#we’ll discuss it when we get home

[orestesimp]

me @you

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #10

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel tries to rob a superhero and you try to stop him.

Word count: 5,750

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [TBC]

It’s another mundane morning in your office. You’re hiding away in your cubicle with your breakfast croissant and coffee, scrolling the news on your phone. 

Ever since the cosmic murder attempts have started, reading news hasn't been the same for you. It’s no longer a case of innocently keeping up to date with current events. Because now you can’t read the sensationalist headlines without a small pang of guilt that you may have been the unwilling root cause for so many of them. 

‘Apocalyptic blizzard in August.’ 

‘Stampede escape from Brooklyn zoo.’ 

‘Freak electric storm causes wide city blackout’. 

It’s all just too macabre for you this early, it’s not even 10am. Your eyes flicker down, only skimming to make sure that there has been no casualties involved with each incident before scrolling away again. Then you opt for the technology section instead. Hoping it is a little bit less catastrophic and kinder on your nerves. 

‘Tony Stark’s Arc Reactor Returns Home to Stark Tower.’

Your fingers pause at the headline. Stark always makes for a good read and good gossip, you think to yourself as you take another sip from your morning coffee and start to read:

‘Tony Stark, the notorious billionaire philanthropist and avid Star Wars memorabilia collector, has announced his decision to move his iconic arc reactor back to his home in New York City. The self-sustaining fusion power source kept Stark alive during the infamous hostage incident where he was captured and detained in Afghanistan by the Ten Rings terrorist organization’.

‘Self-sustaining fusion power source…’ you repeat the phrase in your head, parsing over the words. Why does that sound so familiar to you? 

You read it again, and this time instead of your own voice, the memory of Miguel’s sleep husked voice fills your ears: 

“Your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed.” 

Adrenaline buzzes bright in your brain, and you stand up from your desk so fast you nearly knock over your chair.

Finally! It’s the Eureka moment you have been waiting for all this time. 

You peer over the cubicle wall, scanning the room for Miguel. It doesn’t take you long at all to spot him; his oversized frame is hard to miss. Besides, even if you couldn’t see him, you’d be able to sense the anger vibrating off of him a mile away. 

In the corner at the far end of the open-plan office, Miguel is abusing the poor printer again. He’s cramming a fistful of papers into the feeding slot like it’s a duck he’s trying to force feed to make foie gras, and judging from the vein straining on his forehead, the man is about two seconds from lifting the 50 pound machine and launching it out through one of the building’s windows.

You shake your head at the scene. You don't understand how someone so smart, so intelligent, so apt with technology—he built an A.I. so advanced it would make the most high tech of Stark Industry's prototypes look like a kindergartener's chicken scrawl—can be so inept when it comes to dealing with a basic printer. 

“Miguel,” you whisper loudly, and despite the fact that he’s on the other side of a bustling office, he immediately turns to look at you. 

You beckon him over, practically bouncing with excitement as you wait for him to cross the room, and as soon as he’s within reach, you stand on the tip of your toes and cup a hand around his ear so you can covertly whisper the news of your discovery. 

“Stark has an arc reactor.”

You’re beaming with pride that you’ve found a solution to your dilemma, and look up at Miguel expectantly for him to celebrate with you and maybe even praise you. 

Instead, he looks down at you without reaction. “What’s Stark?” 

"Wait, are you serious?" 

You almost think he’s doing one of his sarcastic comedic bits with you, but the angle of his right eyebrow, raised in cluelessness tells you otherwise.

"How do you know so much about Dr. Strange, but not know who Tony Stark is? He’s like the main Avenger."

Miguel merely shrugs at you. "Avengers aren't really a thing where I'm from."

You shove your phone into his hand and watch as his eyes flicker over the screen, reading through the article in a matter of a few seconds. When he’s done, he places the phone back on your desk, then grabs your left hand, leaning down as he lifts it up towards him. For a second you think he’s about to kiss your hand.

"Lyla," Miguel announces, and the watch buzzes warmly against your wrist as Lyla's hologram reforms in the small space above.

"Give me the layout of the Stark Tower, identify vulnerabilities in the security system and outline the most optimal entrance points for a break-in."

Did he just say break-in?

"Wait, wait,” you interrupt quickly, trying to defuse the situation, before he gets too far ahead of himself. “Miguel, we are NOT breaking into the Stark Tower."

"How else would we do it?"

“We could just talk to him.  Lyla can hack into his schedule and book us a meeting with him, right?”

“And then what?”

“We’d ask him to help us?” you suggest, not understanding why he skipped straight over the most obvious answer and went right to breaking and entering. Though from the way Miguel is staring at you in blank confusion you may as well have spontaneously grown horns on your head. 

“...Nicely,” you add, in case that wasn’t already clear.

“Because that would require us to talk to him. He would just say no, Cielito. I’d prefer to break in. Cleaner that way. More efficient. Easier.”

You can’t believe this man just admitted to being so socially awkward he thinks committing a felony is easier than having to hold a conversation with a stranger. 

"Asking is pointless. No scientist is just going to hand over something like an arc reactor to a couple of strangers because they asked nicely. Besides, even if we arrange a meeting with him by hacking into his calendar, he’ll know something is up the moment he sees us. You’ll just wind up getting thrown out by security.”

Ok maybe he has a point there. 

"What if we tricked him? Made him think we have something he wants?”

"Like what?"

"Stark collects rare Star Wars collectibles. We can lie and say we're collectors with a rare piece to sell like the Kenner Star Wars Boba Fett prototype?"

His right brow raises at a skeptical angle and he’s staring at you like you’re speaking a foreign language. 

"Cielo, that's insane."

You bristle at that. 

"How is your idea any better?" you demand.

"A break-in wouldn't require much effort or rely on the goodwill or stupidity of someone else. It’s much easier–"

“You’re talking about breaking into the personal home of an Avenger!” you interrupt because you’re not listening to any more of his madness, “He’s arguably the smartest member of a team made up of the mightiest heroes on Earth, and you want to try to steal from him, Miguel!? That is not easier!”

The office has gone alarmingly quiet around you. You look around to see that your heated discussion is gaining unwarranted attention from the rest of the office. All of a sudden, the endless click and clack of the keyboards stop. 

You give your curious coworkers a strained smile, then lean up close to Miguel again, muttering under your breath. “We’ll discuss this when we get home.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel his eyes pinned to your back as you walk to your chair and sit back down at your desk to finish your croissant in two mouthfuls, chugging down the remainder of your coffee. 

An hour before noon, Miguel comes to your cubicle. He sets down a lunchbox and from the logo on the plastic grocery bag you can tell that it’s from your favorite Bodega round the corner. 

“I have a quick errand to run for work at lunch. I’ll be back within the hour,” Miguel tells you, “Lyla will guard you, and if something happens she’ll alert me immediately. Don’t go anywhere.”

You look up from your screen to see him stand over your desk with that passive expression etched onto his stoic face, as if there is nothing out of the ordinary. 

In the last month, Miguel hasn’t let you out of his sight for longer than a handful of minutes (primarily to get more snacks when they run out).

Miguel thinks he’s being so slick. It’s insulting to your intelligence that he thinks you don’t know what he is up to: he’s obviously going to spend his lunch hour trying to rob Tony Stark. 

But that’s fine, you’re not going to openly question Miguel on his suspicious behavior. If he’s not here that means you are free to get up to whatever you want. 

… Including approaching a certain multibillionaire that has the one item in his possession that could save both your life and the universe as you know it from collapsing.  

It’s why you wave at him as he makes his way to the exit and pay close attention to him leaving through the front glass door and take the elevator down to the ground floor. Then for good measure you wait another five minutes to make sure that he will fully be out of hearing range with his super-senses before you raise your wrist to your face. 

“Lyla,” you whisper. 

“Hello, boss girl! Wasssuuuup,” she greets, elongating the word sassily for comedic effect, and you can’t help but smile. 

Lyla, as entertaining as she is, is an enigma to you. You don’t understand how Miguel with his short patience-span and entirely lacking sense of humor would have programmed this A.I. to have this kind of personality. Not to mention a deep archive of a millenial’s pop-culture media reference from this dimension.  

“What can I do you for?” Lyla asks, shooting you gun-fingers with a cheeky flare. 

You part your mouth, but hesitate to make the request. 

This is illegal isn’t it? Hacking into someone’s calendar to arrange a meeting with them under false pretenses. God, what if you get taken away in handcuffs within the first 30 seconds of entering the building, featured on Deuxmoi as a crazy stalker fan. 

So far the only “illegal” thing you’ve used Lyla for is to generate Netflix passwords and hack into HBO Max to watch Succession. This is a significant next level step. 

Maybe you should run downstairs and catch Miguel before he leaves the building? You could plead your case again. Try to reason with him that breaking and entering isn’t the way to go about it and the two of you should approach Tony Stark by having a mature and adult conversation. 

Yeah. Right. You snort even as you think it. Miguel is never going to be persuaded on this point and you are quickly running out of time. There’s only one thing to do: 

“Lyla, can you please arrange a lunchtime meeting for me with Tony Stark today.”

The lobby of Stark Tower is much like any other commercial buildings you’d find in the Financial District. Heck, it's not that much different from the one you navigate every morning at the Chrysler building. If anything, the only surprise is how ordinary the Stark Tower is.

When you enter the main lobby, you have to sign in with a stern but clearly bored security guard, then use the guest security pass you’re given in order to access the elevators.

Once you reach the 90th floor, there is a distinct lack of staff up there. Only a single, sweet-looking old man, with a well trimmed mustache above his upper lip. He's swathed in a soft-knitted cardigan and wearing gigantic vintage-styled sunglasses indoors that make him appear bug-eyed as he peers up at you and walks with you to another set of elevators using a retinal scan for security and sends you on your way. 

The door closes around you in the metal box, with a swift jump to the 91st floor.

When the door finally slides open it feels like you’ve entered another world. Minimalistic opulence is the keyword for it. There are windows along the entire space. A 360 view of the New York landscape and you almost feel like you are at an Aquarium with the amount of glass surrounding you. There’s pieces of half-built tech and prototypes everywhere. Imagine having so much money that you can allocate a whole floor of a manhattan skyscraper to essentially be your garage workshop. 

“So you’re my 1pm that magically appeared today,” a happy-go-lucky voice sings out. 

You jump in your skin, breaking your concentration from the view, as you turn around to see the infamous man of the hour standing behind you. 

“Gotta say, when I was envisioning the sort of person who might be selling me a Kenner Star Boba Fett figure, I did not imagine a gorgeous knock-out,” he says, with an outstretched hand as he greets you.  

Tony Stark is shorter in real life. Less formal than in the gettymarked photos you’ve seen of him at red carpet events and fancy galas, dressed up in the most tailored fit suits that money can possibly buy. He’s also a lot more charming than in photos. All big brown eyes, and pouty lips. He might be half the size of Miguel, but Tony Stark has more than enough charm and confidence to make up for it

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” 

He is quick witted banter and dazzling diamond smiles as he shows you the residential suite of the Stark Tower. His hand rests on the side of your waist as he guides you through the long hall, making strong eye contact all the while down the hall. 91 floors up and you cannot hear a hint of the chaotic traffic noise downstairs, it’s oddly quiet save for the faint scratching noises you hear from the ceiling. (Guess even Stark towers cannot escape the city’s rodent issues). 

“Anyone ever told you, your eyes really sparkle?” Stark says, as his hand slips from your shoulder to rest at the small of your back. “You’ve got this whole Disney princess thing going on. I dig it.” 

Wait, is he flirting with you?

Tony Stark, Chief Executive Officer of Stark Industries. One of the top 20 richest men in America (according to Forbes). A man who can afford to buy the whole of planet Mars is flirting with you. 

God, you are already seeing dollar signs. Lobster. Caviar. All the rare exotic and poisonous puffer fish sushi you've only dreamed of eating. You've always wanted to be a gold digger, you've just never been close enough to a gold mine.

Maybe this will be easier than you thought. If he likes you, maybe you can just flirt your way into getting the arc reactor. Ask him to lend it to you. 

The two of you make your way past the glass doors and into another imposing large room, bare and minimalistic. Oddly, it feels dimly lit, given the size of the windows in the room. 

It’s the size of the front lobby of your office building, and you realize halfway through that this room serves no other purpose except to store more of his junk. There are half built machines piled up in every corner. Boxes and boxes of tools haphazardly strewn across the room. It’s an outrageous waste of prime New York real estate that speaks to the man’s wealth. 

In the middle of the room, there’s a silver medal that glows an eerie blue in the middle, encased in a display case. With the way it sparkles, you could almost mistake it for a precious aquamarine gemstone the size of your fist. 

“Wow, is that the arc reactor?” you ask. 

Stark doesn’t answer. Suddenly his chattiness is nowhere to be found, and as you turn to look at him you notice he’s not paying any attention to you. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling behind you. 

You whip your head around and follow his gaze to see the familiar blue super-suit trailing behind you. The unmissable angry red spider embellished across his wide chest, as he hangs upside down like a cat burglar. 

Has he been trailing behind you since you got here? Was that what the noises were?  

Air whizzes through the space and the force of it reverberates across your cheek. A piece of red armor flies through the air and attaches itself to Stark’s arm. 

You’ve seen enough highlight reels of Iron Man on the news channel to know what it means. 

“Wait wait wait,” you shout out as you step in front of Stark in mid-transformation. 

You fling your hands up high in a gesture of a white flag to de-escalate the situation. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

Stark’s eyebrow quirks up, tipping his head sardonically. "So your costumed sidekick hasn't been stalking us this entire time? Breaking and entering, not just into my tower–which is private property, by the way–but also bypassing security to access my private office? Yeah, I'm sure your intentions are entirely on the level."

Despite the sarcastic hostility in his tone Stark hasn’t summoned the rest of the armor. The rest of his iron suit is suspended in the air on standby two feet away. He’s only got the arm piece strapped to his arm as insurance and is clearly willing to give you at least a few seconds of a benefit of a doubt. Long enough to hopefully explain yourself and not start a Superhero brawl.  

“He’s not dangerous,” you say, and the moment you say it, you want to kick yourself because of how suspicious that makes you sound. 

You turn your head around to Miguel who’s done an aerial somersault with the grace of a ballerina despite his build and soundlessly landed back onto his feet on the ground. 

“I can’t believe you went behind my back! We agreed to put a pin in this and wait to deal with Stark until we agreed on a plan. You said you weren’t going to break in!”

His masked eyes narrow into accusing slits, “Yeah? And what are you doing here then?” 

“Stopping you before you do something stupid!” you hiss. 

Before Miguel has a chance to retort, there is a loud clap from behind you that redirects both your attentions to Stark. 

“Jarvis, how did our lovely Disney princess make it onto my calendar and how did Hulk Spiderman over here manage to slip past every layer of your security net?”

The voice of a posh British man sounds out across the room but there’s no person attached to it. 

“I can find no record of these events in my logs. Performing internal diagnostics now, Sir.”

“Huh, interesting…” Tony hums to himself in consideration before he turns his attention back to you both. 

“I have to say I'm quite impressed, but I’m hoping for an explanation. Is this a Bonny and Clyde situation? You two lovebirds here to rob me?”

“No!” you both shout in unison. 

“Not lovebirds, got it.”

“That’s not–” Miguel starts, whipping down his head in your direction. 

At the sight of your face, he seems too flustered to continue his train of thought and he quickly looks away from you. “None of your business,” he snaps at Stark. 

You don’t know why, but that dismissive glance from him hurts. Like the very idea that you two would be in a romantic relationship is off-putting to him. It’s kind of insulting. You turn from him, trying to ignore the sharp stabbing ache somewhere in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. 

From across, Stark observes the two of you, whatever he sees makes him tip his head in curiosity. The intense pinch between his brow relaxes and the subtle shift in his expression is like witnessing the moment a shark senses blood in the water, then he grins and turns his attention towards you.

Stark grins, turning his attention towards you. "So you're single then?" 

You peer up at Miguel and hesitate because that’s a damned good question. You of this dimension is certainly single, but there’s another version of you (a dead one) that’s married to the man next to you. 

But that’s not you. 

You turn to Stark, "Yes," you answer.

Miguel whips his head to you, eyes wide. "No!" he bellows. 

"The lady says she is, big blue."

"And I say she's not!" Miguel growls, the last word ends on such loud volume it could break the sound barrier.

Miguel isn’t the best at reading cues. You’ve known Tony Stark for all of five minutes, and even you can tell that the man enjoys riling up people, Miguel is feeding right into that. 

Stark acts like Miguel is speaking at a decibel that he is unable to register. He saunters up to you, with the most carefree gait you’ve seen anyone carry around Miguel. 

"So are you free tonight?" Stark asks.

You spot Miguel’s bristling expression and hesitate for a second time. 

It’s mean, you shouldn’t rile Miguel up like this. His entire back is curved up like a hissing cat. The man looks like he’s about to blow a casket, acting like a jealous spouse. And somehow under Tony Stark’s attention you feel like you are the adulterous wife. 

Except once again, you’re not. Because you are not Miguel’s wife. 

… Why exactly are you pining after a man still grieving his dead ex-wife who happens to look like you? 

You're currently homeless. Your take-home salary as an insurance adjuster can’t afford you a new apartment in New York, not with the rising inflation and the current state of this economy. This is your highway express ticket to the charmed life of being a billionaire ex-wife. 

Bye bye to 9 to 5’s and having to manually enter data into thousands of excel sheets everyday. Jeff Bezos' former wife, Mackenzie Bezos was awarded 25% of their Amazon shares valued at over 38 billion dollars. Stark is twice as rich as that.

You slide closer to Stark. "Maybe? Where are you gonna take me? Somewhere fancy?"

"Yeah, no! Absolutely not!" Miguel interjects. 

He steps forward to drag you behind him, until his mountainous body blocks you from the man. 

“We need the arc reactor.” Miguel announces brusquely, with no fanfare and even less by way of explanation. “If you won’t give it to us, I’ll just have to take it.”

“What do you need it for?” Stark asks curiously. 

“That’s none of your business,” is the blunt reply. 

Stark tilts up his head, gaze pinned to Miguel’s mask. “You know, I’m not really minded to give away proprietary technology to a man wearing a wrestling mask in broad daylight.” 

There’s a stalemate between the two men as they stare each other down (or up in Stark’s case). The showdown is silent, you can practically feel the tumbleweeds rolling by, waiting to see who’s going to draw first. 

“He can take his mask off,” you interject. 

At your offer, Miguel’s eyes narrow, nose turning up in the air in a put off gesture, refusing to do as he’s told. 

“Mig,” you warn, and despite the clear scowl etched onto the features of his mask, this time, he complies. 

The blue and red fabric recedes into nothingness, until the fierce cut of his bare jawline is revealed. Eyes glowing an angry crimson. 

The scowl on Miguel's face is so ferocious, you can see his fangs in clear view. But instead of scary. Instead of intimidating. He looks... almost cute. All you see in front of you is a teething puppy with no real bite. He's harmless.

Stark makes a low whistling sound at the dramatic reveal of Miguel’s face. “Didn’t expect the fifth member of One Direction under there.” 

Miguel glares at the man, even though you know fully well that he doesn’t understand the pop-culture reference that’s being made. 

“So let’s take this from the top,” Stark says, and he starts to pace the length of the room until he reaches the arc reactor and gives the display case a light smack like he’s tapping the rear of a mare. 

“You need my arc reactor, but you won’t tell me why, and you’re not offering me anything in return, except for El Tigre over here not trying to kill me, is that about right?”

“What’s your price?” Miguel asks, voice in that low growling tone that always precedes a threat. 

“I’m a multi-billionaire, cash doesn’t really interest me, and I can’t exactly have this fall into the wrong hands.”

“We’re not bad people, and we’re not going to use it for anything nefarious. I know this sounds absolutely nuts, but we need your arc reactor to save the world,” you say. 

Stark chuckles at you, the way an adult would at a naive child. “That’s not really much to go on hon, you’re gonna have to give me more than that.” 

“Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme, he can vouch for us.”  

Stark considers you for a moment then tilts his head to take an appraising look of Miguel, eyes dragging from the sole of his suit-clad heels and up to his neck where the suit ends. 

“The unstable molecule fabric you have for the suit is interesting. I’ve been meaning to give my suit an upgrade, and having it disappear into thin air would be convenient. Wouldn’t have to constantly lug around 2,000 pounds of metal everywhere I go with me. Hand me a sample of the tech along with full intellectual property rights and we’ll talk.”

“No.” Miguel says. 

He straightens up his posture and crosses his arms over his chest with a haughty expression on his face. “My suit is technologically superior to all the technology you’ve got in this building combined. It’s a bum deal. Your arc reactor has palladium in it and would be poisonous for long term use. It’s practically defunct and I only need it for a one time use.”

God, this man really doesn’t know how to endear himself to anyone does he. 

“He doesn’t mean that,” you step in. 

“Well if it’s practically defunct, I wouldn’t want to pawn this junk off on you,” Stark responds, throwing up his hands in feigned defeat. “Besides, it has sentimental value to me. Not sure I’m willing to just give this away to some random guy who broke into my house.”

Miguel’s lip twitches in irritation until you see another flash of those fangs like they’re itching to sink into Stark’s throat. 

That only seems to entertain Stark further. “Look, you clearly need this reactor for something big, and for some reason you’re not able to build it yourself even with your advanced tech on display here. You’re obviously in a hurry, and in a desperate situation. Desperate enough to break in, and you know the saying: beggar’s can’t be choosers. I wouldn’t be much of a businessman if I didn’t take advantage of that.”

Miguel narrows his eyes, glancing around at the electronic equipment stored in the corner of the room. “I need you to throw in the laser scalpel along with the 3d printer and genetic sequencer,” he says, cocking his head in its direction. 

“Wow, toots, your boyfriend has real expensive taste,” Stark teases. 

Your cheek warms at the term boyfriend, but you don’t correct him. 

Neither does Miguel. Instead Miguel looks him squarely in the eyes and juts up his chin. “I want the Sonic disruptor too.”

“Fine,” Stark announces, holding up his hand in the gesture of a time-out to stop Miguel from listing out more expensive items. “You drive a hard bargain, Blue, but what the hell. It’s a deal. I’ll even give you a newer palladium-free model of the reactor so I can keep old sparky here for myself.” 

The sun is setting against the skyline of the city, washing it in strokes of warm amber-orange hues. Miguel is still grumbling next to you as the two of you stroll along the Brooklyn bridge. 

“Supergenius, Ha! Si los zombies comen cerebros, él sería invisible para ellos. What do you see in that guy anyway?! He’s not even good looking. He’s like what? 5 feet tall? He was wearing built in heels, you know! Es más corto que las mangas de un chaleco–”

"Can you pipe down?” you say, cutting off his tirade, “Just let it go, please. It's been hours! I didn’t see anything in him. I have no desire to be the next notch on Tony Stark's bedpost.” 

That finally seems to end his rant, or at the very least slow it down. Miguel shuts his mouth, staring out over the river. “Then why did you tell him you were free?”

“Because I wanted the arc reactor! I figured letting the guy flirt with me might help. Catching flies with honey and all that.”

He folds his arms over his chest, with a skeptical furrow in his brows. “You wanted him to take you somewhere fancy; that’s what you said,” he points out. 

Damn him and his super-genius memory. 

“Well, maybe I also wanted to eat at a Michelin star restaurant one time in my life. Manila Social Club is supposed to have a golden donut made with champagne jelly and actual gold on their dessert menu. 

“That doesn’t even sound tasty,” Miguel mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. His mouth settles into an unhappy frown. 

“It would have been if I didn’t have to pay for it!”

“I could’ve gotten it for you,” he says, and it’s not until you take a better look at his face that you realize it’s not so much as a frown he’s sporting. It’s a pout.  

Oh, is he… ? He is, isn’t he!

“You have nothing to be jealous of, you know. I’m not interested in Tony Stark,” you reassure him. 

In front of you, the rigidness in his shoulder seems to melt at your words.

That surprises you. You’d have expected him to deny the accusation that he’s jealous. Adamantly object that he wasn’t, and why would he be, you’re nobody to him. Just a random stranger that happens to look like his wife that he cannot leave well enough alone. 

He doesn’t do that though. Instead, his only response is a quiet, “Okay.” 

His docileness takes you by surprise. 

Is he admitting that he was jealous? 

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't take even a morsel of enjoyment in the comical way that Miguel is getting himself riled up over you. To have him flustered and openly jealous of Tony Stark flirting with you. 

As if Miguel had anything to worry about. 

As if Tony Stark, a man who has ‘philandering philanthropist’ as a description for himself on his twitter bio, isn't known to be so indiscriminately flirtatious he’d eagerly court a voluptuously shaped tree. 

As if that man of 5 foot 6 (with platform shoes) would ever hope to occupy every one of your thoughts the way Miguel does.

Immature and childish and inane as your behavior back at Stark Tower was—and you feel mildly ashamed of it now—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it in the moment. Not because Tony Stark, multi-billionaire, GQ's Most Eligible Bachelor five years running, was flirting with you. 

No. Because for a moment you got to experience what it was like to have your rude protective Spiderman treat you as his girlfriend. Someone he was possessive of. Someone he treasures. Someone that is his. Instead of your current reality, where you know he belongs to someone else entirely.

“If anyone has anything to be jealous of, don’t you think it should be me?” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth before you can reign them back in. 

Miguel tilts his head, regarding you like a cute, confused pup, so you continue. 

"Because I could never compete with her, right?" 

"Her?" he asks, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Your version of me," you say, "your Nena." You try to smile, try to keep it light-hearted, like the funny joke you had meant it to be, but it hurts even just to hear yourself say it. Because you know it's not a joke. 

It's true. You’re in love with a man whose affections aren't yours to win.

Miguel stops in his tracks, and that makes you stop as well. 

"It's not a competition," he says seriously. "You're two different people. You can't compare like that.” 

You feel like you’re being scolded and probably rightly so. You’re being childish and unreasonably trying to compare yourself to his dead wife. But that doesn’t mean that it makes it hurt any less to hear you don’t compare at all. Your heart fissures and cracks, and  the first sting of tears starts to well up behind your eyes. 

"You're important to me too," he continues. 

The words stop your heart, your eyes dart up to his face. The look on his face is gentle and soft, and it soothes the pain in your chest away, a gentle warmth rising to take its place. 

“Oh,” you say. You can’t help but smile up at him, squinting against the bright sun behind his back. 

“You’re important to me too,” you tell him.  

His lips quirk up into a small but genuine smile at your response. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You nod, and then you have to turn away, feeling bashful under his attentive gaze. Embarrassed heat prickles your cheeks, and you need a second to catch your breath and let the evening breeze cool you down. 

There are cyclists and pedestrians going past you as the two of you continue to walk in silence. You sneak a look at him to see that, like you, he’s turned away. He’s gazing out over the bridge as he walks and against the amber sun, you see a faint flush riding high on his cheeks. 

Your fingers lightly brush against the side of his hand, and he turns back to you and smiles, sliding his pinkie to hook around yours. 

You walk all the way home this way, heart feeling full, and you think to yourself that maybe, this time, things really are going to be okay after all. 

Author's note: So for fellow marvelheads checking, wouldn't Tony be dead after Endgame when Wong was made Supreme Sorcerer? This is another version of earth -- Thanos and the snap never happened. My baby Tony isn't dead how dare you!

Dedication & Credits: To @guruan for her incredibly kind help and donating her time to check the Spanish used in this chapter.

And to the kind @forwantofwill and her generosity for doing this beautiful fanart of Miguel Folding Origami that has stolen my heart!!

And finally to @thirstworldproblemss I love you and hope you're eating all the yummy sukiyaki that you deserve. Thank you for coming with me on this wild ride.

[darkwitchoferie]

Cheating Ex

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Minho since you were children – before he was a professional dancer, let alone before he’d debuted with Stray Kids. You’ve been in love with him for what feels like forever, but he’s with Jisung. Even before that, you’d resigned yourself to him not thinking of you that way. So when you go to his and Jisung’s apartment after your boyfriend cheats on you, again, you’re only expecting a shoulder or two to cry on but get significantly more than you ever let yourself hope for.

Cw/tw: multiple partners, pet names (baby, sweet girl, kitten, etc), unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), talk of anal, member x member action (kissing, but other things discussed), cum eating, dirty talk, non-public exhibitionism, very vocal sex – like, they just won’t stop talking, a little praise kink

Wc: 5.5k

This fic has an alternate that is just Minho x fem!reader. It can be found here.

This fic is part of a series of unconnected best friends to lovers fics, the others of which can be found on my master list.

You rushed through the front door of Minho’s apartment, tears streaming down your face, hoping your best friend was home.

“Y/N?” Jisung came around the corner, from the kitchen into the living room. “Y/nnie, what happened?” He hurried to you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Sungie,” you muttered, relieved that someone was home, even though it wasn’t Minho. It didn’t matter though, you were nearly as close to Jisung as you were to Min. “It’s Haneul,” you said through tears. “He’s cheating on me.”

“Oh sweetheart. Come on.” Gently, he led you to his and Minho’s room. You followed Jisung to his bed and curled against him when he pulled you down onto it, letting the tears come and soak his shirt.

Some time later, after your tears had started to run dry and the crying was mostly internal now, you heard the bedroom door open. “Kitten? What happened?” Minho nearly threw himself on the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you. The familiar nickname, one he’d given you when you’d run over to his house in the rain and he’d said you looked like a half-drowned kitten, brought comfort the same way his presence did.

“Haneul cheated on her,” Jisung explained quietly.

“That asshole! Want me to call Chan and Changbin, sweetheart? We’ll go straighten him out.”

“It’s okay, Min. I’m fine. Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time.” You rolled slightly out of Ji’s embrace so you were looking at both of them.

They were both silent for a moment, staring down at you. “What do you mean?” Minho asked, voice low and dangerous sounding. Or, it would have been if you didn’t know your best friend well enough to know that he wasn’t going to leave you here while he went to hunt down your ex.

“Haneul…,” you sighed. “He’s never been loyal to me. He’s had at least two other girlfriends and I don’t even know how many hook-ups since we started dating. I just never told you.” You shrugged. You knew they were going to question you, but you hoped it wouldn’t be too bad if you tried to downplay how much the other affairs hurt you.

“What made this time different?” Jisung asked softly.

“He cheated in my bed. Not his own, hers, or some hotel room. He brought some woman to my home and my bed.”

“Why’d you stay with him so long?” Minho burst out, disappointment and hurt thick in his voice. “Kitten, you are so much better than that. You deserve so much better! Why put up with some asshole who doesn’t even respect you, let alone love you? Why – I don’t understand why you’d put yourself through that kind of cruelty.”

“He looks like you! Okay?!” You burst out, unable to hold it in under his disappointment. “Figured it was the closest I’d ever get to having you, either of you, so I –” Your eyes widened as you realized what you were saying and you struggled to sit up and get out of their bed. “Shit. Lemme go. Minho! Damn it, let me go!”

“Never,” he’d sat up and tugged you back against his chest.

Then Jisung was in your face, with those pleading boba eyes that you could never say no to. “Please, Y/nnie, just hold still for a bit. Just listen to us, okay?” You nodded, but didn’t relax, ready to run the second Minho let you go. Ji stared at you for a second and you could see the internal debate raging behind his eyes. “You know how Min and I do voice notes a lot?”

“Especially when one of you is working and the other isn’t,” you said by way of agreement.

“Exactly,” he grinned at you then dove toward his night stand and his phone. “Listen to these, yeah? Then… well, we’ll go from there.”

He tapped his screen and you heard Minho’s voice. “Kitten came by while you were out. Seemed sad. Did my best, but I’m not sure it was enough. Maybe swing by hers before you come home?” You furrowed your brow in confusion but before you could ask, he pressed play on another note.

“God damn,” this time it was his own voice. “I could listen to Y/nnie’s laugh all day long and never get bored of it.”

He alternated after that. The next was Minho, then himself again, and so on, giving you no time to react between voice notes.

“Do you think she’d moan like that if we fucked her?”

“She convinced me to go to the pool. You should see the bikini she’s wearing! Barely covers her. God I want to take it off with my teeth.”

“This asshole needs to go! What do you mean, you think she needs to lose weight?! Y/N is fucking perfect and you’re unworthy to breathe the same air.” You’d heard Minho angry like that before, but couldn’t recall the conversation he was referencing. You knew it had to be about your ex though.

“Ha! She fell asleep cuddling me. I feel like I won.” Was there a competition, you wondered.

“I can't decide if I hope she's wearing panties under that tiny skirt or not. Just imagine being allowed to bend her over and slide right in.” The note cut off with a low moan that shot straight to your core despite being a recording.

“Sorry I’m running late. Ran into our not-yet lover at the store. We should really get a move on on that, this whole seeing her pretend to be happy with other people when I know we could make her happier thing is killing me.”

“Sungie, you ever notice that the guys Kitten dates suck? Like, not just ‘cause I want her to be ours. I do, obviously. But like, I don’t think they listen to her when she talks. I know this asshole doesn’t.” You were certain by the tone in his voice that Minho had been drinking that day, but you had no idea when it was.

“Wish you were here baby. Riding my dildo and thinking 'bout you and Y/nnie. Think she'd let me cum in her? I hope so. Wanna make such a mess of that pretty pussy. Breed her like she deserves.” Jisung’s voice was nearly all moans and you could hear the slick sounds as he bounced on his dildo.

“Did you see that outfit she wore today? She always looks so good.”

Jisung set his phone down and stared at you for a minute. When you didn’t say anything, he said, "I know it’s a lot. And I don't wanna scare you off baby, just want you to know.”

“Oh, Kitten’s not scared. Are you? I can see your nipples poking your shirt, sweetheart. Can feel the way you’re damn near panting against me.” He was right. The first time you’d heard your nickname, you’d twitched in surprise. But then, realizing that all these voice notes must be about you, you’d really listened. You were touched and so turned on. You’d been trying to hide your reaction, but should have known that Minho would feel it.

“I….” You trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“You liked that?” Jisung asked. “You like hearing what me and Min talk about – think about you?” You nodded your head quickly. He tilted his head a little, a sly smile crossing his face. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

He crawled closer to you. Holding eye contact, he said, “Would you let me cum in you?” You pressed back firmly against Minho, not trying to get away, more like trying to stabilize yourself. “Would you let me breed your pretty pussy like you deserve?”

You pressed your thighs together, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were trying to hide how aroused you were or trying to get some sort of relief. “I think she would,” Minho said, snaking a hand under your shirt and gently running his fingertips over your belly. “I think that right now Kitten would let both of us do just about anything with her. Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh God.”

Minho used a single finger under your chin to turn you to look at his very serious face. “I need to make one thing very clear to you, Y/N. If we do this, Ji and I are not letting you go. You will be ours. If you think that’s more than you can handle, you should go. Now.” He let go of you, planting both hands on the bed slightly behind himself.

You didn’t bother turning to Jisung to confirm he felt the same way. Instead, you twisted yourself completely around to straddle Minho’s lap. Sliding your arms over his shoulders you leaned in toward him. “Promise?” you whispered.

Minho practically lunged to close the tiny amount of distance left between you to claim your lips in a possessive kiss. His hand came up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head to where he wanted so he could deepen the kiss. You felt the bed shift behind you then the warmth of Jisung crowding against your back seconds before you felt his lips on your neck. Minho shifted you just a little more to give Ji more room as he sucked a hickey into your skin. You kept one arm over Minho’s shoulder, burying that hand in his hair, while bringing your other hand back to grip Jisung’s thigh, whimpering into Minho’s mouth at the way his thigh flexed under your hand.

Minho used the hand he had on your hip to pull you closer to him, sliding you over the bulge forming in his pants. You moaned, finally breaking away from his lips to toss your head back onto Jisung’s shoulder.

“Is Min hard under you, baby?” Jisung asked, lips hovering just over your neck. “’Course he is,” he said before you could answer. “He’s tasted your pretty mouth and got you on his lap finally. Does he feel good against your pussy, even through your clothes?” You nodded frantically. He shifted to whisper in your ear, “I promise, he feels even better inside you.” You moaned, rolling your hips against Minho’s clothed cock, and hearing both men echo your moan.

You turned your head, twisting your upper body enough that you could capture Jisung’s lips. The angle you were at wasn’t comfortable, but it did leave the other side of your neck bared for Minho to cover with open mouthed kisses and a few hickeys. You felt hands slide under your shirt, one Ji’s the other Min’s. They lifted the fabric over your head, both pulling away when they needed to.

Minho groaned low in his throat, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Kitten, you deserve for us to take our time, savoring you today. I don’t think I can,” he answered, without looking up at you.

“Mm. I don’t recall asking you to do that. Or even remotely suggesting it,” you countered. He lifted his head to look at you, that same dangerous look from earlier flashing in his eyes. Except this time, it was darker, lustful, and sent an answering bolt of lust through you.

You felt more than heard Jisung chuckle behind you. Quickly enough to leave you breathless, Minho and Jisung both manhandled you between them, stripping you of all your clothes until you rested between Minho’s legs, completely naked, back to his chest, his legs hooked over yours to hold them open. Their hands roamed over you – caressing your legs, belly, ghosting over your neck and boobs – overwhelming you with sensation. You tipped your head back against Minho, eyes closing, just letting yourself feel their hands.

Ji leaned in, cupping one boob and sucking that same nipple into his mouth while Min cupped the other from behind, rolling that nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned, pitch higher than it’d been so far, arching your back and pressing your tits more firmly against Ji and your ass against Minho.

“Does that feel good, Kitten? You like when we play with your tits?” You nodded frantically. “You have such pretty tits, baby. Always knew you would.” They switched sides, Ji moving to suck on the nipple Min had been playing with. Minho leaned down, gently biting where your neck and shoulder met, pulling a whimper from you. “Gonna let us take care of you today, Kitten?” He muttered, voice husky.

“Please.” You weren’t sure exactly what you were begging for, you just wanted more – wanted whatever they were going to give you. There must have been some sort of silent communication between the two men, because Jisung shifted, hands and mouth falling away from you. Then you felt his clothed chest against yours and opened your eyes to see the two men sharing a sloppy, open mouthed kiss over your shoulder. You moaned again, cunt clenching at the sight so close to you. Entranced, you watched and heard Ji whimper when Min nipped his bottom lip.

Then Jisung backed away from you completely, stripping himself quickly, and sitting between your spread legs, near your feet. You tilted your head in confusion, only to receive a mischievous smile in return. Minho’s hands slid down your body, one coming to rest on your hip, the other lightly running over your pussy. You whined, trying to push yourself more firmly against his hand, only to be held in place by the hand on your hip. Without warning, he quickly shoved his middle finger into you, chuckling when you clenched around him.

“You’re so wet already, Kitten.” He thrust his middle finger into you a few times, quickly adding his index. “Do you like Sungie watching you?” Minho’s voice was husky, right next to your ear, close enough that you could feel his breath against your face. You nodded, hands flailing to find something to grip as he slid his two fingers up to your clit. You grabbed his thighs, holding on tightly. “That’s good. Usually, he likes being watched too. But right now, he’s gonna sit there and watch while you fall apart on just my fingers.” Something in the way he said it sounded like both a promise and a threat.

He rubbed firm circles against your clit, then slid his fingers back into your cunt, thrusting firmly and as deep as he could, given his position behind you. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, giving you enough pressure, but not quite enough friction. You writhed against his chest, trying to give yourself friction from his hand, but unable to get enough purchase to move much with the way he held your hip and your legs open.

Between your feet, Jisung smoothed his fingertips along both you calves. “Feel good, baby? His fingers are amazing, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded desperately, moaning when Minho switched back to circling your clit.

“You’re so responsive, Kitten. Will you be the same for Ji when he buries his face in your cute little pussy? Hm? Gonna squirm on his tongue like you are on my fingers?” You whimpered, squirming in his hold just like he said you were.

“Can’t wait to taste you, sweet girl. Wanna feel and taste you cum on my tongue. You’ll do that for me, right?” You felt like a bobble head doll with the way you were constantly nodding at the two men, but were struggling to form coherent words to answer with already.

Minho curled his fingers in you, rapidly rubbing against the spongy part of your walls that had you seeing stars. In a distant part of your mind, you realized that you were building to your orgasm faster than you ever did, even when it was just you. Then Minho shifted his hand, somehow managing to massage your g-spot and flick his thumb over your clit at the same time.

“Ah,” your back arched, head tossed back against Minho’s shoulder, as your orgasm washed through you.

“Good girl,” Minho praised, rubbing his hand against your hip soothingly, still slowly working his fingers in you as he helped you ride the aftershocks. You whined at the praise, clenching around him as you came down from your high.

You barely had time to register Minho bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean before Jisung was flat on his belly between your legs, mouth pressed to your pussy, hands gripping your thighs.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, hips trying to lift toward him, but unable to move far. “Sungie,” you whined his name, reaching down to clutch his shoulder as he laved his tongue over your already soaked pussy, tongue darting between your lips then flicking over your clit.

“It’s one of his favorite fantasies you know,” Minho spoke with his lips right next to your ear. “Eating you out, I mean. He’s got this fantasy of laying you out on our bed or the couch or anywhere really, and just devouring your pussy for hours,” he ran his fingers through Jisung’s hair as he spoke, pressing his boyfriend’s face firmly against your cunt. “Well, that and watching our cum leak out of you. But that’s both of us who wanna claim you that way. Know that your ours. Gonna let Ji fuck you first so I can fuck his cum into you.” You felt Jisung moan against your clit, his lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves. Your legs twitched where they were still held open by Minho’s legs, desperately wanting to wrap around Jisung’s head and hold him there.

“You’ll let us, right Kitten? Let Ji then me cum inside your pretty cunt, fill you up? Hm?”

“Yes. Yes please,” you nodded wildly, fingers digging into Minho’s thigh and Jisung’s shoulder.

You felt the satisfied hum more than you heard it. “Such a good girl for us,” he praised softly, pulling matching moans from you and Jisung. The hand not tangled in his boyfriend’s hair slid up your torso to tease your nipples.

You were building to another orgasm quickly, panting and moaning in Minho’s arms. You weren’t sure if it was their skill and enthusiasm, that you were just that turned on, or just because it was Minho and Jisung, that had you so sensitive and cumming quicker – and harder – than usual.

Jisung’s tongue slid down your folds, thrusting as deep into your cunt as he could, pressing his face tighter against you in an effort to get deeper. You could feel him whine against you, like he was disappointed that he couldn’t fuck you deeper with his tongue. But the vibrations of his whine had another gush of arousal flowing from you and his responding moan had you clenching around his tongue. His nose moved against your clit with every movement of his lips and tongue as he continued devouring you.

Minho leaned down, sucking a bruise against the top of your shoulder. At the same time, Jisung shifted, sucking your clit into his mouth and batting the bundle of nerves with his tongue. Both sensations, coupled with Minho’s fingers still teasing your nipple, was enough to have you arching again, another orgasm rolling through you.

You were barely able to catch your breath as Jisung hovered over you, leaning over your shoulder and pressing his lips to Minho’s. You felt Minho groan, the sound vibrating in his chest where you were still pressed together. Still coming down from your high, it took a couple seconds for you to realize that the two of them were pushing and pulling you to lie back. You rested back against Minho, who shifted so that he was somewhat propped against their pillows and your head was now resting on the bottom of his ribs. So you weren’t laying flat, but you weren’t sitting up anymore.

“Hey pretty girl,” Jisung smiled down at you, gently squeezing your hip, as he broke away from his boyfriend’s lips.

“Hi Sungie,” you smiled up at him, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and weaving your fingers into the ends of his hair.

“Still okay, baby?”

Distantly, you were touched that he checked in with you, but right then, you didn’t care. You tugged the ends of his hair gently and said, “If you don’t fuck me soon, Sungie….”

Behind you, Minho chuckled, bringing his hands up to rest on your belly. “Yeah, you’re doing just fine, aren’t you?” You felt him lean down and nuzzle his nose against the top of your head for a moment.

Jisung knelt between your thighs, knees wide and sliding them under your thighs. He leaned over you, bracing one hand on Minho’s thigh while holding the base of his cock with the other. He held your gaze as he teased his cockhead between your lips, bumping your clit on every upward stroke.

“Sungie,” you whined, wiggling your hips as best as you could in the position you were held in, trying to get him into you. He smiled softly down at you, then rolled his hips. Your hand tightened in his hair with a long, low moan as he fully sheathed his cock in you with one smooth motion.

“Oh god,” he whimpered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply. You could feel his abs twitching slightly against you as he obviously worked to control himself and give you a moment to adjust before rutting into you like he wanted.

You felt Minho’s hand join yours in his hair. “She feel good, Sung? As good as we’ve always thought she would?”

“Better. God, Min, she feels so good. So wet,” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, “so warm,” you felt him lick at then suck a hickey into the same spot on your neck, “so perfect,” he propped himself up again to capture your lips this time.

You gently sucked his lower lip into your mouth, swiping over it with your tongue and pulling a low moan and responding hard thrust from him. Minho’s hands, which had been comfortably settled on your belly, slid up to cup both your boobs. You moaned, breaking away from Jisung’s mouth, arching into Minho’s hands as he pinched, rolled, and generally teased both nipples at once.

“So responsive, sweet girl.” Deciding you’d clearly adjusted enough, Jisung rolled his hips, steadily picking up speed until you were rocking against Minho. Whines and moans constantly fell from your lips under the combined sensations of Jisung’s cock in you and Minho’s hands on your tits.

You could feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm, and you clearly weren’t the only one who could. “You’re clenching pretty hard, baby,” Jisung offered a soft, dreamy sort of smile. “You gonna cum again? Gonna cum all over my cock for me?”

“Yes,” you whined, purposefully clenching around him again.

Minho slipped out from behind you, moving to lay beside you. “Wanna see your face when you cum on Ji’s cock, Kitten,” he muttered, running his fingers lightly over your torso. His touch wasn’t particularly sexual, but it felt like he was leaving a trail of fire under your skin wherever he touched.

Jisung adjusted, leaning back on his heels and pulling your hips flush against his, causing your back to arch. “Oh god,” you moaned out, the change in angle letting him fuck deeper into you. You reached over to Minho, intent on grabbing some part of him, only to hit fabric. “How – ah – you still dressed?”

“Because he’s infuriating. Lets him think he’s still in control,” Jisung huffed out.

“Want skin,” you whined, tugging his shirt and causing both men to chuckle at you. Minho rolled away from you, standing up beside the bed and quickly stripping himself. You watched, Jisung pulling small moans from you with every thrust of his hips. As soon as Minho tossed his boxers away, you were reaching out for him.

“I know,” Jisung agreed, voice breathy as he leaned over you and pressed a kiss to your sternum. “He looks so good, doesn’t he?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded quickly, wrapping your hand around Minho’s wrist as he climbed back onto the bed and settled beside you. You tugged the hand you were holding up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm, before licking a thick stripe up his palm and wrapping your lips around two of his fingers.

Both men groaned at your actions, then Minho started thrusting his two fingers into your mouth. “Do you like that, Kitten?” You moaned around his fingers, swirling your tongue around the two digits. “Maybe next time I’ll fuck your mouth while Ji’s in your cunt, hm?”

You moaned again, pussy clenching at the thought. “Heh,” Jisung huffed a laugh. “Think she likes that idea, Min. Gripped me so tight.” He tightened his grip on your hips, making you arch your back a little more.

“There’s so many things we wanna do with you.” He pulled his fingers from your mouth, trailing the wet digits down your neck then over one nipple, rubbing light circles around it as it pebbled under his touch. You could feel your orgasm building, the coil in your belly getting tighter the more Minho talked and teased. “Let Sungie fuck you while I fuck him. Or let both of us fuck you together – one of us in your ass and the other in your pussy. Would you like that baby?” He leaned over you, laving his tongue over the nipple he wasn’t teasing. He wrapped his lips over the bud, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it, finally releasing it when it was hard before switching sides and giving the other the same treatment.

“God. Both feel so good,” you groaned out, purposefully clenching around Jisung’s cock as you buried a hand in Minho’s hair to hold him against you.

“Yeah? Bet Haneul never made you feel this good, huh?” Minho asked, venom lacing his words.

“Who?” They both chuckled.

“Good girl,” Minho praised, fingers trailing down to rub firm circles against your clit. You whined, legs and pussy clenching around Jisung as the coil in your belly finally snapped, your third orgasm rushing through you. Jisung didn’t slow his thrusts, working you through your aftershocks.

After several more thrusts, you felt Ji pull almost all the way out, leaving just a little more than the head of his cock in you, and not thrust back in. You whimpered, almost disappointed, then abruptly cutting off as you caught sight of his hand stroking the part of his cock that wasn’t buried in you. He gave you a spacy sort of smile, rubbing his hand in soothing motions over your belly. He tossed his head back just as you felt his cockhead twitch and his cum flood into you. After only a few seconds to catch his breath, Jisung pulled the rest of the way out of you and you felt his cum leak out of you.

“God, baby. Look so good with my cum in you,” Jisung moaned.

Minho swooped in, bending close and swiping his tongue up your slit, catching the cum that was leaking out of you. Quickly, he leaned back up and pressed his lips to yours, slipping his cum-covered tongue into your mouth. You groaned, sucking the salty liquid off his tongue and pulling an echoed groan from him.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, pulling away from your mouth as he slotted himself between your thighs, sliding into your cunt in one smooth stroke. “Like the way your and Sungie’s cum tastes together?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly.

Jisung whined, leaning over you and licking into your mouth, chasing any taste that remained.

Minho wrapped his arms under your legs and leaned forward, nearly folding you in half, and planting his hands on either side of your head. “Not gonna last long, Kitten. Think you still got one more in you?”

You nodded frantically, grabbing his forearm beside you, the other hand reaching out to Jisung, who’d moved to lay beside you.

“Got himself all worked up before he even got inside you. Poor Min,” Jisung teased. Minho shot him a half hearted glare, but the younger man just chuckled. He leaned in close to you, pressing open mouthed kisses along your shoulder and neck, snaking a hand between you and Minho so he could tease your nipples. “Feels amazing around your cock, doesn’t she?”

Minho groaned in response, head dropping forward, hair falling forward enough to tickle your chest.

You felt Jisung’s lips trail up toward your ear and heard him mutter, “Beg him. Watch his eyes.”

Trusting him, you did exactly as he asked. “Min,” you whined, voice breathy. “Fuck me. Please, Min. Need you,” you added, purposely clenching around his cock. You breath was knocked out of you with a gasp as Minho started pistoning into you, like he was trying to fuck you into the mattress. You watched his eyes flash, something almost feral about the way he looked down at you. “Oh god,” you moaned, fingernails digging into his forearm.

“I know,” you could hear the grin in Jisung’s voice, right by your ear. “I love it when he gets like this. Like he just has to claim you, all because you begged a little. And he looks so good fucking you, doesn’t he? Our pretty man.” You whimpered with Jisung’s words. “Hm, wonder what pulled that? Was it ‘our’?” You nodded, body rocking with the force of Minho’s thrusts. “He is, ya know. He told you, we won’t let you go now. You’re ours and we’re yours.”

He pinched and rolled first one nipple then the other, moans and whines still falling from your lips. “Hear that, baby? Can you hear how sloppy your cunt is for Min?” You could, easily hearing the squelching sounds every time Minho thrust into you. “Your cum and mine all mixed in there for him? Can’t wait till he fills you up too, make you even more messy for us. Ruin our pretty baby for anyone other than us.”

He whined, leaning up to claim your lips in a sloppy kiss. “Can’t believe we finally get you to ourselves,” he groaned, pulling away enough to trail kisses along your jaw and neck. His fingers hadn’t stopped teasing and groping at your tits, though he did whine a bit when he realized there wasn’t room for him to get his mouth on them with the way Minho had you bent in half. Instead, he settled for sprinkling open-mouthed kisses and licks all over the skin he could reach, even as he continued to talk. “You’re so perfect for us, baby. Promise we’ll be perfect to you too. Love you all the time.”

You whined, clenching tightly around Minho. “Ah,” he smiled down at you. “Love you, Kitten.” You clenched again, this time with your last orgasm crashing over you. Minho kept up the speed of his thrusts, chasing his own high now. He’d been right, it didn’t take much before he was stilling and you could feel his cock twitching inside you, his cum filling you and leaking out around his cock.

He slipped his arms out from under you legs, gently moving them down to the bed. He slid his softening cock out of you, pulling a small whine from you at the feeling.

Jisung shifted, so he could see you pussy. You should probably have felt some kind of embarrassment at the way they were looking at you, but you were feeling too good to care. “We were right,” Minho commented. “You look so good, all messy from both of us filling you up.”

You whined again, just barely a protest, slightly kicking your legs against the bed sheets, then wincing at the soreness in your muscles. Both of them noticed and exchanged quick looks that you didn’t have the brain power to interpret. Minho rolled toward his side of the bed, opening the nightstand drawer and pulling out paper towels and baby wipes. Together, the pair of them carefully cleaned you up, then lay down beside you, each man gently massaging your hips and thighs.

Under their combined ministrations, you started to feel sleep pulling at you. After a couple minutes, they relaxed on either side of you, each resting a hand on your belly.

“Kitten, did you have plans this weekend?”

“Don’t you mean, do I, not did?”

“I do not. I mean, if you had plans, you should cancel them and spend the weekend here with us.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm-hm. We should take you out on a proper date. Or at least have a proper at-home date. Treat you right, like you should be treated.”

“Mm,” you smiled. “Suppose I could be persuaded to drop my plans for that.”

“Good,” Jisung gave you a sleepy smile, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Nap first though.” He scooted closer to you, tossing a leg over yours and tucking his face down against your shoulder. You and Minho chuckled, but neither made any move to dissuade him. Instead, Minho wrapped an arm around both of you, tucking the other under your neck and tugging your head under his chin. Slowly, you drifted off between your two men.

[boneblushed]

Ignorance by infatuation

synopsis A detective behaves lewdly with you. Aaron Hotchner gets uncharacteristically jealous.

wc 1.7k

a/n omg my first Hotch fic ever hehe 🤭 feedback and love always appreciated, still trying to find my Crim Minds voice!

It’s 8 o’clock in the morning, the air sultry and verdant, rain soaked leaves underfoot. 

Aaron Hotchner frowns. Petrichor and dew mean evidence awash. He pauses to squint up at the sky, muddy grey with isolated streaks of yellow dawn.

You’re acutely aware of Spencer’s eyes on you as you walk past Hotch, and give yourself a mild headache by focussing too hard on the commotion ahead. The rest of the team don’t seem to notice the tension between you and SSA Hotchner. Or perhaps they do, and the pair of you are just too stubborn to admit it.

It’s been lurking under the surface for a while now, this perplexing pull between you. Lingering glances, raised eyebrows, irises spooled with tendrils of static. A hand pressed against your back every time he scoots behind you, like an excuse. He doesn’t do that with Emily. None of the other agents. A frown that tends to yield when your gaze catches his.

Or hardens when someone acts a little lewder than is appropriate.

Like the other day, for example, when he’d overheard you on the phone with some deadbeat cop in the Dallas area. (He’s probably being unfair. He probably isn’t even a deadbeat. It’s just that anyone that flirts with the idea of your favour is going to be unworthy in comparison, even Agent Hotchner.)

The phone had rung in the middle of your exchange, and you’d answered it immediately, mouthing apologies in its place. Aaron Hotchner remembers the shine of gloss on your lips, the ways your fingers clasped the phone to your ear, gentle but firm. Remnants of peach coloured polish on your nails.

“Yes, this is she,” you’d answered, mouthing another apology to him. “How can I help you?”

You’d come into his office a few minutes prior to discuss something media strategy; Hotch didn’t have a mind for it, he much preferred giving you all the reins. He recognised how strange this was for a control freak as prolific as him. You were different though, he’d attest. It was a sentiment as dangerous, as non-platonic, as the feelings making home in his ribcage.

“Right,” you’d said, pulling your spiral-bound notebook out of your pocket. You’d wedged your phone between your ear and shoulder, slipping your pen out of your breast pocket and clicking it against it. Hotch felt unseasonably hot at such attention to your chest. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, trying to catch your gaze.

“Ah, I see, yes that does sound like our area of expertise,” you’d continued, and then a pause, an awkward, unwieldy laugh. Still beautiful. “No, yes, our is correct — I am in fact part of the team.” Another pause; this time, you’d rolled your eyes when your laugh spooled out of your pretty mouth. He didn’t recognise it. “I don’t know about that. Should we get back to the case at hand? Great.”

Hotchner’s eyebrows had lowered then, furrowing into an expression of concern, flailing interest. Not jealousy. He was pretty certain he knew all your laughs, the cadence of them, the syrupy timbre. This one was new. You sounded uncomfortable, as though something said over the phone had abraded you somehow. As his eyebrows had, his heart had sunk into his stomach. He remembers the strain of his forearm muscles against his clenched knuckles.

“Sure. Yes. As soon as I have all the details I’ll be able to distribute them. Great, yes, we’ll see you soon, I’m sure. Thank you. Goodbye.”

And that had been that. Hotch hadn’t had the stomach to ask after the details, especially not when you’d seemed so eager to put it behind you.

After ending the call, you’d shaken your head and proclaimed, “Don’t ask,” launching back into your spiel about media strategy like it hadn’t happened. Hotch wasn’t in the business of disagreeing with you; pressing things. Saying no. It wasn’t lost on him that he used the word liberally with everyone else he knew.

Back at the scene, Hotch stays a few steps behind the team. He knows that Spencer’s assessing eyes will see right through his faux contemplation; Hotchner knows, from the many frowns Spencer’s eidetic memory has learned, that the expression on his face will be recognised as distraction.

He needs to focus. He needs you near. He needs to keep his eye on the ball. He needs deadbeat detective far away from here.

As you and the BAU team near the crime scene, a rugged looking cop pulls away from his colleagues. He has eyes like treacle tart and a grin that borders on a smirk. A toothpick hangs from his mouth like something out of a Western.

“Detective Landon?” You say, extending a hand in acknowledgement. “Hello, we spoke on the phone yesterday morning.”

Detective Landon spits the toothpick out of his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he does so. But it isn’t the depth of his gaze that drops yours. You can feel someone else’s eyes searing holes through your skull.

“Well I’ll be,” he drawls, taking your hand and pressing it to his mouth. “Your voice doesn’t do you justice, darling.”

You resist the urge to make a face. It’s awful, unfortunate, but you’re far too used to this. Behind you, Derek raises his eyebrows, sharing an amused look with Emily beside him. Rossi looks exasperated. Spencer’s expression remains unchanged, though he does steal a glance at Hotchner. You smile, the way you always do, refusing to be thrown off by his candour.

“That’s a shame,” you reply breezily, turning to introduce your team. “Detective, this is SSA Morgan, SSA Prentiss, Dr Spencer Reid, and —”

“I’m the unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner,” Hotch interrupts, a menacing gravel to his timbre. He doesn’t shake the hand Detective Landon extends to him. The detective draws it back with a gauche bark of laughter, turning his attention to the rest of the BAU.

“My my,” he says, his drawl returning as his eyes meet Emily’s. “What do I gotta do to get in on this team of yours?”

“A formal education would be helpful,” Spencer supplies, squinting at him through his glasses.

Detective Landon turns to him then, raising his eyebrows. “Doctor Reid, was it?”

“It is, but no need to aim that high, buddy,” Morgan says then, stepping forward and patting him on the shoulder. Landon winces. “Now. You going to talk us through what you guys got so far or what?”

“Damn, y’all are a feisty bunch, huh?” He replies, pulling another toothpick out of his breast-pocket. He sends you a wink that makes Hotch’s insides turn, adding, “Don’t mind it on you, sweetheart, but maybe the rest of the BAU ‘oughta play nice.”

Aaron Hotchner would normally agree with his sentiment. He’s been a long time advocate of working alongside the local police in investigations; he recognises that collaboration is far more productive than condescension.

Unfortunately for him, this isn’t quite a normal situation.

Things to do with you and other men rarely are. An ugly green emotion eases his heart right into his throat.

“Or maybe,” Hotchner says crisply, his steely gaze pinning Landon to the spot, “I should have a chat with your Captain and take you off this case.”

Landon balks. “Sir —”

“You’re dismissed,” Hotchner interrupts, not wanting to hear it. He’s unaware of the amused look Emily and Morgan share behind him.

“You…” Landon trails off exasperatedly, shaking his head, “…you can’t dismiss me. This is my case.”

“Actually, it’s the BAU’s case now.” He turns to you expectantly. You think you catch his gaze soften as it falls over your face in paces. Trick of the light, you suppose. “Right?”

“Sure,” you say weakly.

“Right then. Rossi?” Hotch says then, turning to David Rossi autocratically. “Why don’t you and the team go ahead and assess the scene while I head to base and sort out a reassignment.”

“Not you, Reid,” he adds, keeping Spencer in place. “You can come to the station with me, get our replacement up to speed. Sound good?”

Morgan’s trying hard to hide his knowing grin, one side of his mouth upturned with mirth. Emily isn’t bothering to pretend she doesn’t know what’s going on, her pretty features lit up with amusement. Detective Landon looks mortified. Your cheeks feel on fire.

“Alright,” Rossi says after pause, glancing between you and Hotchner. He’s been in the FBI for long enough now that he’s learnt to pick his battles.

He turns around and begins walking toward the crime scene, the three of you trailing behind him with less purposeful strides.

“Huh,” Derek says, faux-thoughtful. You’re wedged between him and Emily, much to your chagrin. “Wonder what that was about. Any ideas, SSA Prentiss?”

“Well, SSA Morgan,” Emily replies, her smile audible. “I’m afraid that our dear old unit chief has a bit of a soft spot.”

“A soft spot?” Derek echoes, letting out a dramatic gasp. “That’s dangerous in our line of work, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would say,” Emily responds sagely.

“Oh shut up, you two,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t just about me. He made a pass on Emily too.”

Emily snorts, shaking her head exasperatedly. “Hey Rossi, you got a name for this phenomenon?”

“Oh yeah,” Rossi replies without hesitation, his gaze trained ahead of him. “Ignorance by infatuation.”

Out of earshot, Spencer and Hotchner are having a similarly painful conversation.

“Strange,” Spencer decides, breaking the silence with his candour.

Aaron knows what he’s insinuating. He resists the urge to turn around and steal another glance at your pretty silhouette. “He was behaving inappropriately. There’s nothing strange about it, Spencer. I was protecting my team.”

“The whole team?”

“Yes.”

“Including me?”

“Yes.”

“But I liked him.”

Hotchner sends him an incredulous look. “And what exactly was there to like?”

“He was entertaining, I think,” Spencer replies casually, shrugging. “In a cop way, you know? Plus, I love listening to Y/N reject men. It’s fascinating.”

Hotchner swallows. “Fascinating?”

“She always does it in this way where they don’t even realise what exactly’s happening,” Spencer explains matter-of-factly. He turns to Aaron Hotchner then. “Don’t worry, though, she’d never do that to you.”

Hotchner’s traitorous heart leaps, his mouth pulling into a paradoxical frown. “Spencer,” he warns.

“Just saying,” Spencer replies, raising his arms in surrender.

“Well,” Hotch says grumpily, “don’t.”

“Alright. Noted.”

[ghostlyglimmer]

You're Grounded Mister

Summary:

A mission gone wrong leaves the Batkids bickering—until Batman grounds them and Danny Fenton, a confused civilian caught in the chaos. This one-shot is based on this post by Shower-Phantom-Ideas

It had all gone downhill fast.

The plan had been Dick’s idea—though Tim and Jason definitely could have pointed out the glaring holes in it, and Damian hadn’t exactly offered his usual dose of cynicism. It was supposed to be a quick, in-and-out operation. Minimal risk, maximum payoff.

But things got complicated when that guy showed up. Just some kid, and not even a vigilante or a rogue. It was supposed to be a straightforward job in Gotham’s shadier district—stop the exchange of a highly dangerous chemical, break up the bad guys, be home in time for breakfast. But, no, some civilian had gotten in the way and distracted the gangsters long enough to mess with their timing.

As Jason would tell it later, “It was just bad luck.” As Bruce would say, “It was complete negligence.”

And as for Danny? Well, he didn’t have much of a say in it. Not that he was about to back down from a bunch of armed gangsters, especially with the Batkids swooping in around him, leaving chaos and knocked-out criminals in their wake. Danny had handled a few of them before they even showed up, quietly taking out the last of them when Bruce finally stepped in.

And now they were here, a tense, heated argument in a dark Gotham alley.

“You should have waited for backup!” Bruce snapped, his voice slicing through their squabbles. “I told you it was a risk to go in alone—especially when we didn’t have all the intel! This is about safety, and clearly—”

“Right, clearly we were fine until you stepped in,” Jason shot back, scowling.

“It would have gone smoothly if someone didn’t just happen to be there,” Dick muttered, clearly feeling defensive.

“It was your idea, Grayson!” Tim hissed, his voice laden with frustration. “Don’t turn this around.”

“Maybe if you’d listened—”

Damian scoffed. “I could have handled them on my own.”

Bruce’s frown deepened, and he turned to Danny, who was awkwardly inching his way toward the exit.

“And don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Bruce said, turning his Batglare on him. “You’re grounded too.”

Danny froze, one foot halfway lifted in a tippy-toe pose. “I… I’m sorry, what?”

The Batkids stopped mid-argument and looked at Danny, then back at Bruce, then at each other, as if piecing something together. Dick’s face morphed from irritation to confusion; Jason’s went slack.

“Uh… Mr. Batman, sir, with all due respect, I’m just some guy,” Danny said slowly, staring at Bruce. “Can… Can Batman even do that?”

“Everyone in the Batmobile,” Bruce said firmly, ignoring Danny’s question. “We’ll discuss this further in the morning.”

Danny, still too stunned to process much beyond “Batman grounded me,” felt himself nodding along. Guess we’re going with it.

The ride was silent and tense. Jason looked broody, arms crossed, staring out the window. Tim rubbed his temples, probably rethinking every tactical choice. Dick was sulking, and Damian, surprisingly, just looked mad at being lumped in with the others. Danny, meanwhile, stayed very still, wedged between Tim and Jason, trying not to breathe too loudly. It was a surreal experience—he was tired, his limbs ached, and his brain was reeling from the absurdity of it all, but it was Batman. The Batmobile wasn’t exactly the place to make his objections.

By the time they reached the Batcave, Danny figured he’d try for some clarity.

“Uh,” he started, looking around at the cavernous space, vast and impressive, filled with tech and lights. “So, do you mind if I, uh, call my family to tell them I won’t be home tonight?”

The entire cave fell silent. Jason froze mid-complaint, Dick and Tim stopped sulking, and Damian’s scowl melted into shock. All four of them stared at Danny, and then slowly, like someone had hit pause, their heads turned to look at Bruce.

He seemed unbothered, glancing at Danny as if this were just standard procedure. But for everyone else, the realization was dawning. Dick was the first to speak, his voice wavering.

“Uh… Bruce?” Dick asked slowly, eyebrows raised. “Did… Did you kidnap a civilian?”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason burst out laughing, doubling over, his hands clutching his sides. “Oh, this is gold. He’s not even a rogue, B. He’s just some random guy you told to get in the car!”

Danny held up his hands. “In my defense, it was Batman, okay? Who’s going to not get in the Batmobile when Batman tells you you’re grounded?”

Tim covered his face with both hands, muffling his laugh. Damian scowled, crossing his arms.

“This is embarrassing,” he muttered. “Father, you’re losing credibility by the second.”

Bruce’s expression tightened, clearly irked by the fact that his kids’ attention had wandered from the initial issue. They had disobeyed him, endangered a civilian, and now they were laughing because, okay, maybe he had unintentionally forced said civilian to join them in the Batcave.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly rethinking several recent decisions.

“Alright,” Bruce finally said. “My apologies. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you don’t need to be here. We’ll get you a ride back home.”

Danny blinked, a little surprised. “So, wait, I’m not grounded?”

“No, you’re not grounded,” Bruce replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jason snickered. “Damn, you got off easy. We’re grounded for sure.”

Bruce cleared his throat, and the smiles faded from the other Batkids’ faces. “Yes, you’re grounded,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “All of you.”

They groaned in unison, but Danny, relieved beyond measure, was already edging toward the door. He nodded a quick thank you to Batman and managed a small, awkward wave to the others.

As he left, he could hear Dick muttering, “Grounded… from what? We’re grown men!”

Jason groaned. “Grounded as in, no solo missions, genius.”

Danny paused, letting the sounds of the Batfamily’s complaints echo behind him as he took the lift back to ground level. He shook his head, chuckling. Only in Gotham. Only with Batman would you end up “grounded” for just existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But hey—at least he got a free ride in the Batmobile out of it.

[ccupcakeyss]

⌣⌣　　˳　 ⊹ EXCUSE ME? 𓏼 𝜗℘

SUMMARY: the school you and your husband's child, megumi attends called you one after apparently megumi got into a fight...

WC: another short fluffy fic, 657!

NOTES: HIHI BEEN A BIT SINCE I POSTED!!! guys i love fushiguro family like ohmyogd anyways PLEASE SEND REQUESTS I AM SO BORED AND ON WRITERS BLOCK

The call came just before lunch.

You were curled up on the couch, half-dozing in Toji’s lap while he scrolled through his phone, when yours started buzzing on the table. You picked it up with a groan, already expecting it to be spam.

But when you saw the name — Megumi’s School — your blood turned to ice.

You sat up fast. “It’s the school.”

Toji’s eyes immediately sharpened, phone dropping to the side as he leaned in. You put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Mrs. Takahashi from Sato Elementary. We’re calling to inform you that your son, Megumi, was involved in a… physical altercation today. We’d like you and his father to come in for a meeting.”

Toji was already standing. “We’re on our way.”

Fifteen minutes later,

You and Toji stepped into the office, calm on the surface, but both of you radiating that kind of cool, dangerous energy that made people instinctively step out of your way. You were dressed in all black, Toji in his usual fitted shirt and jacket, the kind of dad who looked like he fought people for fun and always won.

Mrs. Takahashi, the principal, and a meek-looking teacher were waiting.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, folding her hands tightly. “We need to discuss your son’s behavior today.”

“Where is he?” you asked immediately.

“Currently sitting with the nurse. He’s not injured, but—”

“What. happened,” Toji said, voice low, “exactly?”

The principal cleared his throat. “It appears Megumi punched another student. Several times. Unprovoked.”

You raised a brow. “Unprovoked?”

“Yes.”

Toji crossed his arms. “And you’re sure about that? Because my kid doesn’t swing first unless he’s got a damn good reason.”

The teacher adjusted her glasses. “It’s just that… he can be very quiet. Reserved. Sometimes children like that act out unexpectedly.”

You leaned forward slightly. “Did anyone ask him what happened?”

There was a pause.

“We didn’t get the chance before calling you—”

.

.

.

“You didn’t ask my son for his side of the story before labeling him a problem?” you snapped.

Toji’s tone darkened. “That’s not gonna fly with me.”

Mrs. Takahashi cleared her throat. “We understand this is upsetting, but physical violence—”

“Tell us who the other kid is,” you interrupted. “We’ll call their parents. Let’s have this conversation properly.”

The principal blinked. “I… don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Then stop trying to act like our son’s a criminal when you didn’t even ask what happened,” Toji snapped. “Megumi doesn’t throw punches for fun. What did the other kid do?”

The teacher hesitated. “…Apparently, there was name-calling. The other boy allegedly told Megumi his mom was stupid. And… made comments about her being pregnant. Called her ‘fat’ and ‘gross.’”

You felt Toji’s hand grip yours under the table.

You smiled—cold, sweet, dangerous. “So Megumi defended his mother.”

The principal looked uncomfortable. “Regardless, physical retaliation—”

“Toji,” you said sweetly, not taking your eyes off the staff, “can you remind me what we teach Megumi about defending his family?”

Toji leaned in, voice low and sharp. “That we don’t throw the first punch. But we always throw the last.”

The room went silent.

You stood, adjusting your coat. “We’re taking our son home. You can contact us when you’ve figured out how to actually handle bullying, instead of punishing the kid who stands up to it.”

Toji followed, not even bothering to look back. “And next time you call us in, make sure you’ve got your facts straight.”

Ten minutes later, in the car,

Megumi was sitting in the back seat, swinging his feet and holding an ice pack on his hand.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked softly.

You turned around, giving him a gentle smile. “No, sweetheart.”

Toji reached back and ruffled his hair. “You defended your mama. That kid had it coming.”

Megumi’s lips twitched into a smile. “He cried after the third punch.”

...

You blinked. “Third?”

Toji chuckled proudly. “Atta boy.”

[darknight3904]

Glasses and All

Jackson!Joel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel can't accept that his eyes are weakening with age, and you and Ellie set out to prove him wrong. Warnings: Language, Joel does not like getting older. Word Count: 1.5k Masterlist I saw the new pic from HBO and couldn't resist hehe. No pressure tags, thought you might enjoy: @freythecrazyfae @amyispxnk @greenwitchfromthewoods

Joel knew that it was just a part of getting older. Now well into his fifties, he should’ve expected that his eyes would start giving him trouble; he should’ve just accepted it, really. Instead, he found himself pretending like it wasn’t happening at all, choosing to strain the muscles in his face, pretending he could read the print of the book that lay in his lap. 

“And when the sun rose she walked-” 

“That’s not what it says.” 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, narrowing his vision like that would help the situation at hand. Your hair tickled his neck from where you rested your head on his shoulder. The two of you had started reading more, or well Joel would read whatever book you pulled off the shelf in the living room. 

“It says when the sun rose she woke with the first light.” You run your pointer finger across the blurry page in front of him 

“Sorry, hon, I think my eyes are tired. Been a long day.” He lies, feigning a yawn and closing the book 

“S’ alright. We’ll just pick up there tomorrow.” You sigh, adjusting to snuggle under the covers as he shifted to face you. 

You knew what Joel’s problem was, and it wasn’t the long shifts on the wall or the days he’d leave Jackson with Tommy for patrol. Joel’s issue was that he was blind as a bat. You were pretty sure he could still see distances, afterall a few weeks ago you’d watched him easily snipe an infected from a few hundred feet away. But, the moment he was reading a book or trying to follow a recipe from the Betty Crocker book you kept in the kitchen he struggled. 

So, here you were standing in the marketplace in Jackson, Ellie at your side ready to pick out a pair of reading glasses for your favorite old man. 

“Hey, what about these?” 

You turn to see Ellie holding a pair of bright pink glasses, the arms bedazzled and glittering in the sunlight as she moves them to and fro.

“I think if we got those, Joel might pluck his eyes out.” You laugh 

There is a pretty decent selection here sorted by strength and frame style. According to the doctor, who you’d secretly spoken to about Joel and his eyeballs, she thought he was hovering somewhere in the 1.75 or 2.00 range. 

“Oooo, how bout’ these?” 

“I don’t think Harry Potter glasses are the right fit for Joel.” You say 

“You’re right, these are wayyyy better.” 

You roll your eyes when you see Ellie pick up a bright red pair and slip them on, they were obviously made for a woman with the way the frames stylishly came to a point on both ends, giving the illusion of a cat eye. 

A simple black pair catches your eye and you look them over. Straightforward, plain, and almost boring, they were perfect for the man who loved nothing more than the world’s most bitter cup of black coffee each morning. 

Back home, you wrap the glasses in a green tea towel, pretending it was a secret gift might make him more interested. Hours later, Joel comes through the door, Tommy close on his heels. The brothers kick their boots off at the door before greeting you in the kitchen. 

“How was patrol?” You ask 

“Borin’, took out a couple of runners though.” Tommy says

Joel presses a warm kiss to your cheek and sneaks over to the stove where you have a pot of chili heating up. 

“Stop sneaking bites.” You scold, taking the spoon from his hands before he can dip into the pot 

“M’ starvin’.” Joel huffs 

“Yeah well, if Ellie can’t steal a bite before it's ready then neither can you.” You remind him 

Dinner is an uneventful affair, Tommy and Joel discuss patrol routes and a section of the wall that needs to be fixed. You and Ellie listen listlessly, as the teen picks out the beans you hunted at the market to find. 

“We got you a present today.” Ellie blurts suddenly 

Joel’s attention shifts and he swallows the mouthful of food he had stuffed in his mouth. 

“A present?” He asks 

You turn, pulling the towel wrapped glasses from their spot on the bookshelf before placing it before Joel. 

“Ain’t even Christmas, you don’t need to get me stuff.” 

“Just open it, old man.” Ellie says 

Joel shakes his head and you swear you hear him mumble a curse at the old man comment. 

It’s quiet as Joel holds the reading glasses in his hands, turning them over like they’re a bomb that's going to blow all of Jackson skyhigh. 

“Those are nice, frames will suit your face.” Tommy comments when Joel doesn’t say anything 

Joel's actions surprise you, wrapping the glasses back up in the towel, placing them down on the table next to his bowl, “I don’t need glasses.” 

“They’re just readers. It’ll help you when we’re reading together.” You say softly 

“Yeah well, I don’t need 'em’, take it back tomorrow morning.” 

You huff a frustrated breath as he stands up, walking back to the kitchen with his bowl. Why couldn’t he just accept that he needed them? 

“M’ gonna get goin’ Maria’s shift is ending and I promised to have the laundry going when she got home.” Tommy says suddenly, standing and hugging you. He ruffles Ellie’s hair as he leaves, thanking you for the food and taking a serving for Maria. 

“We’re not taking them back, right? He’s blinder than Pepe the horse.” Ellie says 

Pepe was an old horse that lived in the stables, he regularly walked into fence posts and the barn because he was genuinely pretty much blind in both eyes. You’re pretty sure the only reason he’s still alive is because the kids of Jackson love petting him. 

“Oh he’s wearing the glasses. I’ll glue them to his face if I have to.” You declare 

That night you lay next to Joel, the glasses laying forgotten on your nightstand, still wrapped in the towel from earlier. Joel sounds like a kid learning to read, he gets a word wrong and then doubles back to correct himself, it's driving you nuts. Slowly, you reach over, pulling the glasses out and shifting so you face him. 

“Ready to go to bed?” He asks 

Before he can raise his hands to stop you, you lean forward, slipping the glasses onto his handsome face. 

“Told ya, I don’t need these.” Joel sighs, staring at you from behind the lenses. 

“Oh c’mon. Humor me, besides,” You point to the mirror that faces the bed where both of you sit, “Y’Look handsome like this.”

“And I didn’t look handsome before?” Joel humphs 

“Not what I said, we’re keeping these and you’re gonna start wearing them around the house.” You command 

Joel gives you a look and you stare back at him, unwavering in your decision. 

“Fine, you win, but I don’t need them.” 

Joel holds you tightly, like you’ll run away in the middle of the night. Your head rests on his chest as he breathes deeply above you. You can practically feel the gears turning in his head as the two of you lay there. 

“What's wrong, cowboy?” You sleepily ask 

“Nothin’ go to sleep.” He lies 

You pinch at the soft skin of his waist, “I know you’re lying.” 

“Quit.” Joel commands, wiggling away despite his arms keeping you close to his body 

“Then tell me what's wrong.” 

A beat of silence follows as Joel sighs, “You aren’t…embarrassed to be with me?” 

You sit up, staring down at him like he’s just suggested streaking at the Tipsy Bison. 

“Why would I be embarrassed to be with you?” You ask 

“M’ an old man. My knees pop when I stand and my back aches whenever I bend over to fix something, an’ now I need glasses to read you your little stories…I just, you could be with anyone your own age, not someone who can’t even read the recipes in the cook book.” 

A soft laugh escapes your lips and Joel’s brows furr in frustration. 

“Somethin’ funny?” He glowers 

“No, no.” You smile, “You’re just…stupid.” 

“Gee thanks.” Joel huffs, “Just what I wanted to hear.” 

You lean down, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose, smiling as you do. 

“You’re stupid to think that I’d wanna be with anyone else but you. I don’t give a shit if your knees pop and your back aches. I love all of those things, it makes you who you are, Joel.” 

“Now I know you’re fuckin’ with me.” He huffs, “It ain’t funny, girl.” 

“I’m not!” You laugh, swooping down to rest your head on his chest before he can turn on his side to sulk in that Joel Miller misery he so easily turned on.

“I love you, glasses and all.” You promise into the soft material of his t-shirt

Joel lets out a deep sigh before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead, “Alright, you win. I’ll wear the glasses.” 

Season two is in less than a week, literally unreal. I'm shaking in my boots.

For anyone interested, I have a new multi-part Joel fic I'm working on.

It's called Every Breath You Take

[changes]

Tuesday, October 15th, 2024

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[estrellami-1]

March Mating Madness

Day 24: Arranged Marriage/Mating of Convenience & Day 25: Scentmates/Soulmates

North Dakota

Ao3 Link

“Munson,” Steve Harrington says, standing on his doorstep, because apparently this is the bullshit the universe is throwing at him today.

He sighs, steps outside. Leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and feigned nonchalance. “I don’t sell from home,” he tells Harrington. “You wanna buy, you can do it at the table behind the school.”

“No, I- I’m not here to buy,” he says. Eddie looks closer, realizes the confidence is feigned bravado. He’s scared.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Then what are you here for?”

“A mating, hopefully.” He sighs, runs a hand through his perfect hair. “Listen, can I come in? Can we not discuss this outside? ‘Cause I know El’s here with Max and if I know them as well as I think I do, they’re spying on us.”

Eddie blinks, flicks his eyes over to the Mayfields’ trailer. Sure enough, a curtain slots back into place.

Eddie narrows his eyes again, but steps inside, holding the door open for Harrington. “Shoes off. How do you know Mayfield?”

“She’s pack,” he says simply, toeing his shoes off just inside the door. “They both are. There’s some boys too, you might’ve seen Lucas before? Sinclair? He and Max are dating. We’re all pack.”

Eddie motions to the couch, sits down. “You said you’re here for a mating.”

Harrington looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “Yeah.”

“I think I’m gonna need a little more than yeah, Harrington.”

He winces. “Um. My parents? They’re trying to marry me off to the highest bidder.”

Eddie’s brow hits the ceiling. “You? King Steve? No way.”

He winces again. “Could you please not call me that? I get that you hate me, and you have every right to, but I’m trying not to be that guy anymore.”

Eddie tilts his head in thought, then nods. “Alright. Still doesn’t mean I believe you.”

Irritation flickers over Harrington’s features. “Why the fuck else would I ask you to mate me, dude?”

Eddie shrugs. “A dare? Laugh at the Freak when he says yes? Any number of reasons, really.”

He scrubs his hands over his face. “I was really shitty to a lot of people,” he starts quietly. “And I get that this might be, like… cosmic judgement, or something. But I refuse to mate the person my parents want me to.”

“Why?”

He sighs. “Take your pick, man. It’s a business deal. He made a joke with my dad about, like, smacking me around, and… compliance, or some shit. He doesn’t see me as a person, he sees me as an object. Some… thing to have sex with whenever he wants it. To hell with whether or not I want it. He’s controlling, manipulative, and I know he won’t be faithful. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t get rejection sickness within the first year.”

Eddie blinks, sits back. “Shit, man.” He thinks for a moment. “And you’re asking for a bite because?”

“If I’m mated, my parents have no recourse, legal or otherwise. A bite should be enough to get them off my back.”

“And if it’s not?”

Harrington shrugs. “I run, I guess. I’ve got- y’know Robin? Buckley? From band?”

“I know of her, sure.”

“She’s… she’s my best friend. Like, in the entire world. She knows what my parents are planning. And if it comes down to it, we’ll run. We’ve got some savings tucked away, but it’s not much. But my whole life is here, my pack is here, and my parents aren’t. Much, at least. I don’t want to leave, at least not without my pack.”

“So why not ask her for her bite? She’s an Alpha too, right?”

“She is, but…” he shakes his head. “I can’t. Mostly because she’d do it.”

“And that’s a bad thing because?”

“Because it would fade. Or we’d separate, because as much as we’re gonna be in each other’s lives for the rest of our lives, we’re not… like that. We’re not meant to be together like that. And I can’t put her through that pain and heartbreak, if I have to bite her too.” He quirks a corner of his lips up. “Plus she’s a terrible liar. My parents would see straight through her.”

“And how do you know I’m a good liar?”

Hazel eyes flick over to him. “You were in theater. I took an educated guess.”

Eddie snorts despite himself. “That’s fair, I guess.” He tilts his head, sighs. “I’m still not sure you’re telling the truth, but say I believe you. What would I have to do?”

He works his lip. “It should just be a bite. That should be enough for them.”

“And if it’s not?”

He shrugs miserably. “I run, I guess. I go to Robin and we run.”

“And you think you won’t get isolation sickness from leaving your pack so quickly?”

“What other choice do I have?” He bursts out, an angry whine tearing its way out of his throat. “I can’t do what my parents want and if I stay in this town there’s no way for me to get away from them! I probably will end up sick but it’s better than fucking killing myself!”

“Shit,” Eddie whispers.

Steve puts his head in his hands. “I can’t,” he whispers. “I would. I’d find a way to kill myself because I know my parents and I know my dad’s friends. There’s no way I’d make it one step out of the door before they find me again. It’s running or suicide but I don’t actually want to die.” He sighs, long and drawn-out. “Yet.”

“Okay,” Eddie decides.

Steve peeks up at him. “Okay?”

“I’ll bite you. If your parents want to meet me, you’ll bite me. We’ll find a way to dissolve it after that won’t end up in sickness.”

Steve studies him. “You mean it.”

Eddie spreads his hands. “What gave it away?”

He cracks a smile. “Mostly the lack of any jokes.”

Eddie snickers, stands. “C’mon. I was about to make lunch when you showed up. Hungry?”

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah, actually. Thank you.”

Eddie makes mac and cheese, silently daring Steve to say something about the box, but he just meekly thanks Eddie when he’s handed a bowl.

“Y’know,” Eddie starts, mouth full, “you’re not who I thought you were.”

Steve blinks down at his bowl. “Um. Thank you?”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, it’s a compliment.” He swallows, looks down at his bowl to scrape together another bite. “Thought you were perfect, in the worst sense of the word. You’ve got the hair, the looks, the car… people of every secondary gender lusting after you. What could you possibly not have? Especially that I do?” He shrugs. “Choice, apparently.”

Steve huffs a breath out. Eddie thinks it might be a laugh, or something trying to be one, in any case. “Yeah. Most castles are also dungeons.”

“Shit,” Eddie murmurs, leaning back in his seat and regarding Steve with wide eyes. “You’re kinda metal, Harrington, you know that?”

He looks up at Eddie uncertainly. “Is that a good thing?”

“Hell yeah that’s a good thing,” Eddie agrees, stuffing another bite into his mouth. “You want the bite today? Or was today to just pitch the idea to me?”

“No, I- if I can, if you don’t mind- today, please.”

Eddie leans back, looks at the clock. “You got anywhere to be in… six-ish hours?”

“Um,” Steve says. “No?”

“Cool. I live here with my uncle, and he’s chill, he won’t mind, but he’ll definitely mind not knowing about it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Okay, yeah. Makes sense, I guess. So… you want to wait until after you tell him?”

“After we tell him. If you don’t mind telling him.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Okay. Until then,” Eddie grins, “I’m pretty sure you should know your Alpha more than just surface-level. Your parents are gonna have questions, right?”

“Probably,” Steve agrees, looking vaguely nauseous.

Eddie tilts his head. “Can I ask a question?”

“You just did,” Steve retorts, then colors. “Sorry. Yeah.”

Eddie snickers. “You’re kinda bitchy. I like it. Do you wear blockers because you want to or because you’re forced to?”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He glances at Eddie’s neck, his uncovered gland. “It’s- it’s not proper,” he starts, then bites his lip.

“That what your parents tell you?”

Steve nods.

Eddie hums. “I don’t mind. Wayne won’t, either. If you want to take the patches off.” He frowns. “Do you- wear them at home, too?”

Steve sighs, won’t meet his eyes. “I think, maybe, me being an omega is the improper thing.”

“Well fuck that,” Eddie says, grinning and winking at Steve. “C’mon. I’ll show you mine?”

Steve giggles, glancing at Eddie before looking away and peeling the patch off.

In just a minute, a new scent starts to filter through the trailer. Peaches and raspberries, and something a little sour from the anxiety starting to show on his face.

Eddie sends out reassurance, calm-happy Alpha scent. He knows from Wayne that it smells like pine and petrichor, and as soon as Steve gets a sniff he begins to calm down. “Oh,” he murmurs, glancing at Eddie’s neck, then back away. “You, um.” His cheeks flush. “You smell good.”

Eddie chuckles. “Thanks. You too. I like fruit.”

“Um,” Steve says, confused, “I like fruit, too?”

“No, ‘cause- ‘cause of your scent? Peaches and raspberries.”

Steve shakes his head, brows furrowed. “Robin says I scent like marshmallows,” he says. “What, um- what do people say you scent like?”

Eddie’s heart slams double-time in his chest. Says quietly, “I’m guessing to you I don’t smell like pine and petrichor?”

Steve’s eyes widen as he shakes his head again. “You scent like the beach, to me,” he whispers. “And, like- sunset? I know that doesn’t make sense, but-”

“No, I- I get it. The moment when the sun goes down and it gets cooler?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, eyes still saucer-wide. “Are we-”

“Looks like it,” Eddie agrees, glancing at Steve’s neck and leaning over, extending a hand, stopping just before he touches. “Can I?”

Steve nods, eyes wide, so Eddie does, rubs their glands together. His eyes widen at the feeling that zings through him. He keeps a tight leash on his scent until he smells the peaches and raspberries bloom, sweet and floral and fruity. His eyes widen even more. “You’re… happy?”

The fruit suddenly turns, goes bad. “Um.”

“No, shit, I-” he scrambles over on the couch, grabs Steve’s hands, lets his own scent bloom and fill out, tangible happiness. “Steve.”

Fruit turns ripe again as Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s. “You are too?”

“I’m a fuckin’ idiot,” Eddie tells him, “but yeah.”

“You are not.”

“Mhm. So is now a good or a bad time to tell you about the embarrassing crush I had on you starting your junior year?”

“No,” Steve gasps. “Really?”

“Yup. ‘Course, I a little bit hated you too, but that’s a separate issue.”

Steve snickers. “Of course.” He softens as he watches Eddie. “I am glad it’s you,” he says softly. “Out of everyone.”

“Why?”

Steve looks down at their hands, still intertwined. “The Alpha my parents chose for me wouldn’t let me make my own decisions. Would decide everything for me. Probably enforce a strict regimen for me. I’d be… nothing to him. He wouldn’t see me as a person. But you will.”

“Of course I would,” Eddie bites out, scent going tar-sharp. “Because you’re a fucking human being.”

Steve shrugs, squeezes his fingers a little. “He wouldn’t see it that way. A lot of people—Alphas, really, especially in the business world—still see omegas, especially male omegas, as… secondary. Sub-human.”

“Which is fucking stupid.” Eddie sighs. “Wayne’s a beta, so he… kinda gets it, y’know? So I kinda get it, like, by proxy.”

Steve hums, shifts. “Yeah. Okay, this is a complete one-eighty, but… I mentioned Robin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. She’s my absolute best friend in the entire world, we’re closer than anyone. She’s an Alpha but we’re not, like, together. Is that… going to be a problem?”

Eddie makes a face. “What the fuck? No! Be friends with who you want to be friends with!”

“Oh, thank god,” Steve whispers, sagging against the couch. “We’re basically siblings, except we tell each other everything, and I do mean everything, and-”

Eddie snickers. “You wanna call her and tell her we’re scentmates.”

“Yes!” Steve exclaims, then pulls back. “Unless- is that-”

“It’s fine, is what it is. She’s probably gonna threaten me, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Uh. She might threaten you. Sorry in advance if she does.”

“Steve,” Eddie says quietly, “you don’t ever have to apologize for someone loving you so completely.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, staring at Eddie.

He inclines his head with a small smile. “Phone’s right there. Want me to talk to her after?”

“I- yeah, she- like we said, she’s gonna want to talk to you.” He frowns at Eddie. “You really don’t care?”

“That you’re friends? No.”

“We’re, like- it’s not just friends, though. She’s my soulmate.”

Eddie snickers. “As long as she’s not your scentmate. That would merit a talk.”

Steve smiles. “No, we’re not scentmates. Just… closer than any non-bonded people have any right being.”

“Steve,” Eddie reminds him, “my nickname is the freak. I’m pretty sure you can’t out-freak me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve murmurs, walking over to the phone and dialing Robin’s number.

They speak for a few minutes before he calls Eddie over. “Please be nice,” he begs her, then hands the phone over.

“-talking about, I’m always nice,” Robin retorts.

Eddie blinks. “Hello?”

“Eddie.”

“That’s me.”

“You’re Steve’s scentmate.”

“I mean. Yeah?”

Robin hums. “How do you feel about it?”

“Honestly?” He smiles at Steve. “Really good. I’m really happy.”

“And he explained how close we are?”

“He did.”

“What did you say?”

“He apologized for you threatening me, and I told him he never needs to apologize for someone loving him so completely.”

“Oh, shit,” Robin says knowingly. “Did he cry?”

“Almost,” Eddie chuckles. “Listen, Robin, you can properly threaten me later, but he wanted to call you as soon as we found out, so we haven’t really gotten a chance to talk yet. Maybe the three of us could do lunch later this week? My treat?”

“If you’re trying to bribe me out of threatening you, it’s only a little bit working. Lunch sounds good. Tuesday?”

“Tuesday?” Eddie asks Steve, who thinks, then nods. “Tuesday works,” he confirms.

“Tell Robin I’ll pick her up,” Steve whispers.

“Tell Steve he’s picking me up,” Robin says.

Eddie blinks, then bursts out laughing. “You two just said the exact same thing at the exact same time.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“We do that,” Robin finishes.

Eddie shakes his head. “Damn that’s freaky. Okay, see you Tuesday, Robin.”

“Yup.” She hangs up, so he does the same, then pulls Steve back over to the couch.

“So.”

“So,” Steve parrots.

“We should probably talk more about your parents.”

Steve groans. “Probably.”

“If- if you don’t want to-”

“No, it’s- I can, just-” he bites his lip, looks at Eddie, looks away.

“What?” Eddie asks softly.

“Can, uh. Like, the hands is nice, but can we-”

“Oh,” Eddie says, catching on, “yeah, sweetheart, come here.”

Steve trills softly as he settles by Eddie’s side, leaning on him, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “So. What do you want to know?”

“I think it’s more a question of what they’re going to want to know about me. I know the type of person you’re talking about. I know I do my best to not associate with them.”

Steve scoffs. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It takes some work, but it’s worth it. You hopin’ to distance yourself from them?”

“I think so. Especially now- I never thought…”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, pulling him in closer, as if he could protect Steve from the thoughts in his own head. “You never think it could be you until it is.”

“Exactly,” Steve murmurs back, then sighs. “They’re going to want to know that you can provide for me. Not because they care about me, because they care about their image.”

Eddie snorts. “They’re going to love the fact that I’m a drug dealer, then.”

Steve giggles. “Probably not. Anything they’re going to want to know about you… they’re not interested in getting to know you. They’re interested only in their status, in how other people see them. In the stories they can bring back to their friends to prove that they’re better.”

“Well ain’t we just a slap in the face,” Eddie mutters, lip quirking up.

“We really are,” Steve agrees. “I don’t care, though. Once we’re bonded… you’re my Alpha. They have no legal recourse.”

“Would they try something illegal?”

Steve sighs. “Maybe. Probably. Depends on how much this Alpha was gonna pay them.”

Eddie’s silent for a minute. “I’ll have to talk to Wayne, but it shouldn’t be an issue. Space’ll be a little tight but I’ll find a job, I know the mechanic’s hiring and Bill’s a friend of Wayne’s, owes him a favor I think.”

Steve shifts back to look up at Eddie, brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Eddie blinks at him. “You moving in.” He waves a hand around. “If they’re gonna try something illegal, it’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder to do if you no longer live in their house.” He pauses suddenly. “I mean, of course, if you’d rather not move in, I get it-”

“You were right,” Steve says, snuggling back in to Eddie’s side, happy omega scent blooming. “You are an idiot. Of course I want to move in with you.” A pause, then, “you’d get a job?”

“Course I would. I need to take care of you, don’t I? Buy you sweet things to make you smile? Your favorite candy just because? A flower because I like the way you blush?” A blush crawls up Steve’s cheeks, and Eddie leans in to nuzzle it. “All those things cost money, darlin’, and dealing is a nice hobby, but it ain’t gonna cut it as my only source of income.” He shifts, shrugs. “‘Sides, uh. I dunno if you want pups? But I know what growing up as the son of a dealer was like, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Steve looks up at him, wide-eyed. “But not- you said-”

“Not Wayne,” Eddie soothes. “He’s my dad’s brother in name only. Dear ol’ Pa, may the devil be tap-dancing on his soul, was the drug addict of the family. Taught me some things, though. Like how to hotwire a car.”

Steve snickers. “Please don’t.”

“What if it’s your car? And you’re right there watching me?”

Steve wiggles around, turning where he sits to face Eddie and cup his face in his palms. “Eddie,” he begins, eyes wide and serious. “My car is my baby. You are not touching her.”

“Noted,” Eddie agrees. “Idea forgotten.” A pause, “your parents’ car?”

Steve collapses in laughter, leaning forward so his forehead rests on Eddie’s shoulder as he shakes with the force of his giggles.

He calms down a few minutes later, relaxing into the feeling of Eddie running a hand up and down in his back. “In all seriousness,” he tells Eddie, “they’ll definitely have you arrested for that. And it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to do what they want with me if my Alpha’s locked up.”

Eddie’s scent sours. “I was due for a pickup in about a week or so,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “I’ll tell Rick I can’t make it, won’t be his gofer any more. We can smoke the rest of my stash, it’s just weed. I’ll talk to Wayne tonight about talking with Bill sometime soon.”

“Eddie-”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts softly, shaking his head with a small smile. “I was pretty done anyways. It’s no secret I had to retake senior year twice, and it’s a badly-kept secret that I’m a dealer. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together, even if it’s not right. People weren’t really buying anymore anyways.”

Steve looks up at Eddie. “Why did you have to repeat twice?”

Eddie hums. “Honestly? I kept forgetting to turn in my homework first go ‘round, and the second I decided I just… didn’t really care. This year I stepped it up, turned in my work, actually came to class… hell, I even participated in gym. I want to be the first in my family to graduate.”

“You will be,” Steve whispers. “I believe in you.”

Eddie hides his smile in Steve’s hair. “I’m glad.”

They spend the next hour or so talking on the couch until Wayne gets back, blinking at the boys cuddling on the couch, then moving on to the kitchen. “I’m makin’ grilled cheese, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Sit down,” Eddie calls back, laughing. “That’s your tired meal, old man, you can’t hide from me. And we wanna talk to you anyways.”

Wayne sighs and sits in his chair, nodding at Steve. “Hello.”

“Hello, sir.”

“Wayne,” he corrects kindly. “I recognize you.”

“You, uh. You probably know my father.”

Wayne smiles. “Probably. ‘Ve been here long enough, I recognize just ‘bout everybody.” His eyes turn kinder, somehow. “Who’s your father, boy?”

Steve looks down. Eddie tightens his hold on Steve’s shoulders. “Richard Harrington.”

Wayne hums. “Yeah, I know ‘im. Knew ‘im, more like, left soon as he was able. Came back with a pretty little wife from the big city.” He leans slightly, catches Steve’s eye. “In this house, we don’t judge based on who your daddy is.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispers.

Wayne leans back, nods. “Now. Eddie?”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s his story, Wayne. What I can tell you…” he looks down at Steve, smiles. “We’re scentmates.”

Wayne inhales sharply. “Well then,” he says, smiling at Steve again, “welcome home.”

Steve immediately tears up. “Shit,” he mutters, pawing at his face. “Sorry, I’m- thank you, I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Eddie shushes him, pushes his hands down, gently wipes his face. “Hey, sweetness, it’s okay. A little water never hurt anybody.”

Steve sniffles. “Hurt the wicked witch of the west.”

Eddie giggles. “Then it’s a good thing no one here’s a witch, huh?” He pushes out comfort, and Steve relaxes into him, letting his eyes flutter shut as Eddie wipes underneath them with his thumbs. “You’re home,” he whispers. “Wanna tell Wayne why?”

Steve looks up at him with hopeful eyes. “Can you?”

Eddie holds his gaze for a minute, then pulls Steve back in. “Sure I can.”

He tells Wayne what led Steve to the trailer earlier that afternoon. Wayne stays silent, then when Eddie’s finished, he nods. “Alright. So what’s for dinner?”

Eddie immediately looks to Steve, who shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m not picky.”

“Steve,” Eddie tells him, “you’re both a guest and my mate. You get to decide.”

Steve’s eyes sparkle. “Then I decide that I don’t want to decide.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve just as Wayne bursts out laughing. “You’re gonna be good for him, kid,” Wayne tells Steve, who grins back. “Grilled cheese sound okay to you?”

“Sure,” Steve agrees. “I can help?”

Wayne shrugs an unaffected shoulder. “You could,” he says. “Or you two could go into his room an’ make it official. And do whatever comes after that.”

Steve blushes at the implication, but can’t argue that he’s practically itching for Eddie’s bite. He turns to ask Eddie and is arrested by the look in his eyes.

“Up to you,” Eddie murmurs, hungry eyes tracking Steve’s every move.

Steve nods, stands, and approaches Wayne. He pitches his voice low as he asks where Eddie’s room is, and after Wayne tells him—also quietly—he glances back at Eddie, just once, before taking off.

He hears Eddie laugh behind him as he scrambles off the couch. “Oh, you fucker!” Eddie yells gleefully, chasing him into his room and tackling him onto the bed, laughing along with Steve up until he pushes his nose into Steve’s scent gland and inhales.

Steve whimpers loudly and pushes at Eddie’s chest. “The- get the door, please, Eddie-”

Eddie rolls off the bed with a half-hearted grumble and shuts the door before jumping back onto the bed, bracketing Steve with a grin. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve giggles.

“Are you ready?”

Steve settles his hands on Eddie’s waist. “Are you?”

“Almost,” he admits. “It feels a little weird, biting you before kissing you.”

A slight tug on his hips. “We can change that.” Steve leans up a little, nudges their noses together. Eddie pushes in until Steve’s laying down again. Eddie slides his nose off to the side, landing on Steve’s cheek as his lips barely brush Steve’s.

The grip on his hips tighten. “Don’t tease,” Steve begs, and Eddie acquiesces.

He pushes in harder, locking their lips together in a kiss that goes from zero to one hundred in less than a second as Steve parts his lips on a moan.

Eddie licks in between them with no hesitation. His aim is sucking Steve’s soul out from between his teeth, and based on the whimper that escapes, he’s successful.

He pulls back to pant out, “fuck, where’ve you been all my life, sweetheart?”

Steve gives a breathless laugh. “Right here, apparently, if it weren’t for my parents.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Eddie agrees. “Wanna bite you, baby, wanna show ‘em, give you my mark. Can I?”

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, writhing. “Please, want it, Eddie, want you-”

“Yeah, I gotcha, baby, I gotcha, gonna mate you, omega-”

He latches his teeth into Steve’s skin and he goes boneless. “Alpha,” he whispers, horny and reverent, fingers pressing flower petal bruises into his hips.

“C’mon, ‘mega,” Eddie whispers back, blood in his teeth and sliding down his throat like honey. “Want your bite too, wanna complete it. Want you to feel me like I feel you.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, leaning up. “Yeah, please, wan’it-”

“Take it,” Eddie whispers, and slots his mark into Steve’s mouth.

Steve bites down and moans, and then Eddie moans, and he nudges his hips into Steve’s one last time—when had he even started?—and comes as Steve stiffens up, also coming.

Eddie collapses onto Steve, nudging his nose into Steve’s gland, as they both get their breath back.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. “Shit. I didn’t know it could be that good.”

Eddie snickers. “And we haven’t even done anything yet.”

Steve looks at him mock-seriously. “I might actually die.”

Eddie laughs and starts sucking a bruise into Steve’s jaw. “Nah,” he pulls back to say. “I’ll be careful with you.”

“Fuck,” Steve mutters. “Eddie, can’t go again this soon.” He pushes ineffectually at Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie moves away from his jaw, kissing up his cheek and over to his mouth instead.

“I wanna say something crazy right now,” he tells Steve.

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “I doubt anything could be crazier than asking an Alpha you barely know to mate them.”

Eddie crawls up Steve’s body and rolls them over on the their sides. Says into Steve’s hair, “I love you.”

Steve pulls back to see his face. “You do?”

Eddie nods. “I know it’s insane, and way too soon-”

Steve bursts into tears.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere into his left thigh. “Baby?”

Steve cries harder, but he’s still scenting sweet as pie, and Eddie is thoroughly confused.

He decides to give Steve a few minutes, and eventually he calms down, wiping at his face and sniffling. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Eddie tells him softly. “I’m just confused.”

“I just…” Steve waves a hand around, laughs at himself a little. “I fall fast, and I fall hard, and I’ve never… I’ve never met anyone who falls like I do. And it’s always me getting left with the broken heart. So for you to say it first, and after, like, three hours… I mean, yeah, it’s insane, but holy shit, Eddie, I love you too.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Good.”

Steve giggles, pressing back into Eddie’s chest. “Yeah. Good.”

Eddie sighs, wraps Steve up in a hug. “Now there’s just one thing to figure out.”

“What’s that?”

Eddie hums. “It’s not really an if Wayne heard us. These walls are ‘bout as thick as paper. So the question is, do you think we can sneak out the window, escape to North Dakota, and change our names?”

Steve giggles again. “Change our names? Who’d you be?”

“Hm,” Eddie thinks. “I always liked the name Joseph.”

Steve pulls back. “No!”

Eddie blinks. “No?”

“That’s my middle name!”

“Oh, shit!” Eddie laughs. “No wonder I like it!” He nudges Steve’s cheek with his nose. “What name would you choose?”

Steve sighs, settles back into Eddie’s chest. “I like the name Elias,” he admits softly.

Eddie’s quiet for a few moments. “Can I say something else crazy?”

“Hm?”

“I like Joseph Elias. As a baby name.”

Steve’s arms tighten around Eddie’s waist. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Me too.”

A little over a year later, Steve holds Joseph in his arms as Eddie watches. “Our North Dakota boy,” Eddie murmurs, petting over Steve’s hair.

“Ours,” Steve agrees quietly, smiling up at Eddie.

[rafedarling]

can you do the puppy interview with drew starkey x actress reader plss

𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader ft rustyn starkey

summary: you and drew, and your son rustyn participate in a puppy interview, creating heartwarming chaos on set.

warning(s): english is not my native language. none, fluff and family fun.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore

“Hello, this is Y/N.”

You start with a smile at the camera.

“I’m Drew Starkey,”

Drew adds, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as a playful corgi tugs at his shoelace.

“And I’m Rustyn Starkey!”

Rustyn proudly chimes in, his little voice filling the room.

The way he says it, with a mixture of excitement and confidence, makes the crew chuckle.

“And we’re here for…”

“A puppy interview!” you and Drew announce together while Rustyn claps his hands, his energy infectious.

Rustyn immediately gets distracted by a wiggly golden retriever puppy climbing into his lap.

“Hi, puppy!” he says, giggling as the pup licks his cheek.

Drew picks up the first card, holding it in front of him dramatically.

“Alright, first question… Who is the biggest dog lover? Drew or Y/N?”

He pauses for a second before answering with a grin.

“I’ll say both because we all love puppies!”

You nod, laughing as a dachshund pup curls up by your side.

“Okay, fair answer. But Rustyn might be the biggest dog lover here.”

Rustyn looks up from petting his puppy.

“I love them sooooo much!” he declares, making everyone on set melt.

The next card is passed to you, and you read aloud,

“What would you name this puppy if you could take it home?”

You hold up a fluffy Bernese mountain dog sitting near Rustyn.

“This one feels like a Charlie to me, big and sweet.”

Rustyn thinks for a moment before pointing to the golden retriever still snuggled in his lap.

“I’d name mine Buddy, ‘cause he’s my buddy now!”

Drew laughs, ruffling Rustyn’s hair.

“Buddy’s a solid name. I’d name this little guy Rufus,” he says, gesturing to a dachshund sniffing around his lap.

“He looks like he’s up to something.”

“Dada, can we take them all home?” Rustyn asks, his big eyes looking up at Drew.

You and Drew exchange a knowing glance, both trying not to laugh.

“We’ll see, buddy,” Drew says, grinning.

“But let’s finish the interview first, okay?”

The next question is read by Drew.

“Who’s more likely to sneak the puppy treats?”

“Dada,” Rustyn answers immediately, giggling.

Drew raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, guilty. But you’d sneak them, too, wouldn’t you, Rusty?”

Rustyn looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, but only if the puppies are really good.”

“That’s my boy,” Drew says, laughing as a corgi puppy climbs onto his lap.

The crew brings out more puppies, creating a delightful chaos as they run around the set. One pup grabs a squeaky toy, making Rustyn laugh so hard he falls back onto the couch.

“Alright, next question!” you say, trying to regain focus.

“Who’s more likely to cry if the puppy gets hurt or sick?”

You, Drew, and Rustyn all point at each other simultaneously, which sends everyone into fits of laughter.

“No way, it’s Dada,” Rustyn insists, his tiny finger pointing directly at Drew.

“You cried when we saw the movie about the dog!”

Drew laughs, trying to defend himself.

“It was an emotional movie! And don’t act like you didn’t cry too, bud.”

Rustyn shrugs, giggling. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Let’s just agree that we’d all be emotional wrecks if anything happened to these little guys.”

The final question comes up, and you hand the card to Drew. He reads it aloud.

“What’s one quality in each other that would make you amazing dog parents?”

Drew pauses, his expression softening as he looks at you.

“You’re so patient and loving. You make everything, whether it’s taking care of Rustyn, the dogs, or me, feel effortless. And I know you’d raise the most well-behaved dogs in the world… somehow.”

You feel your heart swell but quickly focus on him.

“And you’re the most hands-on dad and partner I’ve ever seen. You’d be out there training the dogs, playing with them, and making sure they’re spoiled with love. They’d be the happiest pups ever.”

Rustyn looks between the two of you.

“And I’d give them hugs and kisses every day!”

“We know you would,” you say, pulling him close for a quick kiss on the head.

As the interview wraps up, Rustyn is lying on the floor with three puppies cuddling around him, his giggles filling the set. You and Drew watch, smiling at each other.

“Mommy, Dada can we take Buddy home, please?” Rustyn pleads, his eyes shining with hope.

Drew looks at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think, Mama?”

You laugh, knowing the answer was already decided the moment Rustyn named the puppy.

“Alright, Buddy can come home with us.”

Rustyn cheers, throwing his arms around the golden retriever.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Drew leans over to kiss your cheek, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You’re the best.”

As the scene fades, Rustyn’s voice rings out

“This is the best day ever!”

[fiastomatocheek]

SNOOPY'S SICK DAY

pair: dad!luke hughes x f!reader

genre: fluff, family, romance.

warnings: none, just pure fluff and heartwarming family moments. brief mentions of illness (cold and fever) but kept light and non-serious.

summary: after a long road trip, luke comes home feeling feverish and worn out, just in time for sunday morning. but he’s not the only one who notices. his four-year-old daughter lucy, sharp-eyed, soft-hearted, and hopelessly in love with her dad, springs into action. from porridge prep to doctor pretend-play and sleepy cuddles, lucy decides she’ll be the best nurse ever to her ‘snoopy’.

fia’s notes: not to be dramatic or anything but… i’m fully obsessed with my own story like, truly, i can’t get over how soft and adorable dad!luke is especially with baby lucy and all these peanuts (yes, snoopy & the gang!) inspired moments sprinkled in. something about luke being this gentle, goofy, patient dad just feels so right, and the way he dotes on little luce? my heart cannot handle it. this story is such a comfort fic for me, and writing it genuinely brought me so much joy. i hope reading it brings you the same kind of cozy, happy feeling like a warm blanket and your favorite cartoon on a lazy sunday. i hope you love it as much as i do!

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @hopefulsuitcasemoneyzonk @kell9rs @alwaysclassyeagle @nokiaholland @macka

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | fic discussion | fia's nav.

“Mommy, is Snoopy home yet? Like, really home-home?”

Lucy’s voice bounces through the living room, already impatient, as she kneels on the couch, clutching her stuffed pig, Pinkie, and peering out the window. Her curls are a mess now, half-falling out of the ponytail she doing herself.

You glance at your phone, checking Luke’s flight status.

“Any minute now, Luce. His plane just landed, so he’s on his way from the airport.”

She presses her nose to the glass, breath fogging it up.

“I made him a picture! It’s got a hockey stick and a heart. So he knows we missed him.”

You smile, stirring a pot of beef broth porridge on the stove.

“He’s gonna love it so so much, Luce. Maybe we’ll stick it on the fridge so Snoopy sees it every day.”

Lucy giggles at the nickname, her favorite way to call Luke.

“Snoopy’s gonna be so happy! I missed Snoopy so much.”

She stretches her arms wide, nearly toppling Pinkie off the couch.

You’re about to reply when the front door creaks open, and Luke’s hoarse voice calls out,

“I’m home.” It’s softer than usual, like he’s dragging the words through gravel.

Lucy squeals, scrambling off the couch, but you beat her to the door, heart squeezing at the sight of him. Luke looks like he’s been through a blender looking so pale, sweat-damp curls plastered to his forehead, dark circles under his eyes. His duffel hangs heavy on his shoulder, and his hoodie’s wrinkled like he slept in it.

“Hey, you,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

He’s warm, little too warm. You pull back, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“Babe, you’re burning up.”

“Feel like garbage,” he admits, voice scratchy.

“Started on the plane. Headache, sore throat. Thought it was just the dry air, but…” He shrugs, wincing slightly.

“Go shower,” you say gently, taking his duffel.

“I’m warming up some porridge. Something light so your stomach doesn’t hate you.”

Luke’s eyes flicker to the living room, where Lucy’s hovering, clutching Pinkie and watching him with big, curious eyes.

“Hey, Luce,” he says, mustering a tired smile.

“Snoopy!” She runs to him, but instead of her usual tackle-hug, she stops short, tilting her head.

“You sound funny. Like… a frog.”

Luke chuckles, weak but warm, dropping to one knee.

“Just a little croaky, baby. Still your Snoopy.”

He kisses her forehead, and she leans into it, but her brow furrows, like she’s piecing something together.

You catch the worry in her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she hugs Pinkie tighter and says,

“I made you a picture. It’s on the table.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” Luke says, ruffling her curls before standing with a groan.

“Gonna clean up, then I’ll check it out.”

As he trudges upstairs, you scoop porridge into a bowl to cool and guide Lucy to her play space.

“Time to get ready for bed, baby. Daddy’s tired from his trip.”

She nods, but as you tuck her into bed later, her little voice pipes up, clutching the edge of her star-patterned blanket.

“Mommy, is Snoopy okay? He looks… not happy.”

Your heart softens. She’s only four, but she’s already picking up on things most kids her age might miss.

“He’s just a bit tired,” you say, brushing a curl off her face. “And he’s got a little cough. Nothing big. He’ll be all better soon.”

She nods, eyes heavy. “Okay. I’ll help him tomorrow.”

You kiss her forehead, smiling.

“You’re the best helper, you know that?”

When you slip back to your bedroom, Luke’s already out cold, still in his sweatpants shirtless. The porridge bowl sits untouched on the nightstand. You pull the comforter over him, deciding not to wake him. He needs the rest more than anything.

Next day, sunday morning, you’re stirred awake by the patter of tiny feet and a whispered,

“Mommy! Can we make breakfast for Snoopy?”

Lucy’s standing by your bed, her eyes are bright, but there’s a determined set to her mouth, like she’s on a mission.

“Morning, Luce,” you say, stretching.

“Of course baby, let’s make something. But we gotta be quiet okay, Snoopy’s still sleeping.”

She nods solemnly, whispering, “I’ll be super quiet. Like a ninja.”

You stifle a laugh, scooping her up and heading to the kitchen. Lucy insists on helping, dragging her step stool to the counter and pulling on her ‘Chef Luce’ apron, purple glitter sparkling. You decide to reheat last night’s porridge, light enough for Luke’s stomach and a favorite of Lucy’s anyway.

“Mommy can I stir?” she asks, gripping a wooden spoon like it’s a hockey stick.

“Go for it,” you say, guiding her hand.

“Just like Daddy taught you, slow and steady.”

She concentrates, tongue poking out, as she stirs the pot.

“This is for Snoopy. It’s gotta be perfect.”

You smile, chopping a few scallions to sprinkle on top.

“You’re doing great, Chef Luce. He’s gonna love it.”

As you set the table, you hear a faint cough from upstairs, followed by Luke’s groggy voice calling your name. You glance at the clock, it’s 8:15 a.m. Earlier than you expected, given he was up at 4 a.m., burning with a fever and barely able to talk. You’d given him medicine then, and he’d crashed again almost instantly.

“Luce, stay here and watch the porridge,”

You say, handing her a glass of milk and a few Cheerios to munch on.

“I’m gonna check on Daddy.”

You find Luke sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. His hair’s a mess, and his voice is still rough.

“Hey,” he croaks.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask, pressing a hand to his forehead. Still warm, but not as bad as last night.

“Like I got hit by a Zamboni,” he mutters, but he manages a small smile.

“Medicine helped, though. Think I can make it downstairs.”

“Take it slow,” you say, handing him a fresh hoodie.

“Luce is waiting to have breakfast with you. She’s been talking about her ‘Snoopy’ all morning.”

His face lights up, the way it always does when Lucy’s involved.

“Missed her so much. Let’s go.”

By the time you both reach the kitchen, Lucy’s practically vibrating with excitement, standing on her step stool and waving her spoon.

“Snoopy! You’re awake!”

Luke drops to his knees, opening his arms.

“Morning, baby girl.”

She launches herself at him, and he catches her, wincing slightly but holding her close.

“Missed you, Luce.”

“Snoopy, you sound like a grumpy bear,” she says, pulling back to study her Daddy’s face. Her little brows knit together.

“Are you okay, Snoopy?”

Luke strokes her hair, his smile soft despite the rasp in his voice.

“I’m fine, Luce. Just a little cold. Thanks for asking, though. You’re the best.”

She beams, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the table.

“We made porridge! Me and Mommy. It’s your favorite.”

You serve up the bowls, and the three of you settle around the table, Lucy insisting on sitting right next to Luke. She watches him take his first spoonful, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Is it good?”

“Perfect,” Luke says, winking at her.

“Best chef in the world.”

She giggles, digging into her own bowl, and you catch Luke’s eye across the table. He mouths a silent ‘thank you,’ and you feel that familiar warmth spread through your chest. Even sick, he’s the sweetest dad.

After breakfast, Luke insists he’s well enough to hang out with Lucy, so they head upstairs to her room. You follow, curious, and lean against the doorframe as they settle on the floor, surrounded by her stuffed animals and a pile of crayons. Lucy’s telling him about kindergarten, her words tumbling out in that earnest, four-year-old way.

“And then, Miss Jenny said I drew the best rocket ship, Snoopy! It had flames and everything!”

Luke’s lying on his back, one arm behind his head, listening like she’s recounting a Stanley Cup final.

“Flames, huh? You gotta show me that rocket.”

She nods, grabbing a piece of paper to start a new drawing. Then, out of nowhere, she climbs onto his stomach, sitting like it’s her personal throne. Luke grunts but doesn’t move, just rests a hand on her back to keep her steady.

“Snoopy,” she says, her voice suddenly small.

She leans down, wrapping her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to his chest.

“I want you to get better soon. I miss skating with you. And I’m worried ‘bout you.”

Luke’s eyes soften, and he hugs her gently, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“I’m gonna be fine, Luce. Just need a couple days, then we’ll be back on the ice, okay? You and me, doing spins.”

She nods against him, her voice muffled.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he says, kissing her hair.

“And I missed you too. Everyday on that road trip, I was thinking about my favorite girl.”

You bite your lip, trying not to tear up. Lucy’s always been perceptive, but hearing her worry so openly tugs at your heart. When they come downstairs later, Luke finds you in the kitchen, washing dishes. Lucy’s back in the living room, ‘diagnosing’ Pinkie with her toy doctor kit.

“Hey,” Luke says, sliding an arm around your waist.

“Luce told me she’s worried about her Snoopy. Said she wants me better so we can skate.”

You dry your hands, turning to face him.

“Yeah, she asked about you last night, too, right after you got home. She could tell you weren’t yourself. I didn’t want to stress her out, so I said you were just tired.”

He sighs, rubbing his jaw. “She’s too smart for her own good. I hate that she’s worried.”

“She loves you,” you say, cupping his cheek.

“And she’s four, she thinks she can fix you with hugs and porridge. Which, honestly, might work.”

Luke laughs, then coughs, wincing.

“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts my throat.”

“Sorry,” you say, but you’re grinning.

You lean up to kiss him softly, mindful of his fever. “You’re doing great, though. She’s so happy you’re home.”

He pulls you closer, resting his chin on your head.

“Couldn’t wait to get back to you two. Even if I feel like death.”

Luke’s fever is down by the evening, and he’s got a bit more color in his cheeks. You’re all in bed early, Lucy want to sleeping between you, whispering to Luke about how she’ll ‘check his temperature’ tomorrow with her toy thermometer.

“You gotta get better, Snoopy,” she mumbles, already half-asleep.

“I need you for ice time.”

“I’ll be there,” Luke whispers back, his voice still rough but full of love.

“Love you, Luce.”

“Love you, Snoopy,” she murmurs, clutching his shirt.

You reach over, squeezing Luke’s hand.

“Love you too, Snoopy.”

He chuckles softly, squeezing back.

“Love you most, ‘Fifi.’”

[loveluvrs]

she's my pretty girl l lando norris x reader

request/summary – AHH HI MARYAM!!! it's shelbi:) i NEED a lando fic where he takes reader to the paddock for the first time and EVERYONE sees they totally like each other (but they complete oblivious idiots) — 🌟

author's notes – i loved writing this one!!! thank you to bff @keerysfreckles for the wonderful req <33 ALSO LANDO SPRINT POLE WOOOOO!!!!!

My fingers hover over the send button. I sigh as I delete the message again. Lan, I don’t know if I can. There’s gonna be so many cameras and so many people and you know people will think we’re dating for sure, I text my best friend Lando.

Come on, pretty girl, I’ll be right there with you the whole time. I promise, he texts back.

:(( come over tonight for movie night and we’ll talk about it, I text as I felt the anxiety already growing in me.

Lando helps me set up movie night. Popcorn bowl in hand, I slot myself next to Lando, our hips touching as I slightly lean into him, placing the bowl in between us. “Time to talk?” He asks expectantly. I groan. “Oh come on, let me at least distract myself for a little bit before we start this headache of a discussion again,” I say as I scrunch up my face in playful annoyance. Lando laughs at this, placing a small kiss on the tip of my nose as he says, “okay miss dramatic.” 

I pout. “Lan, you know how my anxiety gets. And that’s just in general. With all those cameras on me? I mean, it’s gonna be suffocating,” I say with a nervous gulp. Just thinking about all the attention made me anxious.

He puts on a soft smile. “I know, pretty girl. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I just know you’ve been really wanting to go to a race, and I thought what better time than here in Silverstone so you don’t have to take any extra flights? But really, I won’t make you go unless you’re comfortable with it, alright?” He says softly with 100% focus and attention and determination in his voice. That was one thing I could always count on; if I was feeling anxious about something, no matter how small, Lando would be there to take me seriously and comfort me through it. 

“I want to be there for you, you know I do,” I say softly with a frown, “there’s nothing I want to do more than support my best friend, my favorite person, at his home race.” 

“Pretty pretty girl, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I understand, okay? And I won’t think anything less of you based on whether or not you come. I’ll still love you all the same,” he says softly as he puts my hand in his and squeezes it to comfort me. 

——

The next morning, I showed up to the paddock a little late, since I had to curb an oncoming anxiety attack in the morning. I also hadn’t told Lando that I was going to be coming, so I had no idea where to go. By the time I reached, Lando was already in the car for the first practice session. 

After the practice session was over, Lando stalked back into the Mclaren garage, talking with his race engineer about some of the data they picked up. He stops in his tracks when he sees me and immediately engulfs me in a hug. His hands wrap around my waist and my arms wrap around his neck. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you decided to come?” He says with his signature bright smile as he held me close. I hum. “I was just a bit late in the morning, sorry about that,” I say softly. “Nothing to be sorry about, pretty girl,” he says softly as he places a soft kiss on the top of my head before letting me go. 

Since that moment, unless he was in a team meeting or in the car, Lando stayed attached by the hip to you. You couldn’t decide if it was comforting or overwhelming, to be honest. On one hand, he made sure to be there so he could explain everything to you and introduce you to everyone, and whisk you away when he felt like it was getting all too much for you. On the other hand, his presence meant a herd of cameras would almost surely follow my every move if I was with him. 

Oscar, for one, got a bit tired of the fact that every time he saw his teammate, Lando was too busy making heart eyes at you to even think about anything else. “Why don’t you just admit you’re madly in love with her?” He asks Lando with an exasperated sigh after the two of them are walking back from a media briefing. 

“She knows I love her,” Lando says casually. Oscar rolls his eyes and scoffs at the response. “Okay she knows you love her, but she doesn’t know you’re in love with her,” he explains. Lando gives Oscar a confused look. “Mate, you’ve just said the same thing twice,” he says as his eyes begin to scan the crowd for you. Oscar groans before walking off in frustration, wondering when on Earth these two idiots were gonna realize they’re both in love with each other. 

Later that evening, Lando and I walk into his hotel room after he was done with everything for the day. I lay down in the bed immediately, exhausted from all the socializing I had to do all day. Lando laughs at this, “sleepyhead,” he teases in a murmur. He takes a quick shower and changes into a comfy hoodie and sweats before coming back and laying on the bed next to me. I’m sat watching some spy movie on the tv. He tilts his head at the tv, “what’re you watching?” He asks curiously. 

“Honestly, no idea,” I say with a giggle, “I just saw that Theo James was in it so I had to watch.” Lando settles into bed as we watch. Eventually, he finds my gaze on him and his lap, which was clearly not as subtle as I wanted it to be. He nudges me playfully with his elbow. “C’mere,” he says softly as he pats his lap. I, who was clearly in my own thoughts, seemed to wake up out of my trance. “Huh?” I ask in confusion. He holds his arms wide for me, “come here and cuddle,” he says softly.

I waste no time before doing as he says, laying in between his legs, my back to his chest. His arms wrap around my waist and he places a soft kiss on my head. I hum in content as I relax into him. Lando always knew when I needed some physical affection, which was useful because there was nothing I hated more than having to ask for some love. “I love you,” he whispers as his face burrows into my neck, placing a kiss there. I’m about to respond when Oscar suddenly enters the room. “Hey mate, have you seen my- uh. Sorry, am I interrupting something here?” He asks as his eyes dart between Lando and I, and the extremely close position we seem to be in. 

“Nope! Just cuddling. What’s up?” Lando asks nonchalantly. Oscar’s eyebrows raise at Lando’s answer. “You know what, never mind, I think I know where I’ve left it,” he says as he slowly backs out of the room. 

“What was that all about?” I ask in confusion. “Hmm, who knows, he’s been acting weird all day,” Lando says as he resumes placing kisses on my neck and shoulder. “I love you,” he repeats again in a gentle tone. I hum. “I love you too,” I say softly. “I’m so insanely happy you decided to come to the paddock today, honestly,” he says in a quiet yet soft murmur, “don’t think I could be any happier than having my pretty girl with me.” “Why are you trying to flatter me?” I tease him with a giggle. He scoffs, “sorry. Didn’t know I couldn’t be nice to my best friend,” he retorts playfully.  

We go out for dinner an hour later with Oscar and Lily. I instinctively sat next to Lando as usual. I’m scrolling through Twitter while we wait for our food when I feel Lando’s hand intertwine with mine. I think nothing of it, but see Oscar and Lily exchange a glance towards each other. 

“You owe me 5 pounds,” Oscar whispered in a hushed voice to Lily with a sassy smile tugging on his lips. “No, you said 5 pounds for the heart eyes,” Lily whispers back defensively. “Oh come on, that’s basically the same thing! It’ll happen in a few minutes anyways,” Oscar whispers playfully. “I so badly wanted us to be proven wrong and for something to happen,” Lily says quietly to Oscar in a sympathetic voice. “They’re both idiots, I don’t think either of them will figure it out,” he says with a laugh. 

The laugh catches both Lando and I’s attention as we look up from our phones. “Hmm? Did you two say anything to us?” Lando asks curiously. “Oh, uh no. Don’t worry about it,” Oscar says with an embarrassed smile. The rest of the night goes by with hushed remarks from Oscar every once in a while every time Lando does something like giving me some of his own dish since my portion size was small, or when he asks if I’m okay after I drop the fork under the table and hit my head on the table when I try sitting back up, or when he just simply listens to me like I’m the only person in the room. 

——

“You’ve been staring at her for five minutes now,” Oscar says as Lando stares at you from across the paddock as you talk to Lewis. “Shut up,” Lando mutters as he tries to sound annoyed by utterly fails because he could never be annoyed while you were in his line of sight. 

I walk up to him a minute later, a bright smile on my face. “Guess what!” I say excitedly as Lando’s hand instinctively wraps around my waist. He hums. “Tell me what’s got you all happy, pretty girl,” he says with a soft smile.

“Lewis said that he’d take me out tonight to visit that new café I was telling you about, remember?” I say excitedly. Lando immediately frowns. “Lewis? Why didn’t you ask me to take you there?” He asks as he tries to not let his jealousy show. “Well I know you aren’t really into that type of thing, I looked at the menu and you wouldn’t have eaten anything there,” I say casually. 

“Well still. I don’t care. I’m coming with,” Lando said with a tone of finality. Suddenly Oscar started speaking. “Guys did you know theres a new movie coming out with Zendaya? The Jealous Man?” He says with a look towards Lando. Lando took the hint with an unamused expression on his face. “You know what? I think I’ve got a team thing tonight, so I’ll have to skip out. Sorry pretty girl, but have fun with Lewis, hmm?” He says softly. “You sure? We can wait for you if you want,” I say softly, not wanting Lando to miss out if he wanted to go. Lando shakes his head. “Nah nah nah, even if you wait, I’d be far too tired later,” I says as he takes my hand in his. 

——

Lando sat staring at his phone while he sits in his hotel room’s bed. He had tried everything to keep him occupied; working out, eating, the sim, talking to Oscar, facetiming Max, but nothing could keep his mind off of the thought of you and Lewis together. He groans as he caves in, texting you. 

pretty girlllllllllll, where are you? I miss you :(, he texts with clear desperation in his text. 

hi! Lewis and I are gonna go for a walk on the beach before heading back. Is that okay? I text, not wanting him to feel too lonely while I was gone. 

Lando sighed at my message. yeah don’t worry, pretty girl, have fun, he texts back, I love you. 

When I finally get back to the hotel, I’m exhausted. I kick off my shoes to find Lando already asleep. I get changed into some sweats and lie next to him. “Lan?” I whisper softly, “‘m sorry I was late, I know you missed me.” I sighed when I got no reply back, so I simply scooted towards him, my arms wrapping around him from behind. “I love you,” I whispered into the dark. I heard a slight grumble afterwards. “Love you too,” came a murmur from Lando. 

The next morning I met Lando and Oscar at the paddock before qualifying, but Lando seemed a bit distant. So I went up to him while he was talking to Oscar

“Are you mad I went out to spend time with Lewis instead of you last night?” I ask Lando in a quiet voice with a frown on my face.

Lando turned around to face me. “Oh, pretty girl, I could never be mad at you,” he says as his voice softens, “I love you. Just missed you, that’s all.” “You’ve been ignoring me this whole morning,” I say as my frown deepens. His entire body deflates at the sight of your frown. “No no no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to. Sorry if it felt like that,” he says softly as his hands wrap around my waist to give me a hug. “Love you,” he murmurs into my hair, “I promise.” 

Oscar rolls his eyes at the scene with an amused laugh. “Heart eyes, five pounds,” he mouths behind Lando, knowing that Lando would have melted the second you came into view. 

“God, these two will stay idiots forever,” Oscar muttered under his breath with a laugh as he looked at the very obviously love-stricken pair in front of him. 

[heartsfromia]

knight in shining armor — j. wonwoo

pairing: non-idol! wonwoo x f!reader

word count: 7,350

genre: fluff, angst, mild crack, college setting

warnings: cheating (not wonwoo tho our boy is sweet, it's reader's shitty ex), curse words, implicit violence (black eyes, cuts on lips mentioned)

author's notes: y'all pray that one day i have the energy to proofread my works ;_____; BRO I STG I WORKED ON THIS FOR OVER THREE MONTHS AND IDK HOW IT GOT SOOO LONG T___________T

“Hey, I’m planning on finishing my paper for International Law in Holly’s, come with me?”

With your hands intertwined with your boyfriend, Hanwoo, the two of you walked towards the parking lot by your university, just having finished a class together. You were hoping to spend some time together since Hanwoo had been preoccupied with the major association he’s a member in, as the collegial organization is holding its elections in the next week and he had been approached to help out as a committee member. Since the two of you have the same classes together, and the paper was due next Monday (it being a Thursday now), you thought you could get, at least the introduction down, while having some quality time in the 24 hour café with your boyfriend of six months.

“We’ll be there all night and you can distract me from my paper and I will do the same to you, and then we can down a ton of caffeine before passing out on the bean bags they have,” you tried to convince him, leaning into his side as you two approached his car. “And then we can go home and talk about how we should’ve finished our paper, plan another night in Holly’s and do it all over again!”

“Although that does sound tempting,” Hanwoo began, releasing your hand to reach for the car keys and unlocked the doors. He leaned down to be eye-level with you, as his hand reached for the door handle of the passenger seat, he uttered, “But, I have a meeting later tonight.” Pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, he pulled your door open and stepped aside enter the car. A pout found its way to your lips, pulling your favorite move to get what you want, but he wasn’t budging and only nodded his head for you to climb in.

“What meeting?” You asked once he climbed into the driver’s seat, pulling the car out of the parking lot and on your way to your house to drop you off.

“The election, since Monday evening will be the debate between president and vice president candidates, so we need to discuss the topics of the debate, all the technical stuff tonight,” he explained, “we’re planning on pushing a lot we need done between today and tomorrow, so we can have the weekends free and do finishing touches on Monday.”

“Ahh, being Event Organizer really isn’t easy… so you’ll be busy today, and tomorrow?” He only nodded, briefly sending a small smile her direction. “Alright, then, I’ll just see if Wonwoo is free tonight.”

Hanwoo threw his head back, asking, “Isn’t Wonwoo a Computer Science major?”

“Yeah, but he’s really good at research so I think he can help.” Hanwoo didn’t bother asking more, turning the music up to let it fill the silence as you arrived by the driveway of your house. “Good luck on your paper, yeah? Don’t drink too much coffee.”

“No promises,” you responded before kissing his cheek and climbing out his car. You waved him off, watching as the car disappeared in the distance before turning to head inside and up to your room just left of the entryway. Tossing your bag on your chair, you flopped on to your bed, too mentally exhausted from the three lectures today to even change your clothes, feeling sleep begin to fog your head. You were on the edge of dreamland when you heard a clink, then a few seconds later another one, and then another one, and it seemed to be never ending before you pulled yourself out of your drowsiness and headed to your window—which just so happened to be adjacent to your next door neighbor, Wonwoo’s window.

“You seriously need to reconsider throwing rocks at my window before you shatter it, Wonwoo.” Your neighbor only chuckled, so you took this as an opportunity. “Hey, can you come with to Holly’s? I’m planning to stay overnight there.”

“What for?”

“I’m holding an executive meeting for us to discuss a ten-step plan to overthrow our government,” you grinned, and he pondered, tapping his chin lightly before shaking his head.

“I can’t overthrow the government yet, I have a quiz tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips. You could always count Wonwoo to go along with your poor attempts at sarcasm. “I have a paper to work on and I don’t want to be alone.”

“Where’s your boyfriend? What’s his name? Yohan?”

“So close! It’s Hanwoo,” you retorted with a deadpan as you reminded him of your boyfriend’s name. Wonwoo hasn’t been discreet in his distaste towards your boyfriend—it’s been six months since he asked you out, and it’s been six months of Wonwoo never remembering his name. “He has a meeting today since the upcoming election debate for my major’s organization.”

“Is he running or…?” Wonwoo asked, despite his lack of interest with the topic.

“No, he’s the EO, and will be occupied for the next couple of days.”

“Aah, so I’m a back-up to you? Got it.” You knew he was being sarcastic, it was a running joke between the two of you since splitting when choosing college majors—you had done the same when he asked you to accompany him to watch a movie he really wanted to see, only to find out he came to you because friends from his major were busy.

“Do you want to come with me or not?” You asked again, “you don’t need to if you don’t want to.”

“What time?” Wonwoo asked, not hesitating. “Eomma is making dinner tonight, and asked me to ask you to join in case your parents are working late.”

You turn briefly, listening in to your parent’s room across from yours and can hear the muffle conversation behind the walls. “I think they’re home, but knowing my dad, he won’t be cooking so I think all three of us can head over to your place for dinner?”

“Sure, I’ll tell Eomma,” Wonwoo informed, “so after dinner then, we can go? Did you ask your parents for permission to spend the night working on the assignment.”

Dread immediately washed over you, colour draining from your face and to your feet as you remembered you haven’t asked permission from your parents, especially your dad who isn’t fond of you working long hours for an assignment you could’ve finished from when it was assigned. Force habit, dad, it’s not my fault you raised a chronic procrastinator, you couldn’t help but think. An innocent chuckle left your lips as you pulled your signature puppy-dog eyes to Wonwoo, who—without you having to utter a single word—understood what you were doing.

He heaved a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll ask them.”

“You are the best! Did you know that you’re the best person I’ve ever met? You’re absolutely awesome, smart and so, so, so kind, Wonwoo!” You blew a kiss in his direction, like how you watched Sunjae in Lovely Runner do so. “Love you!”

He waved your exaggerated gestures off, ignoring the heat forming in his cheeks and spreading to his ears, as he turned away, yelling back at you, “Yeah, yeah, just hurry up, I want to get this over with.”

“When do you think International Humanitarian Law is applicable?” You turned to Wonwoo after reading (re: skimming) a journal regarding the topic for your paper. Despite having only been studying the material for about twenty minutes, you could feel yourself losing it by the second. You didn’t hate International Law, but you always thought that the professor assigned too much reading, and is so strict about the entire paper itself—specifically using APA style, it has to only be footnotes (no in-line citations, despite that being the easiest in your opinion and you always preferred Chicago over any other reference style).

Oh, and the International Law professor is biased and lowkey a bitch.

So, being reluctant to work on an assignment given by your major’s most disliked professor wasn’t a priority even with the deadline closing in.

“During world conflicts?” You and Wonwoo stared at each other briefly, before you nodded, “That is true.” Wonwoo stifled a laugh. Seeing you look so drained and empty every single time you worked on an assignment, never failed to make him laugh. He enjoyed accompanying you, and despite the different majors and study programs you both have, he always tried to make sure he is more help than company. Even though you never really wanted to help you work on the assignment, knowing he has his own to deal with as a Computer Science major, but he’s well aware of your habits that even if the due date is Monday and you are working on it right now, you won’t completely finish it until Sunday, if not with Wonwoo’s aid.

“What’s the paper about?”

“The application of International Humanitarian Law in a specific study case,” you responded, tone flat. The more you talked about it, the more your soul was being sucked into the void. “I chose the Femicides in El Salvador.”

“Alright.” Was all Wonwoo said before he opened Google Scholar and began his own little research.

“Wonwoo, you don’t have to—”

“Y/N?” Cut off mid-sentence, you and Wonwoo turned to find Joy approaching your table, her hair tied and a lanyard around her neck, she must’ve just gotten back from campus.

“Joy? Hi, what are you doing here?” You smiled, internally sighing in relief because you had a reason to not look at the journal you were reading of femicide reports in the past decade.

“I just came back from an internal meeting with the EO’s for the upcoming debate,” Joy responded, noticing Wonwoo and waving at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working on Michelle’s paper,” you answered, exaggerating the slouch in your shoulders and pout in your lips. You then realized, sitting up straight, head cocked to the side with your brows furrowed. “Wait, you’re an EO for the debate?”

Joy pulled a chair to sit across from you, resting her arms on the table and nodded.

“So you were with Hanwoo?”

It was her turn to furrow her brows. “Your boyfriend?” You nodded, and she shook her head. “No I wasn’t.”

“What? But he told me he was having a meeting with the EO’s for the debate, maybe you didn’t see them?”

The crease between your friend’s brow only deepened. “Y/N, the EO’s are only four people, not including the PIC—I’ve also met them all, and Hanwoo isn’t a part of us.”

“That’s weird,” you muttered. Did your boyfriend lie?

“Maybe he got his position switched? Maybe he’s not an EO? You could try asking tomorrow,” Joy tried to reason, and you only nodded. Hanwoo had been telling you that he was an EO for the past couple of weeks, ever since the announcement of election was released for the major association. He explained to you in great detail what the position would entail, and well, frankly speaking, you trusted him. It tugged at your chest at the possibility he might’ve lied to you.

And Wonwoo can see it. The deep glare in your eyes as you stared at the article you were reading, but you weren’t actually reading the reports from representatives of the El Salvadoran government, instead you were reading into the situation with your boyfriend. Gears were turning in your head, making connections, coming up with excuses as to why he had chosen to lie to you about something as trifling as his position in a collegial committee. He could tell that no matter how many paragraphs you read, how many relative research articles you pulled up from the internet, nothing will allow you to progress in your paper until the nagging feeling of your fibbing boyfriend is at ease.

“Y/N, do you want to head back home, call it a night?” Wonwoo asked, before quickly raising his phone, “My brother just sent me a text, that he needs the car early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, yeah sure, let me just pay—”

“You pack up, I’ll pay for our food.”

You knew that he knew. Your lips pressed into a tight smile, “Thanks, Won.” He nodded, returning your smile before heading to the counter.

“Should we continue tomorrow night, then?” Joy asked. You nodded. “Sure,” then added, “depends though.”

On whether or not your boyfriend is lying.

“Wonwoo, do you have notes from Beom’s class? Last weeks’?” Seungcheol sat across from Wonwoo in the cafeteria, picking up a fry from Wonwoo’s plate and tossing it into his mouth. Wonwoo merely stared at his friend, unamused by his lack of manners, causing Seungcheol to chuckle.

“You know I do, Cheol, but why should I give it to you?” Wonwoo asked, his baritone voice holding a twinge of sarcasm, still upset by Seungcheol’s unwarranted act of property theft.

“Who says I want them?” Seungcheol turns away, flustered that Wonwoo caught on too quickly to his motive.

Wonwoo shrugs, and continues eating his lunch. “Alright then.”

“Can you email them to me?” An innocent, close-lipped smile etched across Seungcheol’s face, his dimple deepening as he clasped his hands together, pulling the same trick as Y/N usually does to get what they want.

“Stop that, I already get enough of puppy-eyes from Y/N,” grunted Wonwoo, rolling his eyes. “I’ll send them tonight, just send me a reminder.”

“Great, thanks, man.” Wonwoo expected him to leave, allowing for Wonwoo to spend the rest of his lunch alone before he heads to his next class, but Seungcheol stayed put, eyes on his phone. Not feeling like making any conversation, Wonwoo shrugged it off and continued eating. That is, until Seungcheol spoke up again, asking, “Hey, doesn’t Y/N have a boyfriend?”

Wonwoo couldn’t help the heat that rose at the back of his neck. “Yeah, why?”

“Isn’t it that Hanwoo guy?” Wonwoo nodded, but Seungcheol only looked even more perplexed. “They’re still going out?”

“Yeah…” Wonwoo confirmed, but the question only made his curiosity grow. Why did Seungcheol look so surprised? “Why?”

“It’s just… I mean, if you say they’re still together then it might not be- I must’ve made a mistake,” Seungcheol tried to change the subject but Wonwoo wasn’t going to let him do so.

“Tell me what you’re talking about or you won’t get Beom’s notes,” Wonwoo threatened, earning a look of genuine offense from Seungcheol, whom briefly rose a brow, a bit unconvinced. “I’m serious, Cheol.”

“Ass,” he muttered, before shaking his head, “Nah, it’s just… last night I saw a guy pick up my neighbor from across the courtyard, and I thought he looked a lot like Hanwoo.” Wonwoo’s eyebrow rose in suspicion, Seungcheol spotting it. “But if you say they’re still going out, then it must’ve been someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Any guy would be stupid to cheat on Y/N, especially since she’s your best friend and all.”

That only made him more confused. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s not like you’d let anyone hurt her, Won,” Seungcheol retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world (it was), “and Hanwoo would be a huge dumbass if he even thought of cheating on her.”

Even though Seungcheol was right, Wonwoo wasn’t convinced—Hanwoo had a meeting last night when they were at Holly’s but Joy confirmed that he wasn’t even a part of the EO committee.

“Are you sure it wasn’t him?” He tried to make sure.

“I mean, it was dark and I wasn’t wearing my glasses so it was a bit blurry—all-in-all I would say 50%, either he was or he wasn’t,” Seungcheol explained, being no help to Wonwoo’s growing suspicion of your boyfriend.

“I’ve gotta go,” Wonwoo uttered, standing and packing his things, tossing his backpack over his shoulder.

“Where are you go- class is that way!” Wonwoo paid no mind to his friend as he continued walking towards the parking lot. However, he could hear Seungcheol as he was almost out of earshot, “Y/N, your knight in shining armor is on his way.”

The corner of Wonwoo’s lips quirked up. “I’m not sending the notes then!”

“Oh, come on, man!”

He couldn’t wait any longer. Suspicions and of course, anger, only grew the more steps he took towards his car, knowing the destination was you. If what Seungcheol said is true and he did, in fact, see Hanwoo with another girl, then that means he’s openly seeing someone else behind your back.

His hand reached for his phone, sparing quick glances between the screen and where he was walking as his fingers swiped for your contact, immediately dialing. Pressing the phone to his ear, he let his other hand pull out his car keys and unlock the door just as the line started ringing.

You picked up after two rings.

“Wonwoo? What’s with the sudden phone call?”

“Where are you?” He waited in the front seat, keys dangling from the ignition. Your answer would decide whether he starts the car or not.

“In the cafeteria near the engineering majors, why?”

“Are you with Hanwoo?” You were taken aback by his question, not because of what he asked, but by the fact that he got your boyfriend’s name right.

“Yeah, I am… Why?”

His shoulders sunk with your confirmation. “Just… just checking, sorry to bother you guys.” You muttered something that he didn’t catch before he hung up, exhaling a heavy sigh. Maybe it was paranoia. He had known you since you both were in middle school, of course he was protective over you, like every friend out there, he never wants you to get hurt.

Little did he know that as you put down your phone, a grimace had taken over your features as you looked at Joy.

“What did Wonwoo ask?”

You wanted to tell her the truth, but even you couldn’t wrap your head around the obvious that was happening. Wonwoo thinks you’re with Hanwoo, but you’re not and Joy’s tip about your boyfriend never having been involved in the election committee—you knew, and if your best friend had asked and even remembered Hanwoo’s name, then that must mean he knows, too.

“If I was with you,” you answered before her suspicion grew. “He wanted to check if I was up for lunch with him, but I’m with you already.”

“Ah… I think it’s good that he isn’t here,” Joy prefaced, pulling her phone out. “Do you remember I use to be a student supervisor for our major’s freshman camp?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So, I follow most of the kids that were in my group, right? And I was scrolling through my Instagram stories when you were buying lunch, and then—“ Joy scrolled through the following list of her account, stopping her explanation as she found who she was looking for. “—I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”

She slid her phone face-up to you, an Instagram story of a junior you didn’t know of was opened. The picture wasn’t revealing much of anything that seemed of significance to you, just a photo of her holding hands with a guy and it was posted in her Close Friends—most likely an attempt at soft-launching her boyfriend.

For a moment you were confused, then you spotted it—the username. It was Hanwoo's Instagram account. Dread grew at the back of your head as your brain couldn't grasp on to this fact, even exiting out of the story and searching for his username, hoping it was one letter off and your suspicions would be wrong, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and both the username in the girl’s post and his username were the same.

“I’m sorry, Y/N…” Joy uttered, in hopes to break the silence and tension that was building, but it was to no avail. Your throat tightened, and tears burned in your eyes, but you knew they weren’t from sadness, or heartbreak even, you were furious.

The audacity this piece of shit has to think he can cheat on me? You locked Joy’s phone, sliding it back to her before picking up your things and standing from the table.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes were filled with genuine concern, worried that you were a ticking time bomb, just waiting to blow up at the worse time.

You sent her a reassuring smile, and shrugged. “Where else? To plan my revenge on him, of course.”

Wonwoo thought he was hearing things. As he paused his game, he waited and listened for a moment before shrugging, chalking it off to probably a feature in the game he never noticed.

Clink!

That couldn’t have been a feature in the game, he was breaking wood—a clinking sound against glass doesn’t seem like something you’d hear while hitting a tree repeatedly in Minecraft.

He removed his earphones this time, waiting for the sound again, and when he did, he stood and walked to his window, finding you standing outside his window.

“Finally, oh my God!” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “Do you know how many pebbles I had to look for to throw at your window?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows bunched together as he stared at you dumbfounded. “Why did you need to throw pebbles, we’re ground level. You could’ve just knocked.”

“That wouldn’t be so romantic, now would it?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he heaved a heavy sigh. “You’ve got to stop sneaking around like this, though, people are going to think you’re a burglar.”

“Whatever, Won,” you waved him off. “I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I—“ You paused. The fact that Hanwoo is actively cheating on you, probably even at this very moment, felt almost surreal to you, but ever since Joy showed you the picture, you’ve (to some extent) came to terms with it—there were signs after all, signs you chose to ignore or were so subtle, they flew over your head. However, coming to the realization that you’ve been cheated on felt easier than to utter it out loud—it felt more like a confirmation, that once the words were spoken out into the universe, it confirmed you were too blind in love to see the fact that he played you like a violin.

And it felt worse to admit to Wonwoo that his suspicions of your boyfr— ex-boyfriend being a douchebag were right.

“I need your help to trash Hanwoo’s car tonight, he’s at a friend’s house and left his car by his apartment.” Might as well hold off telling the truth until after you’ve released your anger.

Wonwoo could see you were holding something back, and by your proposition, making a guess as to why you did so, was easy.

“I’m not going to ask, but I will need you to explain later.” You subconsciously thanked him for not asking for a reason to your borderline act of vandalism. “Come around to the garage, I think I have a baseball bat from when I played little league.”

Ignoring the last bit of Wonwoo’s childhood anecdote, you watched as he left his room before taking the route to circle towards the front of his house where the garage was. You heard a lock turn and a bar slide before door opened, revealing Wonwoo, nodding his head to follow him.

“Do you, like, a Swiss Army knife or something sharp?”

“I think my dad has one his tool box, let me check,” he says, then points to shelf behind the car. “You can check there for the baseball bat.”

“Alright.”

Once the equipments were prepared—consisting of Wonwoo’s baseball ball, his dad’s Swiss Army knife, and your dad’s spray paint from one of his furniture restoration projects—you were all set to get back at Hanwoo. You both tossed them into the back of his car, climbing in and Wonwoo started up for Hanwoo’s apartment.

“And how do you know he left his car?” Wonwoo asked after three minutes of complete silence (AUX cord was broken and nothing that could fit a drive to vandalize your ex’s car was on the radio).

“Because I texted him earlier, asking if he could drive me to the store because there was a book I needed to get, and he explained to me that he was at a friend’s house and left his car,” you explained, your tone flat throughout as you mindlessly played with the zipper of your hoodie.

“And you’re sure he’s with friends?” He asked, his tone cautious, as he watched you freeze briefly.

You weren’t sure. Instead of admitting that, you chuckled, “He wouldn’t be with his girlfriend without a car.”

Despite your efforts at breaking the ice, Wonwoo wasn’t able to laugh at your joke, and only you could muster a dry chuckle before leaning back, turning to face the window.

You seemed to float throughout—as if watching yourself in a third person point of view, almost numb to the fact that you were on your way to ruin your ex’s car. It wasn’t that you were in denial that he is cheating on you, you refused to believe it was happening to you. You always felt that you were doing so much, showing him so much love, prioritizing him when he needed, never doubting that you felt the same way for you.

What did I do wrong? What about me wasn’t enough?

You hated those thoughts that began flooding your head. You hated those doubts. You hated that because of what he did, you’re blaming yourself—making it seem that you were the one that wasn’t doing enough.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s baritone voice pulled you out of your self-loathing. “We’re here.”

“Oh, you remembered the way,” you finally took note of him never asking you directions throughout the drive.

“Unfortunately.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his snide comment. Looking out to his side of the window, you see Hanwoo’s white range rover. You knew he cherished it—making sure to get the oil changed routinely, weekly car washes and having it waxed monthly. In retrospect, he probably loved the car more than he did you.

Maybe destroying he loved could make you feel less shitty.

“Let’s go—“ Before you could climb out, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?”

Again, the truth choked you. As you stared at Wonwoo, the concern laced all over his features, it felt the question should’ve triggered a flood gate to open, but alas, you persist. I need to not use poor humor as a coping mechanism. You cocked your head to the side, the corner of your lips lifted. “Why? I honestly thought you’d be the most excited of us to trash his car, Won?”

Of course, being your best friend since middle school, he saw right through your façade.

His hand moved from your wrist to clasp your hands, wrapping his fingers around yours. “Just promise you’ll talk to me, yeah?”

The bile rose, once again, urging you to cough out the truth. Knowing well enough you wouldn’t be able to utter anything without your words breaking, you nodded and sent a stiff smile.

As you stood near Hanwoo’s car, looking through the window of his vehicle, memories of the two of you seated side-by-side there came flooding in. How when you would go to a drive-thru for late night snack runs, the way you reached over the console with a fry and feeding it to him as his eyes focused on the road. When you’d pull over into a parking lot, your legs stretched over to rest over his lap as the two of you talked about everything and nothing at all, or when he would purposely make wrong turns just so you would spend more time with each other when he was supposed to drop you home.

Moments that you held so close to your heart, now worth nothing in a blink of an eye.

You squeezed your eyes shut, urging the tears to fall back and return to their sockets, inhaling a deep breath and pushing it out almost immediately as you flipped the knife to one of its sharpest options and pressing the point to the driver’s door. There’s no backing out now. You let the knife drag itself across the paint, a ragged line following your hand as you made your lap around his car.

Now, there really wasn’t going back now.

Before you could hold yourself back, your arm extended back and punctured one of the tyres—then one became two, and then three. Air spewing out of three of the tyres filled the tension around you, and you found yourself breathless. Breathless because you were angry. Breathless because you were hurt. The tears had escaped, creating warm trails down your cheeks.

“Give me the bat,” you urged, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks.

“Y/N—“

“Wonwoo,” you pressed, “it’s either you give me the bat, or you go home—I’m going to do this whether you agree with it or not.”

Wonwoo shouldn’t even be against what you’re doing right now. He’s obviously on your side when it comes to this, Hanwoo deserves getting his car destroyed for hurting, manipulating and thinking he could go behind your back this way. However, the more logical and law-abiding side of him is reluctant—especially since you’ve already slashed his tyres and ruined the paintwork, so breaking the windows seemed to cross the line.

“If we get arrested, just tell them I did it, alright?” Wonwoo uttered, handing you the bat and taking the knife with him. You smiled for the first time tonight, a genuine smile that reached your eyes as he said that. He then added, “I’ll get the spray paint—you do your thing.”

And after a bashed in windshield, a very poorly written “FUCKING CHEATER” was spray painted on all sides of the car and on the hood. You and Wonwoo drove away from the scene of the crime, driving to a nearest convenient store where Wonwoo hopped out, buying instant ramen, drinks and snacks, deciding to make a last-minute picnic in his car because in his words: “Vandalism works up an appetite.”

“They didn’t have the carbonara one, so I got you cheese.” Wonwoo returned in less than ten minutes, the noodles already boiled, only needing the seasonings. You smiled at him, mumbling a thanks as you took the cup noodles from him, tearing the seasoning and busying yourself with stirring, and continuously stirring, your eyes dazed off at the curly noodles as they spun in a faint orange mix.

“Y/N, I’m sure your noodles are well stirred,” Wonwoo commented, hoping to divert your attention. The leather beneath him squeaked as he adjusted his position, leaning his back against the door as he folded his knee under him, fully facing you at this point.

He called, “Hey.”

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, and immediately, Wonwoo straightened up, his jaws clenched and shoulders tensed. Tear stricken cheeks, bloodshot eyes and everso present frown evident in between your eyebrows and downturned lips.

“Y/N…” Wonwoo took the noodles from your hands, placing it on the dashboard and pulling you by the wrists, engulfing you into his arms, then there goes the floodgates—the emotions you locked away throughout the evening, released in that very second your face was against his shoulder.

While you were bawling, grieving the relationship that reigned to be good to be true, Wonwoo was hatching up his own revenge plan on the piece of shit.

The incessant ringing of your phone pulled you out of your slumber, and you knew for a fact it wasn’t your alarm, because one; you snoozed that ten times already, and two; it wasn’t your usual Radar tone.

Sliding the screen with one eye open, you placed it by your ear without seeing who it was.

“Hello—“

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY CAR, Y/N?!”

Well that was one way of waking you up. You sat up, slowly, taking your time with adjusting your position while Hanwoo was screaming on the other line. Once you were sitting up, you glanced at the screen—the name you had changed last night once you got back home displayed as ‘IGNORE’, in hopes that you would do so when he called you. But then again, you thought he’d call you when you were conscious.

“—Y/N FUCKING ANSWER ME!” Rolling your eyes, you heaved a sigh before placing the phone back by your ear.

“And to what do I owe—“

“You were you even fucking listening to me?“ Hanwoo snapped.

“No.” Your answer was simple, honest, and obviously uninterested with whatever he wanted to say. Was the modification that you made to his beloved vehicle not enough of an announcement that you knew what he was up to all this time?

“I was asking what the hell did you to my car?”

“Can’t you tell?” you teased, “I gave it a makeover.”

“You ruined my paint job and popped my tyres, what kind of makeover is this?”

“The kind that fits a cheater like you.” Silence. Complete silence came from the other side and if you listened closely, you could hear the static along with his ragged breathing knowing well enough he was caught. “Cat got your tongue, dude?”

“Y/N…”

“Save the sob story, we’re not dating, I don’t see why you’re fucking calling me other than to cry about your stupid car—“

“How about the fact that your fucker of a dog punched me?” He interjected.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean, Y/N,” he scoffed, “it wasn’t enough to ruin my car, you had to send your dog to ruin my face too.”

It took you a second to realize he was talking about Wonwoo, which means that Wonwoo had punched his face.

Wonwoo punching someone in the face? That wasn’t something you had heard before, nor expected. The image itself was enough to cause you to burst out laughing, your phone falling from your hands, leaving Hanwoo confused and annoyed.

The idea that Wonwoo would go as far as to punch someone was such an unrealistic accusation Hanwoo had made, but nonetheless, had successfully made you laugh after a long night of crying yourself to sleep.

“Are you done?” Hanwoo asked once you placed the phone back to your ear after your laughing fit.

“Wasn’t enough for you to lie about your relationship all this time, now you want to lie and accuse Wonwoo of something he’d never do,” you defended, scoffing at his poor attempt.

“I’m not lying about this, Y/N!”

“So, you admit that you were lying about our relationship?” This time you interjected, wanting to hear him confirm it. It was mostly due to that nagging voice at the back of your head that still doubted what Joy had shown you, that the picture was friendly and not romantic.

It was so pathetic how even after everything, there was a sliver in you that hoped he would deny it.

“Y/N- let me explain—“ In other words: ‘I was, but you haven’t heard my reason’.

“Fuck off, Hanwoo, don’t ever call me again,” you warned, “and if I hear you spread bullshit about Wonwoo like you did just now, it’ll be more than just your car that I ruin. Bye.”

He managed to slip something before you got the chance to hang up. “What about my fucking eye, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you ask Gia to help you with that?” Grateful to have the last word, you hung up immediately, tossing your phone to the side. The phone call wasn’t closure, but it was enough to put those indenial thoughts to rest.

Wonwoo punched him? The thought wouldn’t leave your head as you got ready for the day. Trying to imagine Wonwoo walking up to Hanwoo and giving him a black eye wasn’t something you could see him doing. Besides that, when did Wonwoo get the time to punch Hanwoo if he did? He ended up driving you home around three in the morning, and it was past six now, meaning he had a three hour window.

Unless…

No, that would mean after dropping you off, he had stormed straight to wherever Hanwoo was just to punch him.

You had to make sure, even if it was hard to believe, you had to make sure Wonwoo was okay. As long as you’ve been friends, you’ve never seen him get into any physical altercations with anyone, and if it did happen, it might be possible that Hanwoo wouldn’t have let him walk away unscathed.

Your legs carried you to his house, to his front door and after greeting his parents, to his bedroom door. You knocked, listening in to hear rummaging noises, as if he was panicking.

“Wait, Eomma, I just finished showering—“ He called out from the other side, which you found odd because you knew him, he wouldn’t even be awake at this hour.

“Wonwoo, it’s me.”

The noise on the other side of the door paused for a moment, before Wonwoo called out. “Y/N?”

“Yes, can you open the door?” You asked, waiting for it to swing open but it didn’t.

“No, I’m- uh, I’m watching something, you don’t need to see it,” Wonwoo tried to think of an excuse but cursed at himself because why the hell did that come out instead? You, on the other hand, found his obvious panic hilarious, his excuse eliciting a chuckle.

“I know you met with Hanwoo,” you informed him, making sure to keep your voice down so his parents wouldn’t hear. “So, can you please open the door and let me check the damage?”

You waited a few minutes, hearing him toss a few things away, the noise causing your brows to furrow. The lock turned and the door swung enough for you to squeeze yourself in, knowing well enough that Wonwoo wasn’t about to reveal himself in fear his parents would see (they wouldn’t have, they were on the other side of the house, he was just paranoid). Once you were in, he pushed the door closed, his back against it and you could see what damage Hanwoo had done to your next door neighbour.

It wasn’t bad, admittedly you thought it’d be worse considering his lack of experience.

It was a scratch and bruising surrounding his left cheek, that was most caused by a ring Hanwoo was wearing, but other than that, and a tear in his lip, that was all he took.

“I honestly thought you’d look worse,” you thought out loud, Wonwoo’s brows furrowing at the comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shook your head, lightly laughing. “Nothing, do you have anything I can use to clean that?”

“Uh… I do, actually.” He dips to look on his bedside table. “Stopped by a drugstore after because I saw the blood.”

“And when did you get the time to pull it all off?”

“Well, after I dropped you off, I asked Seungcheol since he knows—“ Wonwoo stopped, realizing that this information wasn’t ever supposed to reach you. “Uhm… How did you know I was hurt?”

“Because a psychopath told me,” you informed, and his eyes darkened for a moment, rolling in annoyance.

“I told him to never bother you again,” he groaned, before his gaze softened as he turned to you. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

“He just called my phone, I’m alright,” you reassured him. Taking a step towards him, your fingers gently touched the wound on his cheek, inspecting it. You could see that he didn’t tend to it once it started bleeding, evidence of dried blood surrounding the wound and there wasn’t any antiseptic used either to ensure an infection didn’t happen.

While you were playing nurse, Wonwoo became very aware of the lack of space between your face and his, and he had to hold his breath. It only worsened when your eyes darted to his, the two of you holding eye contact for what he thought was an eternity.

“Let me clean it up for you, Won,” you uttered, breaking the silence and eventually the tension as you turned to walk into his ensuite bathroom. He followed after trying to calm his heartbeat, finding you on top of his sink, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic and tearing a bandaid from its package.

“Come here,” you urged. Wonwoo stood between your thighs, not wanting to meet your eyes, but you didn’t mind—almost finding him being flustered cute.

“Ow,” he winced when the antiseptic touched the wound after you had wiped it clean of the dried blood.

“It’s a small sting, stop being a baby,” you teased, earning a glare from him. “How come you only came out with this?”

“Got me at the last minute,” he answered.

“And how was he?” Your question was responded with an eyebrow raise instead, causing you to roll your eyes. “I don’t care about him, Won, I just want to know if it was worth it—if you, at least, are satisfied with this decision.”

The corner of his lips turned up, a smug look etched across his face as he answered, “It was. I hurt him enough to send the message and keep it with him for the next couple of weeks.”

“I never knew you could fight,” you said honestly.

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Y/N,” he mumbled, but because of your close proximity, you heard it loud and clear. Before you ask further, he spoke up, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“After this we can have breakfast, I think my mom made doenjang jjigae,” he informed. You smiled, nodding, “Sure.” You finished tending to his wound by plastering on the Kuromi bandaid, teasing him about it, to which he used the ‘there wasn’t anything else’ excuse.

He grabbed your elbow as you hopped off his sink, the action caused you to stumble out of balance instead of helping, made you bump closer to him, his free arm automatically holding your waist.

Cue the eye contact and pink-tinted cheeks, the move could’ve made you laugh as if it was straight out of a cheesy rom-com, but you were too occupied with trying to think that you couldn’t do so. I’m heartbroken, I’m vulnerable and haven’t been feeling loved for the past week, this is just a fluke, you tried to rationalize the thoughts and your racing heart, knowing well what could work to get out of this.

You tapped his chest, gently pushing him. “Go shower, Wonwoo, you reek.”

“Shut up, I do not,” he protested, laughing to cover his shaky voice. He then added, “Thanks, Y/N, although you didn’t have to do all this.”

“And let you get an infection?” You retorted.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, and without thinking he uttered, “A kiss would’ve sufficed.” It was too late for him to take back his words, noting your wide eyes and mouth slightly agape, his cheeks flushed when he realized what he had said. “Y/N, I wasn’t thinking—“

You pressed a kiss against cheek, beneath his bandage, shutting him completely. “Take it as a thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

It took him a second to compose himself, grinning, “I am your knight in shining armor, after all.”

You threw your head back in laughter. “Are you riding a horse, my knight?”

“Yes, a pink horse,” he answered, smiling endearingly down at you.

You frowned at his choice of color, “But you hate pink?”

“And you love pink.”

“Gosh, Wonwoo,” you flushed red, taking a step away from him, finding his comment both cringey and touching at the same time—it was shocking you could feel those two simultaneously. “When did you get so cheesy?”

He merely shrugged, a faint smirk on his lips. “I told you there was a lot you don’t know about me.”

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Breach pt. I | Criminal Minds

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. Spencer Reid xBAU!Reader .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

pt. II

Summary: Where Reader gets kidnapped with Aaron Hotchner and forced to do things that puts them in an uncomfortable position, and Dr. Spencer Reid is determined to help reader get back to a new normal.

A/N: this is my first time writing for CM I’m in the early seasons so I’m not too familiar with these characters yet but thought of this plot. I also am not familiar with tumbler so Please leave any suggestions! I am trying my best thank you!! Semi-proofed read!

Tags: un-established relationship, early season Reid, newly divorced Hotchner, Mentions of SA, mentions of drug abuse, kidnapping, and death <- [warnings]

It was a normal day for everyone at the BAU chaotic but nothing out of the ordinary for the members

“Hey, I was thinking” Spencer said as he suddenly appeared by your side as you were walking towards the break room to get to the coffee machine. He looked nervous but that was a constant for him.

“How about we-”

“Meeting room, now.” JJ says cutting off the man next to you

Spencer sighed but nodded and you gave him an apologetic look as you made your way with him right behind you.

“Okay todays case takes place in Phoenix, Arizona there have been multiple murders the past month and bodies turning up in canals” JJ says as she showed pictures of the victims

Men and women, tied up together with marks covering their bodies and bruises on their faces. It was a brutal attack.

“Are they tied up together?” Morgan asked, JJ nodded “He takes them in couples, tortures them, makes them commit acts on one another, then discards them in the water canals at night when no one is watching.” she says “This is James O’Connell and Lorie Matthew’s unsubs most recent victims, they were out on their third date together and never returned to their homes”

She flashed more photos of them, there were stabbings in their genital areas meaning the unsub was most likely a sexual sadistic murderer which only meant from here on out if continued the murders were only going to get worse.

The team talked amongst each other throwing out ideas of how the unsub portrays themselves

“This can’t be one person right?” You ask “It’s two people, wouldn’t that be a lot to handle for one person?”

The others nodded seeing what you were getting at but still unsure “He has a weapon, with a gun you can get anyone to do anything especially if there’s an unfair advantage” Hotch says

“Right” you muttered but still not fully convinced

“Wheels up in 30, we’ll discuss more on the jet ” Hotch tells the team and exits the room you sighed gathering your belongings “Agent aren’t you from Arizona?” Prentiss asked

You looked up at her “yeah, Phoenix”

“I didn’t know you were from Phoenix” Reid joins the conversation “uh yeah it’s not really much to talk about, but hey maybe I can actually be out on the field this time. Tired of being in the station.” You confess to them

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to let Hotch know, he’ll definitely let you. You will be a big help.” Prentiss says as she walks out you nodded and stood up from your seat

You were still considered a newbie despite being on the team for a year and a half, you weren’t really out with Hotch and Prentiss when you got a case mostly sticking with Reid and that’s how you guys got so close

“Here’s a map of where the bodies were left” Reid says and hands an already marked up map “familiar?”

You looked “yeah. This canal is in a neighborhood.” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him “This neighborhood it’s not the wealthiest, a lot well at least back then most of the people minded their own business which makes sense why no one seen the unsub.” You tell him

“How do you know that?” He asked “I used to live in this neighborhood.” You pointed on the map right next to where the canal is “My friends and I when we were younger used to walk around there. That canal was a shortcut to get to and home from school.”

“So you’re really familiar with this area.” He said you nodded. Spencer can feel your nerves and laid a comforting hand on your shoulder giving it a squeeze before guiding you out the room

||

“You guys are welcome to set up here, and take up more space if needed. This case needs to be solved. Nothing like this has ever happened.” Officer Flake tells your team you can tell this has been stressing her with the way her body looked so tired and her eyes looked un-rested. You were happy to be able to help.

“Thank you, we will get right on it.” Hotch told her and from then on out the team hung up pictures and maps with sticky notes that had every detail needed to try and understand this unsub.

“Morgan, Rossi you go talk to the first victims families gather as much information you can. Prentiss and I will talk to the second victims families and do the same.”

Hotch looked at you and you thought it was going to be something different but he frowned “You and Reid stay here. Continue profiling him.”

You agreed not wanting to protest, Prentiss sighed and gave you an apologetic look but you brushed it off and turned to Spencer “Let’s do this.”

In about and hour or two you and Spencer determined the unsub was definitely a male, the unanswered question was if it was two, and if it were two unsubs they had to be very similar to each other.

“So unsub possibly unsubs definitely male, not good at romantic or sexual relationships that’s why he takes interest in these couples, has to work in a setting where he is able to see these couples which can be a restaurant.” You say to Reid going over your guys notes he nodded listening to every detail that spilled our of your mouth trying to see if anything could’ve been missed before the unsub was officially profiled

“Guys, another body has been found in the same canal as the recent one. This time it is only the male.” JJ says as she hardly rushed into our area “what? Is he purposefully making it easy?” You ask

“Maybe this wasn’t the plan for him, maybe it was a mistake.” Reid suggests “a mistake?” You questioned

“Yeah unsub has to live close to that canal, it’s been used more than once maybe he got rid of the body twice in that canal because it’s closest. The murdered victim had to be a lot to handle for this unsub to just leave him, probably didn’t have enough time to find another canal.” Spencer tells you and it made sense

“Okay, let’s go.” You grabbed the keys throwing them at Spencer who smoothly caught them and made your way to the black SUV

When you got to the scene Hotch, Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi were already there “Have anything?” Hotch asked Spencer nodded and went through the profile

“He has to live around this neighborhood.” You say almost confidently, Hotch licked his lips “suit up.” He said looking at you sternly causing you to quickly make your way to the SUV to get a vest “need help?” Spencer asked noticing the way your nervous hands fumbled the vest

“Uh yeah sorry, I’m a bit nervous” you embarrassingly confess “yeah, I was too.” He half smiled and tightened the vest remembering his first time out on the field

“Be safe.” He told you with a serious tone you looked deep in his eyes “of course.”

You walked back to Hotch “We can’t waste anymore time, Prentiss, Morgan take the left neighborhood look for any clues, anything out of the ordinary, Rossi and Reid take the right neighborhood look for the same, We will take this center neighborhood. You know it best right?” Hotch asked you “yes”

“He has to be in this neighborhood, it’s closest to the canal and easier access.” You tell Hotch he nodded and with that everyone broke off into their groups

Why would he only leave the man? Why all of the sudden change in the murders? So many questions ran through your mind as you searched the neighborhood

After a while you came across an abandoned house well at least it looked abandoned. This house screams trauma, it always had. Memories resurface in your head walking through this very neighborhood and seeing this house.

“It has to be this one.” You tell Hotch “I agree.” He said and with that you guys pointed your guns Hotch clearing the area around before knocking on the door of course there was no answer and he busted it down clearing the entry way “take left wing, I’ll take right.”

“Alright” you said and separated from your partner doing as he said then all of the sudden everything went black.. and that was all you can recall about entering that house…

||

You opened your eyes, head spinning, vision blurred and body sore “huh” you breathed as you felt something wet dripping down your face you go to touch and see red immediately panicking you get up and look around you were in a room, a dark room your feet chained to a pillar. How did this happen?

You didn’t want to be loud, and let the unsubs know you were awake but something told you they already knew since you could hear voices behind a door your heart raced uncertain of what you were about to face

“Hello princess” a guy creepily smiled as he opened the door with a bowl of something in his hands you quickly sat back down not wanting to intimidate the unsub

“Brought you a present.” He placed the bowl in front of you

Water.

“Where is Hotch?” You asked sternly not wanting to let him know how truly scared you were

“Aaron Hotchner.” The guy repeated you nodded

“Well sweetie, you’ll see him soon enough.” He evilly laughed your mouth fell open slightly but you closed it real quick “he’s ready sir.” Another voice said “bring him in”

You got up on your feet and there was Hotch being pushed in with a bag over his head and his hands chained together in the back of him, you felt bad seeing your boss in this state, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

The unsub pulled the bag off of Hotch and dragged him closer. Your guys eyes met, he looked worried not really scared but his eyes softened once they landed on you “get down” the unsub screamed at Hotch and he did as told “we don’t want any problems.” Hotch said trying to reconcile with this crazy man

“Right.” He laughed in our face as he rolled his eyes “I know what you guys are, and I know you guys are onto me.” He tells us “I can’t let you guys ruin me”

“Well to be quite frank sir you already ruined it for yourself by kidnapping two agents, you need to end this now! We have a team out looking for us and trust me when I say they’re really good at their job.”

He didn’t sound scared at all, and if he was he was doing a damn good job at not showing it “yeah well we’ll see how long it takes them.”

You sighed as you threw your head back onto the brick wall “Jordan come in here!” The guy yelled and another one entered.

I knew it was two you thought

Jordan came in gun drawn on “what demands do you have for these two agents?” The older one asked Jordan creepily smiled and laughed

Yeah these two definitely have a hard time with romantic relationships.

“Remove her top.” Jordan demanded your heart dropped, there definitely could’ve been worse situations than this one but he was your boss, and so much more older than you, you had to see this guy everyday for the rest of your work life.

You look at Hotch and he bit his lips he looked angry but you knew he was just trying to come up with something to distract them “I’m not doing that.” He flat out said

“Why not?!” Jordan asked losing his temper and pointing the gun at your head “This bitch will die!” He said throwing a fit like a toddler

“Because his hands are chained to the back of him” You said Hotch looked at you “He needs them in the front of him.”

Jordan smiled and nodded “you want him to touch you.” You wore a disgusted face seeing how excited it made this guy

“She’s right. I can’t undress her if my hands are not near her.” Hotch agreed, you were glad he understood that you had a plan I mean why wouldn’t he? He’s smart.

“Try anything, and I’ll be so quick to shoot the both of you pigs!” The other guy who still hasn’t given his name shouts and Jordan nodded “You’ll make it worse if you try to pull a fast one.”

“We wont” Hotch said assuring them as he showed his chains to them waiting for them to be removed, your arms weren’t chained but your feet were so you had to think fast and carefully of a solution but everything happened in an instant it was hard to recall what went wrong

“You asshole!” Jordan screamed as he fell back causing the other unsub to quickly jump onto Hotch trying to gain control again

You pulled the unsub off of him slamming him onto the floor but then the back of a gun collided with your face instantly making you back off

“Shit.” You grumbled holding your face and then hear a gunshot go off making you look at Hotch he winced as he held the side of him “fuck.” You muttered quickly moving towards him

“It’s fine, it just grazed me.” He assures. You looked at him with panic “I told you sons of bitches what would happen!” Jordan yelled hitting his hand on the wall upset with what just went down

“It’s fine, calm down.” The older guy said “his hands are to the front now.”

You looked at Hotch and felt disappointed not with him but just with the events taking place today you look at the two guys in front of you and they knew how badly you didn’t want to be in this situation

“We got to make this quick.” Jordan says and he grabs you buy your hair making you go closer to Hotch “undress her!” He yelled

“What do you get out of this!?” You shouted “You’re a loser! So scared of woman you can’t touch them yourself?”

He got angry, and wrapped his hands around your neck “I’m not scared of anyone.” He said “get off of her.” Hotch shouted as he kicked Jordan in the leg to push him away

“You bitch touch me one more time, and I swear this bullet will be in the center of your forehead!” Jordan screamed as he had his gun pointed to Hotch

You and Hotch tried your best to stall as much but it was getting clear and clear as the seconds passed that time was running out and maybe your team was going to be late in rescuing the two of you

“Now go on.” Jordan said Hotch sighed and you just nodded towards him “It’s fine.” You assure him even though you were struggling more than you were showing “I’m sorry.” He whispered but you looked away not wanting to make eye contact with anyone

“Slow,” Jordan whispered and nodded. Knowing Hotch didn’t want to give him the satisfaction he unbuttoned your blouse fast “God dammit!” Jordan yelled as he threw a punch at Hotch you winced not liking the noise of it all

“Hotch don’t!” You tell him “Don’t make it worse, just listen to them. Please.” You beg not wanting him to get more hurt than he already was, you couldn’t lose him here. That was the last thing you wanted was to be alone with these two.

He took a deep breath as much as he didn’t want to give in to them he could tell how scared you were so he agreed “Now her pants.”

Hotch grimaced “stand up sweetheart” the older unsub demanded of you tears started welling in your eyes, you looked at Hotch and he was turned facing the wall as his hands found the button on your pants

“Look at her! Don’t you want to see what she has to offer, don’t act like you never wondered about her. Seeing her everyday would make any man go crazy.” Jordan smirked, you don’t like being perceived as what Jordan was saying and you knew a thought like that never crossed Hotch’s mind but it still made you uncomfortable

Once your pants were off you stood there in your bra and underwear you felt so little standing in a room with these two men “come forward” the older one said to you and you did as asked, he grabbed a sharp knife and ripped your pants so they were not around the chains he then pushed you back and tears fell down your face and landed on Hotch

He looked up at you seeing you stare into the wall, he stood up and wiped them away “Now sweetie, don’t you want to return the favor?” Jordan asked

“No how about we start getting to the fun part already.” The older guy said with a menacing smile “kiss her”

“What are we in 5th grade?” Hotch asked “You guys are sick, and I promise when I get my hands on the two of you, you’ll wish you just died.” He said his eyes not leaving them

They both just laughed until the older one stopped and slashed his knife into the side of you, you groaned falling down holding the cut it wasn’t deep but it stung bad “fuck”

“You’re gonna keep talking?” Jordan asked Hotch, Hotch helped you up and put his hand on your wound putting pressure on it “It’s okay.” You say reassuring not only him but yourself as well

“Do it now or she gets stabbed this time in her throat!” You closed your eyes shut trying to go to a different place trying to pretend like none of this was happening but it was hard with Hotch’s rough hand on your chin and you being able to feel his breath near your neck

You knew he felt just as embarrassed about this and you weren’t sure how he was keeping his composure so well, after these events you weren’t sure if you were even cut out to be in this field, you felt so fragile so weak and helpless.

Once you felt his lips on your neck you squeezed your eyes shut “there you go” Jordan said “come on sweetie, you scared to touch him? You ever touch a man before?”

“Shut the hell up” you said as your hands found your way onto Hotch’s arms you were humiliated and had given up hope until finally by some miracle the door had been thrown down “in here!” Someone shouts and you turn to see police officers with their guns drawn on the two suspects

You never felt so relieved before “Hold up, hold up.” Hotch said with his hands up and stepping in front of you “unlock me, and give me a cover!” He demanded quickly an officer came with bolt cutters releasing him and another left for a cover

Hotch took off his blazer and covered you in it and next you were cut free you took a deep breath of relief so happy to be out of this nightmare “A blankets on the way.” Hotch told you “thanks.” You said as you looked to the floor you can feel Hotch’s eyes burning into you but you couldn’t look at him

Once Hotch was handed the blanket he covered you and finally stepped away where the two of you were guided out the house, you were in a different location not the house you both had busted in earlier

You looked around and seen your team they all looked worried and relieved and unknowing of what you and Hotch just went through, your eyes found Spencers and quickly looked away from him.

||

You were mandated to go to the hospital to get checked and that is where they gave you stitches for your stab wound, you wanted to go alone but JJ and Prentiss were not going to let that happen

You could tell they wanted to know what went on while you two were kidnapped but decided against it seeing the state you were left in, they knew you were undressed but that was all that they were told

“Hey, want to get some food? We can just eat in the hotel and watch a movie?” JJ suggested to you “I’m sorry guys, I just really need to be alone after this.” you tell them they both nodded

You looked at your feet and wiggled them and seeing the bruising from the chains, it felt nice being free.

“Okay Agent, here are your release papers.. You should be good to go.” Dr. Santana says as she hands your papers over and smiles “okay.” is all you said as you exited the room

You had gotten sweats and a shirt from somewhere not sure who's it was but it was given to you “Agent, you know at any time you can talk to us right?” Prentiss asked making sure you knew you weren't going through anything alone

“Umm yeah, I'm fine. Just check in with Hotch for me please? He needs it just as much as I do.” you told the both of them “Yeah of course.” JJ responded

You smiled at both of the girls and turned around quickly the same smile disappearing you walked to the black SUV and prentiss drove you guys back to the hotel you were staying at for the night

You didn't want to hear any updates from the case, it was done, it was over and they were long gone.

“Your hotel card.” JJ said as she handed you the room key you smiled and took it “Spencer grabbed your bag and put it in there. Need anything before we leave you?” you shook your head and made your way to the stairs, elevators were a no for you.

Once you made it to your established room you tried to get the card to work the door but it wasn't going “what the hell.” you sighed you continued to try

“Everything alright?” a deep voice asked you turn quickly and saw Hotch you tried to speak but no words wanted to come out so you just nodded. He eyed you knowing you were lying so he gently took your card and pressed it against the scanner

Green. Door was opened.

“Thank you.” you say as you looked down waiting for him to leave “Are you good?” he asked “yup”

“Agent.” he sternly said causing you to finally meet his eyes and there you broke down falling to the floor not able to keep it in not that you were able to from the beginning but these were hard sobs that had been needing to come out since you were released from that house

Hotch quickly grabbed you pulling you into him “I'm sorry.” you apologized and he held your head “Dont be, we had no control over what happened today.” he comforted you and you looked at him shocked to see tears welling in his eyes

“I don't think I can continue.” you say to him “Today made me realize I'm not as strong as I thought I was, I'm not made for any of this.”

He wiped your tears for the second time today and shook his head “Agent you're stressed, trust me as the days go by its going to be in the back of your mind.”

You shook your head “Its not, I'm not going to forget.” “Everything alright out here?” you hear another voice and look to see spencer he was confused and worried when he seen the way you looked so broken

Quickly you tried to compose yourself wipe your tears and step away from Hotch “Its fine.” you tell him “Are you sure?” spencer asked again “I need sleep.” you tell the both of them and scurry into your room slamming the door and locking it

The two men looked at each other worried “She needs time.” Hotch tells the man in front of him “What happened?” Spencer asked but Hotch just shook his head “She’ll tell when she's ready.”

“I want to help her, I need to know.” Spencer demanded but he got nothing in return he sighed and watched Hotch walk away

He knocked on her door but no answer “Look you don’t have to tell me what happened today, but I need to know you’re good. I can’t leave you like this.”

The door slowly opened and Spencer walked inside “Just sleep in here..please.” You said Spencer nodded and made his way to the extra bed. . .

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Uno and chill- H.HJ (part 2)

After promising posting part 2 the whole week, it's finally official hehe sorry it took so long, I was very tired. And I don't remember if Hyunjin has short or long hair in the other part so pretend that his hair just grew.

I also want to share with you that Sunday we will have an Easter special fic AND a new prompt list coming out, so stick around 😊

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, dom!reader

Part 1

Alexa, play Red Lights by Hyunjin & Bang Chan

You weren’t ready.

Months had passed since that night. That game. That kiss. Since Hyunjin flipped a hidden card with a smug grin and wrecked your life in the most delicious way possible.

But now you were in his city— Seoul.

And your job had decided to partner with his group.

Of course, the universe had a questionable sense of humor.

You fidgeted with your badge, trying to act professional as you walked into the studio with your team. Stray Kids was already there, cameras flashing, makeup artists touching up, stylists fluttering around like anxious butterflies. It was chaos.

And then you felt it— eyes on you.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him standing up so suddenly his chair almost overturned.

“UNO GIRL?!”, he said way too loud.

You froze. Literally froze in place. Several heads turned. One of your coworkers blinked in confusion. Your boss narrowed her eyes.

You stormed across the room, grabbed Hyunjin’s sleeve, and yanked him down the hall, ignoring his laughing protests.

The second the bathroom door closed behind you, you turned on him. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

He leaned against the counter like he wasn’t the problem, “I missed you too”

“Hyunjin”, you hissed “Shut up”.

Of course he didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer. “Come on. Months without a single text? That’s cold, even for you”

“You were the one who didn't text me! I left my number on that damn Uno card! But since you didn't say anything, I figured you were busy, you know. Being famous, body rolling on stages, choking random fans in hotel rooms”

His grin turned dark at that, “Oh? You remember that part?”

And before you could answer, he dipped his head, brushing his lips against your neck. His voice dropped low and wicked.

“Right here, wasn’t it?”

You inhaled sharply.

He kissed the same spot again. Slower. Then let his fingers rest lightly at your throat, the memory of his grip making your breath hitch.

Then, his voice tone shifted to lower, rougher. “Did anyone else touch you, these last few months?”

The question wasn’t fair. Not with the way his body crowded yours. Not with his hand on your skin and his mouth so close.

You shook your head, “N-No…”

He smiled. Not sweet, not soft— satisfied

“Good”

Then he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. The heat in his gaze didn’t fade.

“Wait for me when this ends”, he said simply, “Don’t run again”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the bathroom like he hadn’t just unraveled you in under five minutes.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You were useless for the rest of the photoshoot.

Every time you tried to focus, your thoughts spun back to that damn bathroom. His fingers ghosting over your neck. The way he said ‘good’. The way he looked at you like you were still his— like you never stopped being.

Your coworkers were reviewing lists and discussing lighting setups, and all you could do was stare.

Because Hyunjin was performing for the camera like it was foreplay.

Eyes half-lidded, tongue peeking out, unnecessary body rolls paired with smirks aimed directly at you.

And he knew it.

He’d glance your way after every shot, lips twitching like he could hear your pulse from across the room. The worst part? You were pretty sure he could.

By the time the shoot ended, you felt like you had survived a silent war.

So when your phone buzzed, you didn’t even hesitate.

Unknown number: ‘Meet me at the back lot. I’m taking you home. Changbin will be out. We’ll be alone’

The text alone did unspeakable things to your already chaotic mind.

You slipped away from the team, heart hammering in your chest like you were sixteen sneaking out to meet a boy who already ruined you once and was definitely about to do it again.

He was waiting by a black van, dressed in sweats and a hoodie, mask tugged down just enough to show the smirk he wore like an armor.

“Took you long enough”, he murmured.

“I had to make sure no one saw me”

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear again, whispering the way he did hours earlier, voice dripping heat and memory.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be screaming loud enough later that someone will”

And then he opened the door for you, like a gentleman.

A very, very troublemaker one.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Hyunjin’s dorm was unexpectedly cozy. You hadn’t known what to expect— maybe something cold, minimalist, like the carefully crafted parts of his idol imagine. But it was the opposite. It was soft, warm with books stacked in the corners, half burned incense on a small ceramic dish, and blankets draped over the back of his couch like he had tried, but failed, to fold them neatly.

You barely stepped inside before he pulled you close and leaned down, his breath warm against your mouth. 

“I missed these lips”, he whispered, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you.

But you stopped him, palm to his chest, grinning, “Wait… what about the rematch?”

He blinked, then narrowed his eyes playfully, “You’re serious?”

You crossed your arms, “A bet’s a bet. You cheated at Uno, remember?”

He groaned, “I don’t even have Uno!”

“Okay, then what do you have?”

Hyunjin sighed dramatically and walked over to a cabinet, “Let’s see… Monopoly, Jenga… ”. He turned around slowly, raising a brow, “Twister”.

You bit your lip, holding back a laugh, “Perfect”

A few minutes later, the colored mat was rolled out on his living room floor, and Hyunjin was stretching like he was preparing for the olympics.

“You’re way too excited for this”, you said, standing opposite him.

He grinned, “You have no idea”

From the very first spin, the game was doomed— not because either of you lacked skill, but because you both had absolutely no intention of keeping it innocent. Every move was a flirt, every stretch, an excuse. His arm brushed against your chest “accidentally”. You moved your hip back into his crotch on purpose, biting back a smug smile when you heard him suck in a breath.

“Left foot red”, you announced, glancing up just as he struggled to reach over you. His shirt rode up. His hips brushed yours. And when you arched just slightly against him— just for teasing— he slipped.

With a dramatic gasp, Hyunjin’s balance gave out and he tumbled forward right on top of you.

The two of you collapsed into a messy heap , him hovering above you, chest to chest, lips a whisper away from yours. A sharp breath caught in your throat as he braced himself above you, palms on either side of your head, your bodies perfectly aligned, his thighs caging yours. His chest heaved. So did yours.

“Oops. Guess I lost”, he said, not even pretending.

You blinked up at him, trying to keep your voice steady, “So… wanna know what’s the prize this time?”

His eyes darkened instantly, already leaning in, “Kiss for a kiss?”

You smirked “No”

He blinked, “No?”

“I wanna tie you on the bed”

That shut him up.

His lips parted, and for a second, he looked like he might combust on the spot. But then a delicious, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“A bet is a bet, right?”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

All the warmth of the dorm extended to Hyunjin's bedroom. The lights were low, dark wooden shelves held a variety of things. His bed wasn’t particularly big, but the sheets were soft and there were too many pillows. A small vinyl record player sat on his desk, with a stack of albums in the corner.

But what changed everything— what shifted the mood— was when he pressed a small button near his nightstand and the entire room bloomed red.

Not bright. Not harsh. Just deep, ambient red light that gave the walls a velvet tone.

He watched you from the middle of the room, already shirtless, his skin flushed in the glow like something out of a dream. 

“Just helping set the mood”, he murmured, trying to act cool but the flicker in his gaze gave him away. He was nervous but still excited for whatever was coming.

You walked slowly toward him, holding the soft tie in your hand—  the silk scarf you were wearing earlier that day.

“Strip and lie down”, you said softly, “Face up”

Hyunjin swallowed, nodded and obeyed.

He looked stunning under the red lights— flushed cheeks, tousled hair, chest rising and falling a little too quickly. You took your time tying his wrists to the headboard, fingers grazing his skin a little longer than necessary, enjoying how he shivered beneath you.

“You good?” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes fluttering closed for a second before opening again. “What’s the safe word?”

You smirked, “Let’s keep it classic. Uno” 

He groaned, “You’re mean, cold as ice”

Something he said flipped a switch in your head. “Ice”, you murmured, then leaned in, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth, “That’s a great idea”.

You stood slowly, walking toward the dorm fridge, ignoring his protests. “Where… where are you going?”, he asked, voice raw.

You didn’t answer, just pulled open the freezer, grabbed a single ice cube, and held it up between two fingers like it was something precious.

When you entered the bedroom again, his eyes widened slightly, flicking from your hand to your smirk, “Wh– what are you gonna do with that?”

You settled back on him, straddling his hips, dragging the ice slowly along your own collarbone. “Just thought we could play with some… temperature control”, you whispered, letting a single cold drop fall on his chest.

He shivered violently, a helpless sound slipping from his throat.

The next trail of melting water you traced along his stomach, circling his navel before heading lower. His muscles tightened beneath your touch. He tried to close his legs, but your body pinned him in place.

“you don’t get to squirm”, you said, licking a drop off his skin before it fell.

Then you hovered just over his cock, the ice cube now resting against the fabric of his boxers, soaking a dark patch into the thin material. He gasped, hips jerked, and you responded immediately, “Didn’t I say no moving?”

“Fuck, baby… please”, he moaned, nearly breathless, “You’re driving me insane”.

You smiled, dragging the ice up his chest again, this time letting it melt fully between your fingers and drip across his nipples. His head tipped back against the pill and Hyunjin sank his teeth on his bottom lip.

“Say the safe word if it’s too much”, you whispered, watching him twitch.

“Uno…”, he gasped, eyes wild.

You raised a brow, “Already?! Do you really want me to stop?”

He swallowed hard, lips parting but no answer came.

You leaned down, licking the water from his neck, voice sultry against his skin, “That’s what I thought”

You finally got rid of both your underwear. Then you moved, lowering yourself onto him inch by inch, cruelly slow. His entire body arched off the bed, a choked sound slipped from his throat— something between a gasp and a growl.

“F-fuck, you feel… so damn warm, baby, please…”

“Ah- ah”, you said, your hand sliding back to his throat, not pressing, just resting there, “You don’t get to move yet”.

He moaned, eyes wide and pleading, hips twitching involuntarily as you rolled your own in slow, merciless circles. “I…  I couldn’t help it”, he panted, “You’re torturing me”

You leaned down until your lips brushed his ear, “That’s the idea”

Then you rocked forward again, achingly slow, dragging your nails down his chest just enough to make him shiver. His hands strained uselessly against the scarf, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying not to completely lose it.

You kept the rhythm slow, steady, sensual. Grinding down hard one moment, then lifting off just enough to make him whimper. Every time he begged, you clenched, pulsing around him until he twitched and throbbed beneath you.

“You’re not very obedient tonight”, you said sweetly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Should we come up with the safe word?”

Hyunjin gave a breathless laugh. “God, yes. Please.”

He moaned loudly as you bounced once,  hard enough to take his breath away, before going right back to a slow grind.

 “Then, say it”

A few more moments passed in pure torture. Every movement from him, every twitch, every sound was met with delicious punishment— either a clench, a tease, or you pulling off him entirely just to make him beg.

And he did.

Over and over.

Until, finally, he cracked. “Uno. Uno, Uno. Fuck… please"

You slowed, eyes locked on his, but didn’t stop.

“Humm. That didn’t sound very convincing”

“I said the safe word”,  he groaned, hips jerking.

“And I heard you”, you smiled, devilish, “But I thought you liked someone cheating”

His mouth fell open in disbelief then you clenched again, and his head dropped back with a curse.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die”

”I’ll stop if you want me to”

“No”, he groaned, helpless, “Please don’t stop. Please don't”

“So desperate”, you whispered, “Such a good toy”

He whimpered, fingers curling as you rode him harder now, driving him insane.

You felt it when he started to fall apart, the way he trembled under you, the way his moans turned breathless and broken.

“I’m close… I’m so close… please let me come”, he cried out.

He was trembling beneath you, wrists flexing against the silk you’d tied them with. His eyes followed your every move— hungry, desperate, and glassy with need.

“Yn…” he whined, voice wrecked.

You tilted your head playfully, “Hum?”

“I c–can’t take it anymore, please… I have to… .”

He let out a needy whimper, the kind that only made you feel more powerful. Your hips rolled forward before stopping completely, just to make him lose his sanity, still not giving him what he wanted. His eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenched hard.

“You’re being so good for me, Hyunjin”, you murmured, your fingers trailing back up to his face, brushing over his cheek and lips. He leaned into it, greedy for your touch, chasing your hand like it was oxygen.

His legs shifted restlessly under you, thighs trembling from holding back.

His eyes snapped open, blown wide with lust and submission. “Please… I want to come inside of you. I need to release everything inside you. Please, Yn… I can’t hold it anymore, just let me”

A grin curled on your lips. You leaned in, slowly dragging your hips forward, “Did I break you, baby?”, you whispered.

His hips jerked beneath you, entirely involuntary. “Yes”, he choked out, “You broke me. You fucking ruined me”.

Satisfied, you untied one of his wrists slowly. Then the other.

And then, you finally moved again, lips meeting his swallowing desperate moan with a kiss as he clutched your waist like a man drowning.

His whole body shuddered underneath yours, forehead pressed to your shoulder.

“I missed this”, he groaned, “I missed you”

You established a torturously slow pace, your hand tangled in his hair, the other pressing gently into his chest to keep him down and still.

“I’m not done playing”,  you whispered.

“God, I’ll play forever if you ride me like this…”

And when he finally came undone, it was with your name on his lips like a surrender. His body trembled as he spilled into you, but you didn’t stop. You rocked through it, pulling another whimper from him, dragging out every last wave of pleasure until he was completely spent, blinking up at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

 You followed just moments later, collapsing against his chest, both of you panting and tangled and wrecked.

The two of you stood there— breathless, dazed, ruined.

And when he finally caught his breath, he looked up with a cocky grin.

“This time”, he said, voice hoarse, “you cheated. I said the safe word. Multiple times”

You leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, “I learned from the best”

The silence stretched until a voice from the other side of the dorm wall broke it—  Changbin’s voice

“Are you done torturing him now or should I grab my noise canceling headphones again?!”

You both froze before bursting into laughter.

He looked at you and smirked, “Round 2, just to piss him off?”

You smirked back, just as mischievously, "I'm in”.

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[latenightreadingpdf]

Knock on the Door - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the midst of an intense investigation, Spencer and Derek bring you into protective custody after a disturbing discovery links you to their case. As you navigate the unexpected situation, Spencer’s calm presence offers reassurance, sparking an unexpected connection amid the chaos.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The quiet street was a far cry from the usual high-stakes BAU scene, but the tension in the air made Spencer’s skin prickle with unease. He glanced at Derek, who was already preparing to knock on another door, exuding his usual calm confidence.

"This one could be a lead," Derek muttered, showing a slight glint of hope in his eyes as he raised his hand to knock. The case had been dragging on, and frustration was growing with each unanswered question.

When the door opened, Spencer noted the faint hint of confusion in your expression. Derek immediately flashed his badge, his tone respectful but firm. "Ma’am, I'm Agent Derek Morgan. This is my colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI."

Your eyes darted between the two of them, registering the serious expressions they wore. "The FBI? What's going on?"

"Have you had any strangers come to your door recently trying to sell you something?"

A flicker of recognition passed over your face, and Spencer leaned in, catching the shift. "Actually, yes,” you said, brows furrowing. “A guy came by yesterday… He gave me his card.”

Spencer and Derek shared a look. "Do you still have that card?" Spencer asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"Yeah, I think so. Let me grab it." You turned back into the house, leaving the door partially open, and returned a moment later with a card in hand. As Derek took it from you, he confirmed with a nod that it matched the cards left at the other crime scenes.

You looked between them, anxiety creeping into your voice. "What is going on? Who is this guy?"

Spencer’s voice softened, his gaze meeting yours directly. "We believe he's a dangerous criminal who may be responsible for several recent homicides. His method involves gaining entry to homes under false pretenses."

Your face paled as the weight of his words sank in. Derek placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We need to take you back to the station to make sure you’re safe. There are some steps we’d like to take to ensure you’re protected while we gather more information."

"Safe? Is he going to try and kill me?"

Derek’s expression turned serious. "We have reason to believe he might try to come back, and it’s important we get ahead of him."

A sense of dread settled over you as you let their words sink in. You followed them to the car, feeling your stomach twist with a mix of fear and disbelief. As you settled into the backseat, Spencer turned to give you a reassuring nod.

“Just so you know,” he began, his tone gentle, “we’ll have officers posted near your home to ensure he doesn’t have the chance to get in. We’re taking every precaution.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… a lot.”

“Understandable,” Spencer said, glancing at you with a sympathetic look. “We’ll also have you meet with a sketch artist and undergo a cognitive interview. It’s standard procedure, and it might help us learn more about him.”

You looked out the window, processing the reality of the situation. The quiet chatter between Derek and Spencer drifted over you as they discussed possible motives, patterns, and theories. But for now, you were too lost in your own thoughts to make out their words.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you arrived at the station, Spencer took a moment to walk you through the cognitive interview process. "It’s designed to help you remember specific details," he explained, his voice calm and assuring. "It might feel intense, but I’ll be with you the whole time."

You nodded, glancing around the bustling police station, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and adrenaline. "Okay, so… I just answer questions, and you’ll be able to get a clearer picture of this guy?"

Spencer gave you a small smile. "Pretty much. Think of it as helping us paint a portrait. Every detail, no matter how small, could be useful."

The interview went smoothly; Spencer’s presence was patient and encouraging, never making you feel pressured to remember something you couldn’t. Afterward, he led you to a small break room, offering you a seat at a worn table with a coffee machine humming nearby.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned with two steaming cups, handing one to you. "Here," he said, "it's not gourmet, but it’ll keep us awake."

You took it gratefully, feeling a sense of normalcy settle in. "Thanks, Spencer." You sipped the coffee, savoring the warmth. "I didn’t expect to spend my afternoon in an FBI station, but… it’s definitely more interesting than my usual routine."

Spencer chuckled, seeming surprised by your laid-back attitude. "Most people aren’t as calm in situations like this."

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the situation but refusing to let it get the best of you. "I don’t know. I figure, if I’m in good hands, there’s no point in freaking out."

As you chatted, Spencer filled you in on some of the behavioral profiling techniques they used, giving you a peek into the mind of the BAU. His eyes lit up as he explained the ways they’d been analyzing the unsub’s behavior to find any possible patterns, and you found yourself genuinely interested, asking questions and absorbing his answers.

"Do you ever wonder why people do these things?" you asked thoughtfully, watching him as he considered your question.

"All the time," Spencer replied, his voice softening as he looked down at his coffee. "But there’s rarely a straightforward answer. The best we can do is study the behaviors and try to make sense of them. Hopefully, it helps us stop them."

A sense of respect grew in you as he spoke, and you found yourself admiring the dedication he had for his work. "That sounds exhausting. Important, but exhausting."

"It can be," he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "But it’s worth it, especially when it means keeping someone safe. Like now."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his sincerity. "Well, I guess I’m lucky you guys were around."

The door to the break room opened, and Derek poked his head in, giving Spencer a grin. "You two doing all right in here?"

Spencer nodded, standing up to update Derek on the details you’d given during the interview. As they talked, you finished your coffee, feeling a strange sense of calm despite the unusual circumstances.

When Derek turned his attention to you, his gaze softened. "We’re going to have a team set up around your house tonight, keeping a close eye on things. We’ll catch this guy if he shows up."

You nodded, feeling reassured. "Thanks, Agent Morgan. I know you guys are handling it, so I’ll let you do your thing."

Spencer glanced back at you with a small smile. "If you need anything, or have more questions, just let me know."

As they walked you to the main desk, Spencer looked back, his gaze soft. "We'll keep you safe," he assured you once more, his sincerity unmistakable. "Until then, try not to worry. We’re on it."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "I trust you," you replied, giving them one last grateful look before they escorted you to a waiting area. And as you waited, you felt a sense of calm, knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[j2hoes]

All Your Fault (Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader)

Word Count: 12.5K

Summary: In no world could Y/N like Steve Harrington, that's what she kept telling herself despite everybody's insistence that he was a good guy. They couldn't possibly be right, could they?

Warnings - Mature Language, Suicide, Mentions Of Sex, Death, Injuries, Bullying, Drug Use

A/N: This is my longest fic yet and of course it's for the one and only Steve Harrington! Just wanted to say that I know this doesn't follow the exact plot and I have changed some things so it fits in with the storyline. Also I am not condoning bullying in any way, shape or form!! Not proofread so forgive me.

“Hey, dingus, we need a ride!”

My bedroom door swings open, just about slamming against the wall before the irritating voice of my younger brother reverberates throughout my bedroom. Startled by the noise, my head snaps in Dustin’s direction. Not expecting to see his little group of friends in tow or for them to be in the company of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. Who I know them to spend a lot of time with nowadays despite my incessant complaints about Harrington being quite possibly the worst person on planet.

“Dude! Knock much?” I groan, swiftly closing the notebook that I had previously been writing in, in order to avoid any wandering eyes. “I was in the middle of something!”

“What? Making out with your stuffed toys?” Dustin jokes, resulting in a few snickers from his friends and a roll of their eyes from the older teens.

“I’d be happy to make out with you.” Mike comments, my brother throwing a small tap to the back of his head in disapproval.

“Ew gross. Get out of my bedroom you little perverts!” 

“Listen dickhead, mom and dad have gone to the movies and if I’m remembering correctly they said you have to drive me places when they’re not here. So, we’ll be taking that ride now please.” 

“Fuck’s sake.” I grumble, combing my fingers through my hair in annoyance. “Doesn’t your new best friend Steve drive?”

My voice is laced with malice, eyes fixated on the older boy with a glare, eyebrows raised as I await his response. Not that I needed any confirmation, everybody in Hawkins knows that Steve drives. God, he never shuts up about his deep red BMW, it’s one of his more insufferable qualities.

“Yeah, my car is kind of in the garage right now. It’s gonna be out of action for a while.” He admits, cheeks flushing a soft scarlet indicating his embarrassment. 

“So that makes you our designated driver.” Dustin tells me, a smug look on his face as he knows that I have no option but to accept defeat. “Plus, your truck is a lot bigger than Steve’s car. You won’t even have to speak to us because we’ll sit in the bed!”

“Fine! But I am not giving you a ride home because I’ve got a shift at the roller rink tonight and I cannot afford to take another night off!” I state, reluctantly grabbing my keys and throwing my fur coat over my shoulders.

Making my way towards the group, they’re quick to make their way down the staircase, scurrying out the front door as though afraid I may change my mind at any given second. I take my time locking up the house, wanting to delay the inevitability of having Steve Harrington in my truck for as long as I physically can. Sure, it’s annoying having to cart my brother and his friends around the town of Hawkins at their will, but the kids, I can deal with. One of my childhood bullies, not so much. 

Strolling over to the garage, it’s hard to miss the way Steve and Robin stand close to one another, giggling like school girl’s at whatever they were discussing. With furrowed brows, I can’t help but wonder when they became friends. Not only is Robin a year younger than Steve and I, but she’s also the complete opposite of Steve’s normal company. After all, he is friends with cheerleaders and jocks, Buckley is in the school band and spends most of her free time studying other languages. There is no world in which they could possibly be friends and yet here they are.

“Steve and Robin are gonna ride up front with you.” Dustin speaks, clambering into the bed of the truck with very little grace.

“What? No, you can all get in the back!” I argue, offering Max a hand as she struggles to pull herself up.

“Sorry but eight of us back here is too much of a squeeze, guess you’ll just have to make do.” Lucas remarks, arguing my brother’s case for him, forcing me to plaster on a fake smile as if I couldn’t be happier.

“Okay. Let’s just hope I don’t crash on the way, I’d hate to see a six body pile up on the side of the road.” My tone is ominous and I catch the slight gleam of fear in each and every one of the kid’s eyes. “Where am I taking you assholes?”

“Starcourt please Y/N.” Max hastily replies, hand clutching the side of the truck so tight her knuckles are turning white and I smirk to myself as I close the tailgate, pleased I have managed to instill a sense of panic in the usually overly confident group.

Hopping up into the driver’s seat, I’m about to turn on the ignition when out of the corner of my eye, I register that Steve has taken it upon himself to choose the middle seat. Situating himself comfortably between Robin and I.

“Uh no. Not happening. You two need to switch sides.” 

“What why?” Steve questions and I could be wrong but I’m almost positive there is a twinge of hurt in his tone.

“Because I don’t mind Robin.” I smile sweetly at the girl, before replacing it with a scowl as my eyes lay on the chestnut haired doofus. “You, on the other hand, I’d rather take a knife to the eye, than sit besides you.”

As much as it feels like a punch to the gut when I spot the pained expression wash over Harrington’s face, it is completely overshadowed by the sense of pride that I feel at being able to make him feel small, the same way him and his posse of imbeciles did to me for years. I know, deep down, that I should be the bigger person, that just because he treated me poorly throughout our school years that I shouldn’t do the same to him. Yet, I’m resentful. I’m resentful and having accepted the cruelty of this world, I’m also bitter. No longer the sweet and optimistic young girl that I once was.

“Yeah, I actually can’t take the middle seat.” Robin confesses, an awkward smile resting on her face. “I get real bad claustrophobia.” 

With an exasperated huff, I focus my eyes on the road as we begin the drive, doing my best to ignore the passenger sitting beside me. Even if I am trying to distract myself, I’m unable to hide my annoyance, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard, I’m afraid it may shatter beneath me.

Fortunately it’s only a short ten minute drive to the Starcourt Mall, as long as traffic is in my favor, I should even shave off a couple of minutes. Though the silence within the small space is deafening, frustrating me even more. Before I can stop myself, I’m reaching over to turn on the radio, hoping the joyful melodies of Joe Jackson’s Steppin’ Out will boost my mood before my shift.

Unluckily for me, as I reach to grab the steering wheel once again, my hand lightly brushes over Steve’s hand, causing me to flinch away with such force it feels as though I have been electrocuted. 

“Sorry.” Steve mumbles, tucking his hands away into his pockets to avoid any more uncomfortable interactions.

“So, I’m sensing a teeny bit of tension here.” Robin comments, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, no shit Robin.” I snap, feeling my entire body go stiff at her teasing.

Glancing over at the two teens, I take note of the way Robin slumps down into the seat at my words. Folding her arms over her chest as if she’s a child that has just been scolded by their parents. 

“Why are the kids so desperate to go to Starcourt anyway?” I ask, not directing the question at either of them in particular in an attempt to change the subject, feeling slightly guilty at my previous outburst.

“Oh um, we’re meeting Eddie, just thought it’d be nice to take that bunch of losers out for the day you know. Nancy and Jonathan might even be joining us later too!” Robin explains, smiling to herself as she peers out the back window to make sure the kids are doing fine.

“Besides, they deserves a break with everything that’s been-”

“What Steve means to say is that they’ve had a lot on at the moment, what with school. We think they’re getting a little stressed.” Robin interrupts, doing her best to subtly elbow Steve’s stomach, though I’m able to spot it, mostly because his body jerks into mine as she does so.

“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” I ask, slyly peering over at them from the corner of my mouth.

“Nope, we’re not hiding anything.” Robin asserts, turning away from me to gaze out of the window.

“Yeah, nothing to tell. Definitely nothing going on.” Steve agrees, the haste in which they both answered only raising my suspicions.

Before I can question them even further, I realize I’m pulling into the Starcourt parking lot. Quickly finding a space and turning off the ignition, I don’t give the duo any time to get out of the car before I’m turning the child lock on, forcing them to remain in the vehicle with me.

“I swear to God, if my baby brother is in any sort of trouble and you haven’t told me, I’ll kill the pair of you, okay?” I ask, both of them nodding their heads furiously at my threat and leaping out of the passenger door the moment that I unlock it.

Rolling down my window, I can hear the kids hopping over the side of the truck, eagerly chattering amongst themselves at the plans they have made for the day. Tiny smile forming on my face as I light a cigarette, watching Dustin jokingly fight with Steve. The interaction holds no maliciousness, I can see no sign of the older boy deliberately trying to hurt him and for a split second I find myself questioning whether it could be possible that the great King Steve has changed in his ways. However, I’m quick to shake that thought away.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Y/N Henderson?” Eddie Munson’s voice calls from a mere few feet away.

“Oh shit.” I whisper, taking a long drag of my cigarette before jumping out of the truck and resting my back against the door, waiting for him to approach.

It’s safe to say Eddie and I have a complicated relationship. What started out as him simply being nothing more than my dealer, blossomed into a somewhat beautiful friendship. Considering we’re an unlikely duo, we have a lot in common. Sharing similar taste in films, books and sense of humor.

I suppose it was inevitable that we’d end up sleeping together. Fuelled by our drug induced state, we shared a very hot and very exciting night of passion together. Following with me sneaking out of his trailer first thing the next morning after I had slowly come to my senses and discerned that our relationship should remain just friends. Not wanting to pursue anything at this moment in time.

“Hey Eddie, it’s been a while.” I comment, flicking the ash from my cigarette onto the ground as he places an arm beside my head, caging me between his body and the truck.

“I never heard from you.” He speaks quietly, doing his best to avoid the attention of the group standing not too far from us.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.” I mumble, looking anywhere but the boy in front of me.

As my gaze finds the group, my eyes instantly fall upon Steve Harrington. He’s speaking to Max, clearly in some sort of debate with her that looks like it may be about to explode into a full blown argument, yet his attention is solely focused on me. Observing the close proximity between me and the metalhead. His eyes falling to my lips as I allow the smoke to exhale from my mouth.

“You know, you could at least look at me when I’m talking to you.” Eddie chuckles, attempting to hide the hurt undertone in his voice, head rotating to follow the direction of my eyeline.

“Sorry, I just don’t get what Harrington’s problem is. He’s been staring over here this entire time.” I tell him, finally staring up at the tall boy.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, teasing smile resting upon his lips. I shake my head slowly, dropping the cigarette to the ground. “He thinks you’re hot.”

My hands slap against his chest instinctively, the idea being completely and utterly absurd to me that I have to laugh. 

“I’m serious! Look at you, you’re a fucking smoke show.” Eddie asserts, pushing his argument even more as he sneaks another glance over to the topic of our conversation. “Want me to prove it?”

The idea of Steve Harrington finding me even remotely attractive is so far off the table that I find myself entertained by the idea of proving Eddie wrong. I’m sure he’s simply intrigued by the idea of me and the freak being friends, nothing more. 

With a small nod, Eddie’s hands drop to my waist, touch as light as a feather to not push any boundaries that I may not be comfortable with. Playing along with his antics, I take the lapels of his leather jacket in my hands, pulling his body impossibly closer to mine. The hard expression on Steve’s face is difficult to miss as Eddie’s head rests in the crook of my neck, peppering gentle kisses along the base.

“Ew Eddie, come on man!  That’s my sister!” Dustin’s whines pull us back to reality and Eddie takes a dramatic step away from me to please the curly haired young boy.

Although we now stand with plenty of space between the two of us, Harrington’s face remains in the same cold expression as before. Jaw clenched tightly as his eyes flick between Eddie and I. Leaving me more confused than ever at what his problem is.

“Alright, see you later kids.” I shout, climbing back into my truck and leaving them in the capable hands of their babysitters. “Don’t be causing any trouble!”

***

Steve could think of nothing other than the mean girl that had reluctantly drove them to the mall. It didn’t matter how many stores they went in, or arcade games they played, he just couldn’t get her off his mind. Wondering why she had such a huge vendetta against him. What could he possibly have done to this girl, that he is almost certain he has never met before, to cause her to act in such an unpleasant way towards him.

He knew he hadn’t been the nicest of guys throughout high school, caring more about his popularity and how his friends perceived him than being a decent person. However, he was sure he’d remember if he had been rude to her. He was sure he wouldn’t have been rude to a girl like her. Hell, he was wondering why he hadn’t pursued her sooner. Her beauty indescribable and more radiant than any other girl he had seen before.

“Steve, what’s going on? I’m regretting picking you to be on my team!” Dustin exclaims, frustrated at the loss of yet another game due to Steve’s lack of focus.

“That was your sister?” He asks in disbelief, still completely overwhelmed by the limited interaction they had shared hours prior.

“Yeah, she’s a full on bitch right?” Dustin comments, unaware of his friend’s infatuation.

“Has she always been that unkind?” Steve asks, causing Dustin to look up at him with a questioning glint in his eye.

“Oh you got to face her wrath did you?” The younger boy laughs, amused at the thought of his normally cool and charming friend being bitched out by his older sister. “Yeah, she still hates you dude, never shuts up about you actually.”

“Wait, she talks about me?” His tone is hopeful, feeling pleased to know that he’s on her mind. I mean, that’s got to be a good sign, right?

“Calm down loverboy. It’s not a good thing.” Dustin smirks, though when he sees the downcast look on his friend's face, he can’t but sigh, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “Look, I think you’re cool, smart, charming, and some would say classically handsome but my sister usually refers to you as a no good, shit for brains, wank stain. Amongst other things, that’s usually her preferred term.”

Steve sighs at his words, combing his fingers through his hair awkwardly as he comes to terms with the fact that he quite possibly has a zero percent chance of becoming romantically involved with the intriguing girl. He knew that since leaving high school his luck with the ladies had severely dwindled, struggling to maintain a relationship that didn’t solely focus on sex, and yet, his heart sank a little lower knowing that the one girl that had truly piqued his interest was the one girl he would never stand a chance with.

Dustin, on the other hand, took pity on the boy he looked up to. Despite the countless tales of torture and misery that he knew Steve had put his sister through during their school years, he knew that the boy had changed. Sure, he’d felt sympathy towards Steve when he ended up working at Scoops Ahoy following his graduation, knowing how much it took a hit to his ego that he’d lost his King Steve title and was now serving children scoops of ice cream every passing day. However, he knew that the shitty job was a good thing for his friend, alongside his role as the unofficial group babysitter and assisting in their pursuit to save Hawkins, Dustin knew deep down that taking such a low blow was Steve’s saving grace. Reminding him that he wasn’t in fact above everybody else and truly changing him for the better. The young boy had seen it, but he also couldn’t blame his sister for being blind to it.

“Look Steve, I know that you’re a good person and I know that you’ve changed but you put Y/N through hell. She struggled a lot at the hands of you and your friends and I know she’d kill me for telling you this but she’s been in therapy since she was fourteen years old because of what you guys did to her. We were really worried about her actually.” Dustin admits, Steve’s breath catching in his throat as he hears the shakiness in the boy’s voice. “My parents still are. She didn’t even bother applying to college, and now she spends most of her time hiding herself away in her room or getting high with Eddie.”

“Dustin I’m so sorry, I don’t even remember her.” Steve states, struggling to get over the sinking feeling in his stomach that seems to be consuming him.

“Of course you don’t remember her, you only thought about yourself and your stupid friends back then.” Those words hit Steve like a ton of bricks, never had anybody truly called him out on his former behavior, not to this extent anyway. “Look, you just need to show her you’re a good guy, I’m not gonna say it’ll be easy because if I know Y/N, then I know she can be a cruel, heartless bitch, but I also know that she has a good heart and as long as you can prove to her that you’re sorry and that you’ve changed then she’ll come around. Maybe just wait until after we’ve destroyed the Mind Flayer.”

***

Monday nights at the roller rink are always notoriously quiet, only a couple of people passing through our doors for the majority of the night. I’ve argued with my manager on numerous occasions, pleading with him to change our closing time from eleven to nine, but to no avail, I fail every single time. As a punishment for doing so, I’m placed on almost every monday night shift alone, which wouldn’t be too bad, had I something to do. Instead I stand at the counter, lazily snacking on some popcorn that I most definitely didn’t pay for, awaiting any customers that may wander into the building.

Hearing the large doors squeak open, I immediately straighten my posture, my best winning smile slapped on my face as I prepare to serve the group that just strolled through the doors. That is until I see the group just so happens to be the same group that I dropped off at the mall earlier in the day. Smile dropping from my face almost instantly.

“What do you want?” 

“Don’t you mean, welcome to Paradise Skate World, how can I be of assistance?” Eddie jokes, leaning against the countertop.

“No, I mean what do you want?”

Wasting no time, the group excitedly shout their shoe sizes at me, a flurry of words and numbers that I struggle to understand. After swapping a few pairs multiple times, I finally manage to line nine pairs of rollerskates along the countertop, the kids frantically grabbing at them and discarding their personal shoes all over the floor. Not caring to use the cubby holes provided.

“That’ll be twenty seven dollars please.” My voice is monotonous, not caring to be pleasant with them, not that they seem to care.

Steve doesn’t speak as he hands over thirty dollars, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ as I hand him his change. He sits beside Robin on one of the dirty old benches, helping her to lace up the boots before slowly escorting her over to the rink where she is left in the capable hands of the younger teens. Who, for whatever reason, all seem to be incredibly confident on eight wheels.

Having lost sight of Steve as my attention was fixed on the kids gleefully skating around the rink, I round the counter preparing to pick up all of their discarded shoes, only to see the boy already on the floor matching pairs of shoes together.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I tell him, joining him on the carpet to gather together the rest of the shoes.

If I didn’t dislike him so much, I’d think his actions were sweet. Paying for the entire group and cleaning up after them, he’s a customer service worker's dream, yet I still can’t help but feel resentful. Why couldn’t he have been like this in high school?

“I know, but those guys make so much mess that it’s not fair to leave it all for you to clean up.” Steve comments, placing the last pair of shoes in one of the cubby holes. He rises to his feet slowly before offering his hand to help me up. However, I choose not to accept his help, rising to my feet without his assistance.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He smiles softly at me, returning to the bench to remove his own shoes and placing the rollerskates on. When he rises from the bench, I can’t help but giggle at the shakiness in his legs, standing like a baby deer, he just about makes it to the countertop before needing to grab hold of it in order to keep himself upright. Resulting in a loud laugh from me, finding much amusement in the situation.

“Need some help Harrington?” I ask through my roars of laughter, having to cover my mouth to keep my volume down as he looks at me with sheer panic in his eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna just stand there and laugh at me in my time of need?” He questions, flashing a cheesy smile my way to ensure I know that he is joking.

With a small sigh, I make my way over to him, taking his hands in mine, forcing him to let go of the countertop that he was clutching onto. 

“I may not like you Steve Harrington, but I’m not gonna let you fall on your ass like an idiot, not with the kids watching.” I state, walking backwards at a snail’s pace to allow him to find his feet. “Besides, it’s company policy to offer a hand when needed.”

Steve laughs at my words, a deep chuckle that causes my mouth to quirk upwards. Am I actually smiling in the presence of Steve Harrington? Shaking my head, I rid myself of the contentment on my face. 

“I’m going to embarrass myself aren’t I?” He asks, staring over my shoulder towards the rink with worry. “I don’t know why they thought this was a good idea, I’ve never skated in my life.”

“That’s probably exactly why they wanted to come here. They get to embarrass you and they also get to annoy the fuck out of me at the same time.” 

“I’ll try my best to keep them from annoying you, it’s the least I can do after ruining your peaceful evening.” His voice is soft, and I find myself unable to look away from his face.

It comes as no shock that the boy is attractive, he had girls falling over their feet for him since the moment he hit puberty. I’d never understood the obsession with King Steve, though I suppose I’d never been this close to him before. Never able to see how boyishly handsome he was. 

Chestnut brown hair that falls lazily over his forehead, coffee coloured eyes that hold a deep softness and a cheeky twinkle. His nose falls in a perfect slope, lips plump in a gorgeous salmon color with a sprinkling of light freckles scattered across his face. He truly is the epitome of beauty, it’s just such a shame that his personality is completely lacking.

I’m snapped out of my trance when I feel the hardwood of the rink beneath my feet, hesitantly letting go of Steve’s hands as he pushes himself forward ever so slowly. Testing the waters as to how far he can go without falling flat on his face.

“Well you did it. Now you just have to show that pack of dickheads that their ploy to embarrass you isn’t going to work.” 

He smiles at my comment, opening his mouth to say something in return, however, I spin myself around and hastily walk back to my position at the counter before he can say anything. Muttering a small ‘have fun’ as I do so. Not wanting to be entranced by him further and not wanting to forget about all the shit he put me through just because we had a fairly nice interaction for all of ten minutes.

In an effort to distract myself, I busy myself with cleaning any and every surface behind the counter. Very unusual behavior for me, but at this point, I would do anything to get the thought of Steve possibly being a good person out of my mind. Even if I have to spend my time cleaning to do so. Though, I guess anything is better than gazing longingly over at the boy in the rink and trying to ignore the racing of my heart.

“You know, I used to think Steve was a bad guy too.”

Robin’s voice startles me as I don’t notice her standing by the counter, she’s smirking playfully at me. 

“How the fuck are you and him friends? I mean, no offense but you’re exactly the type of person whose life he would’ve ruined in high school.” I don’t mean to come across as rude but my tone definitely says otherwise, Robin raising her eyebrows at my statement, clearly taking offense.

“Steve has a good heart, he’s doing his best. I know it’s not my place to say anything and I have no idea what went down between the two of you but what I do know is that if he can reconcile with Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie then perhaps that’s a sign you should give him a chance.” Robin remarks and against my best judgment, my eyes instantly find him out on the floor of the rink. Max and El hold his hands as they drag him around, all proudly displaying their delight.

“He did a lot of fucked up shit to me Robs.” I sigh, knowing that no matter how much I want to forgive him, I’ll most likely take my hatred to the grave. “They all did.”

The girl follows my lead and releases her own sigh, reaching across the countertop to take my hands in her’s. Thumbs gently stroking the backs of my palms.

“I know, I’m not going to excuse his behavior. He was a complete asshole, even when I first met him, I thought he was an asshole but he proved me wrong. Trust me, I never thought I’d be over here vouching for Steve Harrington of all people.” Robin’s gaze never leaves mine as she speaks, asserting just how much she truly means the words she’s saying. “Just maybe try to let go of that grudge you’re holding, I reckon you two would actually make pretty good friends.”

***

Regardless of how much I tossed and turned, Robin’s words kept me awake for hours. Unable to sleep and with no sign of tiring myself out anytime soon, I decided to do the next best thing. Hence why I am now sitting on one of the many docks stretching out into the depths of Lovers Lake. Joint in hand as I try to process all the emotions I had managed to bury deep within me for so long.

The joint does nothing to soothe my shaking body, though I’m unsure of whether it’s from the frosty fall air or the recent events that seem to have dredged up everything in my past that I had tried to forget, either way, I wrap my fur coat tighter around myself as a weak attempt to ease the shaking. God, if only Dustin hadn’t gone and befriended the one person that caused me so much pain.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize anybody would be here.” The voice from behind catches me by surprise, not expecting anybody else to be down here at two am. Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t help but laugh at the world’s cruel sense of humor as the person racing through my mind stands only mere feet away. “Wait, are you crying?”

Raising a trembling hand to my face, I feel the dampness of my cheeks, clearly too high to discern that I had in fact been crying. The fact causing me to laugh once more and Steve’s face floods with one of worry, hesitantly trudging towards me and taking a seat beside me, swinging his feet over the side of the dock in the same manner as mine.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, genuinely seeming to care about the reason for my tears, tone soft with no evidence of an ulterior motive.

“No.” I admit, offering him a weak smile whilst quickly wiping the tears away that roll down my face. “No, I’m not okay and I haven’t been for such a long time and I don’t even know why I’m telling you this because it’s all your fault.”

Steve’s mouth opens to speak and yet no words come out. Guilt scrawled across his face as he attempts to come up with the words to comfort me. Once again, I can’t help but laugh at the humorous nature of the situation. I’ve never opened up to anybody about how I’m truly feeling, hell, even my therapist doesn’t know the half of it but who feels comfortable enough to voice their darkest thoughts to a complete stranger in a very clinical setting? I’m going to blame the joint for my willingness to open up to the one person who I’d rather never speak to again.

“It’s probably really shitty of me and you probably don’t want to hear it but I am so sorry Y/N. Truly, I can’t even begin to describe how sorry I am.” Steve tells me, voice shaking and almost catching in his throat, however, he never once looks away from me. Forcing himself to own up to what he did. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Taking a drag of the joint, we remain in silence for a few moments, the only sounds to be heard are that of my repeated sniffles. It’s almost comforting in a way that the boy doesn’t speak, not rushing me nor pressuring me to accept his apology. 

“It’s funny you know, I thought I would’ve moved on from it by now. I thought that as soon as I graduated I would’ve been able to forget everything that you and your friends did to me and leave it all in the past.” I state, not even knowing where to start. I never expected to be in this position, never thought I’d get the chance to confront the monsters from my childhood but as he sits before me, he doesn’t seem to be much of a monster. “You and Carol and Tommy, you guys destroyed me. You hated me so much that I began to hate myself and I’ve never recovered from that.”

Steve lets out a sharp exhale, causing me to look over at him and what I see shocks me deeply. Although he’s trying his best to hide it, I don’t miss the tears that fall slowly down his cheeks. Guilt consuming him as he comes to terms with his actions and the direct consequences they had as a result.

“I almost killed myself, Steve.”

My words hit him like a knife to the chest and his head is snapping to face me so fast, I fear he may have given himself whiplash. Mouth slightly open in shock as he processes what I just confessed.

“You, you wh-”

“You’re not to blame for that. I could never blame you for that.” I whisper, feeling lighter as I open myself up more and more for the very first time.

“How, how did-” Steve stops himself before he speaks, this time it’s him that’s wiping away tears. “What happened?”

I know Steve is questioning whether it’s appropriate to ask. Unsure of whether I’m willing to talk about the most traumatic most of my life thus far, especially with him. With nerves coursing through my veins, I shakily offer him the joint, he accepts with a small smile, slowly taking a long drag, allowing the weed to flood through his body.

“Junior year. I think I’d been planning it for a while, or at least thinking about it. That day, I think you must’ve been at a basketball game or something, Carol and Tommy they-” I sob hysterically, feeling so much shame as I explain everything to him. “They cornered me in an alley as I was walking home. It was just the usual insults, but when I didn’t react they got angry. I don’t really remember it all, I think I’ve tried to black it out but I woke up unconscious in that alley, and I just remember feeling so at peace when I laid there.

So I went home, ran straight up to my room because I didn’t want anybody to see me. As soon as I looked in the mirror, I just felt disgusting. My eye was all swollen and my face was just covered in bruises and scratches. Not that I felt beautiful before, but I felt hideous. 

I’d been hoarding my pills for weeks at that point and I just began to take them. Handfuls at a time, I think I got about halfway through my stockpile before my mom walked in. She was screaming and crying and I couldn’t do anything, I just passed out.”

“Fuck.” Steve whispers, trying to suppress his own sniffles.

“I was in the hospital for about a week, apparently they pumped my stomach and I only have very minor damage to my internal organs. I had to practically beg them not to take me to the psych ward though.” I chuckle at the memory, pleading with the doctors that I was fine and it was all just a mistake, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“I had no idea that Carol and Tommy did that to you.” Steve admits, dropping the joint into the lake as he clenches his fists tightly at the thought of what took place in that alleyway. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I could spend my life apologizing to you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

I’ve never seen Steve so emotional before, candidly breaking down in the most vulnerable way as he allows his sobs to be released. Face flushed scarlet and throat raw from how much he is wailing. I thought I would feel better if I made him feel the same as he made me feel. If I made him cry so hard that he thought he would never feel happiness again. However, seeing him in this state doesn’t even make me the tiniest bit happier. It doesn’t bring me an ounce of joy to see the boy this way no matter how much I thought I would.

In all honesty, it hurts more so knowing that my words are the cause of the pain and turmoil that Steve is in right now. As much as I had built up such a cold and callous exterior trying desperately to protect myself from the harshness of this world, I know deep down that internally, I’m nothing like I portray myself to be.

Once he gains his composure, Steve manages to speak through deep breaths, “Do you know what’s funny?”

His question throws me off guard, tilting my head and raising a brow, alerting him of my piqued interest.

“I’ve also tried to block out most of high school. I didn’t even recognise you today and couldn’t understand why you were acting the way you were. Which I now realize makes me sound like even more of a dickhead.” He laughs quietly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck to relieve the tension within him. “As soon as I got home, I spent hours, staring at your pictures in the yearbook, remembering everything that we put you through. I’ve never felt more guilty about something in my life and I felt disgusted with myself that I would treat such a beautiful person as though they were anything but.”

“You’re just saying that.” I retort, not wanting to believe that he would spend so long staring at the photos of me that I hated so much. Not only that but not wanting to believe he could find such photos of me to be beautiful.

“I mean it! I was a stupid, pathetic little boy that just wanted to prove myself to the people that I thought were cool. I never thought about the effect my actions were having on people and now that high school’s over, none of that popularity shit matters.” He states, wishing that he could take back all of the cruel things he did to his peers. “None of it matters. I’m a fucking loser now. I work at an ice cream store in the mall where I have to wear a stupid sailor’s outfit, I have no college prospects, no girlfriend and I hang out with a bunch of sixteen year olds in my spare time. All that high school shit, it means nothing now.”

“You’re not a loser Steve Harrington.” I giggle, nudging his shoulder gently with my own. “You’ve just made some very poor decisions that are now biting you on the ass.”

“Hey, why aren’t you at college? If the yearbook is anything to go by you were one of the smartest people in our grade.”

I try not to feel upset by the boy’s question, knowing he means no harm. However, I also know that as much as Steve has made poor decisions, so have I. Decisions that directly affected my path to college and resulted in me working at the roller rink.

“Didn’t study those yearbooks well enough clearly.” I joke, believing that if I’m able to laugh about my situation then perhaps I won’t burst into tears yet again. “Last year I kind of gave up with school. After what happened junior year, I just didn’t see the point in trying anymore. Started skipping classes and when I was there I was too high to learn anything. My grades dropped and so did my chances at college.”

“I really fucked things up for you didn’t I?” Steve asks, tone suggesting it’s more of a statement rather than I question.

“The roller rink isn’t so bad, I mean I get to skate for free and the pay is pretty good.” 

I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me, he knows I’m bothered about not going to college, despite this, he doesn’t push me. Doesn’t force me to admit the truth. For that, I’m thankful.

Casting my gaze over the lake, the first light of the sun shines bright through the treeline. A warm amber glow, illuminating the still water beneath my feet. Birds wake from their slumber and their faint chirps echo across the lake. There’s something so peaceful within this moment and for the first time in years I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my chest. One that I was unaware had been weighing me down.

“I should probably be getting home before my parents wake up. Really don’t need to be giving my parents another reason to worry about me.” I state, steadily rising to my feet, the warmth instantly escaping my body as the sharp breeze nips at the full length of my body.

“Yeah, I should get back too, I should at least try to get some sleep before work.” Steve comments, walking in step with me along the dock.

We walk in silence, the sound of the dark oak creaking beneath our feet. A solemn cloud follows us as we head back to reality, most likely never to speak of this night again. Neither one of us wanting to reflect on the distress we shared at Lovers Lake.

“I think maybe people are right about you.” I declare upon reaching my truck, much to the shock of the boy standing opposite.

“What?” He asks, in disbelief at the confession I had just made.

“I think that maybe you are a good guy.” 

***

“Have you taken your pills today?” My mom checks, shaking the little orange pill bottle on my desk as though she can feel if it is lighter than yesterday.

“Of course I have.” I mumble, dragging my hands across my face, exhausted from the late night I had endured.

“I’m only checking sweetheart, you know I worry about you.” She wraps her arms around me from behind as she speaks, squeezing me tightly, more so for her own comfort rather than mine. “Now, your dad and I are leaving town for a few nights. He has a meeting up in Indianapolis, but if you don’t feel like you’re well enough to stay here alone with Dusty then I am more than happy to stay behind.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine, honestly.” I whine, feeling guilty that she dwells on my wellbeing so much. “I promise.”

I love my parents. I really and truly do, more than anything on this earth. Nevertheless our relationship has been somewhat strained since the events of sophomore year. My mom treats me like I’m made of glass, one wrong move and I’ll shatter into one million tiny pieces. My dad is arguably even worse, refusing to even acknowledge what took place nor speaking on the topic of my mental stability. Dustin tries his hardest to make things feel normal, but there’s only so much a sixteen year old can do to try and hold their family in place.

Not only do I feel guilty about the way I make my parents stress about me, but I also feel guilty for the way this has affected Dustin. Our parents are often so preoccupied with ensuring that I’m well and doing fine, that they often forget about their other child. Sometimes, it feels as if I’m the only person that notices Dustin’s presence. Or lack thereof, what with him spending more and more time with his friends and Steve. Frequently returning home stressed, anxious or just generally in a bad mood and in all honesty his behavior has started to concern me. Though it appears that I may have been the only one to notice.

“I need a ride to Starcourt.” As if on cue, Dustin’s head pops around my bedroom door, demanding yet another ride.

“Your manners really could use some work kid.” I tell him, to which he shrugs and I find myself grabbing my keys with less reluctance than I had the previous day.

The drive to the mall passes by a lot faster than it had on the uncomfortable journey the day before. Filled with Dustin singing at the top of his lungs to whatever cheesy pop song was playing on the radio and me secretly hoping deep down that I’ll catch a glimpse, or even better a chance to talk to Steve again. 

My former bully had somehow managed to penetrate my thoughts ever since we departed ways in the early hours of the morning. Consumed by the thoughts of where we go from here, was our emotional conversation reserved for that one night only or would we develop a casual friendship? As much as I was pretending like nothing had happened, I was itching to know how Steve was feeling.

Before I know it, I’m turning off the ignition and the boy in question is directly in my eyeline. Lazily smoking a cigarette against the side of the entrance to the mall. Presumably waiting for my little brother in order to escort him into Scoops Ahoy, so he is unable to cause any mischief on his way to the store.

Steve spots my truck almost instantly and I could be mistaken, but it certainly looks as though his eyes lock on mine straight away. I hardly register Dustin jumping out of the truck as Steve flicks the cigarette butt to the ground, strolling towards the truck and before I can stop myself I’m climbing out of my seat. Much to the surprise of my brother.

“Hi.” Steve mumbles nervously, a soft rose tint settling upon his cheeks.

“Hi.” I reply just as awkwardly, my face no doubt the same shade as his.

“Okay, this is weird. I’m just gonna-” Dustin uncomfortably points towards the main doors before hurrying off in that direction, eager to get away from whatever is happening between Steve and I.

“So about last night-”

“I want to forgive you.”

We both speak at the same time, sharing anxious smiles as neither of us dares to make the first move. Though after taking a deep breath, I find myself being the one to break the tension.

“I want to forgive you. I meant what I said, that I think you’re a good guy.” I state, timidly picking at my fingers as I try to look anywhere other than the dark haired boy. “I don’t think I’m fully there yet, I think I’ve still got some shit that I need to work through but I’d like to. You don’t deserve to be hated for the stuff you did as a kid, especially when I can see how hard you’re trying to be a better person.”

I’ve barely finished speaking when Steve’s arms are wrapped firmly around my shoulders, pulling me into a firm hug and for whatever strange reason, I hug him back. Cautiously sliding my arms around his toned waist and allowing my head to rest against his chest. Inhaling his scent deeply, an intense sandalwood with a hint of cigarette smoke and despite all of my logic within me screaming to snap out of it, I can’t resist his musk, finding myself strongly intoxicated by it.

“I swear you won’t regret it, I’m going to spend every day making it up to you for as long as I live.” Steve mutters into my hair, gently pulling away from me once he stops speaking.

“How about we start with a free ice cream and go from there?” I ask cheekily, causing him to beam cheerfully at me with a swift nod.

“I’m sure I can manage that.” He laughs, before we make our way into the mall, joining the group of kids inside Scoops Ahoy, much to Dustin’s disapproval at my presence.

Sliding into the booth besides Max, I’m acutely aware of the way the group huddles closer together, voices lowering to no louder than a whisper. Even Eddie Munson, who’s voice can usually be heard for miles, speaks in a hushed voice. 

Narrowing my eyes, I try to pick up any of the conversation, only able to hear certain words here and there. Their side of the table is scattered with papers and I’m able to make out what looks like a map of Starcourt. Although I am completely baffled, if not slightly annoyed at their secrecy, I can only assume that this has something to do with one of their Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.

“You and Harrington made up then?” Robin inquires when I join her at the counter, resting my elbows against the cool marble.

“Kind of. I don’t know, we talked for hours last night and as much as I want to hate him, I just can’t.”

Robin can sense how difficult it is for me to acknowledge my willingness to believe her friend has changed. She knows that it’ll be a long road going forward, and yet she’s unable to hide her pride. Not only at her friend for accepting the suffering he caused, but also at my openness to trust that somehow Steve isn’t such a bad guy.

“Yeah I’ve heard, he hasn’t been able to talk about anything else other than the heart to heart you two shared last night. I’m really proud of him, he’s come a long way.” Robin explains, busying herself with preparing a milkshake that she smoothly slides my way with a knowing wink. “Consider that on me, you deserve it, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to make my childhood bullies confront their own actions the same way you did. It took real guts.”

“As much as I would like to take credit, I think the weed was probably more to thank.” I disclose, taking a short sip of the strawberry treat in front of me. “I have a tendency to get real honest when I’m high.”

“Don’t I know it sweetheart.” Eddie chortles, dipping his finger into the cream atop my milkshake and licking it off dramatically.

“Ew get your own!” I groan, pulling the glass away from the metalhead as he tries to swipe some more cream.

“Where’s Harrington anyway? Those little dickheads are going over our game plan and apparently he is a pivotal part in their plan and is needed right away.” The boy asks Robin, eyes scanning the room as if Steve is hiding in one of the red leather booths.

“He’s in the back, apparently he wanted to make Y/N’s ice cream extra special.” Robin speaks, nodding her head towards the staff only door.

“What’s he gonna do? Jizz on it?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Robin and I are both groaning, disgusted by the question.

“Do you have to be so repulsive all of the time?” I ask, hearing the squeak of a door followed by rapid footsteps.

“I didn’t hear any complaints when my mouth was between your legs!”

“That’s because you can’t speak whilst you're down there!”

So caught up in our current argument, I fail to spot Steve uneasily standing at the other side of the counter. A large scoop of cherry ice cream sits in a tub before him, decorated elegantly with a large helping of sprinkles, pieces of chocolate and a singular maraschino cherry placed neatly on top.

“Is this a bad time?” He questions hesitantly, carefully observing Eddie and I, a twinge of what I can only perceive as jealousy flashes across his face. However, it disappears before I analyze it any further. 

“No, no. Not a bad time at all.” The words tumble out of my mouth with haste, Robin struggling to hide the amused expression on her face as she witnesses the tension between us.

“One scoop of cherry swirl, with all the toppings. On me, as promised.” He announces gleefully, pushing it towards me with a small plastic spoon, which I am more than happy to accept.

“Thank you.”

I delicately place the cherry between my lips, pulling it from the stem which I then twist between my fingers absentmindedly. Though, I feel the warmth rising to my cheeks as I catch sight of the three of them staring at me, eyes trained on my mouth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that can make eating fruit look so hot.” Eddie comments, pupils blown out causing me to grimace.

“Hey Steve! We need to go over the plan!” Lucas’ yell, alleviates the awkwardness of the current situation.

“Always the goddamn babysitter.” He mutters under his breath, offering me an apologetic glance before meandering over to the group of youths, Eddie Munson in tow.

“Now I don’t want to alarm you, especially not with how fresh your reconciliation with Steve is but I think he may have a teeny tiny crush on you.” Robin whispers, moving her head closer to mine in an effort to remain inconspicuous. 

“What? No, no, he’s just being nice is all.” I shut down her theory quickly, fixating my gaze on the melting ice cream so as not to reveal the bashfulness slapped across my face. “Anyway, what’s that all about? New campaign? I didn’t think D&D would be the sort of things you and Steve would be into.”

“I see what you’re doing and I’m just going to go along with it.” Robin says, referencing the fact that I am so obviously trying to change the subject. She turns away from, as she continues to speak, occupying herself with refilling the toppings station. “It’s just a stupid thing they’re planning, some big quest. Steve and I just kind of got roped into it I guess, but it’s not so bad.”

Her response is vague and leaves me with more questions than I previously had, not entirely believing that her and Steve could possibly be lame enough to enjoy the fictional realms of Dungeons and Dragons. I let it slide though, thankful that she didn’t push me to discuss the possibility of Steve Harrington liking me and so I return the favor. Accepting that there is a very probable, most likely embarrassing reason that they’re not telling me about their secret activities.

***

Most young people would kill for the opportunity to have an empty house. It’s the time to throw wild parties or hook up with a guy without having to sneak around or risk being caught by nose parents. Or even worse, younger siblings. Had I been a normal eighteen year old girl, there was no doubt in my mind that I would be doing exactly that.

Instead, I’m lounging on my bed, recapping the events of the past couple of days to my diary as I try to fill the deafening sound of silence with the beautiful vocals of Stevie Nicks. I’d never truly realized just how eerie and isolating our home could be without the usual noise of my family. No football game broadcast on the television, or the clattering of pots in the kitchen, not even the sound of Dustin screaming down his walkie talkie. It fills me with a sense of unease that I can’t seem to shake.

Just as I’m about to try and fill the void by running the bathtub to take a relaxing soak, I become distracted by the high pitched shrill of the phone on my bedside table. Curiosity engulfing me and I wonder who could be calling me at such a late hour. Better yet, who has got the phone number that is usually only reserved for Eddie or my parents.

“Y/N, I don’t have much time so you have to listen to me carefully!” Steve’s voice is full of panic as he hurriedly speaks down the line, my body instantly going stiff at the urgency of his tone. “I’m so sorry and I should’ve told you sooner but Dustin was adamant that he wanted to keep you out of it.”

“Out of what? What’s going on? Is Dustin okay?” 

“I can’t explain other the phone, you’d never believe me anyway, but we really need your help. Just get to the Starcourt as soon as you can, please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Steve spits out, the uproar of what sounds like wind almost drowning him out. “And bring a weapon!”

With that, the line cuts off. I remain still, nostrils flared as my hands continue to hold on to the phone, knuckles white. My heart feels like it is about to burst violently out of my chest and I struggle to gain my composure with such short, rapid breaths.

“Okay, it’s gonna be okay. I’m sure it’s nothing, they probably just need a ride again.” I mumble to myself, grabbing my keys and racing down the stairs. “Yeah, that makes total sense, I mean a girl should always carry a weapon when alone at night.”

Hands trembling furiously, I stand opposite my dad’s rifle cabinet, staring at the gun through the sheer glass. Questioning whether I’m truly about to take his property. I’ve only shot a gun once, I was twelve and my dad took me hunting. It didn’t become a regular thing, my dad refusing to take me again after I burst into tears upon shooting a deer.

Despite the fear racing through my body, before I can even think about what I’m doing, I’m grabbing a vase off one of the shelves. Using all of my strength to smash it straight into the glass, thousands of miniscule shards flying everywhere. Flinching as it hits me with force, ripping open small wounds across the exposed skin of my face, neck and arms. Though I only really register the injuries on my hand, the flesh of my knuckles shredded brutally from where my hand made contact with the pane. Vase doing little to take the extent of the collision.

A shaky exhale escapes my throat, grabbing the rifle despite my second thoughts. Sticky, crimson liquid dripping against the heel of the gun, staining the burnt mahogany. 

“Sorry dad.” I speak quietly, frowning slightly upon seeing the mess of broken glass across the lounge.

In my hurry to leave, I don’t even bother to lock the doors of our house. Focusing on nothing other than getting to Starcourt as quickly as I physically can. Throwing the gun carelessly on my passenger seat, I’m in autopilot as I start the engine. My driving being much more reckless than usual, ignoring speed limits and stop signs in my race to get to the mall. 

The closer I get, the more I start to question what type of danger I am just about to get myself into. Sky above the large building an array of violet and sapphire amidst the dark black of the night. Wind whirling harshly around my truck, the closer I get. It feels reminiscent of a tornado, a ruthless storm that holds no mercy.

Arriving in the parking lot, I’m able to see a singular car parked by the entry doors. Nancy, Jonathan, Will and Lucas scurry around the vehicle, clearly in search of something and don’t seem to care at all about the volatile weather that Hawkins is experiencing.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Dustin?” I shout, rifle in hand as I sprint towards the burgundy car. The group ignoring my arrival and instead climbing into the vehicle’s interior.

Squeezing myself in besides Will and Lucas, it’s only at that moment that they acknowledge me. Faces ranging from confusion, to shock, to anger. Not a single one of them displays any positive emotion at my being there.

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asks, voice raised and tone harsh, wounding me more so than I thought possible.

“Where the fuck is Dustin?” I spit, solely caring about ensuring the safety of my baby brother. Knowing that if anything happened to him I would never forgive myself. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

‘I don’t know, okay Y/N. He’s with Erica!” Nancy yells, preoccupied with pulling open the glove compartment and rooting around urgently.

“Erica? Erica as in your ten year old sister?” I snap, attention diverted towards Lucas who stares at me with worry, afraid of how I am about to react. “What the actual fuck?”

“Look I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re kind of in the middle of something and you really shouldn’t be here.” Nancy tells me, finally turning herself to look at me from the passenger seat.

I’ve never seen her look so troubled, face free of makeup and stress lines prominent. She’s too young to look as agonized as she does, asserting to me that whatever is currently taking place is far beyond what I could have ever imagined. Far more threatening than anything I could dream up. 

“I think I’ve got it.” Jonathan announces, a chorus of relieved sighs escaping the group. 

“Get it started then.” Nancy pushes, watching anxiously as Jonathan begins to fiddle with the car wires, hands clammy from the stress of the current circumstances.

“Guys, we could have a problem.” Will mutters, eyes trained out of the window to the otherside of the parking lot.

A car sits ominously, headlights pointing directly towards us. Nancy and Jonathan both curse under their breath, and despite having no knowledge about what is taking place, even I can understand that this is clearly not a good sign. Even worse when the vehicle begins to drive slowly straight at us.

Unaware of my own actions and unable to stop myself, I’m rounding the car confidently. Standing right in the path of the oncoming vehicle, I raise the rifle, releasing the safety and pointing directly towards what I can assume is the driver’s seat. Struggling to see effectively against the bright beam of the headlights.

My move seems to threaten the driver, the car gaining speed and barrelling at us with no sign of stopping. Despite the fear that has overcome me since receiving Steve’s call, whilst standing in the path of immediate peril, I feel weirdly at ease. Unbothered by the potential risk of death that I am face to face with. 

“What are you doing?” I hear Nancy scream, her voice sounds as though it is miles away when I know in reality she is almost right behind me, tucked away inside the automobile.

Steadying my breath, I squint my eyes in an attempt to better my aim, before releasing the trigger. Having no time to think about the consequences of my actions nor the moral implications of shooting at a living being that formerly plagued my mind, releasing bullet after bullet as the driver steps on the gas. Accelerating at such an extreme pace that I can only fire so much before having to accept my twisted fate.

With the car only mere feet away, I drop the gun, fearing that no matter how well I shoot, there is no winning this fight. Grabbing my head, in a weak attempt to protect myself, I drop to the ground, eyes closed tightly as I prepare to face the impact. 

I’ve never been a religious person, but the only thoughts flying around my brain are prayers of protecting my family. Prayers of Dustin’s safety as he faces whatever is coming for him. Prayers that my passing is swift and painless. Prayers that this is all over quickly.

And yet, nothing comes. 

Warily, I open my eyes, removing my hands from my cautiously, only to see none other than Steve Harrington, reeling from the impact of smashing his car straight into the one headed my way. His eyes find mine and my heart stops, the look of sheer relief on his face is indescribable. 

Rising to my feet, Steve’s hurriedly climbing out of the vehicle and by my side in a second. Face bloodied and bruised, despite that, he’s solely focused on me, scanning over me intently, worriedly taking in all the minor wounds I obtained from shattering the rifle cabinet.

“What happened to your hand?” He’s asking breathlessly, my mind preoccupied with the knowledge that he just put himself in harm's way to save my life. 

I can’t find the words to say anything as I take in the sight of his swollen eye and the stains of dried blood coating the lower half of his face. My mouth opens to speak and no words seem to slip out, mesmerized by Steve’s beauty in spite of his unsightly injuries.

Blaming the adrenaline, I find myself throwing my arms around the boy’s neck, pulling him into me and squeezing tightly. His hands settle on my hips, touch firm, fearing that if he were to let go that I would simply disappear. Absentmindedly, my fingers delicately thread through the strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck. Needing to be close to him.

“You just saved my life.”

My voice is no louder than a whisper, breath hot against his neck as I nuzzle myself closer to him. Feeling safe and secure in his embrace. Desperately needing the comfort right now, even if it is coming from the most unexpected of places.

“Uh guys! We should be getting out of here! Like now!” I hear Robin shout, releasing myself from Steve’s hold to see that not only has Jonathan managed to get their car started but also that Billy Hargrove is now stumbling out of his vehicle and has his sights set on us once again.

Neither of us need to say a word, abandoning my truck in the Starcourt parking lot and speeding away from the mall and ultimately the danger that lies in wait there. 

***

The Battle of Starcourt resulted in the mall burning to the ground. Dustin and I reunited later that night at Steve’s house, the pair of them, alongside Robin, explained everything to me over a much needed pot of tea. El’s powers, demogorgons, Russian soldiers and the Mind Flayer. It was certainly a lot to take in and I could only apologize to my brother for not being there for him throughout all of this taking place. Wishing I could have helped him from the start.

It’s been a struggle adjusting to my daily life for the past couple of days. Dustin’s been staying at the Byers’ household, wanting the comfort of his friends and with a lack of parental presence in our home, the place feels cold. I can understand his decision completely, yet I can’t help but feel alone in such a big house.

I spend my nights awake, unable to sleep, and when I do manage to drift off, I’m plagued by nightmares of that car barreling towards me. My days aren’t any better. Alone with my thoughts at the roller rink, dreaming up all of the ways that the events of the night could have gone differently, most resulting in the deaths of either Dustin and I. And if I’m not at work, I lounge around my home, hopelessly trying to occupy my mind from the swirling images of Starcourt. 

Steve and I haven't spoke since that night, more so my fault than his. I’d closed myself off again, become a recluse and struggled to leave the house with the exception of work. I believed that my mind had been playing tricks on me that night when I found myself enamored by his beauty. Or that it was simply the adrenaline and the intensity of the circumstances that I needed his embrace. However, the more I think about it, the more I believe that it was a decision of the heart rather than caused by the stress of the night.

Standing outside the Harrington household, I wonder if I am making a huge mistake. I hadn’t intended to come here, only leaving my house to take a brisk walk and yet here I find myself, fist raised in preparation to knock. Though making no effort to do so. In all honesty, I think I just need to talk to somebody about what transpired and Steve is the only person that I can willingly open up to.

“Y/N?” The boy’s voice startles me, he’s standing in the doorway dressed in plaid pajama pants and a loose black sweater. The wounds on his face are still prominent, though evidently more healed than the last time I had seen him.

“I’m sorry, I was going for a walk but I guess I just instinctively came here. My house is too quiet and I just really need to talk to somebody.” I confess, staring down at my bandaged hand so as to not make eye contact with Steve.

“You walked here?” He’s shocked by my admission, not that I’m surprised. Living on the other side of town, the walk to his house is easily an hour long, if not more.

“Well my truck kind of went down with the mall.” I laugh softly, though it sounds more forced than I intended. 

“You should’ve called, I would’ve picked you up.” He tells me, voice gentle as he opens the door for me to enter his home, following me through to the lounge where we collapse onto the couch.

He has a small fire crackling away, the orange embers lighting up the room and subsequently offering a toastiness in comparison to the chilly night air.

“What’s going on? Are you?” There’s a tenderness to his voice, speaking to me the way you would speak to a timid animal so as not to frighten them. It’s sweet.

“Do you get nightmares from that night?” I ask shyly, not wanting him to view me as weak for struggling with the things that occurred.

Steve sighs, settling further into the couch as he takes his time figuring out how to say what he wants to get across. Part of him wanting to lie and pretend that everything is fine, the other part of him knowing that he should just be honest and recognize his feelings.

“Yeah.” Steve settles on the one word reply, deciding it may be the better option rather than confessing the truth as to what occurs in these nightmares.

“I haven’t been sleeping much, everytime I do, all I see is that car. Or Dustin’s lifeless body and it’s horrible. Waking up alone, hyperventilating, nobody there to tell me it’ll be okay. I don’t know how I can keep going like this.” I admit, daring to look at the boy and noticing the pained expression on his face.

“Can I be honest?” He whispers, words so quiet I almost don’t hear them. Nodding nervously, his eyes fall to his lap as he speaks. “Everytime I shut my eyes, I can only think about what would’ve happened had I not got to you in time.”

“But you did-”

“You would’ve died, you would’ve died and it would’ve been my fault because I was the one who asked you to come.” He’s crying as he talks, recounting that night and what could have been.

“Steve, you did save me. You’re the entire reason that I’m sitting here right here now. You’re a hero Steve Harrington.” I tell him, shuffling closer and taking his hands in mine. To which he brushes his fingers over my bandaged knuckles. “A very stupid, idiotic, reckless hero. But a hero nonetheless.”

“I would’ve never forgiven myself if I’d let you die. Fuck, I can’t even forgive myself for the way I treated you in school.” He states, gazing over my face and taking in the handful of miniscule cuts scattered across my cheeks from the shattering of the cabinet.

“Would it help if I told you that I forgive you?” I ask, soft smile settled upon my lips.

“Are you sure? I know I hurt you and I don’t want you to feel like you have to forgive me because of what happened and-”

“Steve, I forgive you.” I cut him off, squeezing his hands as I do so. “Not just because of what happened. I mean I’d probably be a shitty person if I didn’t forgive you when you deliberately put your own life at risk to save mine but, you’re a good person. I can see that now. You’re a really good person with a really good heart and in all honesty I think-”

My heart jumps to my throat as I realize what I’m about to confess. Questioning how I even got myself into this mess. If you told sixteen year old me that only two years later I would be sitting on the couch of my nemesis about to own up to the feelings that I may or may not have for him, she would’ve laughed in your face.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks softly, before I am able to finish what I’m saying, thankful that I no longer have to find the words.

“I’d really like that.”

The boy’s hand is gentle as he cups my cheek, apprehensively bringing his face to my own and brushing his lips lightly over mine. He’s cautious at first, testing out the waters to ensure that I am truly comfortable. Though, when I push myself closer, fisting his sweater in my hands, he exerts the passion that he had been holding black. Lips moving in sync with mine and bringing his free hand to caress my waist delicately. As the heat grows and any nerves wash away, he effortlessly slides his tongue into my mouth. Shy whimper escaping my mouth as he does so.

When he pulls away, I don’t miss the string of saliva that connects our lips to one another and can’t help but smile. Heart fluttering as Steve’s eyes focus on me adoringly.

“I guess all the rumors were right.” I tease as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, tilting his head slightly at my words. “You really are good at that, King Steve.”

“Oh ha ha.” He replies sarcastically, pulling me into his side and allowing me to rest my head on his chest. Listening intently to the steady beat of his heart.

“Can I stay here tonight? I can’t face another night alone.” I ask, tracing circles across his stomach, his hands stroking my hair lightly.

“I’d like that.”

Whilst I lay in the arms of Steve Harrington, I couldn’t help but feel as though things were starting to look up for me. Sure, it didn’t happen in the way that I was expecting or perhaps wanted. I certainly could have done without the monsters but right now, I finally felt at peace. Even if it was only for a little bit.