#with the help of my best friend it’s helping a lot but it’s still rickety to me

[knoxvillegender]

i’ve decided that i hate writing and i want to explode

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.  

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows. 

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere. 

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny. 

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”  

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?  

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said. 

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.    

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.  

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind. 

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.” 

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.” 

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him. 

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.   

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either. 

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called. 

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear. 

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said. 

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick. 

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail. 

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep. 

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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[domjaehyun]

HUSH, HUSH.

༄ pairing » jeno, haechan, jaemin x fem!reader

༄ genre » smut

༄ word count » 19.5k

༄ smut warnings » foursome, praise kink, some degradation, mild dubcon (bc it’s me obviously), a good ol’ “just the tip” moment, some marking, spit play, cum eating, finger sucking, handjob, slightly sadistic dom!Jaemin and dom!Haechan, sweeter and softer dom!Jeno, slight dumbification, fingering, oral (receiving & giving), overstimulation, and more 💖

༄ notes » i hope you enjoy! please leave feedback if you liked it :)

“Mark, please tell me you’re joking.” You’re positive your frown can be heard in your voice as you whine into your phone.

“I really wish I was,” Mark groans, the now muffled words most likely meaning that Mark’s just clapped his hand over his face. “Coach says we’re gonna be stuck here until the mechanic from the next town over can get here to fix the bus.”

“Why would you guys go to an away game in a town so small it doesn’t even have emergency services?” You ask in disbelief.

Mark sighs. “I don’t know, but you know how this goes; Coach says ‘jump’ and the whole ice hockey team says ‘how high?’”

Huffing, you glower at your phone like he can see you. “Wimps, all of you.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell that to Chaewon.” He suggests, and you’re suddenly glad he can’t see your face fall.

“Oh, boy…how’s she holding up?” You ask hesitantly, and your question is answered when the tell-tale sound of a notorious Chaewon Tirade filters in from the background. You wince, feeling for the poor recipient getting chewed out by her, and realize that the sound of her ranting is getting louder.

“…I mean, honestly, Coach, what did you expect when you take a rickety old bus, drive it for miles without getting a check up before we left in the first place, like I suggested to you—hello?” Chaewon’s rampage comes to a screeching halt when she realizes it’s you on the other end of the phone. “I’m guessing you heard that…” Her pout is audible through the phone, your irate best friend now sounding more like an upset child.

“I sure did,” You snicker. “Cannot believe you regularly yell at Coach Park.”

“I think I’m the only person he lets yell at him.” She whispers back, and you laugh. “I made him book us hotel rooms so we can stay here overnight until the mechanic comes tomorrow and we can get the hell out of here, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other and maybe he’ll finally get sick of me.”

“Just another day as the ice hockey team manager.” You joke, and Chaewon sighs deeply. “Is it still worth the credit?”

“It sure is! No homework, barely any actual work, and I get to yell at the teacher? So worth it.” She answers incredulously. She has a point, you realize, nodding in understanding to your audience of approximately no one. “Next year, you can be my assistant manager and get course credit, too!” 

“We’ll see,” You reply with a smile that fades with your next words. “I’m bummed you guys can’t come to our sleepover. It’s tradition!” You sigh, pacing around your living room double-checking to see if there’s anything left to tidy up that you might have missed. You fluff a couch pillow and prop it up, patting it for good measure before continuing, “I mean, first Renjun has an art project due Monday, then you and Mark were gonna get here later because of the away game, but now you’re not coming at all,” You frown, “So now it’s just me, Haechan, Jaemin, and Jeno.” 

“Well, that’s still fun! Chaotic, really, because Mark, Renjun and I regularly do damage control and run interference between you four, but definitely fun.” Chaewon’s attempts to console you end up helping more than her actual words, but you’re still downcast, picking invisible pieces of lint off of the other pillow on the opposite end of the couch.

“Are any of them there yet?” She asks, and you sigh.

“Nope,” You mutter. “Jaemin and Jeno have to finish some project they’re doing at the library, and who even knows where Haechan–” Your doorbell rings, and you flinch at the unexpected sound. “Hold on one second,” You murmur into the phone, making your way to the front door as Chaewon hums in acknowledgement. You look through the peephole and swing your door open. “It’s just you.” You sigh in relief as Haechan stands before you, duffel bag in hand. 

“I think I deserve a little more excitement than saying it’s ‘just’ me.” Haechan narrows his eyes at you, a playful glint to them, and breezes past you, kicking off his shoes in your hallway and dropping his duffel bag by the couch. Rolling your eyes, you shut and lock your front door, walking back to where Haechan sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“Oh, my God!” You gasp in exaggerated excitement, bouncing up and down. “It’s Haechan,” You sigh dreamily into the phone, shooting Haechan a brow-raised look of “is that what you wanted?” and barely bite back a laugh at the retching noise Chaewon makes. Haechan lunges at you with one hand outstretched, ready to flick you on the forehead, and you yelp in alarm, darting around your couch so it’s separating the two of you.

“I’m gonna let you go before things get weird—or, should I say, weirder—and I have to bear witness to it.” She says with a shudder, but, if you’re being honest, you’re barely focusing on her words, your mind more preoccupied with dodging Haechan’s attempts to reach you. “Have fun tonight! Mark and I will see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Bye!” You say distractedly, thumb blindly tapping at the red call-ending button as you adjust your position for the third time, running around one side of the couch as Haechan chases you. “Haechan, it was a joke!”

“Too bad,” He replies easily, staring you down with a gaze so intent and determined it brings heat to your face. “This is what you get for being so bratty.”

“Aw, come on! That was barely bratty.” You defend yourself, huffing and crossing your arms. “You’ve seen me do worse.”

“So? That was then. This is now.”

“‘This is now,’” You mock his words in a high-pitched, nasal voice before you can stop yourself and swallow thickly when Haechan raises his brow in a challenge.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Haechan, it slipped out—” You start, but he’s not listening at all, his eyes darting around the living room and studying the layout as he undoubtedly brainstorms some sort of attack plan. He stops, finally, and looks directly at you with a sly smile that definitely doesn’t bode well for you before he darts forward. You shriek and make a run for it just as he’s about to vault over the couch to reach you, your legs autopiloting you into the kitchen.

Haechan’s hot on your heels, fingers still outstretched towards you. His fingertips graze the back of your shirt and you shriek, now startled enough for Haechan to surge forward and snag the fabric, curling his hand into a fist and yanking you back towards him. Your back collides with his chest none too gently, and you crane your head to look behind you at him with worry sitting in your throat like a lump.

“Hi,” You try, shooting him a sheepish smile over your shoulder. 

“Shut up,” He scoffs, whirling you around and flicking you directly on the forehead before you can defend yourself. “That’s for the sarcasm earlier.” He says with a huff as you hiss in pain. “And that–”

“Ouch, damn it–”

“–is for mocking me just now.” He smiles tauntingly at you, and you glower at him, rubbing your sore forehead, now doubly so because Haechan had the audacity to flick you twice in the exact same spot and you don’t think he held back very much, if at all.

“You know what? Sleepover canceled for you.” 

“What?!” He squawks indignantly, and you nod resolutely, pointing dramatically towards your front door.

“Yep, you’re uninvited! Get out of my apartment.” Jerking your chin towards the door, you wait not-so-patiently as Haechan complains loudly.

“Come on,” He groans, and you turn your nose up and away from him with a dramatic sniffle.

“That’s what you get for the cruel and unusual punishment you inflicted on me just now,” You decide, rubbing your forehead gingerly with a frown.

“It was two flicks to the forehead!” 

“It hurt, you ass!”

“God, okay, what…um…” He trails off, lost in thought before a slow, flirtatious grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

“Oh, boy.” You sigh loudly, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose to calm yourself. When you reopen them, you flinch at Haechan’s sudden proximity to you, and he chuckles as you glare at him.

“What if I offer to kiss it better?” He lilts, leaning closer to you with a wiggle of his brows.

“No.” Your flat reply doesn’t seem to discourage him, Haechan only stepping closer to you with a widening grin.

“Aw, come on,” He murmurs, his lips gradually making their way to your ear, “I bet you’d like it.”

“This is exactly why I need Mark around. Or Chaewon, or Renjun, or—really, anyone who’s not you.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” You hum remorselessly. “But I’m right; this is why we shouldn’t be alone together—you just torment me.”

“You think we shouldn’t be alone together because I’m too attractive for your own good.” Haechan says smugly, and you snort derisively.

“I think we shouldn’t be alone together because you’re too sleazy for my own good, Haechan.” You counter smoothly, and you half-predicted Haechan’s offended gasp that rings out, but it still startles you all the same.

“I’m sleazy.” Haechan’s tone is flat and entirely disbelieving, staring you down. To his credit, the reality of the situation really is closer to his interpretation. 

There’s always been some sort of tension between you and Haechan—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t swoon a bit when he pulled you against his chest earlier and when he cornered you in the kitchen—that manifests from time to time as lingering glances and touches, flirtatious remarks that land a bit too seriously, and an underlying desire neither of you can seem to shake.

“Yep. Sleazy.” You say, lying through your teeth as you drag out the syllables of the insult. “It’s a miracle you pull at all.”

“My reputation precedes me,” He answers with a smug edge to his defensiveness. “When you’re as good as I am, people line up around the block for a chance with you.”

“Maybe they just wanna witness the trainwreck that you are in person,” You snicker mischievously. “Y’know—up close and personal.”

“I get the feeling you wanna experience it for yourself.” Haechan’s smug grin damn near knocks you off of your feet from how dazzling it is, and you can’t help but acknowledge internally that he kind of has a point; you do kinda want to see for yourself, but you’re not exactly keen on admitting that right now.

“Shut up, you’re so obnoxious.” You huff, pushing his chest to move him back and away from you. He barely moves, his smile widening as he takes a step forward instead.

“Wrong direction,” You gripe.

“No, I’m pretty sure this is where I want to be,” He breathes out, seemingly distracted as his gaze slowly drops to your lips. An alarmed squeak escapes you and he chuckles. “Matter of fact, I think you want me here, too.”

“What?!” You exclaim indignantly, and he brings one hand to your mouth and presses a finger to your lips to silence you.

“Anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” He rolls his eyes and presses forward until he’s got you pressed up against the cool metal of your fridge, dark brown eyes boring into your own.

“No,” You counter, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m sure you get that a lot.” You jerk your head forward in an attempt to snap at his finger, and Haechan pauses, letting out a hollow chuckle as he pokes his tongue to the inside of his cheek and stares you down and you hate to admit it, but that was one of the most attractive things he’s ever done.

“You know what?” Haechan doesn’t give you a chance to answer before his free hand is wrapping around the base of your throat and squeezing—not too tight as to alarm you or truly choke you, but tight enough to make his hand’s presence impossible to ignore. The gasp that slips from your lips brings a wicked little smile to his face and he leans in closer so his lips are pressed against the back of the finger he’s holding against your mouth, the slender digit the only thing separating your lips. “You’re gonna regret that.” His warm breath fans over your lips and you swallow thickly, widened eyes darting between his temptingly parted lips and his intent stare.

You watch in a frozen fascination as Haechan slowly removes his finger from between you two, his lips now but a breath away, and watches you in turn. His hand trails from your face down your front, just lightly skimming over your stomach to draw out a sudden exhale from you, and to the hem of the large oversized shirt you’ve been wearing around the apartment. He watches your face with a challenge twinkling in his eyes as he slips his hand under your shirt, almost daring you to stop him. When his hand slides up to cup your breast through your thin, lacy bra, you just barely manage to bite back a whine, and he traces small circles around your nipple, soon pinching it lightly between two fingers and tugging, a triumphant grin curling his lips when you hiss, the sound a combination of surprise and desire.

“You look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your throat,” Haechan coos fondly, voice dripping with condescension, and you whine softly in despair, wanting him to just do something. “So fuckin’ pretty,” He whispers, almost to himself as he studies your reaction while he toys with your stiffened peak.

His lips are getting closer by the second, his head tilting slightly to the side, but when you lean in to meet him, his hand on your throat pushes you back against the fridge, moving you away from his gradually approaching lips. He leans in close enough that you could count every one of his lashes, and wets his bottom lip, the tip of his tongue ever-so-slightly grazing your own lip, and you whimper in anticipation, trying to lean forward again. Haechan scoffs under his breath and remains unyielding, your head still pinned against the fridge as he brings himself right up against you—surely any closer and you’d be kissing—and just…stops.

“Maybe I shouldn’t kiss you right now,” He murmurs, and you’re surprised to realize that you genuinely don’t want him to stop.

“Why?” You ask breathlessly, and he looks upwards as if in thought, his hand under your shirt starting to caress your breast, the male seemingly oblivious to the way your back arches, pushing your chest into his hand for more. 

“Isn’t this kind of…y’know…sleazy of me?” He throws the word back in your face with such a smug tone, so unbearably cocky that your knees almost buckle. “I mean, I’ve got you pinned up against the fridge…my hand’s up your shirt and playing with your tits…and I’m about to kiss you. Sounds pretty sleazy to me,” He shrugs, actions both supporting and contradicting his words as he swirls his finger around your nipple again, flicking the bud. 

“Haechan, please–”

“Can I tell you something, though?” He brings his lips to your ear and you freeze in place, barely managing a stiff nod. His soft chuckle sends warmth fanning over your skin and you shudder before he continues on, “I think you like it.”

“Wh—um,” You stammer, and he pulls back to grin at you, eyes scanning your face. “Well, I mean—”

“Yeah, I think you do,” He marvels softly, fingers tightening around your neck. “Practically choked yourself on my hand trying to kiss me a moment ago,” Haechan points out and your face burns as you’re rendered speechless. “Bet if I put my hand between your legs–” He starts, and you whine loudly in embarrassment, Haechan continuing on louder, “you’d be nice and wet for me,” He finishes with a proud little smile, murmuring, “I thought so,” when you don’t respond, your gaze averted in shame.

“Haechan–” You start, and he shushes you, tongue peeking out to lick at your upper lip. 

“You like this? Hm? Like how it feels when your sleazy friend Haechan feels you up with one hand and chokes you with the other?”

“Yes,” You whimper, and he coos affectionately at your worked-up state.

“What if sleazy Haechannie slips his hand down here, hm?” He brings his hand out from under your shirt and toys with the waistband of your shorts. Thankfully, before you have to ask, he pushes into your pants, fingers deftly navigating down to your heated core and cupping it through your damp underwear, digging the heel of his palm into your clit and grinning as you writhe under his touch. “I think you like that, too.” The smugness in his voice is almost palpable but you don’t even have your wits about you enough to feel shame or indignance, lust clouding your mind and leaving you dizzy and desiring.

“Stop teasing,” You exhale, and he raises an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are almost touching. At the same time, he tightens his grip around your neck slightly and pushes you against the fridge harder so you can’t move towards him, and you whine in desperation. “Please?” You try, and he flicks his gaze up to you, intrigue twinkling in his eyes.

“Please…what?” He asks tauntingly, head cocked to the side curiously. 

“Do something, fuck, please–” You don’t even get to finish your plea before he’s surging forward with a growl and connecting your lips. A drawn out whine escapes you as you all but melt into him, lips parting easily as his tongue nudges between them and sneaks into your mouth for a taste of you. 

“Such a little tease,” Haechan grunts against your lips, releasing your core and massaging your clit with two nimble fingers. “Always knew you wanted this.”

You can’t even form words in response, your head lolling back in ecstasy as you let out a mix between a moan and a gasp, but Haechan doesn’t seem to mind, lips attaching to your neck as he kisses, sucks, and bites marks into your neck. You can only manage to moan, “No marking,” as he sucks, and he pulls back, mouth detaching from your skin with a wet noise, and stares at you with an unimpressed expression.

“You’re already marked,” He points out, tracing what must be the beginnings of a love bite forming on your neck with a proud grin. “I might as well get to finish.”

“…Fine,” You give in, and he beams, leaning forward and kissing you again, lips slotting between yours easily as he nips at your lip. Groaning when you rock into his hand desperately, Haechan trails wet kisses down your neck and sucks hard at the base of your throat, a mark surely blooming from his efforts.

“Want them to wonder who did this to you,” Haechan grunts, and you can only keen weakly in response, fingernails scratching at his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer to you. “Make them wish they’d gotten to you first.” His words sink in a moment later, a confused hum bubbling up and out from inside of you at the notion that Jeno and Jaemin have not-so-platonic feelings for you. Haechan doesn’t give you much time to process what he’s said, the male growing greedier for your reactions and pushing your underwear to the side, guiding two fingers into your clenching entrance. “Whole time, you and I know who did this to you; don’t we, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” You moan weakly, and Haechan chuckles, the sound’s darkened edge sending a chill of excitement down your spine. 

“Who did this to you?” Haechan nips at the mark on the base of your neck, and you cry out with a jolt.

“You did,” You answer breathlessly, your mind going fuzzy as Haechan’s fingers stroke along your inner walls, finding your most sensitive spot with ease and proceeding to send his fingers thrusting directly into it. 

“Mm-mm,” He hums, dissatisfied. “I wanna hear you say my name.”

“Haechan–” You give in immediately, your desperation building as his fingers bring you closer and closer to your climax.

“Again.”

“Haechan–” You can barely get the last syllable out before Haechan seals his mouth over yours with a barely restrained groan, his fingers diligently pumping in and out of you as he plays with your tongue. “Gonna cum,” You pant, voice higher-pitched and embarrassingly whiny, and he hums in acknowledgement.

“I should probably stop,” He pulls back to say, feigning a pout, and you glare at him in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare.”

“But look at us,” Haechan presses, and you whimper as your hips rock down onto his fingers. “Isn’t this sleazy of me?”

“Haechan, I’m sorry–”

“You’re sorry?” He asks slowly, smugness creeping into his voice. “So you don’t want me to stop?” He continues, and when you shake your head vehemently, he makes a noise of understanding. “You like that, don’t you? Sleazy Haechannie’s fingers feel so good stuffed deep in your tight little pussy, right?” He purrs, and you let out as quiet of a wail as you can manage.

“Yes, Haechan, please just let me cum–” You’re more than exasperated at this point and Haechan must notice, because he closes his mouth over yours in a passionate kiss, occasionally stopping to bite or suck at your bottom lip. 

“Cum for me, pretty. That’s it, fuck, just like that.” With his lips on yours muffling the moans you let out, Haechan urges you to the edge of your climax, eyes bright with an almost wild desire as he watches you tip over the brink. Your orgasm comes in a rush of ecstasy and electricity, adrenaline flooding through your veins as you cry Haechan’s name loudly and breathlessly whisper a string of swears, your nails digging into his shoulder in an attempt to ground yourself. 

“Oh, my God,” You exhale shakily as he slowly pulls his hand from your underwear, your flustered gaze immediately darting elsewhere when you get a glimpse of the clear strings of your arousal clinging to his fingers. You peek back at him only to catch his fingers moving towards his mouth, averting your gaze again with a scandalized yelp. No amount of looking away, however, stops Haechan from flattening his body against yours, pressing you between himself and the fridge.

“Watch me.” He orders quietly, and you begrudgingly drag your gaze back to his face, astonished eyes widening when he slips his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. “You taste good,” Haechan groans, releasing his grip on your throat and studying you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Stop staring at me like that.” You huff, and he raises an eyebrow, warning you to tread with caution.

“You know, I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter like the cute little fuckdoll I know you are,” He retorts, moving to grab your hips with both hands and massaging little circles into the flesh as he watches you in fascination. “Watch your tone and don’t push your luck.”

“I’m not a fuckdoll,” You protest, and Haechan just scoffs, gripping your hips tighter and turning you around with no regard for the startled yelp you let out, positioning you so your back is to his chest and your front is pressed up against the counter just beside the fridge. “Hae–Haechan, what are you doing?” You ask in a sort of post-climax daze still tinged with alarm, but Haechan yanks your shorts down to your knees, startling you into silence.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Haechan huffs under his breath, knocking your legs as far apart as they’ll go. “‘M fucking you,” He coos teasingly in your ear before pushing between your shoulder blades to flatten your torso to the counter.

“I thought you were holding back—”

“I changed my mind.”

You don’t have it in you to respond, instead resting your cheek on the cool countertop in complacency, and Haechan chuckles.

“That’s it,” He coaxes, simultaneously guiding the head of his cock to nestle between your folds. He pushes in slowly, a relieved breath whooshing from you as his length gradually fills you up. Your relief turns to alarm when you realize you feel full and he’s not done, and you whimper, reaching back to press a hand to his stomach reflexively. “Move your hand.” He grunts, and you shake your head worriedly, whining in panic. “Why are you stopping me, hm?” He strokes your back soothingly and you relax slightly, craning your head to look back at him.

“It’s too much,” You manage to get out, and he snickers.

“Too much? Am I too big, pretty?” He coos, feigning sympathy as he cruelly pushes in more, and you gasp loudly, pushing harder against his stomach. “Move your hand.” 

“But–”

“Move it.” He says in a warning tone as if daring you to keep your hand there. After a moment of hesitation, you comply, moving your hand slowly. As soon as he sees an opportunity, he pushes into you fully, a low groan from him meeting your choked whimper. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Haechan hisses, and his fingers dig into your hips as he strains himself trying not to thrust into you.

“You can move, I think,” You murmur carefully, regretting it the second he does. Your hand flies back to stop him with a rushed, “Wait–”

He doesn’t give you a chance to make contact with his stomach, instead snatching your wrist and pressing it to your back.

“Relax,” Haechan purrs. “I’ll make it feel really good.” His promise does little to ease your worries, especially considering the way he’s digging his fingers into your hips as if restraining himself from moving inside of you.

“I–” You start, but he shushes you patronizingly as he pulls out slowly and pushes into you again. “Oh, fuck,” You whimper, your walls clenching around him as he moves inside of you.

“That’s it, take it like a good girl,” He mutters under his breath, and you cry out when he slides his hand up to grope your breast and tweak your nipple between his fingers. He pinches, twists, flicks, and tugs the erect bud with every thrust he makes until you’re a panting, teary-eyed mess under him, your jaw going slack from all the sensations.

You’re utterly trapped, stuck between Haechan’s body and the hard countertop, and the revelation comes with a wave of arousal when you realize you’re essentially at his mercy, your eyes glazing over as your body practically goes limp.

“Yeah, relax, pretty,” He coos, his hand abandoning your hip and finding itself between your legs to massage circles into your clit. “Take me nice and deep—feel so fucking good.” He grunts through gritted teeth. “So good at taking cock, aren’t you? Just a pretty little thing who needs her holes filled.”

“No—” You start to protest, but a well-placed thrust from Haechan has your mind scrambling, any and all words dying on your tongue.

“Mm, yes,” He hums, a grin audible in his voice. “Just a pretty little fuckdoll—my pretty fuckdoll—who loves getting fucked cock-dumb by her sleazy friend in her kitchen up against her fridge.” He stills his hips and you move to whip your head around to look at him, whining when he turns your head back to face forward.

“I said–fuck, Haechan–I said sorry,” You cry out, and he chuckles.

“Not forgiven yet.” He groans, and you can tell he wants to move just as badly as you want him to. You retaliate by clenching around him repeatedly, relishing the choked moan he lets out.

“What do I have to do?” You plead desperately, and he leans forward, lips by your ear.

“Cum all over my cock and I’ll consider forgiving you.” He purrs, resuming his thrusts to your relief. “So fucking tight, fuck—so good at taking cock—is that all you’re good for?”

“No,” You protest, but Haechan’s not having it.

“My cock feels so good with your pussy wrapped around it nice and tight.” He groans, biting down on your shoulder. “Gonna have to do a lot more convincing if you want me to think you’re good for anything else.”

“God, fuck you,” You huff through gritted teeth, not caring in the moment what might happen to you for snapping at him, but Haechan just chuckles.

“You already are.” His reply is smug and filled with challenge, daring you to reply, but you don’t take the bait, instead digging your nails into your palm to stop yourself from crying out again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so close–” You gasp, and Haechan massages circles into your clit, ushering in your climax as your mind goes blank and your eyes are forced shut from the pleasure. Your jaw going slack, you can only whimper Haechan’s name as pleasure courses through your body, and he moans, fucking you intently through your climax until you’ve ridden it for as far as it’ll go before speeding up.

“God, I never thought I’d hear you say my name like that,” He murmurs in awe. “That’s so fucking hot. And now? It’s my turn.” He grunts, a smile audible in his voice as his thrusts escalate to an almost brutal pace, each powerful stroke accompanied by a moan that fills your now blank mind with clouds of desire. “Gonna let me cum in you, pretty?”

“Yeah,” You exhale with a vigorous nod, and he hums appreciatively before bottoming out in you, hips stilling as he releases into you. You two remain like that for another moment before he pulls out of you, releasing his grip on you and rubbing your back gingerly.

“You good?” He asks breathlessly, and you nod again, looking over your shoulder and smiling at him. “Would help if you said something.” He jokes lightly, and you join in on his chuckle as you turn around, reaching down to pull your underwear and shorts back up.

“I’m great,” You assure him, and he visibly relaxes, a wide smile overtaking his features.

“Not so sleazy now, am I?” He teases, and you roll your eyes.

“Let it go!” You’re about to say more, but a random sniff of the air has you wrinkling up your nose in distaste. It smells like sweat and sex, and that’s gotta go if you plan to have more people over.

“Haechan, pass me that air freshener?” You ask, looking pointedly at the can on the counter nearest to him and he jerks his head back in confusion before obliging, tucking himself back into his pants. You promptly go berserk spraying everywhere and accidentally give Haechan a face full of air freshener, making him cough and splutter.

“What are you spraying, you crazy woman?” Haechan chokes out, and you turn to glower at him. 

“The smell of sex away!” 

“It does not smell like sex,” Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes, and you glare at him, lifting your hand and spraying him directly in the chest. “Hey, you little brat!”

“If Jeno and Jaemin come in and figure out what we did here, things are gonna get super awkward.” You explain worriedly.

Haechan snorts. “You’re telling me.”

“…What?”

“…Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Nothing.” He insists in a singsong voice, and you roll your eyes.

“Haechan, tell me!” You groan, and he shakes his head resolutely.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” He assures you cryptically, patting the top of your head patronizingly.

“What do you mean by that—oh, shit!” You cut yourself off with a yell of surprise when someone knocks loudly at your front door, and you shoot a panicked glance to a very unbothered Haechan. “Haechan, be a man and get the door.” You urge in a loud whisper, and Haechan stares blankly at you, unimpressed.

“It’s probably just Jeno and Jaemin,” He points out.

“Then you should have no problem getting it,” You counter with a furrowed brow, and he groans before turning on his heel and heading out of sight to your front door. The door opens and you can just make out Haechan’s voice greeting the mystery party, your grip on your air freshener loosening in relief. “Haechan, who is it?”

“Three large, burly criminals,” Haechan drawls in a bored tone. “They’ve got me at knifepoint.”

“Haechan, you’re not funny.” You call back, annoyed.

“Who’s being funny?” Haechan answers back defensively. “They told me they’re going to do…how did they put it? Oh, yeah—‘so much crime.’ They said they would do all of the crimes right now in your apartment.”

“You’re the worst.” You gripe as Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin round the corner of your hallway, your mouth cracking into a relieved grin as you recognize your friends. “Hey, guys.”

“Hi, scaredy-cat,” Haechan teases, flinching away at your sharp glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you, you were here already.” You wave Haechan off with a scoff. “And you just flinched away from the scaredy-cat, so what does that make you–”

“Will you two quit bickering, please?” Jaemin sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “You really are skittish, though,” He mumbles under his breath, mildly amused, and you gasp in betrayal as Haechan exclaims victoriously.

“Get out of my apartment.” You huff, crossing your arms. 

“Be careful to close the door quietly though, so it doesn’t spook her.” Haechan snickers, and you whine loudly, slouching against the fridge. 

“Oh, shut up,” Jeno pipes up, glowering at Haechan and Jaemin as he makes his way over to you and drapes his arm around your shoulders. “I think it’s cute,” He assures you, and you let out a soft, petulant hmph, not wanting to admit that Jeno calling you cute stirred up feelings in you that you didn’t know you had.

“Thanks,” You grouch. “Mark and Chaewon can’t make it, by the way.”

“Really? What happened at their away game?” Haechan asks, baffled.

You shrug. “Their bus broke down and the closest mechanic’s in the next town over and can’t come until the morning, so they’re staying at a hotel; that’s what they told me.”

“That sucks,” Jeno winces. “For them. Not us.”

“Yeah, now we get you all to ourselves. Chaewon always hogs you.” Jaemin winks in your direction, and you blink impassively at him. He sighs. “You’re still annoyed about the skittish thing—”

“I’m still annoyed about the skittish thing, yes.” You say, crossing your arms and leaning closer into Jeno’s warm side hug. Always a fan of physical affection, Jeno squeezes you and accepts readily when you curl into his side and wrap your arms around his waist in a full hug. “Jeno’s the only person here who actually treats me right.” You huff, turning your nose up disdainfully.

“Clearly someone else was treating you right recently,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, and you poke your head up to glare at him.

“What was that?”

“If the mark on your neck is anything to go by,” Jaemin says, jerking his chin in your direction, “I’d say someone else was treating you right recently.” His words are slow, playfully condescending and accompanied with a suggestive wiggle of his brows, and you frown, turning further into Jeno’s embrace.

“Everyone but Jeno…get out!” You cry dramatically, and Haechan and Jaemin protest immediately, their voices overlapping, but you drown them out easily as you look up at Jeno and smile widely, continuing with, “I bought chocolate milk, by the way.”

“No way!” Jeno’s whole face lights up, and you nod, releasing him to turn and open your fridge to him. “You’re the best.” He gushes excitedly, unwinding his arms from around you to reach in and grab the gallon.

“Yeah, to you,” Haechan grouches as he watches Jeno pour himself a cup of chocolate milk. Jeno pays him no mind.

“She’s a little menace to non-Jeno people.” Jaemin continues, and you blink at them impassively.

“I’m sweet to Chaewon, Mark, and Renjun.” You point out. “It’s just you two.”

“Well, aren’t we special.” Jaemin drawls sarcastically, and you fake a sweet smile.

“Sure are. Now don’t break anything; I’m gonna take a shower.” You warn them, and Haechan raises an eyebrow at you, a secretive smile on his face out of sight of both Jeno and Jaemin.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” He asks, staring you down, and you can’t help but squirm on the spot, his intense gaze reminding you of when he had his hands all over you just minutes before Jeno and Jaemin arrived.

“I feel like showering,” You say, guarded as you meet his gaze levelly.

“But why—”

“I can’t hear you! Gonna go shower!” You call out over your shoulder as you make your way to your room. Shutting the door behind you, you let out a loud breath of relief.

If Haechan insists on being difficult the whole weekend, you’re really going to have your work cut out for you.

“Jeno, you’re so clumsy,” You chuckle fondly, turning the male so his back’s against the sink counter and he’s facing you. You reach around him to wet the rag in your hand, moving to blot his shirt free of the stain. Somehow in his excited chocolate milk consumption, Jeno managed to spill a good portion of it onto his shirt, so you led him to your bathroom to help him get the stain out.

“Good thing I have you to help me,” He replies sweetly, his eyes crinkling as he smiles at you only to wince at the feeling of the cold, wet rag against his skin. 

“Sorry!” You apologize, and he shakes his head with a smile before gently moving your hands away from him. “What are you d–oh,” You ask, trailing off when Jeno reaches behind him, grasps the back of his shirt at the base of his neck, and pulls it over his head, leaving you to gawk at his shirtless, very toned form. 

“That way you can clean it without me squirming under the shirt,” He supplies helpfully, and you nod after a moment’s hesitation, hoping there’s no way for Jeno to detect just how dry your throat has become. You stare, frozen, at Jeno’s half-naked form before snapping out of it and quickly turning around to face the sink, blindly grabbing the shirt from his outstretched hand. You ignore the soft chuckle from Jeno with a furrow of your brows which only deepens when you see that Jeno’s watching your face intently in the mirror. 

“Stop staring at me,” You mumble nervously, and Jeno cocks his head to the side in intrigue, studying your flustered expression.

“But I like watching you.” He answers simply, and you just about choke on air, a pathetic squeak of surprise forcing its way out of you. “Plus,” Jeno adds, stepping closer to you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, “I wanna learn how to clean that stain out.”

“Then watch my hands,” You mutter, nibbling your bottom lip anxiously as you attempt to focus on what you’re doing. Jeno snickers and moves closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the sink, and you stiffen, freezing in place.

“But your face is so pretty,” Jeno says, voice bordering dangerously on a purr, and you swallow thickly, a task proven difficult given the still dry state of your mouth. 

“Wh—well, I—you just—” You stammer, barely regaining your composure in time to finish with, “I can’t focus like this, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeno leans down, bringing his face level with yours in the mirror. “Why’s that?” His lips quirked into a smirk and a dangerous twinkle in his eyes, Jeno is the picture of temptation, not to mention the way his arms flex and tense as they rest on either side of you. It’s more than a little difficult to breathe at the moment, and you’re having a hard time attending to your task of washing out the stain on his shirt.

You clear your throat. “Jeno?”

“Hm?” That same almost-purring cadence to his voice, he quirks an eyebrow at you and it takes everything in you not to let your knees buckle. 

“Pass me the detergent?” Your attempt to sound nonchalant falls flat when your voice cracks on the last word, a sound that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeno, who exhales loudly from his nose in amusement. You point at the cabinet overhead to the left of you both, and he watches your reflection for a moment before complying, reaching over and grabbing the detergent with ease and setting it beside you on the sink. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” He hums. 

“Do you want me to explain what to do?” You ask.

“Yeah, walk me through it.” Jeno requests, and you give him a small nod.

“So I’m soaking the stain in cold water,” You start, and Jeno hums in acknowledgement, lowering himself to your height again and watching you intently. His unwavering stare has you buzzing in anticipation for…what, exactly, you don’t know. “Then you put some detergent on it and gently rub out the stain.” You continue as you do just that, your voice trailing off when Jeno wraps his arms around your waist in a back hug that would normally be fine if, firstly, Jeno had a shirt on, and, secondly, you weren’t helplessly attracted to him.

“Thanks,” Jeno says warmly, and you smile, patting his clasped hands resting on your stomach. “You’re always so sweet to me,” He coos, and you chuckle.

“I’m not that sweet,” You reply, and he shakes his head, nosing past your hair until his nose is brushing your cheek, his warm breath fanning over your jaw. 

“You are,” Jeno insists, nose grazing down your cheek and stopping when he presses his lips to your neck. “You’re so sweet,” He murmurs, lips pressed to your skin, and you suck in a sharp breath, your hands gripping the counter so hard your knuckles ache. “So…fucking…sweet.” He purrs, kissing your neck after every word, and your knees do buckle this time, Jeno’s grip tightening around you just in time to catch you as you all but go limp in his arms.

“Jeno—” You mumble, not trusting your voice enough to speak at a normal volume.

“You’re so tense,” Jeno muses with a smile against your skin before sucking at a spot at the base of your neck. “Want me to help you relax?”

“H-How?” You ask, and from the low growl that sounds from Jeno’s chest, you assume you’ve walked right into a situation you might not be prepared for. He slips a hand between your legs and busies himself with playing with your clit over the fabric of your underwear. Your plaintive whimpers don’t do much besides spur him on as he kisses your neck, dark eyes watching you in the reflection of the mirror. “Jeno,” You whine pointedly, and he chuckles, nipping at your earlobe roughly.

He turns you around, lifts you up with ease, and sets you on the sink counter, ignoring your gasp in favor of getting directly in your personal space and licking his lips, eying you with all the smug determination of a predator that’s captured its prey.

“I bet you can guess.” He doesn’t say anything else for a moment, just studies your features with increasing curiosity before he slips his hand up your shirt enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. Your gasp of surprise is cut off by the alarmed yelp you let out when he yanks—hard—so you’re sent lurching forward against him. 

Your core pressed directly against his bare, toned abdomen and your legs reflexively closed around him and pressed up against his sides, you stare up at Jeno wide-eyed and breathless, bottom lip trapped between your teeth and your chest pressing against his with every heaving breath. 

“Jeno—” You mumble, and he shushes you softly, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

“Just relax.” He coaxes and you can’t help but think back to earlier when Haechan said the same thing to you and wonder to yourself how you got into this predicament. Jeno successfully pushes out any thoughts not centered around him when his free hand balls up the fabric at the small of your back and pulls you impossibly closer before capturing your lips in his with a growl.

“Je–”

“Shut up.” He mumbles against your mouth, and you can’t help but obey, immediately falling silent with a final whimper as his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips, quickly becoming intimately familiar with the inside of your mouth. Where Haechan earlier was sensual, rhythmic movements and playful flicks of the tongue, Jeno is harsh, sucking, nipping and biting, such a contrast from the sweet, smiley male you’re used to—a bold version of Jeno who takes exactly what he wants stands before you, kissing you senseless and leaving you lightheaded.

Jeno takes your lips as if they were meant to be his all along and he’s sick of waiting, with groans and even growls as he detaches his lips from yours and starts traveling down your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin as his hands wander, one slipping up your shirt to grope freely at your breasts while the other massages your core with heavy-handed rubbing that has you clutching his firm, toned arm for something to ground yourself.

“God, fuck–” You pant, pushing feebly at his…everything because it’s all just a bit too overwhelming— “Jeno, wait a second–” You gasp out in ecstasy when he shoves your shirt up past your breasts, yanks your bra cup down and latches onto your nipple, sucking roughly. A ghost of the Jeno you know blinks up at you with a question in his eyes, still swirling his tongue around your stiffened bud in his mouth as he waits for you to speak. “Are you sure we should be doing this? Now? Here?” 

With a wet pop, Jeno pulls off of your breast and stands back up so your faces are level. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I mean…yeah, but–”

“Then be good,” He brushes his lips against yours as his hand snakes into your underwear, “because I want a taste.” Your eyes widen as he drops to his knees and attaches his lips to your inner thigh, dark eyes staring up at you as he sucks and nips at the tender flesh.

“Not too low,” You exhale shakily, and he blinks up at you impassively before pushing your shorts up so they’re bunched around the flesh of your thighs and he proceeds to mouth at the unblemished skin of your inner thighs, gradually working his way towards where they meet as heat flares up throughout your body. His hands keep your legs spread with large palms pressing on your inner thighs as he brazenly rubs his face over your clothed core, eliciting a scandalized gasp from you.

“God, everything about you is so sweet.” He mumbles in a daze, hands dragging up your legs to grab your ass and force his face against your covered core even harder. Even through two layers of fabric, his nose presses against your clit enough to have you trying not to rock your hips against his face for more relief. Jeno notices quickly, his amused exhale warming the seat of your underwear even more, and flicks his gaze up to you as he hooks his fingers into the seat of your underwear and shorts and pulls both items aside, revealing your glistening wet core. The resounding silence has waves of nervous heat flooding through you and you look down only to see that Jeno’s staring at your pussy with unadulterated desire, eyes dark with lust as his thumbs gingerly part your folds, a sharp hiss escaping him when your entrance clenches in response.

“Jeno?” You hate how meek you sound but you feel so small under his scrutiny, the male before you inspecting the most intimate part of your body with a hunger you’ve never seen in anyone’s eyes before. He can barely tear his eyes away from your wetness before looking up at you, an eyebrow quirked expectantly. 

“You have such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He rasps in awe, and heat washes over you like a tidal wave, your body blazing with embarrassment and the excitement from his praise. “God, it’s so pretty. Dripping, too; you want this that badly?” His eyes glinting with glee, his tone lilts teasingly as he addresses you.

“Please?” You whisper, and he stills in momentary surprise, looking back down between your spread legs with a poorly concealed hunger before groaning in frustration and leaning in to attach his mouth to your core. “Fuck—” You can’t help but gasp because when Jeno starts, he doesn’t hold back at all, devouring your pussy, lapping up every wave of arousal that gushes forth from your entrance with an eagerness you’ve never quite seen before. 

Just like earlier, it’s overwhelming, the amount of everything you’re feeling, and your legs reflexively start to close around his head as he ravishes your most sensitive areas with rough sucking and licking, the whole ordeal complete with lewd moans from the male whose mouth seems permanently affixed to your core. Your legs barely apply pressure to his head before he’s shoving your legs back apart with a warning nip to your thigh and moving back in to resume his ministrations. The fabric of your underwear has slipped back over your core in the absence of his touch and Jeno huffs when he realizes the same thing, immediately yanking your shorts and underwear down your legs and letting the clothing drop to the floor carelessly. 

He resumes his relentless tongue lashes against your sensitive bud, only stopping to dip lower and suck your folds into his mouth and run his tongue over them repeatedly. Your fingers are practically knotted in his hair, alternating between pulling him closer to you and trying to push him away when he’s just a bit too desiring of your core, and Jeno seems to love every bit of your reactions, responding to your every whimper and gasp with a moan of his own as he sucks and licks at your poor throbbing clit.

The whimpers and sobs you keep letting out only spur Jeno on further, the male going so far as to drape your legs over his shoulders and move in closer, his tongue teasing at your entrance before pushing into you, his hand flying up to cover your mouth and muffle the loud gasp that rings throughout the room. You can’t help but rock your hips against his face, your head tipping back to rest against the mirror in ecstasy. His nose rubs up against your clit with every inward push of his tongue and your quiet cries of pleasure are thankfully still silenced by Jeno’s large hand over your mouth as he fucks you with his tongue. 

You jolt in alarm when you hear footsteps approaching the bathroom and flinch violently when a knock sounds out against the door.

“You guys okay in there?” Jaemin asks curiously, and you don’t even manage to come up with a coherent response; it’s Jeno who has the audacity to reply with his face still buried between your legs.

“Almost done!” He calls back, voice garbled because, well, it’s fairly hard to speak clearly with a mouth full of pussy.

There’s a moment of silence on the other side of the door, then your name is called. 

“You good?” Jaemin sounds suspicious now, albeit a bit concerned, and you blanch, looking down at Jeno as your peak rapidly approaches.

“I–uh–I’m coming!” You yell back, trying to keep the whine out of your voice as your climax hits and sends you reeling, fingers tightening around Jeno’s hair and your entrance clenching around his tongue while your body trembles under his touch.

“…Okay…” Jaemin answers, sounding even more suspicious than before, and your face burns with embarrassment as Jeno hums contently against you and starts languidly lapping up as much of your arousal as he can. “Well, can you guys hurry? We wanna start the movie.” 

“Sure!” You call back, a bit too eagerly and far too breathily, and wait until you hear Jaemin’s footsteps receding to relax, your body going slack with relief as you weakly push at Jeno’s head. He’s reluctant to pull away, his fingers digging into your thighs possessively, but when your pushing gets more insistent and your low whines pick up in urgency, he finally lets up, pulling back and sitting on his heels as he stares at your core, unbridled lust in his eyes.

“Good?” He asks, and you nod in a daze.

“Excellent,” You reply, and he grins, rocks off his heels and stands back up, helping you off the counter and passing your shorts and underwear to you. You make the mistake of looking down and are confronted with his jaw-droppingly large erection pressing against his shorts, your eyes widening in shock.

“I take it you like what you see,” Jeno chuckles and you blink several times to clear your mind before you meet his gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” You mumble, and he gives your arm a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“You’re good. Hurry back down there so they don’t get any more suspicious.” He suggests, a smile so sweet on his face that you almost forget why his mouth is glistening. 

“What are you gonna do about your shirt?” You mutter, reaching out to poke his bare stomach, and he catches your hand with a playful gaze, his eyes narrowed.

“I brought others, obviously. I’ll just grab one and change.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, finish treating this one later.” You nod shyly and turn to leave but Jeno grips your hand tighter and whirls you back around into a deep, passionate, breath-stealing kiss, the taste of your arousal in your mouth as he swirls his tongue around with yours. When he releases you from his embrace, you gasp for air, fingers releasing his forearm quickly. “By the way,” Jeno hums, grinning, “…best pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

You let out a surprised sort of yelp, your face on fire as you nod quickly and try with all your might not to burst into nervous giggles. When you get back to the living room, Haechan and Jaemin stare at you suspiciously, no doubt confused by your slightly jittery state.

“You good?” Jaemin asks again, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly, and his brow arches skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” You insist, rolling your eyes and heading to the fridge to grab a can of Sprite. “I am.” You assure them, and Jaemin puts his hands up in a sort of surrendering gesture before jerking his chin towards the television.

“We’re still watching X-Men, right?” He looks at you and over your shoulder, prompting you to turn around and see Jeno coming up behind you with a new shirt on and an innocent smile that turns slightly more mischievous when Haechan and Jaemin look away from him. Your eyes widening, you turn back around to face your friends, putting on a casual appearance.

“Sounds good to me! Chaewon’s gonna be pissed we started without them.” You remind them, and Haechan shrugs. 

“We can all pretend we didn’t watch it.” He suggests with a (very attractive) devilish grin before blatantly eying you up and down. His gaze, you note with a panicked jolt, lingers around your thighs before sliding back up to meet your eyes. “We can keep a little secret, right?”

You can’t help but feel like there’s more to the question he’s asked.

Pushing past the inkling, you narrow your eyes at Haechan and turn to Jaemin.

“I won’t tell if you guys won’t.” You say, and Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you flirtatiously.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He collapses back onto his chosen armchair and gets curled up as you and Jeno move to find your spaces.

“Come sit next to me,” Haechan calls to you from the couch, his eyes fixed on you intently. When you pause, just staring at him, he raises his eyebrows suggestively and pats the spot next to him invitingly.

After another moment of hesitation, you roll your eyes slightly and make your way towards Haechan, who grins widely. “Stop manspreading and maybe there’d be room for me to sit,” You point out with a huff, and he raises an eyebrow and shifts forward, leaning back more and becoming an extremely tempting seat option himself.

“Sit right here,” He offers in a low murmur, patting his thigh and looking at you suggestively.

“No.” You say simply, plopping down halfway on his leg and mostly on the couch beside him. When he lets out a sharp yelp of pain, you smile, satisfied, and move your leg off of him, forcing his legs closed by pushing him with the side of your leg. Already having gotten over it, Haechan drapes his arm behind you on the couch cushion, his arm hovering just above your shoulders. You shoot him a side-eyed glance, and Haechan wiggles his brows with a grin before dropping his arm down and pulling you into his side. 

“You know I like to cuddle,” He murmurs in your ear, and you blink dazedly, humming weakly in acknowledgment. He’s warm and comfortable and smells amazing, and you can already feel your head clouding with desire.

“Are you two almost done?” Jaemin’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind and you meet his gaze to see that he’s more amused than annoyed, an expectant brow raised.

“Almost,” Haechan answers, and you look at him, confused, but he ignores you in favor of leaning forward (forcing you forward with a jolt, since he refuses to let go of your shoulder) and grabbing the folded blanket on your coffee table, unfolding it with one arm and clumsily situating it over your and his lap. “Now we’re done.”

Jaemin stares at Haechan with an unreadable expression for so long that it makes you uncomfortable before he turns back to the television and hits the play button. Jeno flicks the lights off, leaving you four in mostly darkness, and the opening credits of X-Men start to roll.

Less than thirty minutes into the movie, Haechan has moved his arm from around your shoulders and is letting his knuckles graze along the hem of your shorts, his eyes fixed on you.

“Pay attention,” You murmur as quietly as possible.

His gaze not wavering from the side of your face, he chuckles softly, slipping his fingers under your shorts and tracing along your thigh. “Oh, I am.”

“To the movie,” You hiss under your breath, and he leans in closer, his lips pressing to the spot just behind your ear.

“You’re more fun to watch.” He coos, and you roll your eyes and scoff in an attempt to conceal the nervous laugh you let out when his fingers sneak up higher. “Plus, you know you like it.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and he pinches the flesh of your inner thigh, making you jolt in your spot and just barely conceal a yelp of pain and surprise.

“Told you to watch that mouth of yours earlier, didn’t I?” He warns you as you glare at him, affronted. 

“You didn’t have to pinch me,” You hiss, and he chuckles, fingers continuing their journey up your leg to brush his fingertips against the heated, damp seat of your underwear. You suck in a quiet breath that, unfortunately, does not slip past Haechan, and he grins, eyes still trained on your face. “Stop staring at me,” You whine.

“Why? Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks with a smug little grin, and you frown, staring ahead at the screen pointedly. “Pay attention,” He urges, leaning closer to you to take your earlobe between his teeth. He tugs at the flesh gently, eliciting a small gasp from you, as two of his fingers find your clit and pinch it through the fabric. You squirm in your seat, fighting back a whimper, and he chuckles, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. “Stop fighting it.” He murmurs when he’s done, and you swallow thickly, staring at the screen with glazed over eyes. Wolverine’s blurry form grunts and roars as he engages in a fight scene, the details on the screen going virtually unnoticed as Haechan’s lips latch onto your neck, kissing and sucking.

“Fuck,” You suck in a sharp breath and he flicks at your neck with his tongue as if to say, “I heard that.”

Pushing your underwear aside, Haechan’s fingers spread you open and circle around your entrance, digits collecting arousal with every go-around. When you groan quietly and buck your hips against his hand, he pulls back, much to your dismay.

“I want to hear you say you want it.” He breathes against your cheek, and you whimper in protest, nibbling at your bottom lip as you think. Do you throw away your pride in favor of getting the release you want? Knowing Haechan, he might cave anyway simply from sheer desire— “We don’t have all day.” His voice is low and stern and he lightly nudges at your ear with the tip of his nose to help bring you out of your reverie.

“Haechan–” You whisper desperately, and he chuckles, pressing his fingers into you shallowly and pumping them excruciatingly slowly. “God, I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit,” He murmurs. “Preferably on my lap.”

“Do you always have to have a comeback?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” He answers smugly. You suck your teeth and pinch his thigh in retaliation. He inhales sharply and hums appreciatively as you do, and you release him with a startled sound, looking over at him in surprise.

“Pain slut.”

“That’s me, baby.” With another gratuitous nip at your skin, he suddenly pulls back from you, fingers pushing into you finally to provoke a choked gasp from you. Before you can ask what happened, Jeno’s whispering both of your names from his space in the living room, and you look to see him facing both of you.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom!” Jeno announces in a low hush, and you nod, reaching for the remote.

“Want me to pause it?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Nah, I’ll be right back.” He assures you. “Maybe turn it down though, because Jaemin fell asleep.” He jerks his chin towards the chair Jaemin is sitting in, the male’s head tucked to his shoulder with his eyes closed. You coo affectionately at your sleeping friend’s figure and nod at Jeno, turning the volume on the movie down as Jeno gets up, stretches, and heads to your bathroom.

The second you hear the bathroom door close, Haechan pulls you onto his lap with a groan, guiding you into straddling his lap facing him.

“Haechan!” You whisper frantically, and he hums in acknowledgement as his fingers push back into you painfully slowly. “Jeno could come back!”

“Then hurry up.” He chuckles.

“Jaemin could hear–”

“Then shut up.” He claps his hand over your mouth and you whine against his palm, half disappointed he didn’t just put his fingers into your mouth. “Tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” His tone is teasing as he curls his fingers inside of you and you let out a low moan, your head tipping forward onto Haechan’s shoulder.

Your attempt to speak is muffled into his hand and he chuckles, his hand leaving your mouth to grope your chest, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric. 

“What was that?” He asks, turning his face into your neck and kissing along the skin.

“Please stop teasing,” You plead, and he makes a thoughtful sound before pulling out of you almost to his fingertips, flattening his palm against your core and grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. “Please?” You choke out, and he thrusts his fingers back into you quickly, finger fucking you thoroughly as you melt against him.

“Like that?” He grunts, and you nod vigorously, clutching his arm.

“Yeah, like that,” You moan, and he tsks disapprovingly.

“Better shut up before I stuff my fingers in your mouth.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, and Haechan lets out a surprised laugh, hand leaving your breast and tapping two fingers against your bottom lip. You readily take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and sucking, and he groans, teeth nipping at your neck appreciatively. 

“Good girl,” He remarks, surprised, and you try to hide how you preen from his praise. 

“Feels so good,” You whimper around his fingers, and he coos at you patronizingly, pressing his palm against your clit harder and relishing the way you grind against his hand.

“You’re so desperate,” Haechan snickers, and you whine, heat rushing to your cheeks as saliva drips down from around his fingers in your mouth. “Look at you—you’re drooling around my fingers, fucking my hand…all in front of Jaemin.”

“He’s sleeping!” You mumble defensively, and Haechan laughs mockingly.

“He could wake up,” He points out. “Or Jeno could come back. But you don’t care about that—”

“I do!”

“You just wanna cum all over my fingers like a needy little slut,” Haechan sneers, and you cry out weakly, a fresh string of drool dripping down your chin, some getting on his fingers. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” You whimper, rocking back and forth against his hand desperately. Haechan studies the glistening saliva on your chin and his fingers with a wild fascination in his eyes before he pulls his fingers from your mouth, much to your dismay. Before you can protest, he swipes his tongue up from your chin, collecting the drool, to your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it and catching your lips in a proper kiss. “So close,” You gasp against his lips, and he nods almost in a daze as he keeps fingering you, brows slowly furrowing from his determination to pleasure you.

It only takes a moment more of his fingers driving in and out of you to send you spiraling into a powerful climax, your body trembling under his ministrations as you choke out gasps and whimpers into his shoulder. Only when he’s sure you’ve ridden out your high to the very end does Haechan remove his fingers, raising an eyebrow in a sort of cruel fascination when your hips involuntarily chase after his hand.

“Still needy, yeah?” He exhales in amusement, and you can only frown at him, bottom lip bordering dangerously on a pout. As if to answer his question, you rock against his hips, breath catching in your throat when you feel his concealed length pressing against you. “Oh, can you feel that?” He asks almost lazily, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you move on top of him. When you nod, he grins, leaning forward with a challenge glinting in his eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Unfortunately for both of you, the sound of movement from behind you has you springing off his lap and resituating yourself beside Haechan just in time for Jaemin to rouse from his sleep, blinking sleepily.

“What’d I miss?” He yawns, and you laugh, thankful the darkness of the room shrouds your flustered expression.

“Not much,” You lie. “We can rewind it if you want.” When he nods, you pick up the remote and hit the rewind button, leaning over to Haechan when Jaemin’s gaze is once again focused on the screen. “I’m going to the bathroom. Meet me there a little bit after Jeno comes back.”

He grins at you, shooting you a wink as confirmation, and you stand up, trying to conceal the slight wobble in your stance and thankfully succeeding before heading to the bathroom.

On your way there, you run directly into Jeno who’s on his way back and you start apologizing before realizing that he doesn’t seem all that sorry. Before you can even wonder why, his hands are on your hips and he presses you up against the nearest wall, staring down at you with eyes alight with mischief.

“Hi, pretty.” He chuckles.

“Hi, Jeno,” You coo, smiling up at him invitingly.

You may have initially been on your way to meet Haechan, but something about the look in Jeno’s eyes has your stomach fluttering with excitement, and you practically launch yourself at Jeno when he leans in, the male letting out a surprised but pleased grunt as he presses up against you.

You and Jeno kiss heatedly, your hands eagerly grabbing and pulling at Jeno’s clothes to get him closer to you as the latter wastes no time slipping his hand into your shorts where he’s confronted with the arousal from your last climax with Haechan. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” He groans, and you whine into his mouth when his fingers toy with your clit, your free hand running through his hair and tugging messily to draw out a pleased grunt from the male in front of you. You clumsily push your hand into his sweats and gasp when you feel the sheer size of his length sitting hot and heavy in your hand, and Jeno chuckles. “Yeah, you like that?”

You can’t even bring yourself to respond fully as you only pant, “Yeah,” your mind still coasting off of the lust Haechan stirred up while you were supposed to be watching the movie. You rock your hips against his hand as he pushes two fingers into you and cry out weakly when his lips latch onto your neck, sucking, kissing, and biting. In your almost drunken haze, you notice that his mark is suspiciously near the one Haechan left you earlier, your eyes fluttering shut when his fingers curl and remind you of where your mind is supposed to be. 

You wrap your fingers around his girth properly and start to stroke, pulling off and away from him to spit into your hand for lubrication and returning to him. 

“That was so hot,” Jeno groans, an appreciative growl rumbling in his chest as he fucks into your hand. “Your hand feels much better than mine, pretty.”

“Feels so good, Jeno,” You whimper, and he nips at your neck a bit rougher than you anticipated, drawing a sharp whine from you that he muffles with his lips, capturing yours in a sudden, passionate kiss. 

“Careful,” He teases, “Haechan and Jaemin are in the next room.” You cry out weakly at the reminder that you’re not alone, the sudden realization that Jeno is all over you and has two fingers inside of you less than twenty feet away from your other friends sends another wave of arousal through you and your jaw goes slack as his fingers curl inside of you. His long, slender digits fuck you diligently, leaving you gasping for relief and clenching desperately around his fingers.

“Jeno,” You mumble, still pumping his length quickly, and he groans against your skin, the sound raw and almost tortured, even. “I wanna come–” Your words are cut off by the sound of Jaemin laughing from the living room, making you flinch in surprise and, apparently, almost climax on the spot, your knees buckling as Jeno uses his free hand to nudge your shorts down to your knees, the clothing dropping to the floor and pooling around your ankles. “Fuck, right there, please, please, please—”

“Right here?” Jeno taunts, sending his fingers thrusting into your sweet spot before sucking in a ragged breath through gritted teeth. “Pretty girl, I’m close.” 

“Me too,” You whimper, powering through the ache in your wrist as you squeeze Jeno’s length with every upward tug, relishing the groans he muffles into your shoulder.

“Let me finish inside of you,” He pants, and you falter in your movements, shooting him a bewildered glance. “There’s—fuck—so much I wanna do to you,” He grunts, “but first I gotta cum somewhere.”

You realize he has a point; he can’t just finish into your hand and leave you with a messy cleanup, and you’re not fully in the mood to get on your knees and swallow it, so you might as well just let him—

“Baby,” He groans urgently, and you snap out of your thinking spiral to focus your hazy mind on his words. “Come on; just the tip, pretty? No more than that.” He promises, and you nibble your bottom lip thoughtfully before nodding and spreading your legs a bit wider. He sighs in relief and hikes one of your legs up so your knee is level with his hip and you guide him between your legs, the feeling of the blunt head of his length filling you with excitement as it presses against your entrance. He removes his fingers from inside of you, bringing them to your clit to rub quick, determined circles, and pushes into you slowly with a careful rock of his hips, keeping his promise of no further than the tip as he nestles it between your folds and hisses in ecstasy when your walls flex around him. “So good for me, baby. So, so good, feels so tight, fuck—” Jeno’s practically babbling at this point, losing himself in the feeling of your hand stroking him as his tip is buried inside of your slick walls, and his head falls forward to rest against the wall beside you, the male emitting a low groan before mumbling, “I can’t—‘m sorry, I can’t—”

“Jeno?” You gasp in a panic as you feel him pushing into you further. “Fuck, Jeno—”

“Just a little bit more,” He rasps, and you cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, whines of alarm increasing as your walls clench around him tightly and he pushes in more.

“Jeno, you’re too big,” You panic, pushing at his abdomen to halt his movements, but you both know that he’s stronger than you and you’re ultimately just resting your hand on his stomach in defeat before your nails dig into his skin as he pushes in even more, the overwhelmingly full sensation making you feel dizzy.

“You can take it, right, baby?” He grunts, and your breath comes in short little bursts as he bottoms out in you entirely, your head spinning as you lean back to rest against the wall. “That’s my good girl,” He purrs, his length twitching as he rocks his hips against yours in slight movements.

“Jeno—” You moan urgently, and he groans under his breath as his movements stutter and he releases inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut as he shoots his cum deep inside of you even as you’re still adjusting to his size.

“You did so good,” He praises, cupping your cheek and kissing you. “So fucking good.”

“You said just the tip,” You huff, and he hums sympathetically, kissing you a couple more times.

“I know, but you felt so good,” He admits. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay, my turn,” You plead impatiently. “You owe me after that.”

Jeno grins and nods in acknowledgement, carefully pulling out of you and, to your surprise, pushing his fingers back into you. Ignoring your gasp, Jeno diligently finger-fucks his cum back into you, the pads of his fingers finding your sweet spot again with ease as he bites down on your neck and sucks hard. “Oh, my God–Jeno, I’m–” You stammer, and he shushes you sweetly, lapping his tongue over the bite mark left where your shoulder and neck meet.

“I know, pretty,” He assures you. “Come for me, it’s okay.” With that, you fall apart, a desperate cry of relief just barely making it past your lips as your climax hits you, shudders coursing through your body as you curl in on yourself, Jeno wincing as your hand tightens around his arm almost painfully.

“Sorry,” You whisper, loosening your grip on his bicep, and he shushes you again, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth in a sweet almost-kiss. 

“It’s okay,” He assures you, gingerly pulling his fingers out of you, and you release him fully with another murmured apology. “Good?”

“Wonderful,” You reply in a daze, blinking up at him slowly. “How about you?”

“Perfect,” He answers, eyes crinkling as he smiles down at you.

“You, uh, go ahead and watch the movie; I’m gonna take care of…” You mumble, gesturing between your legs. As if on cue, a small gush of your mixed releases drips down your leg and you cringe at the sensation, only catching Jeno’s wild-eyed expression at the last minute as he watches it descend down your thigh. “Jeno?”

“I’m gonna go before I decide to fuck you right up against this wall.” He says, eyes still trained on your bare legs and the space between them. You let out a small yelp of surprise and his gaze darkens, his tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip.

“Jeno?” You call tentatively, and he blinks once, twice, and a third time before looking up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Movie.”

“Right…right.” He mutters, tearing his gaze away from your bare core and turning on his heel to head back into the living room. You pull up your shorts and underwear most of the way, not wanting to come into contact with the now cold seat of your underwear, and wait until Jeno rounds the corner and is out of eyesight to make your way to the bathroom.

After tidying yourself up, you decide to forego the underwear, not wanting to wear cold, slick clothing for the rest of the night. Balling them up in your fist, you head out of the bathroom and towards your room to change into a new pair, barely stifling your shriek of alarm when you bump directly into Jaemin’s chest.

“Sorry, Jaem,” You laugh breathlessly, looking up at the male, and your mouth dries. Jaemin, to put it bluntly, looks like he’s onto you. His brows are raised and his face is the epitome of if you tossed skepticism, amusement, and being entirely unimpressed into a blender and pressed the start button.

“Wh…what’s that look for?” You ask nervously, and Jaemin’s lip quirks up into a smug smile, a devilish little grin that silently sings, “I know something you don’t know.”

“Don’t act innocent when we both know what you were doing less than ten minutes ago.” He scolds you in that patronizing tone that’s so uniquely Jaemin, and you blanch, your fist tightening around your soiled undergarment.

“What do you mean?” The words don’t even sound right coming out of your mouth, and you wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

His lips stretch into a Cheshire cat-like grin as he leans in, closing the gap between your faces as he studies you with an unnerving steadiness.

“‘Just the tip, pretty,’” He mocks Jeno’s voice, and if there was any hope of you making it out of this encounter unscathed, you just kissed it goodbye.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” You mumble, your face feeling simultaneously drained of all color and blazing with heat.

“But I did.” Jaemin lilts, reaching up to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger. Normally, the gesture would feel fond, affectionate even, but the look in Jaemin’s eyes has you feeling more like a mouse being batted around by a cat before it goes in for the kill. He tugs unexpectedly on your hair and your hand flies up to stop him a moment too soon, your eyes widening when Jaemin’s other hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, holding your balled up fist (and underwear) up in plain sight. “What do we have here?” He murmurs curiously, eyes alight with a cruel, mocking glee.

“Jaemin, please let it go—”

“No underwear?” Jaemin lets out a fake scandalized gasp, the picture of horror before he’s tugging your wrist, bringing you lurching forward and crashing, yet again, into his firm chest. “Oh, you’re such a tease.”

“Jaemin, I’m not—” You whine, but you can’t even deny that Jaemin’s undivided attention on you like this has heat flooding between your legs and you suddenly wish you’d worn the underwear as an extra layer of defense against the arousal you know is about to start leaking out of you.

“First, you snuck off to play with Haechan before we got here—as if no one would notice,” Jaemin looks up thoughtfully, holding up his free hand to count on his fingers. “Then you and Jeno snuck off and hooked up in the bathroom. Then you fooled around with Haechan again—yeah, I wasn’t asleep on the couch,” Jaemin reveals when you splutter in surprise. “Then you went off with Jeno another time, and now you’re standing in front of me, all pretty and nervous and tempting with no fucking underwear on…and nothing for Nana? Hm?”

When you don’t answer, simply at a loss for words, Jaemin sucks his teeth in disapproval and tugs you after him to lead you to your room next door, shutting the door behind you both and pushing you up against it, ignoring your gasp when your back hits the wall.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry,” You try to say, but Jaemin silences you with a stern look, leaving you feeling small under his gaze. After a moment of tense silence, he sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Stop looking at me all wide-eyed and helpless like that,” He huffs, watching you with dark eyes. “It’s making me hard.” His words go straight to your head, making you blink up at him in shock, and he rolls his eyes, moving closer to you, and pushes his leg between yours, brows shooting up in intrigue when a pathetic little moan escapes you. “What a pretty little sound,” Jaemin muses, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. “I think I’ll do that again.”

“Jaemin–” You try to reason with him again, but he shushes you, shifting his attention back to his fingers wrapped around your wrist, your underwear still balled up in your fist. He looks down at you with a sadistically intrigued expression and reaches to pull the fabric from your fist, raising an eyebrow when you yelp and clutch it tighter. 

“Open your hand.” He says slowly, and you shake your head vehemently. “Fine.” He smiles sweetly down at you before pressing his thigh against your clothed core, smirking when you visibly struggle not to grind down on it. “Why are you fighting it, hm?” He murmurs curiously, cocking his head to the side. “Just give in,” Jaemin purrs, tensing his leg under you, and you mewl weakly as you roll your hips against his thigh, body slackening in relief.

“No!” You cry out when Jaemin takes advantage of your relaxed grip and pulls the underwear from your hand, immediately averting your eyes in shame. As if to rub in his victory more, he moves his leg between your thighs so you’re rocking back and forth against him, a wide smug grin overtaking his lips.

“I never imagined you were this sensitive, but I love it.” He murmurs, stopping his movements and studying your underwear, turning the garment this way and that. “God, these are soaked; you’re just a little mess, aren’t you?”

“Jaemin, please–” You mumble, and he blinks down at you impassively.

“Pretty girl, you don’t like this?” He taunts in a sickeningly sweet voice, and you whine, shaking your head insistently, your cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he continues, “If you don’t like my teasing…then why are you making all those cute little noises?” You, true to his word, cry out weakly and rock your hips against him desperately. “Mm, that’s what I thought.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s bringing your underwear to his face, clutching the fabric to his nose and breathing in deeply, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. Completely caught off-guard, you gasp, and his low groan evokes an overwhelmed whimper from you.

“…Jaemin?” You try again, your voice small and needy, and he slowly opens his eyes again, his gaze now considerably darker and more intense than it was moments ago.

“Your eyes are already telling me yes,” He muses, tilting your head up by your chin and staring you down. “I can see your body agrees,” Jaemin continues, trailing his hand down your front and tweaking your hardened nipple gently, grinning when you squeal and push your chest further into his hand. “Now I just want to hear that pretty mouth tell me how much you want it.”

“Want it so bad, Jaemin,” You say immediately, stumbling slightly over your words as you look up at him hopefully. “Please do something—more—anything.”

“Aw, you sound so sweet when you beg.” He coos, tugging at your other nipple playfully before pinching it, the sensation a bit too overwhelming and drawing forth a sharp hiss from your lips. “Did you suck either of them off?” Jaemin asks, and you shake your head, your mouth already starting to water at the prospect of his length in your mouth. “On your knees.” He pushes down on your shoulder gently, and you oblige, sinking to your knees readily and blinking up at him expectantly, awaiting further instructions. “God, I knew you could be good for me,” He praises you, and you smile, flattered. He wastes no time tugging his sweats down to reveal his length, your eyes widening slightly as you take the sight of him in. A quick glance up at Jaemin grants you the sight of his crooked grin as he studies you while you study him, and you look back down to his length, swallowing thickly as you watch his fist pump himself up and down, lazily tugging at his length. “This what you want?” He asks, and you nod. “Words.”

“Yes,” You answer in a hushed murmur.

“Mm, yeah? Want Nana’s cock in that pretty little mouth?” He’s most certainly teasing you, but you don’t even have it in you to be ashamed or indignant, your only thoughts centering around his length and the way precum seeps from his slit as he strokes himself.

“Yes, please,” You reply, squeezing your thighs together for some friction, and he hums in an impressed surprise.

“Please? How could I say no when you use your manners like that?” He murmurs fondly, stroking your hair as he guides himself to your lips. “Open,” He says softly, and you oblige. “Tongue out.” He orders, and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, blinking up at him with wide eyes. “Such a pretty fucking sight,” Jaemin groans, tapping the head of his cock against your tongue; his cock is hot and heavy and you can taste the stray drops of precum sliding down the underside of his length. “Go ahead, pretty.” He urges, and you don’t need to be told twice; you sit forward eagerly and replace Jaemin’s hand around his length with yours, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

When Jaemin hisses and lets his head tip back, you swirl your tongue around his length, lapping at his slit and flicking your tongue against where the underside of his tip meets his shaft, practically purring with satisfaction when he strokes your hair fondly. You start to bob your head up and down, your tongue dragging along the underside of his cock with every movement, and you work your hand over whatever isn’t in your mouth, eyes on Jaemin to drink up his every reaction. You two are engrossed in the feeling of each other, so much so that when Haechan opens the bedroom door, you jolt so suddenly and violently that it’s a miracle you don’t bite down on Jaemin.

“Well, well, well,” Haechan drawls, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. You pull off of Jaemin, the action resulting in a loud, wet pop that has heat blazing in your cheeks, and Jaemin stares at Haechan, entirely unbothered. “What do we have here?”

“She was just making up for playing with both of you and not me,” Jaemin hums, still stroking your hair; something about the action is different now, though, more possessive than it was before, and you can’t say the shift in the gesture doesn’t thrill you a bit, your thighs squeezing together of their own accord.

“Not our fault you were too slow to do something about it.” Haechan counters, and Jaemin narrows his eyes.

“Yeah, well, now if you want her to suck you off, you’re either gonna have to wait until I’m done or come join me.”

“Damn, who died and made you the orgy boss?” Haechan grouches, striding closer to you two nonetheless and pushing his sweats down to free his length. You take a break from warming Jaemin’s cock in your mouth to lick up Haechan’s cock and suck on the tip, wiggling your tongue in the slit to elicit a loud swear from Haechan, whose hand flies to the back of your head. “God, what a good little mouth you have,” Haechan praises you, albeit a bit condescendingly, and you hum, content, before Jaemin guides you away from Haechan and back to him. You let your tongue loll out and Jaemin rubs the underside of his cock against it before pushing himself into your mouth with a groan. You wrap your hand around the base of Haechan’s cock and pump slowly to keep him occupied while your mouth is busy, and Haechan exhales loudly through his nose, swearing under his breath.

When you pull off Jaemin and kiss down to his balls, licking and sucking them, Haechan growls enviously and pulls at your hair to get you away from Jaemin and back to him. After a moment of mouthing at Jaemin’s balls and stroking him with your hand, you pull away and look up at Haechan with expectant eyes.

“Come get your pretty face fucked.” He urges, and you drop your jaw and let Haechan guide his length past your lips before he’s thrusting into your mouth with poorly concealed grunts and groans, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

All you can do as he fucks your mouth is whimper and stroke Jaemin’s length more urgently, your now free hand moving between your legs to rub at your clit desperately. Haechan pulls out and taps his cock lazily against both of your cheeks before murmuring, “I think you like getting your mouth fucked.” When you nod, he tsks in disapproval. “Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” You rasp, your voice hoarse.

“Mm, tell me you love it.” He taunts, and you clear your throat in an attempt to regain some of your voice back.

“I love it,” You echo obediently, your voice still raspy, and Jaemin and Haechan coo at you fondly. 

“What a good girl,” Haechan praises.

“Love how she sounds after getting her throat fucked.” Jaemin admires, stroking your cheek, and you preen under the praise before switching over to Jaemin to let him fuck your throat next.

This time, when it’s Jeno who comes in, it comes as less of a shock to you, possibly due to how incredibly occupied your mouth is with two demanding cocks before you.

“Jeno, if you want a blowjob, you’re gonna have to wait,” Haechan grunts, and Jeno waves him off dismissively, moving to kneel behind you and pull your hips back so you’re bent at a bit of an angle, your head closer to Jaemin and Haechan and your ass closer to Jeno. Two large hands pull your shorts down, and Jeno hisses when he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear.

“God, you’re so fucking tempting.” He mutters, and the rustling behind you sends a thrill of excitement down your spine which only doubles when Jeno presses himself against your entrance. He busies himself with coating his length in your arousal, ignoring your whines and the impatient pushing back of your hips into him. 

It’s not until you pull off of Jaemin and turn your head back towards Jeno and hoarsely plead, “Jeno, please,” that he obliges, pushing himself into you slowly. He kneads your asscheeks with heavy hands as he slowly buries himself in you, and your head falls forward onto Haechan as you pant from the overwhelming sensation. 

“Look at her,” Haechan coos, tilting your chin up to see you better and show you off to Jaemin. “So relieved to take cock that she’s drooling.”

“You’re making a mess.” Jaemin points out patronizingly, swiping at the saliva dripping down your chin and regarding it briefly before slowly smearing it over your lips, the subtle yet demeaning gesture sending a wave of arousal through you and making you clench around Jeno.

“Fuck, her pussy just got so tight,” Jeno grunts through gritted teeth, and you let out a weak sob, pressing your hips back onto Jeno while your mind attempts to steady itself once more.

“So big,” You cry out, and Jeno shushes you soothingly, caressing your sides as he starts to rock into you with slow, purposeful thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” He murmurs soothingly, “I know it’s a lot, but look how good you take it.” His praise shoots straight to your head and you find yourself clenching around him again, much to his delight. Bless his patience, because he keeps the same pace for an unbearingly long time to help you adjust to his size, but you desperately need him to go faster.

You’re about to beg for him to speed up, preparing to pull off of Haechan’s length, when Haechan pushes your head down so his cock is sheathed in your throat. Your only breaths come in the short inhales you can manage through your nose and your whining gets increasingly more desperate as Haechan holds you down until you’re clawing at his thighs, adorning the tan skin with angry red streaks and finally earning yourself release.

“Faster,” You gasp when you finally pull off of Haechan, pausing only to glare sharply at the male above you. “Jeno, go faster.”

“Thank fucking God,” He groans before pulling out of you almost to the tip and slamming his hips into you, quickly building up a pace that has involuntary breathless, whiny moans leaving you with every thrust.

“Hae—chan,” You manage to get out, and he looks down at you curiously. “Fuck—you,” You finish before taking Jaemin into your mouth after he taps on your cheek impatiently with the head of his cock.

“Sorry, pretty girl,” He says with a remorseless smile. “Your mouth is just too good.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Jaemin warns you through gritted teeth, and you nod as well as you can, your hands speeding up on both his and Haechan’s cocks, and Jaemin tips his head back with a groan as he releases into your mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m next,” Haechan grunts, and you whimper before switching to take him into your mouth, Jaemin’s cum still on your tongue, and Haechan climaxes, his release mingling with Jaemin’s in your mouth.

“Swallow.” Jaemin urges. “All of it.” You readily oblige and he smiles proudly at you, stroking your chin with his thumb. “Open your mouth for me, baby.” He murmurs, and you do, sticking out your tongue as proof you’ve done as he asked.

“God, that’s so fucking hot.” Haechan groans, dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling you into a heated kiss as Jaemin catches his breath. With Jeno pounding away behind you, you’re more than a little distracted, and Haechan pulls away after sucking on your tongue to shake your head abruptly by the chin to get your attention. “Kiss me like you mean it.” You whine into his mouth when he recaptures your lips in his, now attempting to focus some of your attention on Haechan’s tongue exploring your mouth as he flicks and swirls, eagerly tasting himself and Jaemin on your tongue.

After a moment, Haechan has mercy on you, allowing you to go slack-jawed while he presses kisses to your lips as Jeno fucks you stupid from behind. The sounds of his grunts and your breathy moans fill the room, and Haechan chuckles.

“Jeno’s fucking you so good, isn’t he?” He murmurs sweetly, and you nod, your eyes stinging as tears threaten to spill forth.

“Uh-huh,” You moan, and Haechan coos fondly.

“You just love taking cock, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh–”

“Just our pretty little fucktoy, aren’t you?”

“Mm—uh-huh,” You cry, and Haechan snickers.

“Is that all you can say?”

“Uh-huh,” You gasp, and Haechan pouts at you mockingly.

“Our dumb little fucktoy doesn’t even know how to speak anymore,” He taunts, forcing you to make eye contact by pinching your chin and angling your face towards his. “Isn’t that right?”

“Uh—fuck—uh-huh,” You wail, and the tears finally do spill, streaming down your cheeks freely. Haechan kisses down the tear tracks before connecting your lips in another kiss, his lips wet and salty from the evidence of your crying.

“God, what is it about seeing tears stream down those pretty cheeks that makes me so hard?” He groans, his hand finding his cock and starting to tug at it slowly. You watch in a dazed sort of amazement as he strokes himself back into action before your eyes scrunch shut as your climax approaches. 

“Jeno, please, I’m gonna–” You beg, and Jeno lets out a little grunt of “Yeah?” that has your mind swirling deliriously and you topple over the edge, your walls pulsating around his length as you whimper and sniffle Jeno’s name repeatedly. Jeno’s not far behind, soon slowing his thrusts down as he starts to release into you, only stopping and pulling out when you shudder and swipe behind you weakly. His cum’s just barely started dripping out of you when Haechan kisses your cheek to get your attention. 

When your dazed, glassy eyes manage to focus on his face, Haechan smiles warmly. “On the bed.” He urges you. “I want you to ride me.”

Your muscles all but give out at the notion, but you push through it, clambering gracelessly onto your bed and into Haechan’s waiting lap. Haechan carefully moves all the hair away from your face and cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss as he licks at your bottom lip.

“So pretty,” Haechan purrs against your mouth, and you whimper as he lifts your hips and guides his cock to your entrance, both of you holding your breath as he pushes the thick head of his cock into you. “God, still so fucking tight.” He groans, slowly guiding you down onto his length until he’s bottomed out in you.

“Haechan,” You plead, and he just chuckles, smacking your ass playfully and leaning back against your headboard as he raises his brows expectantly. You lift yourself up slowly before starting to bounce on his cock, involuntary shudders escaping you at the sensation of his length filling you at a new angle.

“Yeah, that’s it,” He grunts, lifting your shirt and kissing down to your chest. He reaches up and presses between your shoulder blades to push your breasts in his face, and he promptly buries his face in your cleavage with a groan, kissing, sucking, and licking. His ministrations on your chest and the feeling of his length moving inside of you overwhelm your senses so much that you don’t notice Haechan sneakily moving your bra out of the way until his lips are wrapped around your nipple, and a sudden moan escapes you at the added sensation.

Despite the burning ache building in your thighs, you rock down on him with every downward motion, grinding on him as you ride him, and his eyes roll back into his head before he refocuses his gaze on you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust and desire.

“Could watch you ride me all day.” Haechan coos from around your nipple before moving to suck at the other one, tugging on the now neglected bud while his tongue swirls around the nipple in his mouth, shifting his gaze up to yours as he flicks your nipple with his tongue in up-and-down movements that have your jaw slackening, desire consuming you as you watch him.

“Does it feel good, pretty girl?” Jaemin asks from beside Haechan, and you blink twice in surprise as your gaze shifts to him, having momentarily forgotten where he went.

“Mhm,” You whine pathetically, and he grins, slowly pumping his cock with his fist.

“Haechan, hurry up, I want her next.” Jaemin hisses through clenched teeth, and you blanch, realizing that you’re far from done. 

“Tongue out,” Haechan urges you, snapping you out of your daze, and you oblige, letting your tongue hang out of your mouth, and Haechan moves his hand to play with your clit, grinning mischievously when you attempt to move away from his touch. “Take it.” He grunts, thumb following your every movement and massaging your clit relentlessly even as you whine and sniffle. “Oh, baby,” Haechan coos sympathetically, gaining your attention again. “You’re drooling everywhere.”

When you move to wipe it, Haechan catches your wrist and brings it back to your joined laps, instead leaning forward and lapping up the saliva that’s dripping down your chin and neck. As he nears your lips, you bring your tongue back into your mouth, jolting when Haechan swats at your ass warningly.

“Keep that tongue out.” He murmurs, and you stick it out again, an open-mouthed whimper escaping you when Haechan flicks at your tongue with his before sucking on it.

“Haechan, I’m close,” You warn him in a shaky voice, and he nods, moving his hips under you to meet your movements.

“Me too, pretty girl.” He assures you, and your head drops forward to rest on his shoulder as your climax hits and a series of whiny, breathy moans spill from you. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He moans, his head falling back onto your headboard as he releases inside of you. “What a mess,” Haechan chuckles, and at first you think he’s talking about you, but when his hand slips between your legs to pull out and feel your almost impossibly slick folds, he groans and pulls his now glistening fingers back, regarding them curiously.

“Haechan?” You mumble, confused, and he flicks his gaze up to your face before he smiles devilishly and shuffles down the bed so he can lie down on his back.

“Come on,” Jaemin groans, his head thumping back onto the pillow, and Haechan just shoots him an unbothered look.

“Come here,” Haechan grunts, pulling your hips towards his face, and you shuffle up as slowly as possible, trying to buy yourself time to recover from your climax. Haechan, however, is having none of it, and shuffles down even more to meet you where you’re at, thumbs eagerly spreading your folds apart and inspecting your core as heat blazes in your cheeks.

“God, what a pretty little pussy you have.” Haechan admires you loudly.

“Tastes good, too.” Jeno adds on, shooting you a wink, and Haechan chuckles.

“Oh, yeah? Guess I get to see for myself.” He mutters under his breath before removing his thumbs from your core and leaning up to press a kiss to your pussy lips, groaning and repeating the action again and again for a longer time each kiss before his tongue parts your lips and swipes up your pussy from your entrance to the underside of your clit. An abrupt whine escapes you and your thighs give out slightly, dropping you further down onto his mouth. His hands reach up to grab your thighs, urging you all the way down on his face, while he laps at your overly sensitive clit with no regard for how sensitive you are, only chuckling when you can only choke out moans with teary eyes. 

Alternating between sucking and lapping at your clit and folds, Haechan groans in ecstasy as he pulls you down harder onto his face, guiding your hips to rock back and forth on his tongue. “Fuck, Jeno, you weren’t kidding,” Haechan pants when he takes a moment to breathe before returning to his task. “Tastes so fuckin’ good,” He mumbles, eyes wild in their hungry gaze up at you, and his mouth seals around your clit without any further words. You rock your hips against his tongue as quickly as you can, your hips bucking as it’s all somehow too much and yet not enough. The salvation you were looking for comes when Haechan stiffens his tongue to a point and breaches your entrance, flicking inside of you. 

“Oh, my God,” You cry, your body moving of its own accord as you start to bounce up and down slightly, helping Haechan tongue-fuck you. “Oh, fuck, Haechan—just like that—” 

He pulls his tongue out for a moment, a disappointed whimper slipping from your lips, before urging you, “Beg for it.” He stares up at you with intense eyes alight with challenge, and you can practically feel the fight leaving your body.

“Please!” You give in immediately, and Haechan’s brows fly up, almost disappearing into his hairline, as you continue to beg. “Haechan, please make me cum, please, please, please–”

“Fuck, baby,” He groans, his arms tightening around your thighs almost painfully as he holds you to his mouth, mumbling in an almost delirious state, “Anything you want, fuck, I’ll give you everything.” His tongue slips into you again and his nose rubs against your clit, making tears of relief streak down your face as the pleasure consumes you and your climax gets deliciously close.

“Don’t stop–” You pant, your last word cutting off as you hit your peak and your eyes force themselves shut, bliss overtaking your body in warm waves while your abdomen tenses and you curl in on yourself. 

When you reopen your eyes, Jeno’s situated himself beside Haechan, watching you intently as he strokes himself slowly, and you lean forward to take Jeno’s length into your mouth, the taste of yourself still faintly on him as you bob your head up and down his length at a pace slightly faster than the leisurely pace he’d set for himself just a moment ago. 

As you lean forward, you lift your hips off of Haechan, only to be yanked back down by the male beneath you, who says, “Get back down here; I’m not done with you yet,” before he promptly buries his face in your core once more. 

Pushing two fingers into you, Haechan hooks his fingers into your g-spot and starts to finger-fuck you diligently, his tongue rolling over and lapping at your clit even as you whine around Jeno’s length and attempt to squirm away.

When your eyes squeeze shut, tears forcing their way through the minuscule space, Jeno cups your cheek, making you open your eyes to look at him.

“Keep your eyes open, baby; look at me.” Jeno urges gently, smiling when you oblige and resume bobbing your head up and down his length. When you push through the discomfort and the ache in your jaw to take his length all the way in your mouth and swallow around his cock, Jeno hisses appreciatively, stroking your hair. “That’s good, baby, that’s so good; keep on doing that.” You hum happily, dizzy with all the praise and pleasure, and Jeno’s hips buck upwards into your mouth, making you choke briefly around him, and that’s all it takes for Jeno to lose it, the male shuddering as he releases down your throat. You swallow without dwelling on the taste and look up at Jeno who looks like he would have hearts in his eyes if you were all in a cartoon.

Haechan, not one to be ignored, presses the pad of his thumb into your clit roughly to regain your attention and you let out a sudden cry, returning your attention to him.

“Haechan, that’s sensitive!”

“Mm, too bad.” He mumbles, losing himself in the taste of you once more. “You said ‘Don’t stop,’ so I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

“That’s not what I meant—oh, shit, I’m gonna–” You gasp, and he sucks and licks determinedly at your clit, lapping his wide, thick tongue over the sensitive fleshy button over and over until you’re climaxing with a loud cry of Haechan’s name, your body trembling as you attempt to keep holding yourself up.

“That’s it,” Haechan mumbles, lost in his desires. When you attempt for a second time to get up, he practically snatches you down, nuzzling his nose between your folds to bump against your clit and make you jolt. “I could do this for hours.”

“Please don’t,” You beg, and Jaemin gestures for you to come to him where he lies beside Haechan, his cock hard against his stomach. You blanch at the realization that they expect you to come again, but there’s no time for dwelling on that, as Jaemin takes your hand and pulls you away from Haechan.

“Stop hogging her; you had your turn!” Jaemin grouches, gingerly lying you down on the bed and hovering on top of you. He kisses you slowly, gently nudging your legs apart to lie between them. He smiles against your lips when you moan softly, arching your back and pushing your chest into his. “Yeah? Is that where you want me?” He teases lightly, trailing wet kisses down your neck to your chest, pushing your shirt up over your chest again and leaning in so he can latch his lips onto your nipple, sucking and licking the bud as your eyelids flutter. “Mm, you’re so cute,” He mumbles fondly around your breast, sponging wet kisses from your left breast to your right, where he repeats his ministrations. In a daze from the sudden gentle treatment, you only manage to whimper quietly when he nudges your legs further apart.

“You’re being so nice to me,” You say tiredly through a smile, and Jaemin looks up at you with an amused grin from where he’s watching the head of his cock move along your folds, the tip glistening with a mix of your arousal, Haechan’s saliva, and Jeno’s and Haechan’s cum.

“Of course I am,” He replies simply, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips before you feel his cock pushing past your entrance. “Gotta treat the pretty girl like a princess before I fuck her like a doll, right?”

“Oh, shit,” You mutter, and he chuckles darkly before pushing himself all the way inside of you, groaning at the sensation of your walls wrapped tight around him.

“So fucking wet, fuck—I could slip right out,” He taunts, and all you can do is sniffle as he pulls out and snaps his hips back into yours. You ignore the screaming ache of your muscles as you wrap your legs around him, and he snickers derisively, looking down at you. “You don’t want that, do you, pretty baby?”

“No—” You start, but Jaemin covers your mouth with his hand, your lips pressed to his palm as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“No, you don’t,” Jaemin coos. “You want me nice and deep in this pretty pussy, huh?” When you let out a muffled cry and nod, he kisses your cheek sweetly as he drives his hips into you. “You really do have such a pretty pussy, baby; can’t believe you let those two dolts play with it before me.” You turn to look at the other two males, but Jaemin stops you by clamping his hand down harder on your mouth and using his grip to keep your head in place. “Ah, ah, ah—focus on me. They’re not here right now. It’s just you and me right now, and I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

“Jaemin–” You keen into his hand, canting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, and he coos patronizingly at you, moving his hand away from your mouth and returning his attention to thrusting inside of you.

“Gonna fuck this greedy pussy so full of cum,” He groans, gripping your hips with an almost bruising tightness, and you stutter out a gasp, making Jaemin look down at you with a grin. “That’s what you are, right? Greedy?”

“Y-Yes,” You pant, and he smirks.

“Say it.”

“I’m greedy,” You all but wail as fresh tears spill down your cheeks. 

“That’s right, pretty girl. You’re greedy, and this greedy little pussy just loves being full of cock, doesn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, it does!” You reply in a desperate attempt to make him have mercy on you. “Jaemin, I think I’m close–”

“Oh, yeah? What should you say when I let you cum?” He presses, and you sob, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you try to wrack your empty brain for the answer.

“Th-Thank you?” You try, and could just faint with relief when he shoots you a pleased grin.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaemin confirms proudly, and, as if rewarding you, reaches between you two to massage tight circles into your clit. “You gonna cream my cock? Two guys weren’t enough? You just needed three loads crammed in this tight fucking pussy, huh? It’s okay, princess; Nana’s got a nice, big load for you.” Jaemin grunts, his words punctuated with his thrusts, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, your cries of pleasure only getting louder and more desperate as your climax approaches.

“Fill me, Jaemin,” You beg breathlessly, nails clawing at his back as your peak hits and your eyes slide shut in ecstasy, practically sobbing, “Thank you,” as your vision gets spotty. He hisses in a mix of pain and pleasure and speeds up to an almost brutal pace before letting out a loud moan and burying himself in you entirely, pumping his release into you. He stays inside of you for a couple moments longer, his length twitching as your walls clench and flex around him, before slowly pulling out of you and sitting back to watch as his cum slowly drips from your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” He pants, and you can’t even bring yourself to respond yet, your chest still heaving from your own climax. He collapses on top of you unceremoniously, sending an “Oof!” whooshing out of your lungs before chuckling out an apology and wiggling himself between you and Haechan, much to the latter’s dismay.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” You say with a surprised laugh, and Haechan stops glaring at Jaemin to shrug, sporting a mischievous little grin.

“I figure it was just a matter of time.” He muses, and Jeno mutters something that sounds like an agreement, shuffling closer to you and pressing his face between your neck and shoulder. Jaemin mirrors Jeno’s actions on your other side, slinging his arm over you and pulling you closer to him. When Haechan starts to protest, Jaemin shushes him abruptly.

“You got to hook up with her three times; you can handle not lying next to her.”

“But-”

“You can cuddle Jeno.” Jaemin finishes, and, on cue, Jeno lifts his arm up to accept Haechan’s attempt to hold him. Haechan huffs and puffs and moans and groans but ultimately climbs over you, Jaemin, and Jeno (ignoring everyone’s protests) and settles in beside Jeno, snuggling up to the larger male with a small sigh.

“Not like I wanted to cuddle her or anything,” Haechan mutters bitterly from beside Jeno, and you tut sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry, Haechan,” You say sincerely, reaching over Jaemin somewhat awkwardly and finding Haechan’s hand to squeeze it gently. He squeezes back and laces his fingers with yours, giving you the impression that he’s not letting go anytime soon. “You guys do know we have to be dressed and not-suspicious by tomorrow morning, right? Mark and Chaewon are gonna be riding in probably by the afternoon, and they don’t need to know what happened here.” You sit up slightly to inform them, but Haechan groans in protest and pulls you back down, pressing his lips to your hand to dot lazy kisses along the skin.

“We know, just—let us relax for a bit?” Jeno muffles his response against your collarbone, his fingers tentatively lacing through the fingers on your free hand. 

“Okay…” You mumble skeptically.

“Don’t worry, pretty,” Jaemin pipes up, accompanying his words with a reassuring squeeze of your hip. “What happened here will be our little secret.”

“Thanks,” You exhale in relief, and they all mumble variations of “you’re welcome” before your eyelids start to droop and you settle into your spot to drift off to sleep.

༄ i hope you enjoyed!! please leave feedback if you did!!

tips are appreciated!! VENMO | CASHAPP | KO-FI | WISHLIST

[creature-wizard]

Unlike the narrative in Michelle Remembers, which was obviously influenced by modern horror media rather than any real occult practice, The Satan Seller is obviously more informed by real occult practices. In my opinion there's just enough knowledge in here to make it slightly plausible. Warnke's narrative references things 20th century occultists and witches were actually into - astrology, lighting candles while performing spells, grinding herbs together, appropriating Hebrew (not that Warnke is aware of that being a bad thing), the phrase "so mote it be," and similar.

If this guy had been content to claim that he'd fallen in with a bunch of young edgelords in college, I think he could have had a pretty plausible narrative. But Mike Warnke was not content to claim anything so mundane, oh no.

He claims that he was basically doing all of the drugs while he was in college and was struggling financially to support his drug habit (note that his former college friends called bullshit on this), and at this time this guy named Dean Armstrong got him into Satanism because he saw a potential for greatness in this drug-addicted college student who got fired from his part-time job for stealing money from his place of employment.

Dean basically assures him that he doesn't have to worry about money anymore because whatever he wants, the Satanists will give him. And they really go all-out spoiling this guy, buying his favorite kind of furniture without him even asking:

A long, low, oxblood leather couch replaced the sagging old brown horsehair one, and there were two sets of bookshelves full of books beneath the windowsill where there had been a rickety scarred table. The biggest surprise was on the floor—two chicks sitting on a white rug.

“Oh, wow,” was all I could think of to say. “Did you two do all this since I left for the meeting?” I went over and sat on the soft couch, feeling the smoothness of the leather. “Who knew the type of furniture I like?” In my casual conversations, I probably had mentioned being attracted to certain types of furnishings, colors, etc. But I could not help thinking of Satan’s power, and my experience with the wishing smoke which Teresa had concocted for me.

The Satanists spare no expense buying this guy all kinds of fancy swag:

The next week just flew by, with the girls helping me pick out a new wardrobe of clothes and a complete set of china and silverware. The biggest acquisition of our shopping trips was a stereo set which had everything, I mean, everything. The manager of the store evidently was on the fringes of the “movement” and said whatever I chose was mine. “Get what you want. Don’t settle for second-best, Mike,” he said. “If I don’t have it here, I'll put it on order.” He had what I wanted, and it was delivered that same day.

By the way, this kind of casual misogyny is all over the book so far. He's always referring to women as "chicks" and describes treating women in really gross, disrespectful ways without showing the slightest hint of remorse. Also, the "wishing smoke" he refers to? He wished that Theresa would beg him for sex, and it very nearly worked (according to him). Theresa, in his narrative, basically brushed this off with "it's fine, you didn't know any better, you didn't really believe in the power of Satan."

Just... eew?

Oh, and he tells a wild story that supposedly demonstrates the power of demons over the physical world:

The day before the first meeting at which I would preside, I still felt touchy about how to call on those demonic spirits. I had already read one case where two jokers had been fooling around and had stood in the wrong part of the circle, with their toes on the pentagram, and the demons had crushed them to death. Their rib cages had caved in like balsa wood under an elephant’s foot. Exactly the same thing had happened to both of them. They were twins in death.

Honestly? The dude's repeating a whole lot of which hunt rhetoric in this story, but as a general rule even the witch hunters of Europe didn't make claims this wild.

I am quite confident that what all of this amounts to is Mike Warnke's personal twisted power fantasy. In the narrative, he's being lavishly spoiled and set up to become this super important Satanic leader for absolutely no good reason. He's basically this egomaniacal nobody who shows every sign of being a liability in the long-term, but they treat him like he's the shit.

If Mike Warnke had been born a few decades later, he'd have probably been writing fanfiction about seducing Black Widow as Doctor Doom or something.

[silverstreaksinthesky]

seeking beta readers for damen/laurent wedding fic

hello, general internet void! i have written a ~26k ~37k post-canon damen/laurent fic that i like very much and am very proud of and have polished up as far as i can on my own, so now i need to get some new eyes on it — preferably grammatically inclined ones that can help me solve its problems, but i will also accept help in just identifying them

the premise is as follows:

When Laurent set out to plan a royal wedding between two 1) men, who are 2) active ruling kings, of 3) tenuously peaceful lands, with 4) widely-known reasons to have killed, or possibly 5) still kill each other, he expected the process to come with some difficulties.

He did not expect getting his perpetually amorous new husband aroused on their wedding night to be the hardest of them.

(Or: ‘Not in front of the court,' said Laurent, as if this were unspeakably foolish, 'in front of the Council.’)

it’s a character study of laurent — half political nuances, half explicit sex (often at the same time) — with a lot of Worldbuilding and Emotions and also plenty of Absurdity

if that sounds like something you’d enjoy reading (and spotting issues with, otherwise just wait a week lol), shoot me a dm and i’ll link you to the google doc! also reblog or tell a writerly friend — i want to post it to ao3 by july 19th, and ideally i’d like to get at least five people to weigh in on which adjective works better here, whether that sentence there needs to be broken up, and what hilarious mishap could have kept damen in ios for two days longer than he had planned on. (examples of prose and tone under the cut if you’re not sure)

EDIT: if you’re seeing this in october or later, i sliiiightly overestimated my abilities, but fear not, i am still working on the fic and it is actually very close to being done, and i am very excited about it, and i will have it out by the end of 2022 i promise

(EDIT in november 2023: HAHAHA lol) (no but this time i’m actually for sure close)

(and actually would still welcome some new betas that haven’t already participated in a twelve-comment thread debating the merits of a single word and could read the new and improved version with fresh eyes lol, hit me up if you wanna join the chaos, we had a lot of fun)

for reference, here is an example of a paragraph that i am happy with:

All of which was to say, he spent plenty of time away from the duties traditionally prescribed to him as King of Vere, but leisure time — true leisure, not traveling or spying or deceiving innocent merchants into bringing down slave smuggling operations — was rare, and half the time he ended up using it as an excuse to think strategy in peace anyway.

and here is one where the rhythm doesn’t feel quite right yet:

Damen remained leaning against the wall, watching Laurent as he opened every cupboard, peeked into the bath, climbed onto a rickety chair to see over the top panel of the bed. When he ventured onto the balcony to check the walls above it and bent over the railing, Damen said, “You should put a mirror on a stick so you can check there’s nobody on the balcony below ours.”

and here is one where i just need help coming up with some details:

In itself, the sight of kings kissing in the hallways was not very unusual at Marlas; despite the many meetings they shared, much of their days were spent apart, attending to [some matter or another]. (A few months after relocating to Delfeur, even unabashedly smitten Damen had had to admit that having two kings present for [something ridiculously minor] was overkill at best and negligence at worst.)

[uraniumwriting]

I’m a Copyeditor for a Reason

For the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt “Reporting the Scoop”

Caspian is forced to be a reporter for a day. He hates it. (CW for minor reference to past abuse)

~~~~~~~~

There was a reason I didn’t want to be an actual reporter for the newspaper.

Yes, the world of newspapers was fascinating to me. Yes, working at a newspaper meant I could get information quicker than most people could, information that could keep me and my friends safe.

But I had my own personal experiences with a reporter for a Zarothe newspaper. And I refused to put myself in a spot where I would have to do a fraction of what he did to me.

So, a spot at The Harbor as a copyeditor was fine enough for me. I could get my information. I could surround myself with the people I had been so enthralled by from afar. And, even better, I could do all of it locked in a stuffy office all day, away from the pressure to get the latest scoop.

Looking back at my training when I was hired, though, I should’ve expected I would one day get thrown into the metaphorical deep end.

“Hey, we need you outta your desk today.” My boss, Friderik Hansen, tossed a paper onto my small desk without even looking at me. “Won’t be bad. Just some annoying little speech we need a writeup on.”

“Me?” It was a stupid answer. I shook my head at myself. “I mean, I’ll do my best, but what about—”

Hansen gave me a dismissive wave. “It’ll be a late night. But it’s your ticket to move up. Don’t blow it.”

Thought I made it clear I’m perfectly fine here, I thought, but I still picked up the piece of paper.

Immediately, I recognized the name on the paper. The Rickety Octopus. It was a spot on the docks near the tavern where Melandra worked, though from what I’ve heard, it was a shady place that was incredibly strict about who it took in, both as employees and customers.

“What kind of speech would be happening here?” My mind went to the random speeches people would give around the docks, which usually boiled down to terrible plans disguised as attempts to help people.

“Don’t know.” Hansen was already walking away. “That’s for you to find out. Good luck, boy.”

For some reason, I had a feeling he didn’t actually know my name.

Knowing I didn’t have much of a choice, I stood from my desk and grabbed my bag and a notepad. I still had plenty of editing to do for the next day’s paper, but I knew better than to disobey an order.

Even if I wouldn’t be physically harmed, my pride would be harmed if I couldn’t manage to hold the job.

The only other copyeditor in the room, a teenage girl named Rose who took the job to support her injured father, shot me an apologetic look.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I said. “Just get as much work done as possible. I’ll try to be back quick enough to get my part done and make sure you can get back to your folks for dinner.”

And with that, I hurried out the door and down to the docks.

What greeted me there was the sight of a man beaten bloody and a lot of unhappy people. Pulling out my notepad and clutching it tightly, I pushed my way through the crowd and listened for any hints in passing conversation.

“What a freak,” a sailor said. “Who would just attack someone like that?”

I pushed my way closer to the front of the crowd.

“The guy probably deserved it,” a woman carrying a large sack of grain said. “People are always here preaching about their morals and all that.”

I wanted to agree with her, but I had to see for myself.

When I got to the front, though, I was stopped by a barricade of Enforcers. They were from different establishments, as seen by the differences in their uniforms, but I quickly recognized the rough, beige canvas uniforms from Melandra’s place for work.

The Enforcers all held wooden poles, which they held out to create a barrier. To give some credit to the crowd, they didn’t really test the Enforcers’ patience.

Being the security detail for a place as exposed as the docks, the Enforcers were known for their lack of patience, and their brutality.

The bloody man behind the Enforcers’ barrier slowly staggered to his feet and looked around. He didn’t wear fancy clothes or have the air of someone who was at the docks to push a moral agenda. In fact, his clothes looked more like a standard government uniform.

“Sir, are you all right?” I asked. A dead government worker on the docks certainly was a story, but it wasn’t one I would’ve liked to report.

“I—” the man stammered. Slowly, he looked over at me, as if he couldn’t quite tell where I was.

“Do you need anything?” I stepped forward, careful not to get too close to the barrier.

Of course, I should’ve been gathering as much information as possible, to get the juiciest story possible. But I chose not to.

“Water?” He walked toward me.

Before he could get to me, though, an Enforcer with the beige canvas uniform put their hand on his shoulder. The dragon mask the Enforcer wore was familiar, and I forced myself to suppress my smile.

Melandra.

Impulsively, I scribbled down some of my information on my notepad, ripped the sheet out, and tried to hand it to him. It was a gamble, but then at least I could say I tried to get some information.

“Get yourself taken care of,” I said. “Then, if you want, we can talk.”

Surprisingly, the man nodded and took the sheet from me. It was no guarantee he would show up, but it was a start.

Then, he was led away, and the crowd slowly dispersed.

At least I’ll get back quickly, I thought. I turned to head back to the office.

But I wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Fancy seeing you here,” someone far too familiar whispered in my ear.

A shiver ran down my spine while a hand trailed up it.

“I’m not speaking to you.” I tried to keep my tone as even as possible.

Before I could run away, though, my path was blocked, and I had to look into the handsome blue eyes of the man I once thought I was in love with, Xavier.

“I think we need to talk, though,” he said. “First of all, what are you doing, acting like a reporter?”

“Ask my boss about that.” I tore my gaze away from him. It would be the only way I could survive the conversation.

“Eden?” Xavier tilted his head almost innocently.

“No.”

“Well, then, that makes this interesting.” He cupped my cheek with his hand and forced me to look at him. “Maybe we should take some time to catch up. Where are you working?”

“Like I’d tell you that,” I snarled.

As far as I knew, Xavier worked at a rival newspaper, called The Tower City Times. Though, the last time I saw him was long before I even left Eden’s influence to be in the city full-time.

“I’m just curious.” Xavier took a step closer to me, and my heart skipped a beat. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

A warmth had been building in my chest, but it melted away at those words.

“You already have.” This time, I got the courage to shove him away from me. I shut my notepad, even though there was nothing important written in it (just my information and some notes from other work-related things). “So, goodbye.”

He still tried to block my way, though. “Cas, you have to hear me out. That wasn’t what you like to think it was. I love—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I pushed my way past him, though tears stung the corners of my eyes. “Goodbye.”

Though Xavier didn’t say another word, he still did something to piss me off.

He stole my notepad and ran off.

For about a block and a half, I was stupid enough to run after him. But luckily for me, Xavier was faster than I was, and I lost sight of him.

Standing and waiting to catch my breath, though, I had a realization.

He worked for a rival newspaper. He just stole my notepad, likely in an attempt to get the scoop on the story before I could.

I grinned.

Hansen would love to hear about this.

[audioaujom]

Sam and Sebastian Explore the Mines

Stardew Hub, < prev, next >

I know I write with these two a lot but I think they’re silly lil best friends and making them make questionable choices makes my heart happy. This time they explore a little deeper into the mines than they can handle, so whump and comfort ensues. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2043

Chapter TWs: Mild Blood and Injury, Violence

--

“You sure this is a good idea?” Sebastian asked cautiously, staring at the mine’s entrance with an incredibly eager Sam by his side.

“Totally!” Sam answered immediately, not nearly as hesitant as his friend as he excitedly bounced between his feet. “The farmer said they cleared out most of the higher levels of all the bad stuff, and as long as we watch our backs it's safe.”

Sebastian frowned, his stomach tangled into nervous knots. “That's what the swords are for?” 

“They gave me some tips!” Sam cheered affirmatively, unstrapping both weapons from his back and holding one—a sharp blade made of dark glittering stone—out towards Sebastian. “Here's yours.”

“Oh.” Taking the sword gratefully, Sebastian tested its balance in his hands before sarcastically remarking, “I feel so safe.”

“Watch this.” Sam ignored the comment, holding his own blade out and spinning it by the handle, before starting to randomly slash it through the air.

“Stop playing with that!” Sebastian scolded, strapping his sword to his hip for easy access.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m good now.” Sheepish, Sam put his sword away as well, before looking to Sebastian hopefully. “Anyway, you ready?”

“I guess.” Sebastian sighed, still nervous but feeling a little better as he followed Sam through the entrance and towards a small, rickety elevator on the far wall. “I have always wanted to see what was down here.”

“Then off we go!” 

Despite Sebastian’s many objections, they took the elevator down to the tenth floor, getting off with flashlights in hand. Somehow, natural light still filtered in, wet spots on the stone glittering in the low light as the two carefully hunted around to see what they could find. Sam carried the only pickaxe, using it to smash open rocks that got in their way and uncover hidden ladders that led down to floors below.

It was on the eleventh or twelfth level after Sam had managed to kill a strange crab creature that they finally seemed to be finding interesting things, Sebastian kneeling down behind a cluster of stones as a flash of white crystal caught his eye.

“Whoa, quartz.” He commented aloud, using the edge of his sword to knock a section loose so he could slip it into the bag he’d prepared for their adventure. “There really is a lot of cool stuff down here.”

“Told ya!” Sam cheered from nearby, Sebastian looking up as he heard Sam break another large rock. “Awesome! I think I found a geode!”

“Yeah. I saw the farmer carting stuff like that to Clint’s last week.” Sebastian commented as he jogged over to Sam, admiring the spherical rock in his friend’s hands. “Maybe if you take it to him he could help you crack it open.”

“So cool!” Sam was bouncing again, so excited he could barely contain himself as Sebastian watched with a smile. “This is so awesome. This is so cool. I’m so glad you came down with me.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

After storing away their respective new items and finding the next ladder, it was no trouble at all for them to clear several more levels—grabbing crystals, gems, and ores as they made their way down. They encountered a few bugs, another crab, and one slime creature that the two managed to fend off, neither of them realizing quite how deep they’d gone until they hit level 30—a completely empty floor save for the elevator and a ladder leading all the way back up to the top.

“Hey, um, I think we should stop here.” Sebastian suggested awkwardly, glancing down the other ladder hole that led into complete darkness below. The tangled mess of nerves in his stomach that had gone away was back, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

Something down there was bad news.

“C’mon, we haven’t run into any real trouble so far.” Sam didn’t seem to share any of Sebastian’s concerns, pickaxe up on one shoulder and one foot already on the top rung. “What harm could a few more levels do?” 

“It’s getting late…” Sebastian tried, checking his phone for the time and realizing they were deep enough underground that they no longer had any service. “Besides, we’re so far down… if something really happens, we’re on our own.”

Sam deflated, eyes going wide to plead, “But… Please?” 

Sebastian hesitated, before finally caving with an anxious, “Fine. But only a few more. To the next elevator level. Then we’re going home, okay?”

“Yes!! Okay, awesome, sounds good!” Sam grinned widely, quickly disappearing down the ladder happily. “Down we go!”

Sebastian waited until Sam called up that it was safe to go down the ladder, a chill creeping up his back from the way the light from the hole seemed to be immediately sucked away by the darkness surrounding them. 

He pulled his flashlight out as soon as he hit the bottom, his beam roaming around the darkened stone walls as Sam walked around with a wide smile. “Oh man, is that iron?” 

“I have a really bad feeling about this, Sam.” Sebastian shook his head, refusing to look around the ominous floor. “We should head back.”

“But we just got here!” Sam whined, his pout barely visible as he stood at the far reaches of Sebastian’s light. “Just a little more exploring? Please? I promise we’ll leave if something happens.”

“Okay, fine, but… let’s hurry.” Sebastian hesitantly agreed, cursing every time he jumped as water dropped to the floor or cold air gusted in from some crack in the walls.

His nervousness ended up paying off as he ran ahead to stop Sam, hearing what sounded like rocks crumbling and scraping together from up ahead.

“Wait, hold on a minute.”

Sam instantly stopped at the warning, listening for the noise as Sebastian gestured for him to do so. The two stood stock still in the not quite silence for a long moment, before they raised their flashlights at the same time to aim straight into the glinting eyes of a monster.

A loose conglomerate of stone was shambling towards them, misshapen glowing holes for eyes between the barely held-together stones locked onto the boys as its approximations of legs carried it forward. 

“Oh shit! What the fuck is that?!” Sam exclaimed, stumbling back in surprise as a moss-covered arm reached out for him. 

“Sam, look out!” Sebastian backed away, getting his sword out as he noticed it preparing to launch itself forward at his friend. Sam heard him but only continued trying to back away, not quite moving fast enough to avoid the monster as it collided with him, hard. “Sam!”

Sam fell backwards onto the floor of the cave, the monster on top of him as they skidded a little. Sebastian instantly ran over to them, sword out as he swung for the monster and Sam tried to push it off him. A return swipe from the monster’s weirdly sharp rock claws snagged onto Sebastian’s leg, him doing his best to ignore the pain as he cut the monster clean in two with a few more slashes.

In an instant everything was over, Sebastian awkwardly crumpled on the floor next to Sam, both of them bleeding as they frantically tried to catch their breath.

“You okay?” Sebastian asked after a moment, putting his sword away and trying to get to his feet.

“Are you?” Sam asked in return, Sebastian rolling his eyes as he then helped Sam up by slinging his arm over his shoulders.

“Whatever.” Sebastian half-walked/half-dragged Sam back to the ladder, letting his friend go first just in case he lost his balance. “We’re both breathing, so that’s enough for now.”

The two made it up the ladder rather slowly, then collapsing into the elevator that took them back up to the first floor. It wasn’t much of a struggle to get back outside, using each other for support.

“You're an idiot.” Sebastian chastised as soon as the two were out of the mines, Sam leaning more and more on him by the minute. His head was bleeding pretty badly, along with several scratches up his arms and on his chest.

“Yup. That’s me!” Sam exclaimed happily, his feet catching on each other as he tripped and nearly fell over.

“You must've hit your head harder than I thought.” Sebastian groaned, barely managing to keep them both upright. “That’s not a compliment, Sam.”

“Mhm. Sounds good.” Sam nodded, now looking as if he was about to drift off to sleep.

“Oh boy.” Sebastian sighed heavily, elbowing Sam lightly to try and keep him awake as they walked. 

The trek down the hill to Sebastian’s house was thankfully short, though it took them several minutes longer than usual to finally burst through the front door—where they took a very confused Robin at the front desk by surprise.

“Hey, mom, we need—!” 

“Oh god!” Robin ran out to greet them, hands nervously flitting in the air around both of them. “I'll go get the med kit, you lie him down on the couch.”  She instructed, running out of the room with a yelled, “Maru!”

“Yeah? What’s—?” Maru’s head poked out into the hall as Sebastian helped Sam to the living room, setting him down on the couch before then collapsing into a nearby chair. “Oh man, what did you idiots do now?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, relieved to be off his feet but not quite taking his attention off of a delirious Sam. “Yes, we’re dumb. Save the scolding for after.” 

“Don't let him fall asleep until we can assess the damage to his head.” Maru told Sebastian, running out to go get her own supplies.

“Got it.” 

The two women came back together pretty quickly, Maru kneeling beside Sam as Robin came over to Sebastian.

“Here.” Robin opened her much smaller kit and looked at Sebastian expectantly. “Now let me see your leg.”

“Mom, I’m fine, it’s Sam who—” Sebastian tried to protest, only for Robin to gently shush him and push his tattered pant leg up out of the way.

“Isn’t going anywhere.” She smiled gently, digging through the med kit and grabbing a rag to start cleaning off his leg. “You're hurt too, and Maru can handle Sam. Just let me do this.”

“...okay.” 

Half an hour later had Sebastian’s leg bandaged up good as new and Sam peacefully—and safely—sleeping on the living room’s couch, Maru back in her room while Robin and Sebastian sat nearby and talked in hushed tones so as not to wake the sleeping boy.

“What were you two thinking?” Robin demanded, worry cutting the edge of anger to her voice.

“We just… went a little too deep. Lost track of where we were and the time.” Sebastian explained evasively, not wanting to seem like Sam was at fault for what had happened to them both. “Sorry.”

“I’m not mad.” She sighed, grabbing Sebastian’s hands and squeezing them. “Really, I just… what if something worse had happened? Did you tell anyone you were going down there?”

Sebastian thought for a minute, watching Robin’s face fall the longer he took to answer. “I think Sam told the farmer what we were doing.” 

“That’s a relief, actually, considering how often they’re down there.” There was some relief in the breath she let out, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to scold, “But that doesn’t mean what you did was safe.”

“I know, mom.”

“I know you know.” She squeezed his hands again before letting go to rub at her face. “And I know you know I have to say it. I was just so worried when I saw you boys come in here all bloody…”

“Sorry.” Sebastian apologized, reaching forward to pull her hands from her face with an apologetic smile. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it will.” Robin smiled fondly back at him, shaking her head. “And as long as you boys can make it here, I’ll be here to patch you up every time. Just be more careful next time.”

“...yeah, we will.” Sebastian settled back into the chair he was sitting in, Robin carefully setting a blanket over him so he didn’t have to get up. “Thanks.”

“For now just get some rest. I’ll wake you in the morning for breakfast.”

[oldestenemy]

through another lens ch. 10 - an offer of aid

Read the whole fic here <3

“Did you know?” Michael asks as they make their way back down rickety steps into the cave, hoping Marko will continue the streak of actually answering his questions. “That first night—when I drank—was that because of Max?”

Marko looks back over his shoulder, no trace of the usual lightness to his expression. “No.” It’s surprisingly straightforward, “We knew by the bridge, a couple nights later, but you were still meant for Star.”

Meant for—

“She was supposed to kill me.” Michael doesn’t phrase it like a question, though it almost comes out that way. “The night I came back.”

“Yeah, you were the first person she’d taken half an interest in since joining us—and she’s been getting pretty weak the last month or so—David was getting impatient, plus he thought Max’s plan was stupid—and none of us were keen on watching her starve to death. Two birds one stone.”

Michael wonders briefly how long that starvation would take. How much worse Star must feel than he had. How long had she been with the lost boys? Very suddenly he feels like a coward for having given in so easily.

It must be obvious where his mind has gone, because Marko adds: “Don’t beat yourself up about any of it, Star’s got more guts and resolve than all of us combined—and she’s near as stubborn as David. It’s why they get at each others throats so often.”

They’ve returned to a visibly empty hotel lobby. Star and Laddie must be around somewhere—but it sure seems like nobody else is. Marko climbs up into the rafters in a corner where his pigeons—his pigeons? are they his? are pigeons domesticated?—seem to nest.

“Where is David, anyway?” He hadn’t said anything to indicate he was leaving. Though… to be fair it’s possible he needed to hunt after—well, it doesn’t matter. That was probably it.

“Went to see Max, half to suck up and apologize for your attitude earlier, and half to see what the plan is going to be for your mom and brother.” Marko replies, “Max might be willing to tell him now that you’re officially part of the family—” There is a note of obvious disdain in his voice, “—and it would give an idea of how much time we have.”

“Not a lot.” Michael mumbles, “My brother and a couple of his friends have some crackpot idea of going after him in daylight.”

There is a sudden flurry of movement as Marko sends a pigeon out of his hands and drops back to the main level. “They what!”

“I tried to talk him out of it all night—best promise I got was a couple of days.”

~*~

“Star?”

Michael’s found her alone in one of the side rooms, thumbing through what appears to be a journal or a dairy given the handwritten contents. It looks like she’s been crying—shit he isn’t, entirely in a headspace to deal with that. But he made the choice to go looking.

She looks up at him and it’s a little startling to see how much anger there is behind those eyes. “I was hoping you would help us—free us—not fall right in with David and the others.”

Michael can’t help it, he barks out a laugh. “And your bright idea to do that was to fuck me instead of answering any of my questions?”

“And what was I supposed to say!” Star snaps back, “Michael—it was blood and you didn’t listen, Michael I’m supposed to kill you, Michael you’ve got to get out of here and take us as far away as you can! I barely knew anything about how this all worked until last night.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Thick.

He sighs, takes a seat on the sinking mattress beside her.

“Marko told me you’ve been with them a long time.” He says, it’s soft, not entirely question, not statement either.

“Six months.” She replies, snapping the book shut in her lap. “Six months and all it took you was a week and a beach party and—”

“—don’t blame this on me.” Michael says, “Don’t act like I’m the only one at fault here—I didn’t ask for this either—shit Star this might end up getting my family killed—what am I supposed to do about that, huh?”

She just glares at him, even, steady, pissed.

“Besides, we kill Max, you get to be human again.”

“Yeah,” She huffs, “human and dying, great.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Forget it.”

“Star, just—if you want help you have to actually trust people—” These words are almost empty coming from him, he thinks, but there’s nothing else he’s got. He wants to help her, wants to feel like some of this could be alright, could make sense—

But she is getting up to leave and he catches her by the wrist.

“I want to help you,” An echo and a reverse of the words she’d said to him only a few nights ago.

“You can’t.” It’s almost a growl for how she spits it. Christ he’s made a mess of this.

It’s not his fault, he reminds himself. Not all of it anyways…

“I can,” Michael insists, digging his free hand into a pocket and drawing out a knife. “Look—I wouldn’t have done this—wouldn’t have gone through with any of it if I had known—but I did, and that’s something I have to deal with now, but—” she is staring wide eyed now, anger gone and eyes locked on the knife, still folded up in his palm. “—blood will help you, I don’t, I don’t know how this shit works but it’s probably still mostly human in me anyways—” He is rambling, this happens every goddamn time he tries to talk to her or David for more than a few minutes. It doesn’t help that he barely understands half the shit he’s trying to say.

But maybe that’s alright.

Maybe this will be enough.

[bylertruther]

i desperately want to write some kind of (potentially the last of us part 2 vibes inspired [aka just gay, country, cozy, and gritty]) established monster apocalypse fic with slightly aged up characters but i can't make up my mind on whether i want to write ...

a season one-esque retelling in the sense that will goes missing and the party ignores the safe zone's rules to go off and find him + they run into a feral eleven who helps them but fails to mention at first that she comes from the colony tht took will and it's kind of like a prison break type of fic too but overall it's all about hope and new beginnings and waaaay too close calls and The Power Of Friendship and coming home and being scared but doing it anyway and many many Realizations of the homosexual variety

by|er are boy besties and have been ever since they met on the rusty rickety swings and it's very much Day In The Life Of Two Monster Apocalypse Survivors Who Are NOT Dating Seriously Stop We're NOTTTTT Hehe<3 until Shit Goes Down and Oh God Oh Fuck What The Hell And FUCK FUCK FUCK WAIT NO STOP PLEASE and oops what do ya kno eddie/bob/hopper/insert other influential mentor character here jus got fed to a pack of demo-dogs or something else equally as horrific by some rival group and the party is helpless to do anything but watch and so after they hold the funeral they go off to avenge them (aka SHUT UP yes it's jus a tlou2 knock-off basically maybe don't look @ me) + it's about the lengths you'd go to for the ones that you love, what parts of yourself you lose and find on the path to revenge, what it means to be alive vs actually living, making your own way in the world, how much you can change before you become someone else entirely, what it means to actually honor the ones you lose, and The Healing Power of Love of course

fuck the "will goes missing" trope all my homies hate the "will goes missing" trope, this time .....okokok maybe will does go missing actually BUT mike is right on his tail bc Over My Dead Body Will You Take My Best Friend Away From Me and maybe they get chased away far enough by whatever monster that they get lost because it's all in the middle of their settlement falling/being overrun and it's nighttime and they don't know what's happening everything was fine just thirty minutes ago wtfwtfwtf and they have to find their way back home and there's lots of hurt/comfort of the physical and emotional variety bc Everything Happens So Much and when have they ever gotten a break literally ever + it's about finding hope where it feels like there is none, "just hold on a little longer, okay?", learning what makes home feel like home, us against the world-isms, will gets bitten by a demo-bat or something and doesn't tell mike (don't worry he's immune lol) but mike soon realizes anyway bc will is shifting his weight weirdly and mike is Always looking at him (but not in a gay way bro i sWEAR bro we're FRIENDS We Are Friends now hold my hand pls), aka Paladin and The Cleric vibes 100% essentially jus two gay hooligans and their awful very bad no good week away from the camp

will and el aren't The Chosen Ones so the monster apocalypse happens anyway without them causing it but when will was taken away it was because his test results came back weird n brenner's team wanted to study him for Finding A Cure reasons but something goes wrong one day and they both make it out of the lab (& maybe word gets around to other settlements abt two missing teens n mike finds a poster while out and when he takes it back n shows ppl it just gets him looks of pity but not from joyce, the only other person that never lost hope). fast forward to feral will-el being a two man wolf pack that are just trying to find will's family wherever they may be now (will corrects her and tells her its their family btw and he's told her so much abt them at this point that it really does feel like she's known them her whole life almost bt she's secretly scared to hope that they're still alive even if she'd never tell him that bc she jus wants a family so much she doesn't want to be let down if they aren't) and this one is more of like ... A Day In The Life / Character Study type of fic bc they Do find the party (they break in somewhere to get supplies n there's so many monsters n the last time they all saw each other they were kids and will-el are covered up so they don't recognize each other n ofc will-el are bandits so they get captured and then yanno. they rip off will's face coverings and it's like Omgggg Surprise It's Me Aha Sorry I Bit You And Almost Took Your Knee Out And Hit You With A Metal Pipe Can You Please Uncuff Me Now Hehe<3). aka will-el find their way back home and now they have to figure out what home really is and how to reintegrate into society. it's about the ghosts of your past, reconciling what you knew with what's in front of you, falling back into old habits and having to learn new ones, falling in love all over again, mike waking up from the same nightmare he always has and going to will's room in the dead of night because he has to be SURE that this is real that will's actually alive that it really is him right in front of him and that he hasn't been taken away again and that this isn't just another dream within a dream, learning how to be a human being again, and it ends with someone's wedding ofc.

[unknownjpegs]

property value

The house comes with an original blueprint, which is nice. There’s some stuff he doesn’t feel comfortable doing alone, so it’s good to have when he needs to bring in an expert. 

An expert meaning his dad’s old friend Jim, a retired contractor who offers to help him out if he can pay upfront. And if he’ll let Jim take some original brass dresser knobs that catch his eye.

“You see your old man lately?” Jim asks him, while they’re working in tandem to knock an old wall out.

Benji pauses mid-swing, wipes the sweat off his forehead. Gives Jim a look, one of the ones the old man is used to seeing from him since childhood. He puts both hands up in surrender. 

“A’right, lad, a’right. On yer own time, whenever that might be.” He swings, and plaster flies.

“It’ll be soon,” Benji admits, but he thinks that might be lost in the loud thunk of the next blow. 

It’s near sunset when they’ve managed to get the project done. When the frame of the wall is all that’s left standing, they take a break. Pints in hand, some shit swill from a fancy brewery out near Speke that Saha recommended.

“Shit swill,” Benji offers.

“Aye, well, don’t be snide about it, lad.” He takes another gulp, grimaces with more than a bit of regret. “Bet they put their best piss n’here, lotta hard work went in. Big stream.” 

Benji snickers. “We’ll find somethin’ better for phase two, ‘ey?” 

“Drive me to water, at this rate.” Jim says with a shake of his head. “You sure you wanna g’on? We can just fix ‘er up inside here.”

“I’m sure.”

“Load bearin’ wall on the other side, if we take this one. Can’t undo it, mate. Knocking’ a hole few feet off that little study.” Jim hedges. “M’not trying to steer y’off, just…it’s a historic house, Benji. You’re losin’ a lot of value with less room, just for this.”

Just for this, Benji thinks grumpily, eyebrow pulling. It’s not for nothing. 

“Always wanted one of those big fuckers,” Benji says, stepping over to the sawhorse where they’ve laid out the blueprints. 

“N’here I go reportin’ back to your old man, lad’s doin’ great, throwing orgies in his posh fuckin’ pool of a bath.” 

“Do not,” Benji laughs, “Tell my fuckin’ pa that there are orgies happening. He’ll disown me for that over the military shit.”

Jim puts his hands up in surrender. “Listen, lad, what else am I meant to assume?”

*

When the bathroom’s done, tiled and wet-sealed and clean, Benji leads him up the rickety stairs — still gotta get those nails replaced —  shrouded in a blindfold. 

“This is a sex thing,” Xavier chuckles, hands out to catch himself on corners he’s not yet used to. “You keep telling me it’s not, but I can see right through your fuckin’ plan. Succubus.” 

“It’s not. And aren’t the ones with dicks incubus,” Benji asks, genuinely thoughtful about it. “Incubi?”

“Dunno,” Xavier says, oof when he knocks against the bathroom door. “Never listened to them much.” 

When the blindfold comes off and he sees the bath, Benji assumes it’s the excitement of a kid on Christmas. Never personally experienced that, but Xavier’s got the hyped-up gasp, the jittery ball of energy. His eyes bounce between it and Benji, question there. Benji grins, and it’s barely stretched his mouth before Xavier’s flung himself over the side. 

Benji would reach for his phone and take a picture, if he hadn’t left it down on the couch. 

“Oh, shit,” Xavier yells, the triumphant cry echoing off new tile. His sneakers squeak at the end of the tub, and he’s gotta sink real low, chin dipping under the edge, to get his toe even near under the faucet. 

“Man,” he’s proper laughing, excitement lighting him up from the inside out. Benji can’t stop fucking grinning, so wide his cheeks are starting to ache. “I don’t even have to tuck my knees or anything.” 

“You shoulda seen us trying to get it up the stairs. Had to knock out the wall and take the door to get it to fit in here.” 

Xavier stops kicking his feet. Looks over at him, arm flung over the edge of the bath. “House didn’t come with a tub, huh? What kinda country is this. Very backwards, no wonder Brits smell.”

Benji sticks his tongue out. “It came with a bath,” he corrects, “You wanker. Real small one.”

Two big hands push up on the ceramic edge. Xavier looks very serious now, his eyebrow bunched and mouth open.

“You had this put in?” 

Benji nods, shrugging a little sheepishly and breaking eye contact. “Sure.” 

“For me?”

“Would you believe s’for the other six-something Yank who lives in the house?”

“No,” Xavier breathes, eyes wide. “Get over here before I drag you in.”

And he can’t really say no to that, can he? Not big enough for an orgy, but Benji fits with room to spare.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Security Breach x Facepainter reader. The reader’s job is to face paint children and they’re near the mazercise so they’re constantly around Chica. They see that Chica and the other animatronics looks bland and decide to paint details on them. (Chica’s face triangle things, Montgomery’s spots, Freddy’s lightning bolt, Roxy’s face stripes, etc)

"Now why would they stick me here? Kids are just gonna sweat off the makeup after they run.." You muttered quietly as you put away the color palettes, wrapping up your shift for the day.

There was a lot of things that didn't make sense about this place. Like why your booth was stationed next to Mazercise or how eating tons of junk food just to burn it off was a healthy form of exercise. People could very well do that just by walking around the mall without buying a pass.

Then again it was the discounts that reeled them in. It always worked.

Still, you were a bit disheartened to see your last customer walk into that attraction with their face painted like Glamrock Freddy...only to come out looking like a red and blue tie dye shirt.

But you didn't let that deter you. Hell no. You actually liked working at Mega Pizzaplex and didn't plan on going anywhere anytime soon.

You liked working as a facepainter; it's been a lifelong hobby. After years of practice and doing this kind of stuff for birthday parties and whatnot, you now got to share your talent with Fazbear Entertainment.

While some kids were fidgety, a majority of them adored your work and were well-behaved.

The smiles on their faces when you held up the mirror?

Priceless.

Simply priceless.

Sure, a STAFF bot could do a million times better than you with far steadier hands.

But did they take the same amount of time that you did to perfect your skills? No. They just had some circuits rewired and codes inputted into software. There's no passion. No thought. No emotion behind their work. Just taking orders as they're programmed to do.

"Hello, [y/n]! Something on your mind? You wanna come exercise at the Mazercise?"

After covering the board with a tarp, you turned around and saw Glamrock Chica leave her attraction, smiling at you. Of course you'd see her more often than any other animatronic. You often forget just how incredibly advanced she is, talking to you like a longtime friend. She was so bright and full of energy all the time. You envied that a little.

"No, I'm good, Chica." You politely declined, a small smile on your face. "Just packing up for the day."

"Aww, going so soon? Well I saw lots of kiddos painted like me! You do an amazing job!" She giggled, bouncing on her heels.

"Yeah well, I try my best." As you talked to her, you couldn't help but notice the lack of details on her own face. Her designers put more effort into her outfit than anything else.

You could say the same with the other animatronics. They seemed to be missing something.

"Can you paint me?"

"...wait, huh?" You were bewildered. Did she read your mind? "I would but...I'm not really supposed to without permission. And this paint washes off of skin easily, but if I mess up I don't know if-"

"Don't worry about messing up, sweetie. It makes it more special coming from you than some silly STAFF bot." She reassured you. "I trust you."

"Oh, I..appreciate that. So what do you have in mind?"

"Nothing complicated. I just...feel like my face could use a little "pizazz". And I think you can help!" She eagerly sat in the rickety chair, with the same enthusiasm as all those little kids before her had. "If higher-ups give you flack, I'll deal with 'em. Just do your worst.....o-or best, rather."

Nodding, you got out your palettes and approached her, studying her face for inspiration. She already had dark pink lipstick on her beak, and a ring of lighter pink around one of her eyes. But you thought she could use some symmetry.

In the end, you gave her cheeks two elongated pink triangles on each side. They weren't perfectly shaped, which you feared would make her upset, though after showing her the mirror she was in love with her new looks.

"Omg it's wonderful, [y/n]!!!! Thank you!! What about my friends?"

"O-Oh, them too? I don't know and I don't feel like hiking around the mall to-" You began.

"They're all in Rockstar Row. C'mon! Before they head back to their rooms!" Chica was quick to sprint up from her seat, dashing away as the ground shook with her footsteps.

You couldn't disappoint her, so you took your palettes with you and followed her downstairs to Rockstar Row.

Fortunately, all the Glamrocks were there and saw what you painted on Chica. They rushed out of their rooms, lining up in front of you to have their faces painted. Monty and Roxanne pushed each other while Freddy stood in the back with a patient smile.

You were surprised they wanted you to do this. But you weren't complaining. All you could do was hope they liked your ideas. You wanted them to be impressed.

For Roxy, you painted black tiger-like stripes on both sides of her face, which made her feel more fierce when looking into the mirror.

Monty had dark green scaly spots on his cheeks and arms. You would've done them in more detail but he was fidgeting around a lot, so you were quick.

And Freddy had a simple blue stripe on his chin that connected to the lightning bolt symbol on his chest. You made sure not to get anything on his bowtie, and he was happy with the results.

You remembered what Chica said about those STAFF bots, and...

Maybe you can give them a little "pizazz", too, if management was alright with it.

But that'll be for another day. You considered this shift one well spent: The Glamrocks adored their touch-ups, and a sweet food-loving chicken gave you the encouragement to provide them.

Yeah, you wouldn't trade this job for the world.

[heliads]

Guns Blazing, Tides Rising (Part One)

When Kaz Brekker announces that they’ll be working with a certain Tidemaker to help with the latest heist, Jesper knows it’s not going to end well. He and Y/N L/N have a fierce rivalry, although feelings may change over a night.

series masterlist / part two

Jesper is almost one block away from the Crow Club when he senses that he isn’t alone.

Technically, he hasn’t been alone in a long time. There is no place to get away in Ketterdam, no alley left uninhabited or room without a listener. It’s certainly nothing like Novyi Zem, where you could find miles of farmland with nobody to talk to and nothing to do. No, the Barrel has never been somewhere to stay away from people.

This, however, is a different kind of presence. Jesper only notices it now, and he has no idea how long the Wraith has been following him. Sometimes he thinks she does it on purpose, walking behind him, footsteps silent as ever, just to see how long it takes him to figure out that she’s there. Jesper halts in his tracks, raising his voice to the hooded figure no doubt a pace or two behind him. “I know you’re there, Inej, and if I turn around just now you had better not do that thing where you wait two inches behind me just to make me jump.”

There is silence, as expected. Jesper turns in a slow semicircle, ready for the inevitable, yet he still stiffens just slightly to see Inej standing behind him. Jesper has been in the Barrel for a long time, and gotten used to the skulking and sneaking of the various goons. He fancies himself at least somewhat capable at figuring out when people are following him, but for some reason, he cannot do the same with Inej. Not at all.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You did the thing.” Jesper finishes lamely. Something almost like a smile tugs at Inej’s lips. “That’s not exactly my fault. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me for a while. I’ve practically been stomping my heels against the cobblestones.” Jesper groans. “You have not. You’ve been as silent as ever, and you know that.” Inej ignores this, jerking her chin behind her, back in the direction of the Slat. “Your Crow Club endeavor will have to wait. Kaz needs you.”

Kaz Brekker needs him. “What a surprise. I’m very useful, as it turns out. Couldn’t this wait a little longer, though? I’ve heard they’ve got a new dealer over at Makker’s Wheel.” Inej just turns around, starting to walk back towards the Slat. No matter how hard Jesper tries, he cannot hear a single footstep echo against the stones. “This is more important.” Jesper raises an eyebrow. “More important than earning the Dregs money by supporting a local establishment? He doesn’t need to worry, you know, I’ve got money.”

Jesper grimaces at the look of incredulity starting to color Inej’s eyes. “Alright, it’s not a lot of money. But it is at least enough to buy a round or two. Besides,” Jesper continues, eager to shift the conversation away from his less than prosperous gambling habits, “Why did Kaz send you? He could have just delivered a note.” Inej lifts a shoulder, even the slightest of shrugs a graceful movement. “I told you, this is important.”

Jesper is intrigued by this. “Whenever you say ‘important’ more than once, it’s always good. Is it another heist? Extortion? Maybe a good clash of rival gangs?” Inej rolls her eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything. That was the whole point of me going.” Jesper sighs dramatically. “You could tell me a little bit. I wouldn’t even mention it to Kaz.”

Inej instead lets her eyes trail upwards, towards the ramshackle glory of the Slat which is visible down the block. “You’ll get your information soon enough.” Her voice grows quiet, quieter than usual. It’s practically impossible to hear over the clack of footsteps on stone as pigeons and gang members alike rush to finish their business before it grows too late and the thieves come running. “I will say one thing, though. While we’re still away from prying ears.”

Jesper leans closer, fascinated. “What is it?” Inej looks up at him, and Jesper realizes that she looks almost regretful. “Don’t be too upset.” Jesper waits for more, some explanation to this excruciatingly vague statement, but nothing happens. “Don’t be upset? What, is Kaz going to cane me to death?” Inej tilts her head to the side. “There’s a plan, and it will involve some things that you won’t be too fond of. That’s all I can say for now.”

Jesper wants to pry a little further, even if he senses that the Wraith will remain silent, but the door to the Slat is already in front of him, effectively stopping any conversation. The Dregs may be Kaz’s gang, but loyalties can always be changed. Jesper has wandered the canals long enough to know that all secrets should be kept to locked doors, and even allies can turn against you. Some conversations are best when they’re not shared at all.

Jesper looks around for Kaz in the main room of the Slat, but he doesn’t see the dark-haired boy anywhere. Instead, Inej inclines her head towards the rickety set of stairs at the back of the room. “He’ll be waiting for you in his office.” Jesper moves to ask her something, anything, about what else is waiting for him there, but before he can even open his mouth to speak Inej has disappeared. It’s fascinating- Jesper hadn’t even turned away or looked elsewhere, yet she had vanished right before his open eyes. He hadn’t seen her go, just witnessed her blink away into the shadows.

Jesper stares at the empty floorboards where Inej had once stood, then, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a particularly nerve-wracking round of cards, begins to ascend the flights of stairs. He pauses once outside the door to Kaz’s office, touching the hilts of his pearl handled revolvers for luck, then pushes open the door and steps inside.

Kaz is waiting for him, standing at his desk and running through a map spread out across the wooden surface. He looks up when he sees Jesper enter, straightening to nod once in greeting. Jesper’s eyes travel to Inej, who had somehow beat him up the stairs and is now perched, catlike, on Kaz’s windowsill.

Kaz doesn’t bother with pleasantries or questions about Jesper’s day, as per usual, just dives into an explanation. “There’s a mercher living down near the Financial District. He’s like the others- snotty, pretends to be pious, unseasonably rich for someone who just arrived at his title, but he’s strayed too far from his gilded walkways and tried to start restrictions on Fifth Harbor.”

Jesper lets out a snort. “Merchers. Always getting too big for their tie pins.” Kaz ignores this. “Under his new plan, we’d have to pay out reparations to him and also ease back on coaxing pigeons into our establishments. There’s no way in hell that would ever pass, but this mercher just happens to have some pretty significant blackmail on key members of the Merchant Council, and they’ll pass whatever bill he wants so long as he keeps his mouth shut. Unfortunately, we can’t kill him directly, but we can break into his mansion and steal his proof of the Council’s less savory transactions. Without the blackmail, the Council will never pass the bill, and we’ll be fine.”

Jesper raises an eyebrow. “As easy as that?” Kaz lifts a shoulder. “There’s a slight complication. This mercher, Joeri ter Steege, has a certain thing for oceanside views. He’s found himself a nice little inlet near the water’s edge, and access to his mansion is only available by boat. This means that any attempt to access his house would mean we would travel by water, and any boat could easily be sighted by guards that patrol the area.”

Jesper squints at Kaz. “What do you mean, only available by boat? If he’s living in an inlet, shouldn’t there be some dock connecting it to the mainland?” Inej flashes him a smile. “The merch has got himself a moat.” Jesper stares. “You’re kidding me. You’ve got to be kidding me. This merch is so extravagantly wealthy that he’s gone and got himself a moat? Ghezen’s hand, maybe I should become a banker. The things I could do.” Inej hides a laugh. “The moats you could build.”

Kaz’s hand tightens around his crow’s head cane. “Regardless of the merch’s terrible landscaping decisions, the fact remains that access will be practically impossible. To get across, we’d need a boat, and any boat would be sighted by guards. That’s why we need a Tidemaker.” Jesper’s smile starts to drop from his face. Suddenly, pieces are starting to fall into place. Inej’s warning. Kaz’s mention of a Tidemaker. Jesper shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you got the one Tidemaker I’m thinking of. Please say you brought in somebody else.”

Kaz opens his mouth to either condemn this or save Jesper’s skin, but then a voice rings out from the newly opened door and Jesper’s spirits sink into his boots. “Afraid not, Fahey. They’ve brought me.” Jesper turns around, finding himself face to face with a girl just walking into the office, hand loosely wrapped around the wooden doorframe. She tosses him a smile as if they’re old friends, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Jesper whirls back around to face Kaz. “You didn’t. You’re really trusting her? Y/N L/N?” Kaz shrugs. “She’s the best there is, unfortunately. We need to remain hidden, and she’s the only one who won’t rat us out or let us drown.” Y/N walks further into the room, letting the door close behind her. “I appreciate the vote in confidence, but don’t worry about me. I can get you in and out, no problem. Well, the only problem will be you, sharpshooter.”

Jesper feels the sudden need to grab one (or maybe both) of his revolvers and let fly with his bullets. Can a Tidemaker wash away a hail of ammunition? Jesper’s assuming not. Kaz taps his cane against the floor. “Let’s not reach to violence just yet, Jesper. Wait until after the extraction is over.” Jesper throws one last glare Y/N’s way. “Trust me, I’ll have no problem with that.” He can wait, after all.

The problem with Y/N L/N is this: she keeps finding a way to meddle with everything he does. First, Jesper was on a heist by himself, breaking into a stronghold of the Dime Lions to snatch up an encoded message left by Pekka Rollins. He was doing fine until a wave of water cascaded in through the windows, knocking him aside and thoroughly drenching the paper. It was useless now, both to Rollins and to Kaz. Y/N had only bothered to toss a wink across the room before leaving, allowing her wave to soak Jesper’s boots while she was at it.

The second time was during a shootout. She’d been hired to the other side, although Jesper hadn’t known it yet. Jesper was just about to fire upon the lousy goon who’d hired her when she’d used her powers again, this time specifically intending to ruin his guns. His precious pearl-handled revolvers, soaked through with water. It had taken him forever to get the saltwater out of every crack and groove in the metal, and during all of that time he’d vowed to himself that he’d be the one to darken her doorway and make Y/N regret ever stepping foot against him again.

Jesper had won the third time. This time, he was the unexpected guest, and she was seconds away from drowning an entire swath of gang members to protect a secret. She was just raising her hands to move the water into place when a gunshot sounded from out of nowhere and she was knocked sideways, hand already raising to the stain of red starting to bloom out from her arm. It wouldn’t kill her, unfortunately, but it was enough to give the gang members time to escape. Some of them were Dregs, after all, and Jesper had some friends to protect. That isn’t to say that he didn’t walk away with a smile, just that he had multiple motives.

Needless to say, he didn’t exactly have the best history with Y/N L/N. And now Kaz was asking him to have her back during a heist? It sounds like a joke. Unfortunately, Jesper has a sinking feeling that there’s no getting out of this. If he’s going to have to depend on Y/N for his life, things might not exactly go according to plan. He has no idea where Y/N’s loyalties lie, he reasons, but Jesper thinks there might be more to it than that.

The group meets up at the water’s edge. The canals bleed into the harbor here, and Jesper can just make out the lights of Joeri ter Steege’s mansion across the glittering black of the waves. He can also make out a slight tension in Kaz’s grip on his cane as he takes in the sight of the undulating water, but that isn’t for him to notice. Y/N melts out of the shadows, a blue lining on her coat the only indication that she might still cling to Ravkan traditions for Grisha. “Well?” She asks, walking past them as if not expecting an answer, “Are we ready?”

Y/N spreads her hands and the water of the harbor flickers and shifts on the surface. As Jesper watches, Y/N steps forward, and the water solidifies under her feet as if she’s walking on glass instead of the tides. She pushes her hands apart, and the area of solid water expands until it’s large enough to act as a bridge. She turns to the rest of the group. “We can walk from here. It’ll be faster than a boat, and far more quiet.” 

Kaz nods, beginning to walk after her on the bridge of water. Before his feet leave the ground, his mouth moves once. “No mourners.” Jesper nods. “No funerals.” They won’t be able to speak as freely at the mercher’s island, so this will do best. Jesper considers the unmoving waves one last time, then follows him. He’s half expecting Y/N to let the water liquify under his feet just a little bit, out of spite, but it holds. They continue along the harbor, and if Jesper turns his head he can see the bridge rippling back into normal water after they pass by it. It raises the hairs on the back of his neck to see his escape route disappear so quickly, but Jesper does his best to quiet the voice of warning. Kaz would never bring Y/N in if he thought she would betray them, and even if he did, Kaz would have another way out. That’s just the way Dirtyhands worked.

All the same, Jesper feels a little better when his heels land on solid ground once more. Kaz doesn’t have to say a word, just points at the roof. Jesper nods, remembering the plan. He and Y/N split away from Kaz and Inej, heading towards the roof for their line of entry. When Jesper had heard this part of the plan, he had complained viciously. Why should he have to go scale the building alone with Y/N? Why couldn’t Inej go instead? In the end, it hadn’t mattered- the plan needed them both there, so that’s where they would go.

Jesper doesn’t exactly have Inej’s skill in climbing, but ter Steege makes it easy. There are balconies and handholds practically everywhere, as if the merch is offering free mansion climbing lessons to anyone interested. Jesper supposes that one would be less concerned about robberies if you had a moat, but still. You have that much money, you might as well pretend to make it hard for light-fingered con artists.

Soon enough, Jesper and Y/N are standing on the roof, staring down at the fourth skylight from the left. This is where they’ll enter, once it reaches eleven bells and it’s time to move. Now, however, all they can do is wait as Kaz and Inej get into position. Jesper carefully sits down, letting his long legs prop up against the tiles of the roof. Y/N sits next to him, staring up at the sky. The moon is out tonight, the pale light illuminating her eyes and dusting her cheeks.

Distantly, Jesper realizes that he’s never seen her like this- letting her guard down for once. He’s not shooting at her, she’s not trying to drown him, it’s almost like a peace offering. Y/N must be having the same thoughts, because she turns to face him. The moonlight still stays on her face, as if unwilling to let go. Jesper has the sudden thought that he wouldn’t want to do the same either, if he had the opportunity to linger here, then shakes himself mentally.

Y/N’s voice is quiet, a whisper cutting through his thoughts and scattering them to the wind. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been fighting when we first met each other? Would we have been friends like you and Kaz?” Jesper chuckles in spite of himself. “If you think Kaz Brekker makes friends, I’m starting to think that you’ve suffered a head injury.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “He trusts you. That’s rare.” Jesper shrugs, conceding this. He keeps speaking, though, even when he has just decided to remain silent. “I think we could have been close. We have similar interests.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Money? A good time?” Jesper flashes her a grin, easy as flipping a coin and landing it square in your palm. “Exactly. See? We already understand each other perfectly.”

Y/N lets out a short laugh at that, moonlight still teasing at the corner of her lips. Jesper’s eyes linger longer than they should. Curse his tendencies to start rivalries with the prettiest of enemies- it’s beginning to get him into trouble. Y/N’s head tilts towards the tides below, and then she stands. “It’s time. The bells are about to ring.” Jesper mourns the moment lost, then stands and takes his position by the skylight. He waits for the bells to begin to toll, then grabs his revolver, spinning it back and forth in his palm like a nervous tic before firing four times at the corners of the window, exactly where the locks will hold.

He doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes track the spin of the gun, or the admirative tug of her lips into a half smile. However, now is no longer the time for schoolboy glances, and Jesper kneels at the window, carefully removing it from its frame. This is their entrance, and they would do well to hurry along.

The plan almost goes well. Almost. They manage to break into the mercher’s office, stealing the documents and meeting up with Kaz and Inej to get out, but just as they’re about to cross through the main atrium of the mansion, a loud dissonance of bells breaks out. An alarm. Jesper sees identical looks of panic reflected on every face- this was not supposed to happen. Not at all. They don’t hesitate, just run. Jesper’s lived in the Barrel long enough to remember this one lesson: when you can’t count on gangs or anyone to have your back, your feet always will. Just remember to keep moving.

They’re almost to the water’s edge when the shots ring out. Guards have followed them out of the building and fire even as their feet pound down the beach. Jesper’s revolvers are in his hands before another second can pass, bullets aimed with precision as he runs. They’re almost to the water when he hears a sound from behind him that draws all breath from his lungs. From here, it almost sounds like a cry of pain. It’s soft, as if someone’s trying not to draw attention, but Jesper hears it nonetheless.

He turns around and his stomach clenches with horror as he realizes he was right. Y/N is stumbling, clutching a terrible scarlet stain across her chest. It’s deep, too deep, and far too close to her heart to be safe. Y/N has time to fling her arms up, casting out the bridge of water once more, before she falls to the ground. All of a sudden, Jesper’s vision tunnels. He can only see two things: Y/N, hand limp over the spreading blood, and the guards, pistols still smoking.

Jesper’s shots ring out again and again. He can’t hear anything other than a buzzing in his ears, something that might be his pulse or just a sign that he’s gone mad. To be honest, Jesper’s not sure that he cares. Bullets careen through the air, curving around pillars and corners to reach their targets. His da would panic to see him, grab Jesper by his shoulders and tell him to be more careful. Anyone could know now, could see the way the bullets fly through the air as if guided by an invisible hand and figure out what that means, but Jesper doesn’t think about that for a second. All he can think about is revenge, and making sure that every single body falls to the ground.

Jesper’s haze leaves him, and he realizes that all of the guards are dead. All of them. Then his guns are back in their holsters, and he’s scrambling towards Y/N. When he picks her up, she feels cold. Too cold. Blood is staining his hands now, turning the long fingers red, but he barely notices at all. His heels flash down the beach, then onto the water, which is still solid. It must be killing her to keep this up, but she’s still doing it.

Jesper swore that it took far longer to make the trip over the harbor, but it feels like he’s barely taken a few steps before he’s on the other side and the water bridge is swallowed up by the tides once more. Kaz and Inej have just made it onto the other side, and their eyes widen at the crazed look on Jesper and the bloodied form of Y/N in his arms. Jesper doesn’t have time to consider this, and he shouts at them as he runs. “Get a healer! Get somebody- Nina, maybe. Anybody.”

Inej takes off into the streets, but Kaz remains, giving Jesper a particular look. “I remember you saying something about how Y/N was your rival. This is your chance, you know. The Barrel can be a ruthless place, and nobody would suspect you if she never made it back.” Jesper has the feeling that this is a test, some challenge placed before him to see how he’ll respond, but he can’t find it within himself to care. Jesper has always had an affinity for the odds, but this once, it’s not enough. “No. I’m getting her out. I need a Healer.”

Kaz steps back, allowing Jesper to pass, but not before he sees the appraising look in his eyes. Kaz nods once, briefly, and then Jesper is around the corner and sprinting headlong towards the Slat. A Healer is indeed waiting there, and holds out her arms to receive Y/N. For a second, Jesper’s arms clench around her body, unwilling to give her up, and then he forces his arms to relax and she’s gone, carried away into another room.

Jesper is left with the blood staining his shirt and the decision staining his conscience. If Y/N died, was it his fault? Should he care this much? He’s not sure that question can even be answered. The Healer comes out eventually, nodding at him. She’s not ready to have visitors, or at least she won’t be awake to see them, but that doesn’t stop Jesper from disappearing into her room the second the Healer leaves.

Jesper feels his throat close up when he sees her. Y/N is lying stiff and unmoving on a narrow bed, breath unnaturally slow and eyes closed. It’s strange- he’s seen her fiery and powerful, glowing as a Grisha does after they use their powers, but now she looks seconds from death. Jesper’s feet carry him woodenly over to the bed, and he stands there for a moment before reaching down and taking her hand. He doesn’t expect to feel anything at all, yet there’s a slight pressure and her eyelids flicker open.

“What, trying to finish the job?” A slight smile cracks Y/N’s lips, and Jesper feels like he could cry out in relief. Maybe it’s time he takes up Inej’s saints after all. “You’re alright?” She nods, although even this small movement appears to hurt. “As well as one can. I think I have someone to thank for that, though.” Jesper nods slowly. “Yeah, the Healer was great. We should keep her around just in case.”

Y/N laughs, the sound undamaged even as her blood still stains the bandages. “You’re impossible. I’m talking about you.” Jesper’s cheeks feel hot. “Oh.” Now this is unreal- usually he’s the one eliciting blushes, never the other way around. “I couldn’t just leave you there, you know.” She nods once, smiling, and then her eyelids seem too heavy to stay open and she starts to drift off to sleep once more. If Jesper happened to stay with her even after her eyes shut, and even if a kiss just happened to be pressed to her cheek, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst 

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

 “Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

           “I…” you shrug. “No?”

           Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

           You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

           “Yup.”

           “Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

           You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

           “Ok.”

           You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

           For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

           It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.  

           For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

           Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

           While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

           Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

           “I do. Every day.”

           Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

           Or his lips, for that matter.

           The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

           By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

           This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

           The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

           For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

           To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

           You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

           “You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

           “Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

           Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

           “Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

           “Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

           He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

           Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

           Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

           “Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

           He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

           “Ouch.”

           Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

           You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

           “Yeah.”

           Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

           Him.

           “Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

           Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

           As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

           The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

           There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

           “I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

           “Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

           I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

           “How’re you holding up?”

           Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

           “I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

           He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

           “You suck.”

           “See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

           “Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

           He shrugs. “And so am I.”

           You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

           “Yes!”

           Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

           You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

           I loved her first.

           Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

           The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

           Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

           “Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

           A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

           “We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

           A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

           “YES.”

            You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

           There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

           “Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

           It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

           “Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

           You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

           Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

           “How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

           “But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

           Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

           “Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

           You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

           It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

           The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

           “Why are you alone?”

           Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

           “Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

           “Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

           You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

           “No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

           “What?”

           “That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

           You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

           “Then why are you here?”

           “Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

           “Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

           “I don’t see why not.”

           With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

           If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

           Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

           “Did the nosy maid get to you?”

           Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

           “Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

           “No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

           Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

           The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

           “Oh, no.”

           Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

           “I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

           Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

           Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

           “You’re so pretty.”

           Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

           “What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

           You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

           Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

           “Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

           “You brought food, so now we’re even.”

           Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

           “Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

           “Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

           Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

           “Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

           The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

           Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

           A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

           “Wait!”

           Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

           You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

           Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

           “Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

           “Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

           “I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

           From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

           “Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

           “Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

           With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

           When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

           “So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

           You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

           “Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

           Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

           “It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

           “How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

           The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

           “But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

           You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

           “Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

           Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

           “Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

           “I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

           Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

           A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

           “It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

           “Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

           Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

           “Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

           You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

           “It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

           Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

           Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

           Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

           “Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

           “Hmm?”

           Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

           Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

           The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

           Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

           Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

           “I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

           You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

           “And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

           “Woah, back up.”

           Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

           “You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

           “W-we’re staying?”

           Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

           “I wanna stay.”

           “Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

           Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

           “I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

           “What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

           “-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

           “The little…note?”

           “Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

           You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

           “The note.”

           It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

           “Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

           You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

           “Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

           Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

           “I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

           He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

           The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

           “I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

           “When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

           Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

           “Why did you tell me that?”

           You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

           Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

           “Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

           A falling star.

           In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

           Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

           “You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

           Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

           “You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

           If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

           All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

           Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

           There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

           It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

           “It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

           Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

           Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

           “You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

           You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

           The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

           “C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

           “Mmm.”

           It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

           Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

           “Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

           Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

           We.

           Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

           “Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

           “Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

           With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

           “I know.” He whispers back.

           And then he’s gone.

           And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that! 

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys 

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797  @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224  @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity  @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger  @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes​ @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic​ 

[carnationcreation]

Can you do Luke Patterson fanfic where the reader is Alex sister and is in the band who’s been in love with Luke all this time but he never noticed her. And ever since they met Julie she has seen them together has gotten jealous.So she hatches up one finally plan to make him jealous to get him to see her . And Luke realized he had been in love with her and confess to her . Sorry if it’s too much this is my first time asking for a request 🥺

TITLE: Unrequited (Luke Patterson x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Requested: Yes!

Prompt/summary:  Reader does one final attempt at getting Luke to notice her.

Word Count: 1,615

Authors note: appear I just write a lot of angst. Again Where’s my Love by SYML is the vibe lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day we woke up on the floor of the garage in the year 2020 was the worst day of my life.

Or that’s what I decided at least.

Apparently we had spent the past 25 years in a dark room, with Alex crying for most of that time. The girl who found us, Julie, quickly became our only tie to the real world. We could only be seen playing if she was playing with us. We soon found out that we had unfinished business that we needed to attend to before we could properly cross over to the other side. We figured it was simple. Play the Orpheum and we were done. But getting to the Orpheum was going to be a lot harder than we thought.

Slowly we had started to build up a following on a thing called ‘YouTube’ where people share videos, I never thought such a wide library of videos could exist for free every single day. Practices became a daily thing, though I didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. 

I really shouldn’t be jealous. Luke has chemistry with everyone he sings with. Alex would kill me if he found out that after all these years I was still crushing on his best friend. I couldn’t help the feeling in my throat when I saw Julie and Luke singing together though... the feeling like I couldn’t breathe. Like all the air was being sucked out of me while I tried to keep the feeling of anger from bubbling over.

Why can’t he look at me like that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I never meant to get him jealous, because I always thought making crushes jealous was unhealthy and only ever worked in the movies. But as soon as I started only talking with Reggie and Alex at practice Luke started to notice how I didn’t go out of my way to talk to him like I used to.

As time went on I started only singing with Reggie on stage for the harmonies. Every time I would look over afterwards I would see Luke staring at me with an almost blank expression.

The next few days were miserable for me.

My only desire then was to go up to him and tell him why I had been avoiding him. That I had seen every glance, smirk, smile, and laugh he and Julie had shared and say it was breaking my heart in two. I just had to watch in silence. The fear of causing drama within the band had taken precedent over my unrequited love. 

I never meant for it to be taken this far. After Caleb branded us I truly began to wonder if my place in the band really meant anything to anyone. My feelings poured out over a page as I explained everything to them in a letter. A stupid letter that I didn’t know if I actually was going to deliver or not. 

My worst fears soon became a reality after I saw their interaction outside of Luke’s house on his birthday.

Tears fell out of my eyes as I slipped the letter into his songwriting notebook and poofed out of the garage. I knew they would find it. I knew my brother would know the first place to look for me, so I avoided it.

I stood in the alleyway behind the Orpheum, tears falling down my face as I held onto my brother’s sweatshirt he had given me a few days prior. Hopefully I could still keep it.

“Are you ready?”

I turned around and saw Caleb standing in all his elaborate glory, “I guess so.”

He smirked, “Why so hesitant little dove?”

“Um,” I mumbled, a shiver went down my spine at his awkward nickname, “I’m just going to miss them.”

“Miss them? You’re going to miss them? Oh (Y/n), they haven’t even noticed you were gone. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Tears began to form in my eyes. Breathing became hard as I realized I had been sitting here for hours, and no one came yet.

“Poor (Y/n), in love with a boy who doesn’t even notice her. A brother who was rejected by even his parents, and a best friend who doesn’t even notice her feelings. You can leave all that behind, just shake my hand.”

I stood there, debating on if I really wanted to give it all up. Did I really get a choice in this? I slowly lifted my hand, still hesitating.

“(Y/n), look around. They haven’t even come for you yet, and I’m sure that rat Willie already told them what you were doing. They just don’t care-”

“That’s not true!”

I turned around and saw my band running towards me.

“(Y/n) don’t listen to him? He’s manipulating you,” Alex said.

Tears fell down my face as Caleb grabbed my shoulder, “You’re too late. (Y/n) just look at them. They didn’t even notice as you drifted further and further away.”

My eyes flickered up, Luke locked eyes with me. Tears were forming in his eyes, “(Y/n) please don’t do this.”

I looked back down at the ground.

Julie spoke up, “(Y/n), you really don’t realize how much you contribute to this band. We all care about you so much.”

“I doubt she wants to hear from you,” Caleb scoffed, “Seeing as you stole the one thing she most wanted away.”

The boys looked at each other confused but the look on Julie’s face told me that she knew exactly what Caleb meant.

“(Y/n) I promise you, Luke and I are just best friends. I’m so sorry you felt like you weren’t important to us anymore,” Julie said.

Luke looked up at me but I tried not to meet his gaze.

“(Y/n),” Alex said, “You’re my sister. I can’t lose you too. Please.”

Tears ran freely down my face as I pulled myself away from Caleb. Luke ran forward and caught me as I began to fall.

Caleb let out a frustrated yell and disappeared. I didn’t even bother to look up as I sobbed into my hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke whispered to me. Alex pulled everyone into a group hug.

“Guys I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.

“This isn’t your fault,” Reggie said.

I brought my hands down to wrap around Luke’s shoulders, “I just didn’t feel good enough. I wanted to know if you guys really cared. I’m so sorry I should have said something.”

“We’re just happy we got here in time,” Alex said, he ran a hand through my hair, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

My tears came to a slow stop, and eventually we began to walk home.

“Guys, I’m taking (Y/n) somewhere. We’ll catch up.”

The guys waved as Luke grabbed my hand and pulled me in a different direction. It soon became clear where he was taking me. 

“Do you remember this place?” he asked.

“Barely,” I said. I looked around the park I had always gone to, it had changed so much since 1995, “They tore the gazebo down.”

He looked over to where the rickety white structure used to be, a bathroom area was there now.

“I remember, you used to always go there after there was a fight at your house.”

I nodded, “Quiet, secluded, free to go to. Can’t tell you how many songs I wrote here.”

He pulled me over to sit on the benches near the playground. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said. 

I looked up at the clouds, trying to get the answer straight in my head, “I just… I had seen how you looked at her. I wanted you to look at me like that. Once I started to pull away, no one seemed to notice. Caleb offered me his help, he said I’d be famous…”

“What made you hesitate?”

“I realized… I didn’t want a million admirerors, I just wanted one. Nothing could compare to that.”

I jumped as he reached over to grab my hand, bringing it over to sit in his lap as he covered it in both of his, “I want to be that person.”

“You always were.”

He smiled. He brought my hand up and placed a kiss gently on my knuckles. In a quick moment of bravery I leaned over and kissed his cheek quickly.

He placed both his hands on my cheeks before pulling me into a real kiss. The boy I thought I had lost was kissing me. The kiss I had always dreamed of but thought I could never have. 

We both pulled away breathing heavily. I looked up and giggled at his swollen lips and tousled hair knowing I probably looked the same. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to say this. I love you (Y/n). I’ve loved you since the day I met you, I loved you after we died, and I loved you every moment till now. I guess the only reason why I didn’t do anything is I was so scared of you not liking me back, or how your brother would react.”

I sighed as he rubbed his thumb across my cheek, “How do you think he’ll react?”

“He told me while we were looking for you I should’ve asked you out weeks ago. He knows,” He laughed.

The sun had started to set, the light illuminated him making him look ethereal. I pulled him into another quick kiss, “I wish I had done this sooner.”

“What? The kiss or trying to sell your soul to a dead magician?”

I laughed, “Either.”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around me, “Don’t do the second one again anytime soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[non-un-topo]

College, Car Seats, and Creamy Pasta (ficlet)

(This title, idk.) So I’ve been having feelings lately about the old guard with babies in modern aus, so here’s an experimental, kind of self-indulgent ficlet filled with extreme amounts of softness and bébé feels <3

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There’s an infamous story all the way back from college that Joe loves to share which involves Andy drunkenly rolling her ankle on a beach and Joe having to carry her home--though, she could have walked, but Joe demanded to carry her--and fashioning an ice pack out of the only things he could find in his and Nicky’s tiny, decrepit apartment: A condom, and some ice from a small McDonald’s sprite (their freezer was broken when they moved in).

He lives to tell that story every chance he gets. Especially now, as he reaches into Andy and Quỳnh’s (much bigger and much colder) freezer nearly fifteen years later to retrieve a not-homemade ice pack and wrap it in a clean dishtowel for Andy’s poor crotch.

She’s lounging on the couch, even though she’s proven that she can walk, but Joe doesn’t mind, as she reaches back for the ice pack and shoots him a sly smile that says, Yeah, I know exactly which story you’re thinking about. He bats his eyelashes innocently back.

It’s a balmy Friday evening and Quỳnh’s still at work, though likely on her way home, so Joe has taken the liberty of cooking dinner. Andy begged to order a pizza, but Joe was not having it. And he thought himself to be the lax one of the bunch. If Nicky were in the kitchen at the time, it would have been anarchy.

“Thanks, Joe,” Andy says, as she settles into a more comfortable position on the couch with her ice pack, sighing. He adjusts the pillows at her back, which causes her to snort and slap his hand away.

“I’m not dying.”

Joe sniffs. “Yeah, coulda fooled me. How much did that baby weigh again?”

Andy laughs out a quiet, fuck off. “Nine pounds, eight ounces,” she says, quick as a whip.

“God…”

The baby, the reason for Joe and Nicky’s visit to Andy and Quỳnh’s apartment, is fairly chunky, sure, but he looks awfully tiny and pink, especially when he’s wearing his little hat. The hat with little lamb ears that Nicky painstakingly knit for him months ago, when he was barely more than a bump, that rarely leaves his soft little head. Nicky hadn’t even known how to knit at the time.

The baby’s name is Lykon, after a childhood friend of Andy and Quỳnh. Lykon was born at 4:26 AM on Monday. It’s Friday evening. Joe and Nicky have not left the apartment since Andy and Quỳnh brought him home.

And neither Andy nor Quỳnh have physically kicked them out, so Joe is staying right here.

Nicky had disappeared a few minutes ago to go change the baby while Andy napped, but he reappears then, slinking into the living room with Lykon held against his shoulder--he’s so little in Nicky’s hands, they almost swallow him--and Joe smiles at his husband in greeting before doing a double-take.

“Babe,” Joe says, and Andy cranes her neck to try and see Nicky over the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

Nicky continues his journey across the living room floor--lunges, he’s doing lunges. Deep ones that make Joe’s eyebrows jump up in appreciation.

Nicky releases a finger from his gentle grip on the baby’s head and presses it to his lips. “Shush.”

“You trying to get your ass workout in while carrying my son? Really?” Andy asks.

Nicky’s response is whispered so softly, Joe can hardly hear him. “This is the only way I can get him to sleep.”

“Put him in the car seat,” Andy says, like it’s the most simple solution in the world.

“He likes it,” Nicky argues, still whispering.

Andy only shrugs. “Okay, but if he spits up on you…”

And right on cue, Joe hears a tiny gurgle, and there’s baby puke sliding down Nicky’s back.

Andy doesn’t say, told you so, but she doesn’t need to. Her smug grin is enough. With a poorly hidden pout, Nicky reluctantly hands the baby, who is now crying quiet little wobbly squeals, to Andy.

“You know,” Andy says, “you guys don’t have to stay. You have other commitments, I know.”

It’s the first time since Lykon’s birth that she’s said something like that, and Joe is only moderately surprised to feel a sudden onslaught of tears in his eyes.

“Or not,” she says, quickly. “We really appreciate your help, boys, it’s just… We don’t want to keep you.”

“Andy, shut up.”

She laughs, loud and open-mouthed. “Okay, Joe, okay. I love you guys.”

“We love you too,” Nicky says. Then he leans over the couch to peer into Lykon’s squishy little face. “And we especially love you.”

His voice changes when he talks to the baby. While Joe can’t control the way his voice raises several octaves and the way he coos gibberish, Nicky’s voice softens and hushes to something so comfortable, barely audible. It’s the way he would talk to a fussy toddler, Joe thinks, given the opportunity. He would level his eyes with them and speak to them like a person equal to him, providing the safest and most non-judgemental space for them.

Joe thinks. He hasn’t had many opportunities to see his husband speak with toddlers.

“I would be worried about you guys kidnapping him,” Andy says, “but I think it only counts as kidnapping if you leave the apartment.”

Joe snorts, and then he hears the water boiling over on the stove, so he dashes.

When Joe met Andy and Quỳnh, he had been a wide-eyed twenty-year-old, freshly out of the closet and already hopelessly in love. Well, that hasn’t changed, which always delights him to realize, after all these years. It was the love of his young life--Nicky, of course--who introduced him. Andy and Nicky were family friends, more like siblings, really, and of course Andy and Quỳnh had been together since the dawn of time. It took Joe no time at all to find a family in the four of them, inseparable as they all were.

Andy and Quỳnh had actually surprised him when they started talking about kids. That unexpected and world-changing conversation had been the beginning of a long and at times heartbreaking four years, before they finally got their donor, then suffered through a little over a year of IVF. They had almost given up, Joe remembers, between the frustration and the arguments and doctors telling Andy her eggs were too old. But, there he was, at the end of the journey, coming into the world flipping off everyone who said they couldn’t do it: Baby Lykon, the little warrior.

Joe remembers all of it vividly. The phonecall when they told him and Nicky they were pregnant, the panic to help them find a bigger apartment, the indulgent shopping trips, though Andy tried to keep a cap on those, and the weight and warmth of the baby in Joe’s arms the very first time he held him, barely thirty minutes after he’d been born.

Joe had sobbed, of course (something Andy and Quỳnh had anticipated so strongly they bet money on how long he cried for), and he looked into the baby’s big brown eyes and promised him the world.

They had talked about kids. Of course, they had. He and Nicky. But life was busy, and in the last five years between Joe finishing his dissertation and Nicky’s mother getting sick, the subject of kids just hadn’t come up. Besides, Joe thinks now, he’s only thirty-three.

Quỳnh comes home as he’s dishing up dinner for everyone--a creamy, cheesy pasta, because it’s the best comfort food--and her eyes brim with tears when she gets to hold Lykon again. She hasn’t been able to get a lot of time off work, even after becoming a new parent, which Joe thinks is frankly outrageous, but the work she does as a crisis counsellor is of course monumentally important.

They huddle around the couch to eat dinner, but Nicky pulls up one of the rickety chairs from the kitchen table and sits next to the baby, who is snoozing in his car seat on top of the coffee table. Joe doesn’t know how he does it, but Nicky manages to eat his dinner, drink enough water, and hold a conversation while keeping Lykon’s car seat rocking gently so he doesn’t wake up and scream.

Joe watches him as he chews his pasta mindfully and leans close to peer into the car seat. Beautiful. He’s always so beautiful, especially now. The way he looks at Lykon--their nephew, Joe realizes, elated--makes Joe’s head spin off his shoulders. He feels like he’s twenty.

“Crazy how tiny he is,” says Quỳnh, her voice soft and reverent. She already sounds so much like a parent. Joe’s eyes are still on his husband, so he sees how brightly Nicky smiles at that.

Andy makes an indignant noise. “Shut the fuck up.”

Quỳnh laughs, though she tries with obvious effort to keep quiet. She pulls Andy closer, her arm draped over her shoulder, and presses three kisses to her cheek. Then Quỳnh catches Joe’s eye and winks.

Andy shovels another forkful of pasta into her mouth and moans as she chews. With a full mouth, she says, “Joe, this is perfect. Please, boys, never leave.”

Joe shrugs bashfully, pretending to be shy. “It’s Nicky’s recipe.”

“What did you use,” Quỳnh asks.

Joe hums. He juts his chin to the kitchenette. “Your parmesan, mostly, and that fancy milk.”

“What fancy milk,” Andy asks, absolutely stuffing her face.

“Y’know.” Joe waves a hand. Chews, swallows. “The milk in the fancy bag, from the fridge.”

Andy and Quỳnh both stop eating, their eyes bugging out. Quỳnh slaps a hand over her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh and clearly choking a little, and Andy looks… Oh, Andy looks furious. Her face is red.

“J-” She forcefully lowers her voice, shooting a fearful glance at the baby. “Joe,” she whispers through her teeth. “Did you use my fucking breast milk?”

“Dio.” Nicky sticks his fork back into his dish.

“Oh,” Joe says, like an idiot. “Um.”

Andy’s cheeks puff out and somehow her face turns an even darker shade of red.

“I pumped…” she whispers, low and lethal, slow. “...For so… long…”

“There’s more in the fridge, babe,” Quỳnh says, and Joe fears for her life for a hot second. Then she brings her hand out to hover over Andy’s chest. “And it’s not like the tap is running dry, or whatever.”

“So I’m a milk bag.”

“A badass, sexy milk bag who--oh, who is murdering me with her eyes right now.” Quỳnh turns on Joe, then, scooping another forkful of breast-milk-pasta into her mouth and jabbing the fork in his direction. “You’re gonna be up all night paying my wife back for this, genius. See how skilfully you can wipe meconium from his bum.”

Joe only nods in shame. Fair enough.

Lykon signals that he’s awake, then, with a series of soft little snorty grunts that devolve very quickly into shrieking, wobbly sobs. Nicky launches into action with a speed that rivals the pitcrews at NASCAR. He lifts him from the car seat with such gentleness and oh, Joe’s heart breaks to see the baby’s little lips trembling as he cries, the way his little feet kick out against Nicky’s chest as he holds him over his forearms. Nicky is about to pass him to his moms when Quỳnh smiles softly up at him and says, “Looks like you’ve got him.”

He throws her a glance as if to ask, are you sure, and Quỳnh and Andy both nod. Joe’s sure they’re grateful to have the small amount of rest time and, looking at them now, curled together on the couch in their soft clothes, exchanging light kisses, he knows he and Nicky haven’t come close to overstaying their welcome.

“Look at you, Nico,” coos Andy as Nicky carefully holds the baby against his shoulder to peek at his diaper through the waistband his tiny pants. “You’re making us look bad.”

Nicky only chuckles lightly and shakes his head. The diaper must be clean, because he leaves it be and brings a hand up to cup the back of the baby’s wispy-haired head more steadily, and begins to hum, almost a whisper, and Joe’s heart flutters.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” Nicky asks Andy when the baby continues to fuss.

Turns out he is hungry, because he quiets almost immediately when Andy brings him to her chest. It’s not silent in the apartment--Joe can hear some sirens through the window on the streets far below, can hear the air conditioner groan to life, can hear Quỳnh and Nicky’s forks clink against their plates as they continue to eat the questionable breast-milk-pasta (good lord). And, Joe can hear the soft little grunts and snorts that the baby makes as he feeds.

Joe watches his oldest friends--they’re parents now, he can hardly believe it--as they huddle close on the couch and watch their son. Quỳnh wraps her arms under Andy’s so they’re both holding him, and his little chubby fist twitches and flings out every once in a while against Andy’s rolled-up shirt. His feet look impossibly small. Joe remembers the sounds he made when he and Nicky went shopping for all manner of baby supplies to help shave some stuff off Andy and Quỳnh’s list. He’d nearly sobbed when Nicky came up to the cart holding a pair of incredibly tiny socks (and then he had teared up and nearly passed out when Nicky popped the socks over his thumbs. A lot of people stared).

Joe would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been thinking of revisiting that store with Nicky every day since.

Now, he looks at his husband to find him already watching him, his heart in his eyes. Nicky slowly moves his gaze to their friends, to the baby, and Joe follows it. When their eyes meet again, Nicky’s are a little damp with tears, but he’s smiling, and there’s something inquisitive and hopeful in his eyes. Joe matches him and slowly, they both nod.

Yes.