hey, what the fuck." Minji says in the background, this being her first time speaking up.

"Obviously it's a tie between you guys and I would never have to choose between you guys... right?" he says and you both mumble a yes, obviously.

You all continue to talk through everything you've been feeling with each other, them feeling hurt by you pushing them away, but you work through things, you all cry, and you start to feel better about it all.

You get notice that you are being transferred back home, its not a hard transition, as you never fully moved here and you didn't really make any new friends. but about 2 weeks before your move, you get a message from two girls you went to college with.

"OMG, ____ we heard you're moving back, it's been forever, we should do something, right?" texted Ashley.

You ponder it, you had been best friends with them in high school and then when you moved on to your jobs you'd only really meet with them once a year. But, you are trying to fix your relationships, and don't hang out with many people besides your brother and his partner (and you used to hang out with you boyfriend...)

You decide to just do it. "for sure, lets get dinner when I get back :) "

You talk with them a lot before and after your move. They're a lot different to you now, but you make the effort to understand their interests. They really want to take you out clubbing for your birthday, but you tell them that it's not really your scene anymore.

"So how's your relationship status?" Witney asks, taking a sip of her espresso martini.

"ah, non-existent right now." you say while avoiding eye contact.

"I thought you were dating that hot tattooed guy. What was his name?" Ashley offers, sharing a look and a smirk with Witney that isn't lost on you.

"Ah well, we broke up a while ago." You say with a sad smile while raising your cocktail to your lips.

"You should totally reach out to him!" Witney says suddenly, making you choke on your drink.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you don't know what could happen, maybe he's still into you." Ashley throws out. You forgot how much they loved drama, and how if they don't get it, they'll cause it.

"Yeah, it wouldn't really matter if he did still like me, we just didn't work. We couldn't communicate with each other the way we should." you say, hoping that's the end of it.

"But he's hot, isn't that enough. at least you could get one or two good, hot nights with him." Witney says with a sly smirk.

"Yeah, I'm over this conversation. I'm not going to hook up with him, we are done and that it." You say, letting your mask slip a bit.

"Geez, sorry. We were just trying to get you some." Witney says while Ashley rolls her eyes at you. They stay silent. They're mad at you.

You inhale. "I was thinking," They look up at you. "Maybe we should go out for my birthday." They both perk up immediately and start talking over each other about which bars we should go to, what events are going down, is there any parties going on, what we should wear.

Hey, maybe this won't be that bad.

~ present day ~

"You're right. I was distant. I was so focused on work, and I just thought you'd stay there for me, even though I was neglecting you. You leaving was a big wake up call for me. I had to really change the way I thought about my work and personal life and make them separate." He says, looking at you. You give him a small smile, his hand reaches your face and wipes of a tear. You put your hand over his and lean into it.

"I know I haven't said it. But is missed you. So much." You say, not breaking eye contact, not wanting to ruin this moment with the man you once loved.

"I missed you too." he says quietly. You stare up at him and you begin to smile through your tears and you can feel his breath getting closer as his hand stays on your face, you take this time to hold his face and kiss him. You passionately kiss while his hands make his way into your hair and your arms are wrapped around his neck. It’s like the two of you were trying to get closer, but there was no physical way for that to happen.

When you both finally come up for air and you both are out of breath, your foreheads touch as you look into his eyes.

“You didn’t push me away. I’m right here, I’ve always been here, and I always will be.” He whispers to you and you feel tears slide down your face again as he kisses them away.

~ time jump - a year and four months later ~

You are trying to buckle your heel when you get a knock on the door. You open it to find your handsome boyfriend wearing a nice suit, but with no tie. If you didn't know him, you'd think he was a mafia boss from a romance novel with his tattoos and jewelry. But you know that he could never hurt anybody.

"You look stunning." He says, giving you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a kiss. The kisses go on for awhile, neither of you coming up for air before he goes "Are you ready to go?" finally breaking your brief make out. You nod in response.

You go to your the fine dining restaurant you always go to on this day. The food was great, as always, and you take a walk in the park. You arms are linked together as you both people watch and and chat about your day.

You come up on a bench and you both have a seat. You see somebody hiding behind a tree. You go to point it out to your boyfriend, but when you turn to him, he is no longer sitting next to you. Instead, he is on the ground, down on one knee. Your hands fly to cover your mouth in shock.

"____, We've had some ups and downs, but we've come out of them all stronger and better than before. In our time apart, I realized, I never want to not have you in my life. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?" You fly into his arms, toppling him to the ground.

"Of course I will." You say while picking yourselves up and kissing him over and over. Out, from behind the tree, comes Tae and Minji, recording and taking photos. You hug them and cry, Minji compliments the beautiful ring that now sits on your finger.

You thank yourself for the people you've surrounded yourself with, and you thank them for sticking by you, even when you're being unreasonable. People who actually love you aren't easily pushed away, and you're so thankful for that.