#i hope it’s just cutting hours to part-time at worst

[hollyoongs]

THANK YOU, JAKE ✦ S.JY

pairing tasp!jake x news intern!fem reader

summary when you told your friend about the challenge that your boss put you on in order to work on the company, which was taking a picture of the amazing Spider Man, Jake makes it come true.

genre fluff

warnings both of them like each other, cameo of Jay and Ri-Ki, everything is NYC and I tried to make it short for the other one that I'm planning to make it in the future <3

a/n I can finally get this one up here, I'll do the second part with smut, but Jake's fluff is already needed in this profile. This is my last little present for my em @cmoundiamante (and worst of all, it's late, but I blame my country for that :p), but I'm glad to finally publish it. I know you had an amazing time on your birthday and I want you to look at this little gift as something that can cheer you up for everything you've been through, I'll be there for you and I hope you like it very much. shout out to the editor of THIS Jake Spider-Man, my jupi @glitterjay and also to my lovely moot @ja3yun, this is the spidey!jake I was preparing ;)

wc +3.0k

It was one of those days where everything seemed to conspire against you. As you trudged through the bustling streets of New York City, your camera bag heavy on your shoulder, you couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that clung to you like a stubborn shadow. The sweltering heat of the summer sun only added to your irritation as you made your way to the Daily Bugle, where you were interning as a photographer.

Your future boss, Mr. Jameson, was notorious for his gruff demeanor and demanding nature. Today seemed to be no exception, as he barked orders at the staff, his voice reverberating through the newsroom like thunder. Your friend, Jay, was massaging his forehead, and you couldn't help but go there first. He looked up to see you and gave you a tired smile.

"Rough already?"

"And it's not even 9 a.m." Jay spat in anger, and you opened your bag to give him some of the jelly you always carry around. He took them slightly happier, opening as he started talking again. "He's putting stupid challenges on everyone here. Rumor has it that he's getting jealous of the other newspaper company since they took the #1 place from us."

"Well, wish me luck." You braced yourself for another onslaught of criticism as you approached his desk, hoping to avoid his wrath.

"Ah, there you are," Mr. Jameson said, his tone dripping with impatience. "I've got a special assignment for you."

You felt your heart sink at his words, knowing that whatever task he had in store would likely be arduous and thankless, just like Jay said. But you nodded, steeling yourself for whatever was to come.

"I want you to get me a picture of Spider-Man," he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing in a challenging glare.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at his request. Spider-Man? The elusive vigilante who swung through the city was a hero to some and a menace to others. Getting a photo of him in action was no small feat, and you knew it.

"But how am I supposed to…" you began, but Mr. Jameson cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I don't care how you do it; just get it done," he said firmly. "And make it front-page material, or you'll be out of your ear."

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, you felt a wave of panic wash over you. How were you supposed to capture a photo of Spider-Man when you could barely catch a break in your own life? Desperation clawed at your chest as you racked your brain for a solution. He looked at Jay, and he was with his mouth open. She was simply screwed.

The hours passed slowly, and 7 o'clock of the night finally reached, which made you fly to the only place you find comfort at the moment. Shim Jake's place. Feeling all the weight on your shoulders, you sigh as you knock on the door. His aunt opens before your knuckles can touch the door.

"Hey darling… Oh no, bad day?" like a button, your eyes got watery, and she hugged you. You hold your tears as she loses you in the warm hug. "I'm going to buy food. Jake and Ni-Ki are in the room. I know what you like."

"You are truly the best, May."

"I know, darling. Go." She left you, and you entered the house, going directly to the Australian boy's room. You knocked, and you heard things falling.

"Who's it?"

"Who else, Ni-Ki? Come on, I had a bad day, and I need you guys."

"Hold on a second!" A few seconds passed, and Jake was the one who opened the door, his messy hair, sweat pant and big white shirt and hsi big glasses that made him look more handsome than usual in front of you. "Hey lensgirl, what's wrong?"

You went for a hug, this time with tears going down and your crying getting noticeable.

Jake was taken aback by your sudden display of emotion, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you pulled away slightly. "It's just… work," you managed to choke out between sobs. "Mr. Jameson… He wants me to get a photo of Spider-Man for the front page, and I- I don't know how to do it. I'm so screwed, Jake."

Jake's expression softened with understanding, though you had no idea just how much he truly understood. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated, guiding you to sit on his bed. "We'll figure it out, okay? You're not alone in this."

Ni-Ki, hearing the commotion, poked his head out from behind the doorframe. "Jake can help," he said, and you could feel Jake getting tense. You looked up to Ni-Ki.

"What?"

"Jake knows Spider-Man. You could get the picture." You open your eyes as your eyes travel again to Jake's.

"Since when?!" You practically shouted at him, and he gave a shy smile, which you loved, but the thought of him being friends with the hero and not telling you was in your mind.

"I'll tell you right after you clean and calm yourself. You know what? Go to the bathroom." As you were protesting, Jake obligated you to go inside. The boys went straight to the room and locked it, Jake basically punching Ni-Ki for opening his mouth.

"Are you being serious?! Why did you say that?"

"You know I'm fond of her, and I can't stand her crying. And also, I'm doing you a favor; you've liked her since forever, and with this, you can make a move. And you know that she loves Spider-Man. I consider this a win."

Jake's heart raced as he processed Ni-Ki's words. He couldn't deny the truth about them. He had harbored feelings for you for what felt like forever, but he never found the courage to act on them, and because of the sudden powers he got after being bite by a spider, the dangers were too much to the point he would rather die with the secret in order to keep you save. That's how much he loved you.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Keeping his identity as Spider-Man a secret was crucial, and now, with you unknowingly on the brink of discovering the truth, he felt the pressure mounting.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jake turned to Ni-Ki. "Okay, okay," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "But we have to be careful. She can't know about this, Ni-Ki. It's too risky."

Ni-Ki nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I won't say anything else, I promise. Only you have to stay cool, you get to nervous around her. I'm surprise you're not right now" he assured Jake.

"Because someone open his mouth"

"Stop crying and be grateful. I pulled a move that you couldn't make for the past 4 years."

It has already been two days since that weird conversation and the explanation of Jake being friends with Spider-Man. It was so odd to you, but the most odd thing was when he told you by text, "I will send you the address where he's going to be."

And here you were, going into the alley for him to arrive. It was getting late, and you could feel your heart beating fast when you saw a few guys in there, cigars in their hands, their auras as bad as how they looked.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said, which you ignored completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ignored the leering comments from the men in the alley. You clutched your camera bag tightly, feeling a surge of unease as you realized just how vulnerable you were in this dimly lit space.

Just as panic threatened to overtake you, a familiar sound cut through the tension—a whoosh of air followed by the distinct thud of impact. Before you could even process what was happening, Spider-Man descended from the shadows, landing gracefully in front of you with his trademark agility.

"Hey there, fellas," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I don't think the lady appreciates your company."

The men scoffed, eyeing Spider-Man with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. "And who are you supposed to be, huh?" One of them sneered, taking a step forward. You started taking your camera out of your bag, setting it up for a good shot, and to make it take as many photos as you could as both men focused on the hero.

Spider-Man's demeanor shifted subtly, his stance becoming more assertive as he addressed the group. "Let's just say I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I'm not too keen on seeing people hassle innocent bystanders, especially this pretty girl," he replied, his tone firm.

The men hesitated, sizing up the masked vigilante before them. But before they could make another move, Spider-Man sprang into action, his movements a blur of speed and precision. With calculated strikes and well-timed dodges, he swiftly incapacitated the would-be troublemakers, leaving them groaning on the ground in defeat.

You watched in awe as Spider-Man effortlessly dispatched the thugs, a surge of gratitude welling up inside you. Once the immediate threat had been neutralized, Spider-Man turned to you, his masked eyes meeting yours with a sense of warmth and reassurance. You took your camera and looked at the pictures, so many good enough to be front page material.

"Are you okay there?" he asked, his concern evident even behind the mask.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you in his presence. "Yeah, I'm okay," you stammered, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded before you. You felt some drops of water falling on your face, looking up at the sky and wondering if more drops were falling. "Damn it, it's raining."

"Then let me take you out of here." without a warning, his hand wrapped around your waist, both of your bodies covering the camera. "Hold on tight lensgirl," you frown at the nicknmae. There's only one person that could call you like that, but you couldn't think much of it as you held dear life to him as he swang you around places.

You ended up on your apartment building—in your balcony, to be more exact—and the roof kept both of you off the water, you went inside for a moment to leave the camera in your bed and return. He was hanging from the ceiling as you watched him, forcing you to believe that everything that happened in the past ten minutes was not a dream.

"Don't you want to stand up? So you don't get dizzy."

"I like it this way. Don't worry. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

"No problem, that's my job."

"Because you're a hero," the masked guy sighs in front of you. making you feel slighty sad for it.

"Some people don't think so." and it was true, all the fake rumors to paint him as a bad guy made you think about how much free time all this people have to just tear the life of someone who really wants to help.

"But you are, at least I think that."

"It's nice to have a fan as pretty as you."

"Let me say thank you."

"But you already did."

"I meant the trip, not you saving me." You approached him more, and the sound of the rain at the back made the scene more lovely. Then slowly took the mask, only showing his lips. You were surprised by the familiar shape, making your mind go wild. No wonder Ni-Ki and Jake got nervous; no wonder Jake was the only one that could help you with the hero; and there's no wonder why he called you "Lensgirl."

Jake was Spider-Man.

Leaving your thoughts behind, you place your lips on his. The kiss was electrifying, a rush of emotions coursing through both of you as your lips met in a tender embrace. Raindrops fell softly around you, adding to the surreal moment as you shared this intimate connection with the masked hero who had just swept you off your feet—literally.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. Everything suddenly made sense—the mysterious conversations, the unspoken tension between you and Jake, even the strange nickname he had given you. It was all because he was Spider-Man, the hero you had admired from afar, and now he was the man whose lips were pressed against yours.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of you tangled together on that rooftop balcony.

"Thank you, Jake," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

"Wait… how?"

"You let out "Lensgirl," and I've stared at your lips too much to actually know the shape," he finally dropped himself, taking off his mask completely, revealing his red cheeks and normal shy demeanor.

He actually searched your face for any sign of rejection. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "But I wanted to tell you, not in this way; I've got to learn to also shut my mouth up. I… I care about you more than you'll ever know."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached up to cup his face in your hands, the weight of everything finally sinking in. "I care about you too, Jake," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just… I never imagined…"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jake leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, sealing the unspoken words between you with a promise of something more. 

With a smile on your lips and love in your heart, you leaned into Jake's embrace, letting the warmth of his touch chase away the chill of the night as you watched the city skyline glitter in the rain.

"Please write a good news about me."

"Trust me, you'll sure have it, Spidey."

"I just realized that I've to thank Ri-Ki, damn it."

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfics #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen oneshots #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen jake #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jake x reader #jake sim #jake sim imagines #jake sim drabbles #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake imagines #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #enhypen headcanons #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake oneshot #jake sim fluff #hollyoongs

[neo-nomatrix]

(My) Nuisance

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 964

find the rest of the mini series here

synopsis: You thought you hated Hobie, but for some reason you’re starting to like him just as much as you like Spiderman.

a/n: (maybe too much) british slang used

You hate your next door neighbor. No, no you loathe your next door neighbor. You think he is the worst person to possibly exist. His stupid flat decorations, his loud punk-rock music blasting at unruly hours, the way he would come back to his flat at 4 am stomping his boots yelling with his friends about their latest anarchist protest. But you hate nothing more than the way he looks at you.

Everytime you try yelling at him he opens his door with the cheekiest grin on his face. While you’re standing there fuming he’s leaning against the door panel looking you up and down. The worst part is how much he tries to smooth talk you.

“I already told you how annoying your music is, no one wants to hear that at 3 am alright? Some of us have work in the morning,” you complain, smoke practically coming out of your ears.

“Oh c’mon love it’s not that bad. Don’t have to be such a tosser ‘bout it. It messes up that pretty face of yours,” he says.

“Are you daft? You’re the one keeping everyone up at night with your dumb guitar,” you roll your eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal sweetheart. Y’know i'm starting to think you’re making up rubbish just so you can talk to me more. I’ll admit it’s pretty cute but you could just ask me out,” he leans closer to your flushed face.

“I don’t fancy you if that’s what you mean,” you scoff.

“Not saying that. I’m saying if you wanna snog me so bad you could just say so,” he shrugs.

You could burst out laughing. Kiss him? That’s fucking hilarious.

“You’re joking right? i’d rather die.”

“I don’t believe in comedy, love,” he says.

“Of course you don’t,” you mumble as you storm off back to your door.

You’ve decided he is the worst person ever. He doesn’t deserve your efforts and time.

You set your keys down and fall into bed as you hear amp feedback and the sounds of Hobie strumming his guitar. You can’t help but roll your eyes. How could someone be so incompetent?

You reach your hand over to where the bed and the wall meet to grab your Spiderman plush. You hate to admit it because it’s kind of dumb but you’ve always loved spiderman. Ever since you were a little kid you collected posters, figures, pins, and merchandise having to do with the superhero. Even now, your walls are decorated in spiderman posters, you own spiderman clothing, and even printed your keys to have a blue and red spider web on them.

There was something so nostalgic to the vigilante and his style that you had to adorn your room with touches of blue and red. You thought spiderman was the embodiment of “cool.” From his suit to the way he acted around criminals to the electric guitar on his back. Sure, a guitar was the main thing you hated about Hobie but Spiderman did it better. He made it work in the way Hobie dreams of.

You wake up to the loudest knock on your front door you’ve ever heard. You immediately know it’s him. You try to ignore the blaring pounding coming from your door but it keeps going. You force yourself to get up and answer the door. You hope you can open it, yell at him, then go back to bed.

To your dismay the second you open the door Hobie places his hand on the top of the wood, stopping you from moving it anywhere else.

“What do you want this early?” you groan.

“It’s like 9 am, love. But anyway-” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. You’re too groggy to notice that he’s staring inside of your flat. His eyes search the walls and decor in front of him.

“So, I take it you like Spiderman?” He laughs.

“That’s none of your business,” you sigh, crossing your arms.

He pushes his way inside of your flat, moving around like he’s looking for buried treasure. He picks up memorabilia and smiles at them. He holds up a Spider-Punk figurine and turns towards you.

“Spider-Punk huh?”

“Don’t touch my stuff! You know this is technically breaking and entering,” you scold him, taking the figure out of his hand.

He puts his hands in his pockets and just smirks at you. That stupid smirk, displaying half of his teeth and perfectly showing his lip ring.

“What do you want from me, Hobie?” you question after placing the figure back on its stand.

“Jus- Just wanted to apologize for last night,” he starts.

“You mean this morning? We talked at 1 am, remember?” You say, passive aggressively.

“Right, whatever. You’re… You’re right,” he exhaled, “I shouldn’t be blasting my music that early. It’s inconsiderate and rude to the people in my vicinity,” he breathes.

In the time you’ve known him you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say sorry. You’re taken aback, did he really apologize? And did he sound genuinely sorry?

“Oh, oh uhm thanks,” you sat, still skeptical a camera crew would come out laughing saying this whole thing was a prank.

“I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come to my show tonight? We could get dinner after or whatever you want,” He scratches the back of his neck, he’s nervous.

“I’d like that, I guess,” you reluctantly say.

“Wicked. Uhm, i’ll be leaving then. Sorry again,” he says. Shooting finger guns at you and making his way out the door.

You smile, maybe, just maybe, Hobies getting to you. As he’s leaving you could swear you see some blue and red material with spikes on it slipping out of his pocket.

#spiderman x y/n #spiderman atsv #spiderverse x reader #spiderman x reader #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #spider punk #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x y/n #marvel x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman x you

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #könig #könig cod #konig x you #cod konig

[rosepascal]

Lacy || Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel has a new girlfriend and it's eating you alive inside, especially when she's so perfect.

warnings: angst to fluff, happy ending!! reader gets minorly injured (cuts hand on accident), jealousy, bad feelings, self deprecation kinda, implied something happened to make reader not want to go on patrols anymore but nothing specific.

a/n: heres my jealousy fic loosely based on Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo. I low key love these kinda fics so I hope I did the trope justice

Perfect Perfect Perfect. She’s just so. Fucking perfect. Your body moves on auto pilot as your brain spirals into the depths of hatred and loathing.

All because of Joel’s new girlfriend.

Your mind is torn between raging jealousy and embarrassment. You and Joel were nothing. Just friends. You worked odd jobs in Jackson and would cross paths with Joel often. He wasn’t very friendly at first but soon enough you managed to break down his initial suspicion.

You became closer than most. At least you thought you were. You’d only seen him joke and smile around Ellie so when he laughed at one of your jokes you felt your stomach flip. He brought you little trinkets he found on patrols too. Small things, things that most people wouldn’t care about but Joel brought them to you so of course you cherished them like they were gold.

Then she came to town.

It was embarrassing how much you let your mind turn to jealousy and resentment. Lacy was beautiful, strong, and the nicest fucking person in town. She’s sweet and helpful and so smart. She’s everything you feel like you’re not. So why wouldn’t Joel be attracted to her? They’re patrol partners too. You see them every morning and come back every afternoon.

You don’t go on patrol. Not anymore. Joel knew that, he never asked and you never told him. He doesn’t care though. You pull your weight just as much as everyone and Joel respects that. Some people don’t. So to have Joel tell you he doesn’t care what you do, it always makes you happy. Still you wonder if he’d like you if you did go on patrol. If you could spend hours with him outside the walls, just the two of you. Maybe he’d compliment your shots or offer his jacket to keep you warm. Like he does for her.

You saw them once coming back inside the gates. His jacket was draped across her shoulders and your heart cracked. You bet it was romantic too. He noticed she was cold and so he happily gave her his jacket. How cute. You walked away from them and buried yourself into kitchen work. Helping stock and prep for dinner. Your brain is still thinking of her.

The worst part is she isn’t someone you can't even hate. She’s only been kind to you. Always offering her help to anyone who needs it. Her smile is so perfect and she makes everyone happy. Especially Joel. Joel always seems to be talking with her which is a big deal for the man who only communicated in noises the first time you met. For fucks sakes she even bakes cookies in her spare time.

You try to avoid seeing them but somehow it’s like they always pop up where you are. Tonight they’re patrons at the bar where you’re serving as bartender for the night.

“Hi there darlin’” Joel’s voice makes your heartbeat a little faster but you see Lacy standing right beside him.

“Whiskey on the rocks, right?” You blurt out without thinking. He looks surprised at first but nods.

“One for me too please.” Lacy asks nicely. You give her a tight smile and nod silently. It doesn’t take long to pour their drinks and Joel takes them both, gesturing to her to go sit.

“Thank you,” He says with a small smile.

“Anytime.” Though other people come and go, you can’t help but keep your eyes on them. Every time they laughed or smiled or got closer, it made your blood boil. You were jealous, you hated this feeling. You hated feeling the anger that burned inside of you. You hated how much you hated her. It made you sick but you couldn’t get yourself to look away. It’s like you secretly wanted to watch your whole world burn. You watch as she says something and Joel leans in closer, his lips barely ghosting her ear as he rests his arm on the booth behind her. The chatter of the bar stops as the sound of a glass shattering. It’s only when everyone’s eyes land on you do you realize you made the noise. The wine glass in your hand is now in pieces on the counter and your hand is covered in small cuts from the glass. You could feel Joel’s piercing gaze on you as someone moves to help.

“I’m okay,” You say quickly, grabbing a rag and putting it around your hand.

“I uh, I’ll be back.” You mutter, humiliation growing as you shrink under the looks of everyone. You rush out the back door. Sighing you put your head down on your knees as you slide down the wall. Your jealousy got the best of you and it feels so ugly. You slowly pick the glass out of your hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” You look up and your eyes widen. There stands Lacy, the last person you expected to see.

“Are you sure? I can go get you some gauze.”

“I said I’m fine.” You snap. She takes a step back and you immediately feel the guilt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I…I’m sorry.” You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping she leaves you alone so you can wallow in your misery.

“It’s okay,” She says gently. Lacy walks closer to you and you look up at her.

“I can’t help but feel like we’ve never really gotten along and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.” Her words are so genuine that it makes you sick. She’s just so perfect and nice and it makes you feel awful.

“No no, you did nothing wrong. I promise. It’s all me.” She looks down next to you and you offer her to sit.

“I’m sorry if I came off cold, you’re really nice and It’s something to do with me.” You explain.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to get to know you better if you want. Joel talks about you all the time.” She says. That catches your attention.

“He does?” You ask. She giggles and nods her head.

“Don’t tell him I told you but he really likes you, he just won’t admit it.” You can’t believe what she’s saying. It doesn’t make sense. He's so happy with her, and spends time with her. They’re perfect for each other.

“What? I thought you two were dating.” You look shocked as she shakes her head.

“We’re not. Me and Joel were both from the Boston QZ, I helped him out from time to time so we were kind of friends.” You guess that explains why he warmed up to her so fast but still.

“He won’t admit it to me but I know he likes you. He always wonders what you’re doing in town that day and when we go on supply runs he tries to subtly ask about things for you but he’s not very subtle.” She says, smiling as she remembers the shitty excuses Joel would make for picking up the tattered journal. He told her about you, that you used to keep one before the outbreak and you missed it. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t really seen him much lately…” You know it's partially your fault for avoiding him but he didn’t really make much effort to see you either.

“I told him to talk to you but he started to get nervous.” She says while rolling her eyes.

“Joel nervous?” You ask in disbelief.

“I know! He totally denied it when I asked. Said he doesn’t get nervous in that crabby voice he does.” She says while laughing.

“Oh my god he really does do that voice doesn’t he. Especially when he’s trying to reprimand Ellie.” You say while laughing with her.

“And she never listens.” Lacy adds. It feels nice to laugh with her. Though now you feel silly for feeling so jealous.

“I think I owe you an apology Lacy, the truth is I was jealous of you. You’re just, so amazing and cool and nice. I thought you were perfect for Joel and I just, I wanted to be perfect for Joel.” You admit sheepishly. "I shouldn't have avoided you the way I did."

“Thank you for the apology and it's okay. As for Joel, you are perfect for him.” She hugs you and it takes you a moment before you hug her back.

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel’s voice makes you jump.

He’s come to check on the two of you. The butterflies you felt before come back in full force as you see him standing there. His eyes darting to your cut up hand.

“You should really get that fixed up.” He kneels down in front of you and checks your hand over. Lacy gets up and winks at you.

“I’ll leave you to it Joel,” She nudges him and he grumbles about something. She smiles and gives you a thumbs up before disappearing back inside.

Even though his hands are rough he handles yours with such care. Making sure not to hurt you as he checks for glass. He reaches into his small bag and pulls out a rag and wraps it around your hand.

“This’ll be okay for now but you need to put some salve on it and wrap it with a bandage.” Joel finishes wrapping your hand but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

His hands are so warm. You notice how tense he seems. He’s nervous. With the boost of confidence from Lacy you bite the bullet and speak.

“I like you. A lot.” You confess.

“I uh-” He doesn’t know what to say as you take him by surprise.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner.” Your voice gets smaller as you speak. Worried that you were right and he doesn’t feel the same.

“I got you somethin’” He reaches into his little bag and pulls out a small book.

“You told me about keepin’ a diary and well I found this and thought you could start again, if you wanted to.” He hands it to you, it's a little ripped but still intact. It’s clearly been patched up. The leather cover has been cleaned and there's a new ribbon around the center.

“Oh Joel, it’s perfect.” You run your hands along the spine in awe.

“I would love to go to dinner with you darlin’’” He takes your hand and kisses the back of it. Helping you up he takes off his jacket and places it on your shoulders.

“Let me walk you back.” He places his hand on the small of your back.

You glance in the window of the bar and see Lacy talking with a few people. She makes them laugh and this time you smile. She catches your gaze and smirks, seeing Joel’s jacket and him so close.

For once it feels like you can breathe, the bitter feelings are gone. It’s a new start, a new friend gained in Lacy and hopefully a new love that will last forever.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks as he notices you in your head. Looking over at him you smile and he pulls you closer.

“I’m perfect Joel, just perfect.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst

[usereddie]

buck knows it can't be that big of a surprise to anyone, not really. not when he's only ever laughed at the jokes, never corrected anybody. he's half dreading it, telling the team. they're his family. they mean everything in the world to him, but, god, what if they knew. what if they knew all along this part of him that was too dark to look at, the dusty corner of the attic no one ever even shines a flashlight on in fear of what they'll find. it's not that buck decided to shine a flashlight, either. it was more like watching eddie smile at tommy and laugh at his (frankly very unfunny, thanks) joke made the whole room flood with bright, fluorescent light. it was kind of impossible to keep his eyes from drifting to it. to that attraction that was always there, always buzzing just under the surface of his skin.

sometimes he wonders if all the scrapes and cuts and scars, all the time he purposefully threw his body against the asphalt weren't just to get his parents attention. maybe he thought if he could give it a way out, the thrumming would leave and his heart would settle.

he spent an hour this morning and two hours last staring at himself in the mirror, repeating the word over and over and over. he spent the night before last avoiding his reflection altogether, terrified he wouldn't recognize the man looking back.

like it's some shocking revelation, this, and not the slow build of realization that's been coming for as long as he can remember.

and that's the thing, right? because buck can't blame his friends if they all laugh and pat him on the back and say i knew it, because it's not like he was totally unaware either. purposefully ignorant? yes. oblivious, though?

probably not as much as maddie might think.

his plan is to not say anything. to hold the word close to his chest for as long as possible but it's like his friends have fucking phd's in how to read him and his body language, and they're gently poking and prodding and pleading for him to open up.

hen's eyes are brighter than normal and chimney's smile is earnest and bobby's got his 'caring dad' face on and eddie's so beautiful when he smiles at him encouragingly he almost screams.

the words spill out before he can stop them. i'm bi. buck's eyes screw shut.

a hand falls lands on top of his, fingers squeezing. when he looks up, hen is grinning, and, jesus fuck, she looks so proud of him. buck didn't consider that as a possibility. that people would look at him with pride. that they'd thank him for his vulnerability, for trusting them, that he'd get pulled into teary eyed hugs. it's not some sort of new phenomenon — evan buckley assuming the worst — but it catches him off guard more than it usually does.

eddie hangs back. buck feels his absence like someone carved the emptiness out of him. he's on edge, a weird, jittery distance between the two of them for the rest of the shift. buck doesn't run into the fire without gear and let the flames overtake him but it's a near thing. eddie keeps looking at him, though. like there are words he doesn't know how to form and it makes something bubble in his chest. not quite hope because buck's not foolish enough to assume eddie would ever want him like that. the way buck's starting to realize he does.

and, oh god, does he.

but then the day ends and buck's lacing up his sneakers in the locker room and eddie's dressed but he's lingering, checking his watch thirty times in a minute. chimney heads out, pats on their backs, a wink and wide smile in buck's direction. buck gets up, throws his bag over his shoulder.

eddie stutters in his movements like he doesn't know if he's gonna allow himself to follow through with them, but then strong arms are wrapping themselves around buck, holding him so tight it almost feels like he can't breathe.

somehow, inexplicably, it also feels like he's exhaling for the first time.

"i'm proud of you, buck. i love you, you know that?" eddie says as they pull away, words a little awkward with their disuse but so genuine his heart twists painfully in his chest.

yeah, buck wants to say. almost does. but not how i want you to.

#this was supposed to be a normal text post btw #unfortunately i'm incapable of being even remotely well adjusted about this show #so enjoy #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #911 spec #bia.fic

[florencemtrash]

The Artificer: Part II - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Torture, violence, death

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

“She is my mate.” The male’s eyes flashed with horror and understanding, and that feeling chased him towards his death, “And your High Lord will burn for what he’s done.”

Five months later…

“Where is she?” The Shadowsinger stalked forward, silent as the dead and just as unfeeling.

The Autumn Court warrior at least had the sense to tremble when The Shadowsinger came near. But he kept his red-cracked lips shut, golden eyes shining with hatred. 

“Bastard.” He sneered, spitting on Azriel’s polished boot. 

“I said.” A shadow darted out from his side, grabbing a fistful of matted tawny hair and wrenching it back. His skin was thin, so translucent that Azriel traced the flow of his blood in his purple veins with dead eyes. “Where. Is. She?” Every word was emphasized with a violent jerk.

He’d gone to visit you last week, carrying your favorite chocolates from Velaris and hoping for a far sweeter kiss in return. Instead your workshop had been in ruins. Swords shattered and the fire burnt out. For the first time, the room had been cold and unlit. 

Azriel had only found the pathetic male in front of him, kneeling on the ground and uselessly tugging at the sword which refused to move - Sunseeker. 

Azriel held it now in his hands, the pale, yellow glow sharpening the shadows beneath his eyes and the elegantly cruel cut of his jaw. 

It had been a risk trying to pick up the sword, but the weapon had sung to him and his shadows, calling out for him to wield it instead of the unworthy Autumn Court male. Azriel was no replacement for its real master - he was no replacement for you - but Sunseeker willed it and he obeyed. 

“Is there truly no one else capable of wielding it?” Azriel asked, sitting so close to you that your knees and elbows brushed against one another. He didn’t have the courage to kiss you just yet, but gods did he want to. And with the hours he’d spent looking at and dreaming about your lips, he was certain he had a good idea what you tasted like.

“Her.” You corrected, holding the sword up to the steady stream of sunlight that spilled through the slats in the ceiling. Pressed against the light, the sword appeared almost transparent - as if made of glass. 

Azriel smiled. You liked to name and personify every tool, weapon, and piece of equipment you owned, as if you had a secret third eye that allowed you to see into the lives of inanimate objects. He wanted to believe it was true - it was the only way he could explain the wonders you produced with your bare hands.

“There is one other person capable of such a thing,” You hesitated to tell him, but ultimately finished. “My mate.” 

All at once Azriel’s heart fell into free fall, prepared to crash through the cradle of his bones and into the floor. His face, marvelously, betrayed nothing.

“Your mate.” He stole his gaze away, focusing on a very interesting speck of dust on the counter, “They’re lucky.” He murmured, drawing away. 

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not lucky enough.” You sheathed the blade, returning it to its new place on the wall, “They haven’t found me yet.” 

“Oh.” A flicker of hope filled his chest - dangerous and unwieldy. “Is that… is that something you want? A mate? ” Azriel wondered aloud before his mind could trap the words. He cringed, shaking his head in self-disappointment. 

What a stupid question. Everyone wanted to find their mate. Everyone. He himself had been obsessed with the concept for hundreds of years. He had thought he’d find his mate in Mor, and then Elain, he had even thought he felt something more than friendship for Gwyn. 

But more recently the idea had faded into the recesses of his mind. More recently the worst of his thoughts had fallen silent, and it was all thanks to you.

“Maybe,” You considered it, “Maybe not.” You sighed, sinking back into your seat. You rubbed at a metal coin on the benchtop, feeling the oil gather on its surface and taint your fingers grey, “My parents were mates. They didn’t love each other though. Not really.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You shook your head and shook off his sympathy.

“I don’t know if I want a mate…”

You pulled your chair closer and reached out, delicately beginning to drag your fingertips over the ridges and valleys of Azriel’s scars. His heart stopped when you picked up his hands and gently kissed them, your calloused fingertips rolling over his ruined skin. 

“But there is something I definitely want.” You revealed, looking at him with more feeling than you ever had before. 

You’d been scraping by on lingering touches and reserved smiles and momentary glances that spoke of more than friendship. But it wasn’t enough. It had never been enough, not since the moment he’d walked into your workroom. You felt like a woman starved, deprived of something that you hadn’t even tasted yet. It was a terrible pain to want something you didn’t even understand the nature of. 

Azriel wasn’t everything. He wasn’t the air you needed to breathe. He wasn’t every piece of joy that life could bring. But he was the bright touch of color in the world that made everything that came before seem dull. And you didn’t want to live in greyscale anymore.

Azriel swallowed thickly, his hands instinctively falling to your waist and pulling you into his lap. “Whatever it is you want, Y/n - anything at all - I’ll give it to you.” He whispered reverently, closing his eyes when you pressed your forehead against his, “I swear it on my life.” 

It was such sweet torture feeling you pressed against him with your hands caressing his throat. You smelled like woodsmoke and citrus. Heady, sweet, and clean all at the same time. 

“Just you, Az. I just want you.” 

He couldn’t handle it anymore. He tightened his grip on you, swallowing your little gasp of surprise with his lips. 

Time was molten metal. Cooling, slowing, and warping around your hands as you molded it to your liking, so you could savor this moment for as long as possible.

Little did you know, your mate had found you. And he would find you again. Nothing but the crashing of the stars and the splitting of the earth would keep him from fulfilling this promise.

Azriel’s eyes darkened. 

“Three of you were sent to take Y/n.” Azriel stalked around the male, slipping in and out of eyesight without warning. The male pulled at his chains and the ring of his futile efforts echoed throughout the dungeon. 

“She put up a fight.” Azriel emerged from the male’s left, shooting out an arm so quickly that the pain followed after the fall of blood down his freckled cheeks. 

Azriel cleaned Truth-Teller on his forearm nonchalantly, continuing his ambiguous path. If it weren’t for the hard cruelty in his eyes and the knife in his hands, he would look… normal. As if he were doing the grocery instead of slowly butchering a fae alive. He’d already taken three fingers and four toes. 

The male began to shake. 

“I saw the blood in the shop. It wasn’t yours, and it wasn’t hers.”

Another arm shot out, followed by a scream. The male grappled for an ear that was no longer there, feeling the blood drip down his arms from the stump. 

“I DON’T KNOW!” The male cried out, curling in on himself, “I don’t know.” He repeated miserably.

“What don’t you know?” Azriel asked. His countenance said he was bored, but inside he was barely holding on by a thread. His shadows begged to be released and scattered across all of Prythian until you were returned home. They wanted chaos and pain - anything to distract from your aching absence.

Let us handle this. They hissed. We can take him. We’ll get the information. We’ll get everything. Let us-

Azriel shushed them, and they obeyed, falling to the edges of his consciousness and the edges of his body. 

“What don’t you know?” Azriel leaned forward, some sick, twisted part of him relishing in the way the male flinched. 

“I-I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know why he wanted her. Just some no-name artificer from-”

“Who wanted her?” 

The male paled further until his skin was as pallid as moonlight on lakewater. 

“WHO?!” 

“THE HIGH LORD!” He whimpered, shuffling away from Azriel’s encroaching footsteps. The chains scuffed the ground and then clanged when he reached the end of his length, trailing blood. “Ber-Beron wanted her.”

Azriel stilled, his insides turning cold. 

There were dozens of reasons why Beron might want you as his prisoner. Your talents alone made you worth a thousand men. But if Beron had any awareness of what you meant to him? 

Azriel gritted his teeth. “For what purpose?” He growled.

The male’s dull eyes closed in defeat. He was as good as dead. He could only hope the rumours were true and that the Night Court were not the devils they pretended to be. Then, and only then, might he be offered the option of a violently quick end. 

“He heard rumours of an artificer - a female artificer - capable of crafting weapons that could be bonded to a single wielder. He’s been searching for years now.” He shook his bloodied locks, “We thought…We thought it would be another dead end. Another body to bury. We didn’t think-” He choked on his words, trailing off into silence. 

Azriel crouched down, dragging the Truth-Teller down the male’s face like a sculptor ready to carve a piece of marble down. 

One wrong breath, one flinch, and he’d draw blood. 

“Finish what you were going to say.” His hazel eyes cut deep. 

He swallowed, “We didn’t think… we didn’t think she was anyone important.” 

Azriel’s eyes were swallowed up by shadows until they hardened into two marble stones.

The male held his breath, feeling an oppressive power start to press down on him. Suffocating. Cold. Lethal. Darkness shoved him to the floor, crushing his ribs until they splintered and snapped. 

“That was your mistake,” Azriel growled, “She is someone important. More important than you will ever be.” With a flash of blue and black, he buried Truth-Teller into the male’s chest all the way down to the hilt. 

A shock of surprise and pain flooded the male’s face, and before the expression could dissipate, Azriel leaned in close enough to smell the blood pooling on his tongue and dripping down his chin.

“She is my mate.” The male’s eyes flashed with horror and understanding, and that feeling chased him towards his death, “And your High Lord will burn for what he’s done.”

___________

His shadows roiled in frustration, climbing up his legs and arms like fire greedily chasing after oxygen. They weren’t happy about being denied a kill, and every moment Azriel kept them on a leash, the more irritable they became. Their devotion to you was second only to Azriel. Even then, they would hesitate to disappoint you, even if it meant going against their master. 

Soon. He promised them. Soon.

Azriel’s silhouette was carved out of the fabric of the night sky, shadows curling around his arms and wings as he stayed low, pooling his power to keep them all hidden. Cassian and Eris lay on the ground beside him, arms and wings tucked in close. 

Autumn lay like a sleeping giant all around them, sighing with a breath that had mist floating up from slick, damp earth covered in leaves. Azriel was grateful for the weather, the rain disguised the curling of their breath in the air and masked their footsteps when they crossed over from Spring. Night and mist were a Shadowsinger’s dream. 

The ground rose steadily in front of them, trees only daring to inch halfway up the hill as if they too could taste the magic in the air. All the trees - save for the godstree that marked the crest of the hill and snaked its thundering hand towards the sky in a knobby, clenched fist. 

Icaryon Hill was one of Autumn’s most highly guarded secrets, and like the Forest House, it hid all its treasures and prisoners underground. 

Azriel leaned down, pressing his ear to the ground and straining his ears for anything. Anything at all. 

Eris smirked at him, reveling in the way Azriel bristled and bared his teeth. He would never let the Shadowsinger forget how he’d become desperate enough to swallow his pride and ask him for help.  

Cassian looked equally displeased at the Lordling’s presence. “I hope your information isn’t as useless as the rest of you.” 

“Careful who you call useless, Bastard,” Eris drawled, choosing his words very carefully, “Or else I might have to leave you and your pretty little artificer for the dogs.”

Cassian had to stop himself from wringing his pale, slender neck, but Azriel - for once in his life - didn’t have that much self control. 

He shot forward, wrapping one scarred hand around Eris’s throat and slamming his head back into the ground, pushing down until he sank six inches into the damp soil. 

Eris’s eyes flashed with something like triumph and curiosity. Nevermind that the Shadowsinger was currently crushing his ribs with his knee, or that Truth Teller was starting to leave a thin line of blood on his neck. 

Azriel hated him, and the piece he hated most was that even when Eris was down, he had a way of making himself out to be the biggest person in the room. 

“Az, that’s enough,” Cassian hissed. His eyes kept swiveling back up to the hill, “Let him go.” 

Eris had warned them there would be a narrow window of time between the changing of the guards. The belly of Icaryon Hill was so expertly warded that no one - not even the High Lord - was capable of winnowing in. At some unknown time three guards would slip out and three guards would slip in, all winnowing to the gate hidden in the base of the godstree. One - and only one - of the males would have the key necessary to enter and exit and they’d have to unlock the gate in twenty seconds or risk triggering an alarm. If any blood was spilled on the earth, internal alarms within the Forest House would trigger the arrival of a squadron of gorgons capable of turning flesh to rock with a single touch. 

That meant in order to evade the wards they’d have to winnow up the hill, kill six highly-trained males without bloodshed, and find the key in less than twenty seconds if they wanted even the smallest chance of getting you out. 

Cassian knew this and it made his stomach turn. 

Eris knew this and it made him cocky. 

“Interesting.” Eris said, tilting his head with a smug smile on his face, “The Artificer, huh? Was that doe-eyed seer not enough for you?” 

Azriel began to heave with rage, eyes turning pure black. It was enough to scare even Cas. Azriel had been on edge for weeks since you’d gone missing, but Cass had never seen him so… so unhinged. 

Azriel had traded in his icy rage for a darker, more visceral variety capable of driving him to madness.

And Eris was not making things better.

He continued to goad him, “Maybe she ran away? I wouldn’t blame her.” 

“Eris, shut the fuck up.” Cassian growled, “When are the guards changing?” 

Eris ignored him, concentrating on the Shadowsinger. Azriel may have been the one to approach him for help, but that didn’t mean he was going to waste an opportunity to advance his own agenda. 

It was funny. Everyone said The Shadowsinger was near unreadable - cold as a statue and as unfeeling as steel. But deep down, Eris knew he was still the same little Illyrian bastard that had been shoved into a cellar and convinced he didn’t matter. And more than making him insecure or thoughtful, it had made him angry. 

Eris switched tactics, focusing on you instead, “Maybe, when this is all said and done, your precious whore will run away too.” Azriel stilled, shadows pouring off of him to the ground where they turned into claws and sank in deep, “And just maybe, I’ll be there to fuck her the way she likes. I’d pay her good money too.” 

“Eris!” Cassian’s warning came too late. Azriel raised his arm, Truth Teller glinting in the darkness.

Something in the earth shifted, thin rays of light spilling out of the gate atop the hill. 

Eris smiled. 

Just on time.

The guards were changing.

“Fuck!” Cassian groaned, grabbing at his swords but not daring to unsheath them. 

Azriel was roiling with panic and rage, every muscle in his body feeling ready to split in two. And Eris… Eris was smiling. 

“Go on Shadowsinger.” He said, pointing to the hill, “Tick tock.” 

Azriel clawed the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet at the same time he clutched Cassian’s arm hard enough to bruise. They winnowed up to the gate in a whirlwind of death and shadow. 

Six guards. 15 seconds.

Eris slammed his fist into two of the males’ throats, cutting off their roars of alarm. Two swift kicks to their knees and they exploded out with a sickening snap. Sharp cracks followed and they fell to the ground, their necks sticking out at a harsh angle. 

Four.

Eris dropped to his knees, ripping at amour in search of the key. 

Cassian rolled to the ground, narrowly missing the downward swing of a sword that buried itself in the ground. He bounced onto his feet, as lithe and limber as a fae a quarter of his size. He grabbed a fistful of blood-red hair, swiftly bringing the other elbow down. He made perfect contact at the base of the skull, severing the connection between the spinal cord and the brain. 

Three.

This was taking too long. They would never make it in time. 

But… but how was it still so quiet? Cassian dared to look up from his search for the key and his blood ran cold. 

Azriel…

Azriel was death and decay given form. The moment they reached the gate, for the first time in his life, he relinquished full control of his shadows. 

They swarmed around him until he was nothing more than a dark, blurry cloud of destruction. He grabbed the male closest to him, digging his hands into his throat and registering the horror in his eyes before shadows poured into his eyes, mouth, nose, ears. They flooded every sense, screaming in Azriel’s ears of a power that he had never been desperate or angry enough to unleash… until now. 

The shadows filled the male’s body, wrecking bones and ripping apart tendons with a force that transformed them into razor sharp talons. The male gurgled, body jerking around in pain. Azriel finished him off by snapping his neck with a clean, sharp jerk. The body fell to the ground with a hollow thud.

Two. 

The remaining guards similarly dropped to their knees, empty eyes and hands left to ghost over their throats before they fell forward. Dead.

Shadows leaked out of their eyes and mouth, slipping over their cooling bodies like the rain that pitter pattered against their backs. But no blood. Not even a drop.

One tendril of night slid up Azriel’s leg and washed over his hands, depositing a glittering bronze key that burned with warmth. 

He should have felt more. More surprise and some semblance of disgust at what he’d just done. What he’d been capable of. But those feelings remained hidden, sullen and silent behind walls of obsidian willpower and adamant. 

Cassian and Eris stared at him, wasting a few precious seconds to gape at the littering of bodies around them, raindrops pattering onto their backs and slowly absorbing into leather and skin. 

Cassian swallowed, daring to break the silence, “I never knew you could do that.” He admitted blandly. Cassian wasn’t afraid of his brother - he never could be. He’d survived too many battles by his side to ever fear being on the wrong end of his blade… but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be unnerved by the powers that thrived within him, and how little anyone knew about them. 

“Neither did I,” Azriel said without emotion, closing his fist around the key. “Let’s go.”

He stalked to the gate where it hummed in the ground like a dropped coin, fluttering with life, beckoning him to enter. 

Just a little longer, Y/n. I’m coming.

He used the key and the gate opened.

You crouched in the darkness, cradling your ruined hands and trying not to cry. 

The first few weeks Beron had let you out of your cell during the day, bringing you to the forge hidden beneath the hill so you could set about building him a weapon of his own. You’d leaned into his desires, working the metal until it sang a song of promise to the cruel High Lord. 

He wanted power, and you’d promised it to him, proving your worth long enough for Azriel to come find you. But it had been almost two months, Azriel was nowhere to be found, and Beron was losing patience. 

He traded empty compliments for threats, and when those failed to do anything, he turned to outright cruelty. Just this morning, he’d had one of his men whip your hands until they bled. Then, as a personal touch, he’d torn your shirt to pieces and trailed his fingers down your back. His touch had been light. You could’ve mistaken them for the kisses of a lover if it weren’t for the fact that he’d set the tips of his fingers on fire so they burned the whole way down. 

They smarted and burned, the pain seeping in now that the shock was ebbing away.

“He’s coming. He’s coming.” You murmured to yourself, curling in on yourself with your arms pressed close to your exposed chest. “Just stay strong. Stay strong.” 

“He’s not coming for you, dear.” A phantom hand, cold and bony as death, caressed your back. You looked up, eyes shining like two shards of glass in the darkness. 

The High Lord was as handsome as he was deadly, the smooth and elegant planes of his face and his honey-sweet voice in stark contrast to the light of his eyes - or rather lack thereof. 

They held no warmth, no pity, no fear. 

“He’s not coming for you.” He repeated.

“Liar.”

He clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head. His blood-red robes trailed along the grate of your prison cell, blocking out the meager light that trickled down. The gold-trim embroidery winked deceptively, flashing sultry looks of wealth and opulence in your direction. 

Your stomach growled painfully and you wrapped yourself up as best you could. You’d spent most of your life time by the forge. Cold was not a familiar experience. 

“I don’t know what that Illyrian bastard, Azriel, promised you. Wealth. Prestige. Love.” 

You growled, kicking the wall hard enough for a shower of dirt to rain down on your head. You tried not to flinch when debris landed on sensitive skin, “Keep his name out of your mouth.”

Beron smirked, amused, “So much anger. So much defensiveness for a male who won’t care about you the next time a pretty female with doe eyes wanders into his path.” 

You bared your teeth at him. 

“Ahhhhh,” he clicked his tongue happily, “So perhaps you’re already aware he holds a certain reputation. Pity.” There was another swoosh of his velvet robes, “I’m promising you safety, enough gold and silks to make an empress jealous, and in return I just ask for you to do what you’ve always done.” He held up his hands, “I don’t understand where the difficulty lies”

“In return you’d want to make me your bitch.” You spit out, “To give you the tools to kill whomever you pleased.”

“I already have the tools to kill whomever I please.”

“No. No you don’t.” He narrowed his eyes in displeasure. You limped forward, holding your hands close to your chest. Your body may have been weak, but your heart and your mind were still strong. Not even Beron was capable of taking that from you. You looked up at the High Lord unflinchingly, “When Azriel comes for me - and he will - I’ll ask him for your head on a pike.” 

Beron sneered, “If he and his half-breed Lord decide you’re worth the trouble, I’ll kill your little Shadowsinger first and reduce him to ash.”

You set your jaw, refusing to look away as the High Lord turned on his heels and left the room. Only then did you sink to your knees exhausted and breathed in the scent of damp, rotting earth.

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[call-me-eds]

Lecture

Masterlist

Eddie x Reader

Wayne walks in on something..unbecoming. He has a special relationship with you, but now all of that is out the window.

“You live under my roof, Boy, don’t you forget that! Your mother is probably rolling over in her grave right now, she taught you better than to disrespect a home like this. Jesus, Ed, that is where we prepare food!”

You were in the bathroom looking at your cheeks grow redder by the second in the mirror while your boyfriend got chewed out, deservedly so. Eddie told you that Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be home for hours. “I barely see him nowadays now that he got himself a girlfriend,” were the exact words out of his mouth.

It wasn’t the first time you ventured out of his bedroom for a quick romp, but it was the first time you got interrupted. Sure, Uncle Wayne would flick the outside lights on and off a couple of times when you and Eddie were taking your time saying goodbye, or he would make a comment about keeping hands above the blanket when you three were watching one of his nature documentaries, but that was different, all innocent.

Now, everything has changed. Eye contact was out of the question for at least a decade, if you even worked up the courage to go back to the trailer before then.

Uncle Wayne made you feel like their home was yours, too, and you took advantage of that. Sleepovers were allowed, as long as your parents knew where you were. You had a standing dinner invitation, and he even picked up a bottle of hot sauce for you after you asked if there was any in the cabinets just one time. It had become such a place of comfort that you felt free enough to undress and let Eddie defile you right there on the counter. And the worst part about it was that it wasn’t even the first time.

Your body almost folded in on itself when you heard Eddie fighting back with him.

“I told you I will clean it-”

“Oh, I’ve seen your version of clean, and that’s not going to cut it. Bring Y/N home, and when you come back, I don’t want a peep from you for the rest of the night.” Eddie was 19, almost 20, but he was being spoken to like a child. God, Uncle Wayne raised him from childhood and now he saw him hunched over you, hips moving against yours faster than his uncontrollable mouth.

Silent most of the time, it was the loudest expression you had ever heard come from Uncle Wayne when he walked inside. You had almost been too overtaken by pleasure that you didn’t even hear him. Almost. That shout would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Eddie grabbed on to you even tighter, moving you behind him swiftly. This wasn’t happening. There was no way. It had to be some sort of twisted nightmare you got from eating too late again.

“Come on, man,” Eddie groaned, hands cupping his now exposed self.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered, crouching behind him, hoping that if you shut your eyes tight enough you might just disappear.

““I just want to come home after work and relax and this is what I get greeted with! In my own house!” Uncle Wayne yelled through eyes squeezed shut. “I am going to go outside, count to ten, and everyone better be fully clothed.” The door didn’t even have time to click shut before you were sprinting to the bathroom. Eddie started to try and talk you down, but Uncle Wayne kept true to his word and was back inside, yelling for Eddie to get out of his room.

“Take a shower and get changed, okay? I’ll handle it,” he said, rubbing your arm reassuringly before pulling on boxers and a t-shirt to do damage control in.

Getting in the shower, even if you didn’t use any of their limited hot water, was out of the question. You wouldn’t use a single amenity the Munson’s offered, and in fact were trying to think of ways to escape so you wouldn’t even need to use the front door. While you spun around, hoping a window had been added in the 30 minutes since you were last in the bathroom, a knock made you jump out of your skin.

“Sweetheart? Want me to take you home?” Eddie’s low voice came through the door, offering a way out as if you hadn’t heard Uncle Wayne demand it from him. You opened the door and Eddie smiled to try and console you, but a whimper came from your mouth still. He just nodded in commissary and put his hand on your back, leading you to the scene of the crime. Not seeing the witness was almost worse than facing him.

“Where did he go?” you whispered like he might jump out at any moment.

“Smoking,” Eddie said. Only when you became a more regular fixture did the boys take their habit outside. There was still an ashtray on the coffee table, but if they just had to indulge they did it where the smell wouldn’t sink into your clothes or their furniture.

The deep breath you took did nothing to calm your nerves as you stepped outside. For just a second you thought it would be better to see him not in direct lighting, but it just made his aura more ominous.

“I’m sorry, Mr.-”

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to say to you, yet. Get on home.” You nodded and put your head down, rushing toward the car.

“That was totally unnecessary,” Eddie huffed.

“I was going to tell you to be back in 30 minutes, but make it 15,” Uncle Wayne bit. Eddie must have felt your pleading energy coming from you, because he didn’t answer back for once and just climbed in the van, where you were curled up as small as you could get in the passenger’s seat.

Normally, you would wave until you were out of sight, and Wayne would wave right back. Having each other’s presence around was comforting, and you both knew how much it meant to Eddie. It was unexpected, but you developed a special relationship.

“I can never step foot in there again,” you said, shoving your face in your hands, skin still hot. Eddie put his hand on your knee, and it’s usual comfort just made you feel even more shame. “Did you see the way he was looking at me? He hates me,” you swiped under your eyes and Eddie clocked your movement instantly.

“He does not hate you,” Eddie assured. “Me, maybe. But he’ll be over it by the morning, I swear.” You grumbled your disagreement and grabbed his hand, holding it firmly for the rest of the drive.

“Come on, Doll,” he separated from you to climb out of the car once he pulled up to your house, but you pushed him back into his seat gently.

“No, you have to get home,” you sighed, looking at your watch.

“He wasn’t serious about that,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “I can spare a minute to walk you to your door.”

“Please, it’s fine. I don’t want you to get into any more trouble,” you begged. He went to fight, but saw how your glassy eyes were filling with tears and your lip wobbled.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I love you, please don’t worry about this. It’s kind of funny,” he smiled.

“It’s not,” you sniffled, although you appreciated his sentiment. “I love you, too,” you kissed him quickly and scampered up to your house, itching to shower off the humiliation.

“It has been two weeks, I promise you he isn’t going to be weird.”

“I am going to be weird! I can’t face him!” Eddie drove right to the trailer after your dinner date, and you were threatening to yell out kidnapping claims.

Eddie had been to your house almost every day in the last two weeks, and you had your intimate moments in your locked bedroom or his car under the sheath of night. Going to the trailer wasn’t an option, and you made that clear; you didn’t even call for fear of Uncle Wayne picking up the phone.

“The longer you avoid him the worse it’ll get. I have to live with the guy, and you’re much braver than I am,” he said, basically pulling you out of the car.

“He used to change your diapers, it’s different,” you locked your legs but he grabbed your biceps, lifting you up and carrying you to the front door. “Eddie, please, please, I am begging you. I’ll watch any movies you want for a month, two months!” you bargained desperately, but he wouldn’t hear it.

At first, he thought it was weird how much you liked to be around his uncle, and vice versa. Initially he was convinced that you were both just being nice to each other to appease him. But then he realized just how similar you were; it was gross. The situation was more messed up than one of those guys that dated someone like their mom, he was dating his uncle.

Having you separated was even worse. Uncle Wayne had been forcing Eddie to listen to his rants about work and you had been so upset and anxious it was making him feel horrible.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, opening the door with one hand and keeping a supportive grip on you with the other.

“No, no, no,” you grunted, trying to grab onto the doorframe to stay outside. Eddie nudged your foot with his, not unlike he had the two fateful weeks ago.

You were in the small kitchen, heating some water for tea. Warm hands slithered around your bare waist and dipped under the band of your shorts.

“Hi,” Eddie breathed in your ear. There was a smile on your face in half of a heartbeat. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you giggled. He rubbed his nose against your neck and snaked his ankle around yours, tugging slightly so you were in a wider stance.

“Turning me on,” he mumbled, lips sinking into your skin.

20 minutes later, you were crouched behind Eddie, wishing you could sink into the floor.

“So you didn’t forget where we lived, huh?” The gruff voice you would have made a deal with the devil to avoid greeted you as Eddie forced you inside.

“Hi Mr. Munson,” you mumbled, fingers twisting your bracelet so rapidly Eddie thought it might break.

“‘Mr. Munson,’” he scoffed. “I don’t remember telling you you couldn’t call me Uncle Wayne anymore.” He had always been soft spoken, but you never recalled a time where you struggled to hear what came out of his mouth. Finally, you looked up and found that his cheeks were aflame as well, and the label on his beer bottle was picked clean off.

“We’re going to hang out in my room,” Eddie said, making you jump. You almost forgot he was there, you were so focused on his uncle.

“Hell no, you’re not,” Wayne laughed boisterously, animation coming back to his body. “You’re going to go to the store and get the batteries for the smoke detector that I gave you money for a week ago.” It was no question that if you had been at the trailer in that time the errand would have already been done, the beeping of the low battery already bothering you.

“Why didn’t you remind me before I went to get Y/N,” Eddie whined.

“Because she’s going to keep me company here.” Your heart fell into your stomach, and you thought you might pass out. This was your worst nightmare.

“I can just go and get them,” you quickly offered. “What kind? I’ll just get a bunch of different ones. Give me your keys,” you demanded of Eddie.

“No, no, my nephew can go. This is as painful for you as it is for me, Honey, let’s just get it over with,” he grunted, sitting up a bit in his chair.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Eddie promised. If today was the day he decided to start following traffic laws, you were going to break up with him.

Once the door shut, there was nowhere to divert your attention to. You took as many small steps as possible to the couch, hoping to delay the inevitable awkward conversation. Maybe if you apologized and promised to never come back, Wayne would take it easy on you.

Before you could give that plan a try, though, he started to talk.

“You know how much I love ya,” he said, kicking things off in a much different direction than you thought it would go. “You’re good to Ed, you help out around here no matter how much we tell you to stop, and you’re respectful.” That last word stung.

While you knew your home life was privileged and your childhood was infinitely more peaceful than Eddie’s, that didn’t mean you and your parents were immune to arguments. You were a young adult, after all. The Munson’s trailer provided a safe space for you to escape. The small home was packed with love and comfort, it quickly became your favorite place to spend time.

“But you are a young lady, and I don’t want to see you get in any trouble. Eddie’s mother was too young when she had him, and I won’t have him be stuck in the same cycle.” You wouldn’t believe it if you weren’t seeing it, but he was getting choked up. “He’s a good boy, and he would give everything up if you got into a situation, but I do not want that to happen. And it would be even worse for you, the way people talk. You both deserve to have the freedom to do whatever you want in this life, and I don’t like that you’re doing all of that but I know I won’t stop you, so just, be safe. And for God’s sake, keep it out of the kitchen,” he finished his speech, sitting back in his recliner and taking a long drink from his beer.

Uncle Wayne wasn’t going to ban you from the residence, or shame you, or even judge you. He was looking out for you both.

“I am still, so so sorry. I never meant to take advantage of your kindness.” He had to have heard the sincerity in your voice, it was almost shaking.

“How I treat you isn’t conditional. That boy is my son, and you are like a daughter. I wish you would both get that through your heads,” he sighed.

“Oh,” you breathed out. Never had you seen him be so straightforward with his emotions. That was where he and Eddie differed. You knew instantly if Eddie stubbed his toe or felt dissed by someone in the band, but Wayne played his cards extremely close to his chest. He had laid it all on the table now, though, nothing left to say.

You had to clear your throat so your next words wouldn’t get stuck as you tried to force them out. “And we are always safe, for the record.” He waved his hand and focused his eyes on the TV flickering.

“Well I know you have a good head on your shoulders. I wonder about that boy, though,” he grinned, making the tension from your shoulders release all at once..

“Oh, he means well,” you smiled. A few minutes of silence, not as terrible as you thought it would be, went by before you spoke up again.

“Uncle Wayne?” He turned to you and quirked up the side of his mouth, encouraging you to go on. Eddie made the same face, and you were happy to imagine him at Wayne’s age. “You didn’t, uh, see anything did you?”

“Oh, Jesus,” he shuddered slightly and the color returned to his cheeks. “I would have let a tool slip at work and rip my eyes out. At least then I would have gotten some workman’s comp,” he joked.

“I guess I would have had to come take care of you then, huh? Eddie can barely remember to pick up batteries.” Speaking of the devil, he walked back inside with a pack of batteries and a soda.

“If that ain’t the truth,” Uncle Wayne smiled.

“What?” Eddie asked, handing you the cup and flopping on the couch next to you. He raised his eyebrows, asking if everything had gone alright. You weren’t outside crying like he half expected you to be, so he guessed it went well. Once you leaned forward and kissed him briefly and gently, his worries melted away.

“Nothing. You have to change that battery, though, it’s driving me nuts,” you said, pushing him off of you.

“I don’t know how to do that shit,” he shrugged right as another piercing beep came from the machine.

“Come on, I’ll teach you,” Uncle Wayne said to you, grunting as he stood up. You nodded, grabbing the step-stool and climbing up, getting ready to listen to Wayne’s instructions. He reached down to pull Eddie up by the shirt. “It won’t kill you to learn this, too.”

“That’s what I have you two for,” he grinned, allowing himself to be dragged along.

“I have to put up with him, legally. Why do you do it, girl?” he asked you. Before you could give a sweet, cheesy answer, Eddie got the brilliant idea to offer his opinion.

“Well, I think you saw why.” Your gasp was right in time with Wayne’s palm meeting the back of Eddie’s head.

“You’re sick,” you scowled, ripping the batteries from his hand.

“Shameless,” Uncle Wayne shook his head.

“Kick him out, I’ll take over his room and even keep it clean,” you teased, sliding the battery into place and snapping the cover back on.

“When can you move in?” he asked, offering his hand to help you down.

“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t speaking,” Eddie said, almost regretting bringing you back together. He’d never admit it, but your relationship meant a lot to him, too. His two favorite people.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson fluff #wayne munson #Eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #st4 #st4 fanfic #my writing

[reiding-writing]

Hi i am absolutely in love with your writing. If you want to, could you write Reid having one of his migraines and reader just comforts him, yk massaging his scalp and forehead and whatnot while he lay in her lap. Idk man i just wanna see my boy get some relief from his headaches because in the show he just suffers through them ☹️

migraine massages [ s.r ]

Summary:

Migraines are the worst. They hurt and they stop you from doing absolutely everything. Spencer was silently pleading for relief from his own body, and you plan to fulfil those needs.

WARNINGS: details of migraines, vomit mentions, mentions of spencer’s addiction, mentions of relapse

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.7k

masterlist!!

a/n: can’t have hurt/comfort without the hurt. from a personal perspective, migraines suck bro. they suck so bad.

i’m also mildly disappointed that they didn’t expand the migraine thing after they dropped the original tumour reason, like they could’ve done so much with it-

thanks for the request! <33

Spencer felt like his skull was being hammered from the inside out. Like his brain was silently vying to escape it’s confines and break out of the bone. He felt like every nerve of his body was working against him to make sure he had the most miserable day humanly possible.

He felt like if he moved an inch from his position that the coffee and croissant that he had for breakfast this morning in an attempt to make himself feel better was going to force it’s way up out of his stomach and paint his desk in a sea of vomit.

The tinnitus ringing in his ears didn’t help, nor did the agitatingly bright while florescent lights of the office that he’d never seemed to take much notice of before.

His shoulders ached as he rested his head in his hands, his thumbs negligibly working against his temples to attempt to relieve some of the aching pressure that sent waves through his head and made him want to curl up into ball under his bed covers and never wake up.

“Spence? Are you okay?” Your voice is deliberately quiet as you approach his desk on your return from the kitchenette, steaming mug of coffee cupped in your hands and concern written all over your face.

You can almost hear the sigh of relief as he realises it’s just you and not Hotch asking him for the fourth time today for the file he’d been trying to finish for the last almost three hours.

He doesn’t look up at you yet, merely replying a weak “hi…yeah…just a headache”

You can see him try to suppress a grimace as his own voice overloads his eardrums and sends another wave of pain through his head.

You knew what a headache looked like. And what he was experiencing looked nothing like ‘just a headache’.

“A headache? You look like you’re in a lot of pain, have you-” You begin to question his pain relief, but catch yourself before asking about painkillers. As much as they definitely shouldn’t be, opioids are the most common form of pain relief prescribed for migranes, and you knew that if he had gone to the doctors for the pain, he would’ve turned them down.

At least you hope so anyway.

“Have you… had it for long?”

There’s a pause, before an almost imperceptible nod comes from him. “Three hours… three hours and eighteen minutes…. I thought it was gonna pass but… it’s getting worse….” he swallows before forcing out the next part “…I feel sick….”

You give him a small nod and a pursed expression, becoming increasingly concerned as he continues his explanation, and you can just barely catch how pale his face has gone underneath his hands.

“You should go home Spence…”

He looks up from his desk at that suggestion. As he’s trying to answer he gets cut off by a blinding pain that explodes behind his eyes. He gasps and clutches his head, dropping back into his chair before closing his eyes. “Agh….”

“Spencer…” You can’t help but wince slightly at Spencer’s clear display of pain. “Let me drive you home, you’re not fit to work right now,”

He wants to argue but his mouth is dry. The pain is just too much for him to focus on anything else, including having an opinion, so instead he simply nods.

“Give me two seconds okay? I’m going to go and tell Hotch and then we can go,”

That seems to be a satisfactory answer for now, because he just nods again. He’s not quite ready for the onslaught of light and sounds that will be the outside world just yet. He simply leans his head back and closes his eyes, trying to relax and focus on his breathing.

It takes you a little under two minutes to return, and the first thing you do is take both of your messenger bags onto your shoulder and dispose of your coffee mug on your desk.

You hold out a hand tentatively to him to help him up from his chair. “Here, let’s get you home,”

He takes your hand, slowly getting on his feet as his change in positioning sends another wave of pain shooting through the front of his head. He’s leaning on you for balance as you lead him out of the BAU office. His vision is still blurry, but at least having someone to lean on stops him from having to risk tripping over.

You have to help him into your car once your reach the parking lot, reclining the passenger’s seat as far back as it’ll go so that he’s not forced to sit upright for the whole ten minute drive.

You make an effort to keep the vehicle smooth as you pull out of the office, checking periodically over at your side to make sure that Spencer is alright. Or as alright as he can be anyway.

Once you reach Spencer’s apartment complex, you shut off the car and collect both of your belongings, getting out yourself and then walking around to assist Spencer in getting up.

It’s clear from his expression that he wouldn’t’ve managed the task on his own. He leans on you in a combination of gratitude, comfort and convenience, and he continues to use you as a crutch through the front entrance to the elevator and all the way up to his apartment door, where he struggles to insert his key in the lock through his shaking hands.

“You got it?”

He gives a weak “mhm” as he fumbles with the keys in the lock for a few seconds more, but eventually manages to unlock the door and step inside with you.

“Take a seat Spence,” You lead him carefully over to his couch and sit him down before walking across the room to pull his curtains shut and dump your bags on his reading chair.

As you pull the curtains shut and turn around again, you notice the room being a little messier than usual. Books and papers have been scattered over the room, and there were several mugs and glasses dotted around.

Clearly this wasn’t his first migrane.

Spencer is increasingly grateful the room isn’t too bright as the shade covers the room, allowing him to relax into the cushions of the sofa as you kneel to help him remove his shoes before removing your own.

He doesn’t resist your assistance. The pain still hasn’t subsided enough for him to be in the mood to resist anything. He keeps his eyes closed the whole time you unlace his shoes, just grateful for any relief he can get.

“l’m going to get you some water okay?” Spencer nods at this suggestion. At this point he’s too tired and nauseous to try and fight you, so as you leave the room, he lays his head over the back of the couch and just waits for you to come back with the water.

You return with both a glass of water and a small holding a few ice cubes, handing Spencer the glass and leaving the towel on the coffee table to chill under the presence of the ice. “Drink,”

He takes the glass from you, before slowly leaning forward and sipping the water. Your presence seems to bring him a lot of comfort, much more than he probably realises.

He continues drinking until the glass is empty, seemingly more dehydrated than he realised.

You take a seat next to Spencer has he finishes the glass, and you take it from him gently and place it down on his coffee table.

He takes a deep breath in, and out, leaning back into the couch once more.

He’s trying so hard to focus on something other than his pain, but it’s difficult. So instead he focuses on one of the only other things he can feel, which is the warmth you radiate as you sit next to him. “Here, lie down Spence,”

You put a hand on his shoulder to help try and ease him down slowly so he doesn’t put himself in any more pain. “But there’s no space..”

“You can put your head in my lap it’s okay,” You lean over to grab the now cold towel, leaving the ice in the empty glass before patting your thighs as an indication for him to lie down. “Let me see if I can relive some of that lingering tension,”

If he were of his right mind right now he would’ve been somewhat embarrassed in such a scenario, but right now he’s just too tired and in pain to do anything else but submit to the situation.

He lays his head into your lap slowly, his face relaxing as he looks up at you with grateful eyes.

You chuckle softly as he blinks up at you, leaning down over him slightly to brush some hair off of his forehead. “Close your eyes Spence,”

You can see a slight pinkness in his cheeks as he closes his eyes. His expression is the perfect combination of relaxed and sleepy, although you can still see the traces of the pain he’s feeling through the knit in his eyebrows and the tension in his shoulders.

Just hearing the sound of your voice fills his head with warmth and relaxation; Even if his head is still pounding he feels a lot better just being able to listen to you.

As his eyelids flutter closed, you place the damp cold towel over them, raking your fingers gently through his hair to ensure that nothing gets caught underneath the fabric ans slowly detangling it in the process.

For a moment your touch sends him into heaven, and he can actually feel the tension and pain receding from his body.

As he relaxes, his body slowly begins to respond to the touch with warm and fuzzy feelings. He wants to savour every second of this, to commit the sensation to memory, to never forget the feeling of your warm and gentle touch.

“How long have you been having migraines for Spencer?” You make an effort to keep your tone as soft as possible, moving your attention from running your hands through his hair to kneading your fingers against his temples.

“they’re a fairly recent thing… been having them on and off for a few weeks now….” As your hands work on his temples the pain once again starts to recede significantly. It’s still there, it probably will be for a long time, but it’s no longer all pervading. “…they can be a little debilitating some days….”

“Have you…” you trail off your question, unsure if your right to ask him it. “Never mind-“

He pulls the fabric of the towel from his eyes and blinks them up at you. The dark circles under his eyes are still clearly evident, but it’s not really surprising considering all that’s been happening to him. “…you were gonna ask if i’ve been using again weren’t you?”

“…i’m just worried about you…”

You continue to gently massage at his temples as he sees right through your apprehension.

He can’t help but sigh softly as you indirectly admit to him being right in his assumption of your question. Your concern is appreciated, albeit unnecessary. “…I’m not using anymore… I quit… I’m serious…”

He plasters a small smile on his face as a form of reassurance, though it’s pretty weak considering the fatigue his headache was providing him. “Just having a bad bout of migraines this week… that’s all….”

“Can I just- see your arms? Please?” Your fingers halt their movements as you ask the question, fully focused on receiving an answer. “I just want to make sure…”

His body tenses up a little bit as the request is made, but he complies nonetheless. He slowly raises his arms and hikes up his shirt sleeves, exposing the flesh of his forearms to your view.

There’s no marks on them, no dark scars and no signs of track marks.

He’s clean, and you can tell from his body language alone that he’s telling the truth.

You can feel your shoulders physically relax as your eyes examine his skin, and your expression softens as you look down at him. “thank you…”

“I told you, I’m serious about staying clean….” He lowers his arms, closing his eyes again. He’s back where he was a few minutes ago, a man almost fully at peace despite the fact that he’s still in pain.

“I know Spence..” You scratch gently at his scalp, feeling a little guilty about unofficially accusing him of a potential relapse. But you had to know. You had to know that he was alright.

“I just care about you… I want you to be okay..”

As your fingers brush the base of his scalp he shivers slightly. The feeling is incredibly relaxing, more so than even the previous massage. He smiles softly at the fact that the pain has at least become bearable for now. “Thanks for looking after me…”

“Always,” The pad of your thumb brushes lightly against his cheekbone as you move to tuck a stand of hair behind his ear, knocked loose by him pulling on the hand towel that now laid crumpled on the floor.

Spencer’s eyes flicker slightly. The movement of your fingers across his cheeks is soothing, but also makes him feel something else entirely. It’s hard to describe.

He can’t deny the sensation that rises up from his stomach at these small gestures of affection. A part of him is enjoying it more than is probably okay, given the situation and how tired he is. All it amounts to are butterflies, but that’s enough to make his cheeks flush slightly. “you should take a nap Spencer,”

“mhm…” He nods in agreement. “but can I ask you a small favour first…?”

You mirror his nod with one of your own, your fingers returning to scratching gentle lines against his scalp. “Of course you can,”

There’s a small moment of silence before he speaks again, his eyes flickering between you and the ceiling.

“can you stay with me?”

His question is more of a request, and you swear that you melt from the innocent pleading in his tone.

With you around it’s almost like he doesn’t notice the pain at all. When he closes his eyes it feels like the world is completely at peace, like there’s no need to worry about anything else at this moment in time.

“…please…?” the last word is almost a whisper.

You don’t hesitate in your answer, giving him a soft smile. “of course i will..”

You let out a small breath of air alongside your words, your eyes entranced with the relaxed expression on Spencer’s face, mixed with relief at your willingness to spend a few more hours with him.

Spencer feels a small smile form on his lips as you respond. His hands raise slightly and clutch at your thighs, gently gripping at them almost compulsively.

Now that he knows you’ll be sticking around for a while, all he wants to do is fall asleep in your company.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

[yikesmary]

FAKE DATING ROOMMATES — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: in which choi seungcheol becomes your roommate and fake boyfriend in one fell swoop. and you still don't know how it happened.

note: fake dating college au with one of my faves, scoups! with a mix of roommate au because apprently i love mixing tropes. i might make this a series if people want to? i don't know yet

buy me a ko-fi?

next

"What were you thinking?"

"I was panicking!" You said, trying to walk away from your best friends, but Chan, Seungkwan, and Vernon followed you anyways.

"So you said Choi Seungcheol was your boyfriend?! I didn't even know you guys knew each other," Chan said.

"We don't, the closest interaction we had was when he bumped into me and said sorry," you said, miserably.

You were not having the greatest of days. First off, you had gone to class without knowing there was a test, therefore you didn't have time to study. Then, you missed your bus to go to the coffee shop where your friends worked so you decided to walk instead of waiting for the next bus which was going to take an hour to come.

And the cherry on top, the tip of the iceberg, the one thing that could possibly make you break down and not in a fun way, was encountering your ex.

Admittedly, you have made some bad decisions in your life. But the worst one of them all was your ex. Your friends tried warning you about him, how he was toxic and narcissistic, but you didn't listen.

Until he decides to dump you and leave you in the dust after you guys had just bought an apartment together. Yeah, wasn't your greatest moment.

Anyways, when you saw him, you practically froze.

"You're dating Seungcheol?" Your ex questioned.

You suddenly felt exposed, crossing your arms, shrugging then said, "Is it that so unbelievable I'm dating him?"

"I mean, I've seen the people he's dated, and you're not exactly his type," he tried explaining, but nothing he said could've made things better.

"So you're saying I'm not pretty enough to be dating him?" You asked.

"I'm not saying that, I'm sorry you're interpreting it that way. I'm saying—" he tried saying, but he was cut off.

"I'm dating him and honestly, I don't really care whether or not you believe me," You angrily said with a glare.

"I hope you're prepared," Vernon said, patting you on the shoulder after you finished recounting what happened with your ex.

"What? Why?" You asked.

The three of them looked at you as if you were crazy, and you were wondering the same thing about yourself.

"Your ex is probably the biggest gossip on campus. He'll probably tell people about your supposed relationship with Seungcheol and then it'll spread. Then Seungcheol will hear about his relationship with a girl he's barely interacted with!" Seungkwan explained.

"Shhhh! People will hear about Seungcheol and I's a relationship being fake!" You said, putting your finger in front of your mouth in a 'Sh!' gesture.

"YOU AREN'T—" Chan tried saying, but Vernon cut him off by putting his hand on his mouth to shut him up.

"Why didn't you say one of us was your boyfriend?" Vernon questioned, and you fought the urge to laugh hysterically.

"Kwan, you and I are more like brother and sister. Vernon, there has never been a moment where I've seen you beyond a best friend. And Chan, I barely even tolerate you half the time!" You replied. (You were not serious about Chans' (for the most part)).

"I didn't want to date you anyways," Chan grumpily said, crossing his arms which made you roll his eyes at his dramatics.

"What if Seungcheol wants to talk to you about the relationship he never knew about?" Seungkwan questioned.

"I guess I'm going to have to do the right thing," you said.

"Which is?"

"Pretend I don't know what he's talking about," you confidentially replied.

"I really hope this backfires in her face," Chan commented.

You tried lunging across the table to attack him, but Seungkwan held you back and Chan hid from behind Vernon, who looked like he'd be anywhere but where he was right now.

It was one of the rare times you were alone. Seungkwan had a class, Dino was in a Dance Club meeting, and Vernon was at his house, sleeping. So, as a result, you decided to go out on your own and eat.

You were in the middle of shoving a forkful of noodles when Choi Seungcheol decided to take the empty seat in front of you. "So, when did we become boyfriend and girlfriend?" He casually asked.

Your first instinct was to try and explain yourself, but in the heat of the moment you forgot that you were in the middle of eating, so when you tried speaking, you started choking on your noodles.

Seungcheol's calm manner turned panicky when he saw you were choking and it was because of him. "I shouldn't have interrupted you in the middle of your meal! I'm so fucking sorry! Shit!" he said, grabbing a bunch of napkins and giving them to you.

You struggled for a bit, grabbing the offered napkins and eventually, you were able to get the noodles down. "How did you find out?" you finally asked.

"Well, Jeonghan told Seokmin, who told Hoshi, who told Joshua, who told Jun, who told Minghao, who told Woozi, who told Mingyu, who told Wonwoo, who told me," Seungcheol said.

"What?" you asked, not following any of that.

"Jeonghan heard—"

"You know what, I don't need to hear it again because I won't be able to understand anyways," you said.

"But I can explain!" you said, and he looked at you to go on.

"Oh, you actually want me to explain? Uh, well, okay. Well my ex, who broke up with me and left me to pay for an apartment I have no idea how to pay for, said I wasn't pretty enough to be dating you! And honestly, I got kind of insecure when he said that because I know I'm not always supermodel ready, but I'm pretty and my personality brings people in! Anyways—"

"You need a roommate?" Seungcheol cut you off.

"Really? I just told you one of my deepest insecurities and you care about whether or not I have an empty room in my apartment?" You deadpanned.

"I have an idea and it might be both of your problems," Seungcheol ignored you.

"Really? What possible problem you might have that I could solve?" you asked, suspicious.

"If I fake date you, let me become your roommate," Seungcheol proposed.

"I'm sorry, but I need to make sense of it in my brain," you said, and he nodded as if giving you the floor.

"I just made up a complete lie and told my ex we were dating, and you want to fake date and live with me?" You said.

"I need a place to live and you have an empty room,"

"What's wrong with where you live right now?"

"I don't think I could live with Seokmin and Soonyoung always coming home drunk and somehow they've kidnapped a cat even if there are no stray cats around. Then Wonwoo adopts the cat and suddenly we have seven cats in the house," Seungcheol said, and the distressed face he was making made you want to laugh.

"Really? Seven?"

"Maybe not seven but I swear they multiply and our kitchen is filled with food for the cats," he said.

"We're getting distracted. I need a room and you need a boyfriend. Why not hit two birds with one stone?"

"How would this even work?"

"Well, you've done most of the work and most of the campus already knows about our relationship. Moving in would only solidify our relationship," Seungcheol said.

"What about when we inevitably break up? Would we still be roommates or..?"

"I never thought about that,"

"Really? But you thought of the rest of the plan so thoroughly it's nearly foolproof!" You sarcastically said.

"Hey, you need me just as much as I need you!" He said, and you sighed, knowing that it was true.

"This'll work?"

"Well... I don't know about that, but it'll be something," Seungcheol said.

"Maybe I should've said Chan was my boyfriend,"

"Who's Chan and why is he already stealing my girlfriend?"

#seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #choi seungchol x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #scoups scenario #scoups imagines #seventeen scoups

[estrellami-1]

Quite Miss Home

Had an idea. Wrote 2.3k words in a couple of hours. Pure fluff based on the James Arthur song. ❤️

“Helloooooo, Chicago!” Eddie yells into the mic, reveling in the roar he gets back from the audience.

It’s been ten years since it all; since the end of the world as he knew it and the beginning of something so much better. Corroded Coffin had taken off quickly, after the “earthquakes;” something about rising from the ashes like a phoenix, if Eddie had to guess, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, just enjoy what he’s given, and damn is he enjoying it.

“How are you?” He asks, grinning when the audience cheers again. “Alright, alright. Man, I’ll tell you, it’s fuckin’ awesome being here. But can I tell you a secret?” The audience roars again, and he grins as he takes his guitar off, hoisting it up. “Who’s this?”

“Sweetheart!” The crowd yells back.

“That’s right!” He quietly thanks the stagehand who darts up to grab it from him. “But it’s not my only sweetheart. In fact, my real sweetheart is at home. And this tour is so awesome, but I’m kinda starting to miss my sweetheart.”

“Aww,” the crowd says, and he grins softly at them.

“I know,” he says. “This next song is for my sweetheart. They’re at home because they get migraines, and tours aren’t very conducive to not getting migraines, so we both decided it would be better if they stayed home. So this next song isn’t Corroded Coffin’s normal sound. In fact-” he gestures at the stage behind him- “if you’ll notice, the rest of the boys aren’t up here anymore. This is an Eddie Munson original, and I want to thank them, from the bottom of my heart, for letting me be the dramatic sap I am, and letting me sing this song, on national television, for my sweetheart.” The stagehand comes up again, this time with an acoustic, and again Eddie thanks him. “So, sweetheart,” he says, facing the cameras, “this one’s for you.”

“I'm in the kitchen while you smoke outside. You're careful not to let the smoke inside. I always tell you it's poison, but I know it helps you take the edge off the day.”

Eddie knows exactly where Steve’s gonna be when he gets home from where he works part-time as a bartender. In through the front door, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter, straight through to the porch where Steve’s smoking.

��Y’know those things are poison,” he jokes, stealing it straight from Steve’s mouth and taking a drag before giving it back to him.

“I never want kids,” Steve says in answer. He’s a kindergarten teacher, so he comes home in one of two moods: he has the worst baby fever, or he never wants to see another child again.

“Yeah? What happened today?” Eddie asks, settling in close. He’s hungry, and was vaguely considering a stir fry, but instead he tucks in close as Steve takes another drag, preparing himself.

“Okay, so get this.”

“We get a drink before it's closing time, the one on High Street with the blinking sign. All these memories feel poignant. I won't be there to see the snow melt away.”

“Hey,” Eddie says, seeing someone settle at the bar in his periphery. “What can I get you?”

Then he actually turns to face the person, and-

Oh.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” Steve grins, leaning over the counter. “And maybe… something else? A little later?”

A thrill of heat rushes through Eddie, but he rolls his eyes with a grin and pushes Steve back by a palm to his forehead. “Keep it in your pants,” he admonishes, “I’m on the clock for the next four hours. Someone didn’t tell me they were gonna drop in, and I took my break twenty minutes ago.”

Steve hums. “Y’know, a dull knife could be very dangerous,” he says. “I certainly hope the one you’re using to cut limes is sharp.”

Oh.

Eddie grins, always on board, and leans over the counter. “Steve Harrington,” he purrs, delighting in the flush racing up his cheeks and down his neck. “What exactly are you insinuating?”

Steve sits there for a beat, drains his whiskey, and hops off the stool with a dangerous smirk. “Careful on your way out. It started snowing.”

“Oh, yeah, I been gone on business. I gotta make some money. I really feel the distance.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Steve murmurs, clinging to Eddie like a koala. They’re still in bed, and Eddie doesn’t have to leave for another five hours. He’s gonna spend all the time he can in bed with Steve.

“I know, baby,” Eddie whispers back. “Tours are so long.”

“A month,” Steve agrees. “And then another three, after Indy.”

“But just think,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re still working, right? And those kids love you, and no matter what you say, I know you love them. And this tour is gonna be really good for us. We could get Wayne into a house, and help Hop with his payments-”

“He won’t accept the help.”

“No, but Joyce will,” Eddie grins. Steve laughs softly into his chest, then sighs and kisses a tattoo.

“I just wish I could be with you. I wish my head worked right.”

“Baby,” Eddie says firmly, “I love you. Regardless of if you can or can’t come with me. If you’re gonna be miserable the entire time—and we both know you would be, don’t even try to deny it—I’d be miserable, too.”

“I know,” Steve sighs.

“But hey. We’ve got time right now. And I’m not letting you move from this very spot until I’m gonna be late.”

Steve chuckles. “I’ll drag you out myself, Eds, much as I don’t want it I know you need to go.”

“I know,” Eddie says softly, turning so they’re both on their sides, facing each other. “But I don’t have to go right now. And I’m gonna spend as much time as I can right now with you.”

“I know.”

“No, baby,” Eddie says, eyes wide, “you don’t get it. I won’t even let you pee alone today.”

“So just like normal, then,” Steve grins.

Eddie squawks.

“And I quite miss home. And I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor, and the dirt drives you crazy. Yeah, I quite miss home, 'cause it feels like poetry. When the rain falls down on the window while you're in my arms, and we're watching the TV. Yeah, I quite miss home. Yeah, I quite miss home.”

“Hey, Eds,” Steve calls as soon as Eddie steps foot inside. “Shoes off at the door, I just swept and I swear to God, if you track dirt into the house-”

Eddie chuckles, toeing his shoes off before walking further into the house. “I know, baby, it wreaks havoc on your bare feet to feel it. I get a free pass from that ‘cause I wear socks like a normal person.”

“Literally when have you ever been normal,” Steve says, “that’s not normal, you and your fuckin’ ice cube toes in the middle of the goddamn night on my calves-”

Eddie snickers. “‘S not my fault you’re a furnace, babe.”

“I will maintain that it is your fault until we can prove otherwise, actually.”

Eddie is in love with this man. “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks, laughing, wandering down the hallway and into their room, where Steve’s folding laundry. “Fuck, I love you.”

Steve grins and accepts a kiss. “I love you too.”

“I smell you cooking from the living room, and then I tell you that I love your food. I know it doesn't come easy, but you know it reminds me where I'm from.”

“Baby,” Eddie groans when he walks in. “Are you making the pork?”

“I’m trying,” Steve grumbles, frowning at the pan. “‘S not working. It’s not getting crispy like it should.”

Eddie walks closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and nuzzling the side of his head. “Looks amazing,” he murmurs. “And smells even better.”

Steve sighs. “I just wish it was easier for me.”

“You don’t have to do this, baby.”

“But I know you love it.”

“I mean, yeah. But I love anything you cook, Steve. Or anything you call in. It’s the effort, y’know? Even when you don’t have the energy for anything but calling in pizza.”

Steve smiles. “You’re a sap, y’know that?”

Eddie chuckles, kissing Steve’s neck. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been down bad for you for a while, baby.”

“Yeah?” Steve tilts his head to allow Eddie better access. “How long?”

Eddie hums, moving down Steve’s neck, worrying his collarbone. “Probably since the demobat, Big Boy.”

Steve moans as Eddie sucks a mark high on his neck, just beneath his ear. “Yeah?” He asks, high and breathy.

Eddie turns the heat off. “Yeah.” A little bite to Steve’s earlobe as his hand creeps around to the front of Steve’s jeans. “Lemme show you?”

Steve pants. “Dinner-”

“Can wait,” Eddie growls. “I want you tonight, baby.”

“Whoa, I'm in another city. I got nobody with me. And it just really hit me.”

“Hey, baby,” someone croons. Eddie thinks he recognizes her from the last stop on the tour.

“Um… hi?”

She giggles. “So coy. You don’t have to play like that with me, baby.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “I’m not your baby.”

“Well, no,” she admits. “But you could be. Or I could be yours, if you’re more into being a Daddy.” She runs teasing fingers up Eddie’s arm.

He jerks his arm away. “Look, I’m sure you’re nice and all, but I’m really not looking-”

“Not yet you’re not,” she says.

“I don’t even know what that means- look, lady, I don’t want anything, okay?”

“Oh, come on, now-”

“I said no,” he says, harsher than he maybe should have, for the way she steps backs in shock. “Please leave,” he continues, gentler. “Or I’ll call security. And I don’t want to have to do that.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You could’ve had a great lay.”

“I have a great lay,” he shoots back. “And I’m not willing to sacrifice it for a meaningless one-night-stand.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sure you’re a great lady. But I’ve got my other half at home.”

“Your other half?” Steve interrupts over the phone, delight evident in his voice. “Christ, Eds, you’re a sap, I miss you so fuckin’ much.”

“I know, baby, I miss you too, now I was in the middle of a story.”

“That I quite miss home, and I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor, and the dirt drives you crazy. Yeah, I quite miss home, 'cause it feels like poetry when the rain falls down on the window, while you're in my arms, and we're watching the TV.”

“Baby,” Eddie yells inside, “It’s raining lynxes and wolves!”

Steve laughs from the laundry room. “Why can’t you just say cats and dogs?”

“Because,” he stresses, “it’s not. It’s raining so hard, babe, it’s perfect couch-cuddling weather, can we watch a movie? Please?”

Steve smiles. “Dinner’s in the oven keeping warm. Labyrinth is in the player already.”

Eddie stills, staring at Steve, for a solid thirty seconds. “Fuck, I love you,” he murmurs. Steve grins and steals a kiss.

“Go get the food,” he says. “I’ll be there in just a minute, just gotta finishing moving this stuff from the washer to the dryer.”

He does, and Steve does, and soon the dirty dishes are abandoned on the coffee table and their feet are tucked up on the couch. Steve’s leaning on Eddie and Eddie’s hand is under his shirt, not for anything suggestive, simply just to feel.

He kisses Steve’s head with a content sigh, and Steve tilts his head back to look at him. “What’s up?”

“Y’know this is one of the things I miss the most when I’m touring?”

Steve smiles. “Just sitting watching a movie?”

“Well, anything with you, actually. But yeah. No expectations, just the movie, and the rain, and just. Us.”

Steve smiles and kisses his jaw. “This is one of the things I miss most when you’re on tour, too.”

“Yeah, I quite miss home. Yeah, I quite miss home. And I quite miss home. Yeah, I miss you telling me to leave my shoes at the door 'cause you just swept the floor and the dirt drives you crazy. Oh, I just miss home, no, no, 'cause it feels like poetry, as the rain falls down on the window while you're in my arms and we're watching the TV. Oh, I miss home, yeah, I quite miss home, no. Oh, I quite miss home. Yeah, yeah, I quite miss home.”

The last strum reverberates through the silent auditorium. Then, an anguished groan. “What the fuck, why are you perfect?”

Eddie laughs along with the rest of the crowd. “That’s quite the compliment, but no, my sweetheart will be the first to tell you I’m anything but perfect.”

Three and a half weeks later, Steve slams into him as he’s walking into the house. “Oh,” he says, delighted. “Hi, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, “fuck you and your song, I swear to God, Eds-” he tugs on Eddie’s shirt, pulling him away from the door, and Eddie chuckles.

“Baby, my shoes, the floors-”

“Fuck your shoes,” Steve growls. “Fuck the floors. If I’m not naked in bed in the next thirty seconds-”

Eddie grins and picks him up. “Say no more,” he murmurs into Steve’s ear, taking purposeful strides toward the bedroom.

As he kicks the door shut, he has one thought: This is my favorite part of coming home.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @mischivarien @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @inadequatecowboy @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Also tagging @finntheehumaneater and @gloomysoup because I figure you might like it ❤️

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #rock star Eddie #bartender Eddie #kindergarten teacher Steve #domestic fluff #quite miss home #James Arthur #song fic #starambles

[vypressuh]

wicked games | c.s

summary: He led you on for years. The one man you saw yourself with, could never give you what you so desperately craved. Love. After the devastation, you finally mustered up the courage to cut all ties with him for good and move on. At least… you tried to, until he manages to pull you right back in again.

pairings : choi san x fem!reader

tags: SMUT WARNING , MINORS DNI — vulgar language, infidelity, angst, some fluff, teasing, sensual language, unprotected sex, situationship, asphyxiation +♡

♬ — ACT A FOOL x LYRICA ANDERSON

word count: 11.3K

(Too damn long + im so sorry yall, but i hope you enjoy the story still hopefully ! lmaoooo 🩶 )

—

November 24th, 2019

San usually doesn’t ignore your calls like this.

Your worry was starting to grow with each flight of stairs that you ascended to reach his apartment. You sent message after message with no response, giving leeway to the most irrational part of you to think of the worst possible case. You stopped for a moment and opened your chat rooms again, finding Yunho, his roommate in your contacts and shooting him a quick text asking if either of them were home.

Of course San would do something like this after just asking you the night before to go on a date with him and standing you up.

Asshole. You asked yourself countless times why you still put up with him, but you fell short of an educated answer. You just loved him and that was enough of a reason for you. However, you were frustrated and freeing and had half a mind to turn around and leave, but your phone suddenly rang with a new notification.

Yunho had answered you. He said that he wasn’t home, but San was. He had talked to him just an hour ago before you arrived in the area. He said it was possible that he could be playing video games with his headset on and doesn’t hear his phone going off. He told you not to worry about him too much.

Easy for you to say..

The nagging feeling in your chest slowly began to subside at his response. Yunho knew you long enough to know that you loved to worry about San even if unwarranted. He also knew that you were in love with him before you did. Yunho was always present and knowing of everything without actually witnessing it himself. Sometimes his assuring and know-it-all behavior pissed you off; mainly because you wish you had that much confidence in everything around you. You envied him in more ways than one.

정윤호

81024# is the code for the key lock, you can let yourself in. If he is playing video games he probably cant hear you ringing the doorbell either. Dont steal anything ;)))

You laughed a little harder at that than you intended to. Why was he always so unserious about everything? You would question him on his behavioral tactics later, all you wanted to do was get out of the petrifying cold and be with San. So, you moved quickly– scared that if you stayed in one place for too long your boots would freeze to the concrete beneath your feet. You quickly shot Yunho another text, thanking him for his help.

Shuffling up the last flight of stairs, you grounded yourself on the platform and rounded the corner that led to the first set of apartments on the floor. You continued forward until you came to the eighth door. Your ears perked at the sound of movement inside.

And then a voice. And another.

Unfortunately, it was too muffled for you to pick up anything else, and you assumed that he had company over. More than likely Wooyoung. Maybe Yunho didn’t know he was coming?

Referring to the code that he had granted you, you slid up on the keypad and punched in the digits. A short and kind of cute chime sounded from the mechanism telling you that you put in the right code and the door buzzed, undoing whatever security measurements that came with the system and clicked open. You made your way inside, being welcomed to the familiar, manly, but still good scent of their home. The warmth from the heater hit you and you never accounted for how much you desired to be hot for once.

You pulled your boots off along with your coat before wandering into the rest of the apartment. Peeking your head into the living area just around the corner from the entrance where you knew their joint gaming console was. The television was still on and playing a show loudly rather than a game, which explains the voices you heard from outside, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was Wooyoung like you expected.

He must be in his room. You thought.

As many times as you have been to his place and even spent nights here, you still felt like you were intruding– that eerie feeling telling you that you shouldn’t be here was looming over your gut, but you continued anyway.

“San?” You called out instinctively as you neared his bedroom. The door was closed, so you placed your hand on the door knob and pushed it open. The worst possible case was that he was naked, which you didn’t mind as you’ve seen many parts of each other anyway. “I’ve been trying to call you, but you didn’t-”

You weren’t sure what look you had on your face, but you were more than sure that it resembled exactly what you were feeling on the inside. Heartbreak. Your eyes went wide and your lips parted in shock at the sight of Choi San, the man you loved more than anything, scrambling from underneath a naked girl. A girl that wasn’t you. But it wasn’t some random girl. No. That dark hair, that disintegrating butterfly tattoo on the back of her shoulder. You knew her.

Your skin glossed over with a chill. And your heart broke into a million pieces.

It was Veronica. Your best friend. At least that’s what you thought until now.

“Jesus… What the hell?! What are you doing here?” Panic was obvious in San’s voice as he sat up in the bed, looking just as frightened and bewildered as you were. He climbed out of the bed and quickly pulled on his boxers.

“You…Are you serious?” There was nothing in you that tried to maintain composure as everything you were feeling began to bubble to the surface and you let it come out. “What the fuck are you doing here, V??”

“How the hell did she even get in here??” She barely even acknowledged you. Just looked to him like a savior of some sort. And that pissed you off even more.

San took a step towards you and you took two steps back. “Look, I can explain.”

You put your hand up to him to stop him from speaking. “Don’t…talk to me. You don't get to speak to me right now.”

“San, can you just make her leave? She’s being a nuisance.”

“Hey, stop. Just let me handle this.” San corrected her and she shifted in place, gripping the covers that were keeping her breasts from spilling out into the open.

Meanwhile, you shot daggers towards Veronica at her words. Your brows furrowed across your forehead, possibly leaving a mark from the tension that you could feel between the bridge of your nose. Your lip twitched with the want to say so many things, but no words were strong enough to show what you were really feeling. Rage.

You looked eagerly around the room for something. All you needed was something. Anything. That’s when your eyes locked onto it. A medium sized glass cup sat dormant on his computer desk, and with the quickness of a quality athletic star as well as the strength of one, you grabbed the glass and hurled it in Veronica’s direction before San could grab and stop you. She let out an ear-jerking screech and covered her head with her hands before the harsh sound of the glass shattering filled the room and silenced everyone in it. You couldn’t control yourself at that moment. You missed her by a few inches as the glass impacted with the wall just above the headboard, sending shards falling on the sheets and her. Part of you wanted it to hit her. You wanted her to hurt like you were hurting, but it still wasn’t enough to quell your anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re mental.” Veronica snapped.

“Seriously?!” San grabbed your arms, trying to push you back to get you out of the vicinity of Veronica. “You need to calm down.”

You pressed your hands to his bare chest and pushed him back off of you. “Don’t fucking touch me! Calm down?” You focused your gaze back on her. “You knew. You knew about us the whole time! And you do this?”

“Obviously, there wasn’t an “us” between you if he’s fucking me and not you. Right?” She spoke with such a venom lining her words and they were aimed directly at your heart. “Me and Jamie warned you. You didn’t listen.”

“I should have known from the beginning that you were a grimey bitch. You’d open your legs for anybody that so much as blinks at you.” You snapped back.

“How do you think that I got in his bed then?”

You were going to kill her. You felt like crying right there, but your blood was already boiling in a crimson pot. It not only pained you to hear those words from someone you once considered a friend, but from someone who also knew every single thing that happened between you and San. Every tear you cried was on her shoulder, every message of happiness and celebration you sent her, she sent you her congratulations. She was there for it all.

And she betrayed you. He betrayed you.

“I can’t fucking believe you…both of you.” You scoffed, backing away from San with weak and rigid steps. “You two deserve each other.”

You attempted to turn and walk out, but he grabbed your arm to stop you. “God, don’t be like that.” San coaxed. “This didn’t mean anything.”

He always tries explaining everything away, making everything seem smaller than what it was. Acting as if none of this was a big deal, but he just couldn’t see the pain in your eyes that was hiding behind the blind rage. You glanced down at his hand for a second and then back up to him, yanking your hand away without another thought.

“I don’t give a fuck what it meant. Whatever it is…that I thought we had? It’s over. Keep her for all I care, just don’t talk to me ever again. In fact, forget I exist–forget that we ever existed.” Those were possibly the coldest words that you have ever said to him. It hurt you to even say them, and you could see the sly grin that was on his face soon falter.

“You’re not serious. Come on, we can fix this. She doesn’t mean anything to me. You do.”

“Godd! You’re so full of shit, San! She meant something if it was enough to risk-.” Your eyes burned through him like you had laser vision. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to tear him down just like he did you over the years. “Forget it.” He just couldn’t know that your heart was breaking into pieces. “And if I really meant something to you, you wouldn’t have fucked my best friend behind my back. I’m done. We’re done.”

He had heard you say that many times before, but now he realized you were serious.

You stomped out of the room, making a b-line for the front door. Quickly stuffing your feet back into your boots and grabbing your coat from the rack, you placed your hand on the door knob and was just about to crank it to leave when you heard San’s voice crowing and breaking from the same spot where you had just left him.

“Please, let’s just talk about this. I- I don’t want you to go. I-” He paused. “I love you.”

You thought when you heard those words from him for the first time, that it would light a fire in your stomach. You would smile like an idiot and throw yourself into his arms like a love sick puppy. It was everything you ever wanted to hear him say, but hearing them now? Like this, when you were on the verge of breaking down? All it did was burn a hole through your heart, severing the last bit of forgiveness you could ever give him– along with whatever love that remained.

A singular tear fell from your eyes but was absorbed by the thick fur of your coat. You didn’t even bother to look at him. If he saw you cry, it would give him the satisfaction of your sadness. It would tell him that you still cared. That you still could possibly love him despite what he had just done to you. That there was still a chance at redemption. And you didn’t want to care about him anymore. So from this moment, you decided to hate him. For good.

You took a deep breath. Letting that numbness wash over your heart. And with the last inkling of strength in your voice, you spoke to him one final time and meant it.

“Fuck you, San.”

계속하다

Present Day

Those were the last words you ever uttered to him since your relationship ended.

Calling it a “relationship” is a bit of a stretch though, it could better be compared to Hell on Earth. An excruciatingly ugly, painful, heartbreaking, love story that went up in flames once the final straw had been broken. The thought of it filled you with agony and it felt as if the pain would be eternal, which is why you stopped thinking about it completely. But for some reason it resurfaced.

For whatever grudge the universe had against you for whatever reason, the thought of what you once had, had oddly brought you… comfort. If that was the right term to use. It felt familiar even with the blight it left on your heart. That’s how he was, Choi San— albeit possibly your worst decision in a man at the time— he had a way of conflicting every emotion and thought you had just by saying a few simple words. He was a smooth talker, you see. Blessed and born with a silver tongue and a kindness that made his every transgression against you seem minute (my-nute).

He always had a knack of luring you right back into his trap whenever you attempted to free yourself. His smile brought you to the closest feeling of love that he would permit you to have, and his kisses made you fall even harder. If he cut you by his bastard-like actions, he would heal you with his words, or by fucking you so good that you completely forgot why you were angry in the first place. Until he does it again and the cycle continues.

It was all a part of his little game and you were too in deep not to play.

Each night with him that you did not spend yelling and throwing tantrums, you would lay in his arms and let the calm sweep you into a deep slumber. When you shut your eyes all you could see were the same blaring red lights that flashed constantly behind your eyelids. They were your warning. A wailing and urgent siren that was almost deafening to your ears, screaming for you to get away while you were ahead. Every neuron in your brain fired off in an attempt to make you aware of the damage that was set to ensue if you continued this way with him.

You never listened.

That was probably the most justifiable reason behind all of your sleepless nights. Maybe if you had heeded those warnings, and listened to your first mind back then to leave him before you gave him a piece of yourself , you could have been saved from the intense heartbreak later and the aftermath of pain that followed in his wake.

You hated him, but for some reason unbeknownst to you, you still mourned your separation.

He was your first love after all.

You built a fantasy world around your heart to protect it from the truth of who he really was. It was the only solace and peace that you could maintain by giving yourself a place to hide when false hope seeped in. The hope that he would love you back. It kept you content with your situation and never allowed you to think any deeper about a future with him until you stopped hoping completely.

You tried your hardest to forget every moment he made you smile, the softness of his fingers when he touched your most delicate places, the way his lips felt on your flesh, and every warm feeling that resembled even an ounce of love or admiration that you had for him. You tried to forget it all. You wanted to. You needed to. And now the only memories that remained were all filled with regret, anger, sadness, and hate.

Although it has been four years since you have felt that way, those feelings still linger even now, trickling into your present no matter how hard you tried to keep them in the past.

“Soooooo…the company dinner-” Yunho tried the topic again, but you quickly shut him down.

“Hell no.” You didn’t even have to look at him when you said it, just continued to work on the stove, stirring around the ramyeon that would be your lunch.

Yunho let out an egregiously loud, and seemingly frustrated groan. “Dude, you promised.”

You set down your cooking utensil next to the pot and cranked down the heat before turning to face him at the kitchen island where he sat across from you. “Yeah, I did! That was before you so graciously informed me that that evil bitch would be there.”

“I didn’t know that she was the event coordinator this time. The other one got booted off at the last minute, Jamie was the one that told me, and told me to tell you as soon as possible.” He explained, mentioning your— mentionably more loyal— other best friend of almost ten years, Jamie, moving his hands around so wildly while he spoke that it was hard for you to focus on him.

“Look, I’m grateful that you gave me a heads up!”

“Thank you for some recognition! Jamie and I work hard for you.” He said.

There he goes being unserious again. You sighed softly. “But that’s where it stops. I think if I get within ten feet of her I may actually kill her.”

“You tried that once, remember? Didn’t really work out.” Yunho grabbed the glass of wine sitting in front of him and took a sip of it.

Low blow. You flicked him off for his comment, visibly irritated at what he said, but all he did was laugh.

Yunho cocked his head to the side, leaned forward on the marble surface of the kitchen island and stared up at you with the most aggravatingly cute smile. “Did you know that you look even prettier when you’re pissed off at me?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the stove. “You’re annoying..”

“You love me for it.” He cooed.

“Debatable topic at best.” You said flatly, moving over to the counter to chop up the rest of the meat slices to mix into the broth.

The chair scraped across the tile. Heavy footfalls began to round the corner of the kitchen island, leaving your mind to the imagination of where Yunho was going as you focused on your task in the kitchen. The muscles in your back tensed when you felt a sudden weight pressed against it. Long, strong arms stretched out beside you; his hands found purchase on the counter and trapped you against it as your breath hitched at his closeness. Yunho cleared you in height alone, standing at a whopping 6’3 compared to you. You weren’t short yourself, but anybody that stood next to him would look like an ant. His presence alone was dominating and commanding and suddenly you felt much less brave than you did 3 seconds prior.

You stopped cutting and slightly turned your head towards him. His lips were pursed against your ear and you were scared about what would follow after.

His breath was cool and it made the hairs on your neck stand on end when he whispered, “I don’t think it’s that debatable..”

He placed a kiss on your earlobe. Another on your jaw. Your neck, canvassing the beautiful tone of your skin. He pressed his pillowy pair against your shoulder and it caused you to shiver. You could feel the smile pulling at his lips at your reaction.

“Yunho..you know we can’t. Jamie will be home soon.” You said almost breathlessly. The warmth radiating from his body also made you hot. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“You even say my name pretty. How am I supposed to resist you if you talk like that?” His voice was deep and sultry, housing a slight grumble at the end of every word.

“What if Jamie-“

“I don’t care about Jamie. I care about you.” Yunho snaked his arms around your waist and spins you around to face him.

Jamie would probably kill you if she found out since Yunho was just as much her best friend as he was yours. Besides, I doubt she would want to know that the two of you ever had sex in the first place or how you even got there to begin with.

When you ended things with San, you also tried to cut every piece of him out of your life entirely. Including Yunho. Even though the two of you were close, he was even closer with San than you were. You didn’t need to have that constant reminder of the man that broke your heart, so you stopped talking to Yunho as well as his friend group entirely—etching that part of your life out of your head for good. However, Yunho didn’t take that too lightly.

A little bit after the incident one night, while you were crying your eyes out on the couch in the very apartment that you stood in, there was a resounding knock at the door. Thinking it was Jamie, your roommate, who left her key again, you wiped your tears and quickly shuffled to let her in. To your surprise as well as your dismay, it wasn’t the olive toned ginger you had come to spend your teenage years with, but instead Jeong Yunho in all of his terrible timing glory.

You tried to close the door on him and tell him to leave, but he stopped you. Insisted that he wanted to merely check on you since it had been so long since you spoke. He then spilled that Jamie knew you needed a friend and she wouldn’t be home for another two days, so she asked him to come see you. As much as you wanted to yell at her, you knew her heart was in the right place.

You weren’t sure how things got to where they did, but you remembered that he apologized over and over again for letting him hurt you and that he had no idea about him and Veronica. He said they even got into a fight about it and hadn’t seen San since that night. Him telling you that opened the floodgates and you found yourself pouring everything you kept inside out onto his shoulder. He held you with his fingers hooked into your hair and pressing you even deeper into his shoulder for you to cry. He said it was okay and he understood. He pulled you off of his shoulder and cupped your face with his hands, wiping away the neverending flow of your burning tears with his thumbs. Yunho called you beautiful. He hated to see you cry so he smiled and the sight alone unthawed the iceberg that you had locked around it. One thing led to another… and well.

He kissed you. You didn’t stop him. Nor did you want to. You needed him more in that moment than you ever had since you met.

You tried many times to end whatever it was between you countless because of your guilt, but Yunho never wanted to.

“Let’s be guilty together.” Is what he would say to you.

That’s how all of this mess started. Ever since then, it’s been an unspoken thing. There was no commitment there, but rather a comfort. Something only the two of you understood. You felt horrible, but at the same time it was just nice having someone. He was not yours and you weren’t his, but when you were together it was just you two. No expectations. Maybe it made you a hypocrite, but you stopped caring a long time ago.

For the first time you looked into his eyes and saw the hunger lying in his hues. He scoured every inch of your face, but danced around the lining of your lips as if he could taste them just by looking at them.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you pulled yourself in closer to him and smiled, lowering your voice to speak as if it weren’t only the two of you in here. “If I knew you were going to be this much trouble, I would have left you outside that night.”

Yunho moved in even closer, so that you could feel his breath brushing across your lips. “Well, since you didn’t, now I can do this.”

His lips collided against yours tenderly. They tasted just as sweet as they were the last time you kissed him, hinting at a slight berry flavor from the chapstick he frequently wore. They felt smooth and delicate against your own. Yunho guided you through the kiss and you followed. The kiss was gentle but firm, like he was trying to let you know that he meant every single word he has ever said to you.

His arms tightened around your waist more, tugging you closer to him so that your bodies were pressed against the other. The two of you were perfectly in sync as you explored each other’s mouths. Your fingers tangled into his thick blonde hair before dropping to his chest, fisting the white shirt he had on. With soft exasperated sighs in between each motion of your lips, Yunho dipped his hands down from your waist and around to your ass, grabbing almost all of you with both of his massive palms. You chuckled softly against him and he did the same.

Then you heard a clunking sound. Something similar to a chime. The door. A Lock. Keys. Oh God. Jamie. She’s home. The cute moment was ruined by the two of you scrambling to look as unsuspecting as possible.

“I’m baaaaaaaack!” Jamie sang out in an awful tune, sending goosebumps across your arms. Eerie.

You cleared your throat and continued cooking your lunch. Yunho acted as if he was rummaging the cabinets for snacks as your best friend came galloping into the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re here. Why?” Her words were laced with disappointment and you knew she was referring to Yunho.

“Ouch. Why did you say it like that? Am I not welcome?”

“You are! It’s just.. you’re a still man. I’m just shocked at your presence.” Jamie said. “Anyway! I come bearing giftsss!”

“What’d you get me?” Yunho asked, suggestively.

��Hopefully out of my house soon.” Jamie bit back.

You chortled, but tried to hide it when you felt Yunho staring daggers into the back of your head. You quickly finished cutting up the meat and added it to the broth to simmer, placing the lid overtop and turning to Jamie finally.

“You went shopping?” You asked her curious about what she brought.

“Of course I went shopping! You know what tonight is.” She sounded more ecstatic about it then you thought she would.

“Ohhh about that.” Yunho scratches the back of his head nervously. “I don’t think she’s going.”

“WHAT?” Jamie exclaims, looking expectantly between the two of you for an answer. “Why isn’t she going? Why aren’t you going? Are you sick? Pregnant?”

“Pregnant??” You questioned.

“Pregnant?!” Yunho also questioned, seemingly more shocked that it could even be an option. The two of you nervously looked at each other.

“I’m asking you!”

You waved her off. “No! God no. Veronica.”

“Oh.” Jamie untensed and set down the bags she brought in down onto the chairs in front of her. “That bitch. I forgot about her.”

“Exactly my point. I can’t be trusted around her.” You tried to plead to Jamie, hoping that she would understand.

“Good, you won't be around her. You’ll be around us. You’re going. I’m not letting that skank control your life anymore.”

“She doesn’t!”

“If you wont go somewhere because of someone they control your life. Look, I know you hate her. Hell, I hate her too for what she did to you but I can’t let you stay cooped up in the house all the time just because there’s a possibility that you might run into her again. Tonight will be fine, I promise.”

You appreciated Jamie for trying to be such an assuring force in your life amongst all the uncertainty surrounding you. She had a knack for pushing you out of your comfort level, and then it may appear to be forceful to some. Jamie never did anything unless it was with love.

“Hey, we won’t let anything happen tonight. I’ll even stay on Veronica watch if it’ll make you more comfortable.” Yunho piped up, leaning against the counter as he delved into whatever odd snack he actually managed to find in the cabinets.

“We’ll take care of you. It’ll be fine. Plus, I also spent $100 on buying a dress for you and it’s really freaking cute so if you don’t put it on, I will. But I’d rather see you in it.” Jamie picked up one of the fancy looking shopping bags, with a designer brand you had never heard of, and held it out to you expectantly.

You looked between Yunho and Jamie and their happy and hopeful stares caused you to cave instantly. “Fine… I’ll go.”

계속하다

This was the worst decision you ever made. Why were you here? The fabric from your dress was tightening around you with every movement you made, making the long leg slit that was cut into it ride a little further up your thigh than you were hoping it would. The heels you wore were comfortable, but you only wore these things on occasion and still weren’t the best at walking in them especially for long periods of time. And these company dinners are always long.

Yunho was the first to get out of the car, and in a gentlemanly manner he walked around to your side and opened the door.

“My lady.” He bowed before you and offered you his hand to help you out. The gesture brightened your smile and you accepted, feeling much like a princess on the way to a ball.

He assisted Jamie out as well and tossed the keys to the valet who dutifully took his car for him.

The place was flooded with people. Rich people mainly, stepping out of luxury cars and limousines. Almost all of them had a partner that they would ascend the stairs with— some were older men in their sixties with women possibly in their early thirties . Gross. You thought to yourself, but who were you to judge? Although, you were.

You looked to Jamie who was just more excited to go in as anybody else. Her dress was black, strapless and shimmery compared to your steel gray silk. Her hair was curled like a supermodel from the 1950’s, falling over the bareness of her shoulder more on one side than the other. Your hair was in coils, falling down the length of your back. Yunho wore a black tuxedo as well, complimenting the both of you, but his collar was slightly undone without a tie and opened up a V down to his chest where the only thing you could see was a gold chain that he wore fitted around his collarbone. He stepped in between the both you and Jamie and extended his winged arm on both sides for the two of you to take, which you did.

“How does it feel being my dates for tonight?” He chimed, sounding just as much of a man as he had always been. You rolled your eyes, and Jamie physically hurled.

“Is it too late to ask the valet to bring the car back?” Jamie mused.

“Considering that I’m your ride for the night. I would have left the sly comments at the apartment.” Jamie laughed at Yunho’s words and you did too, feeling more loose and less anxious than you did moments before when you stepped out of the car.

The three of you walked up the stairs together, arm in arm, following the rest of the crowd into the party. You felt a tug on your arm and suddenly a Yunho parked right beside your ear. You stiffened immediately.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He whispered.

His compliment made you hot under the collar, if you had one to get hot under, sending a spark up your spine. You cleared your throat and smiled up at the giant figure beside you. “You look handsome yourself. You clean up nice.”

“I try my best. If I would have known you would be looking like this tonight, I would have tried harder.”

Yunho chooses the worst times to flirt with you. Around all of these people and Jamie being right there, you grew more and more flustered as the conversation went on. He escorted you successfully into the party— giving you a full view of the large dining hall. Not only was it the biggest hall you had ever seen, it was also a ballroom. Tables surrounded the extremely glossy floor that was covered with a sea of people engaged in conversation. Chatter and obtuse laughter filled your ears, but it was so hard to focus on one conversation with how many people it was. Servers walked through the crowd with refreshments and offered the three of you one upon entry. You all took it and thanked him.

“I’m going to go mingle a bit and see if I can find the guys. Don’t have too much fun without me.” Yunho said, pulling himself free from the two of you, he slipped into the crowd but not without rubbing the back of his hand across your backside.

Yunho would be the death of you.

You and Jamie were left to your own devices now and there was no way you were going anywhere without her. You didn’t know anybody here except her and Yunho, so you latched yourself to her side.

“Oh! Oh, that’s the chairman I was talking to you about right there. Come on.” She motioned off to a group of people standing in a circle, laughing about something amongst each other. She pointed to an older guy, stout, but still kind of handsome? His hair was going gray, but still had streaks of black in it and he was dressed to the nines in a bright white suit. Bold.

Jamie clasped her arm around yours and dragged you over to his direction. She called out to the chairman who recognized his name, and Jamie bowed politely to greet him. He seemingly knew her very well because he greeted her by name, welcoming the two of you into the conversation. Jamie introduced you to him and you bowed as well, bowing to the others who you were amongst since they also looked like important people but you only stood there awkwardly. You had no idea what they were discussing, so you were there as moral support for Jamie.

Instead you looked out at the rest of the crowd and all of the different people in it. It was fascinating how many rich people were all in one room— hell you didn’t know this many of them existed. The ballroom itself was currently the most powerful place on earth. There were old men, young men, young women, old women. So many different types of people dressed in their best. You wondered where Yunho was and wanted to see if you could find him, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must have found his friends. Your curiosity got the best of you so you stared for a little longer to see if you saw them by chance. And you did, knowing that they were the only people in here with those hair colors. Most of them had their backs to you, so you could only tell based on that alone, who was who. Seonghwa with his black hair was standing beside Wooyoung and Maddox, who you had only met once or twice, Yeosang with his dark hair on the other side of him, and Hongjoong with his light brown was next to Jongho who stood in the middle of Mingi and…

Silence fell over you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them. Off of him. No Yunho in sightz Only San. Veronica. Together. You didn’t realize how long you had to be looking at him because by some miracle he noticed that someone was staring straight into the side of his head. He suddenly turned and looked directly at you. His shock was just as apparent as yours, and you lost your footing for a second, stumbling into Jamie who was beside you. The chairman and the others turned to you with concern.

“Whoa, Are you okay?” Jamie asked, gripping your arms to hold you upright. “What happened?”

“I-I” You stammered.

Jamie cleared her throat and bowed to the Chairman. “Excuse us for a moment.”

She took you out of the circle and placed a hand on your shoulder. “What’s going on? Are your shoes hurting you? Are you hungry? Thirsty? You feel cold.”

“He’s here.” You said softly to her.

“Who?”

“San.” You said through gritted teeth, looking around, hoping not to conjure him up around you.

“WHAT?” Her voice elevated among the crowd and a few people turned to look. “What? He’s here. Why the fuck is he here?”

“He’s with Veronica and the others.”

“Oh that son of a bitch. He’s got some nerve. Where is Yunho? Is he with him?”

“I didn’t see him. I think I need a drink.”

“You need more than that. Come on.” Jamie grabbed your hand and weaved through the crowd that was gathering.

You followed her, not knowing where you were going in the slightest. Once you made it through the wave of bodies, you were pulled up to the large bar top.

“What can I get you ladies tonight?” The bartender asked, whilst cleaning out a glass with a rag.

“The strongest thing you have.” You said with no resistance.

“Coming right up.” The bartender immediately got to work, fishing out a few bottles from the shelves behind him and started pouring and mixing, taking orders from the other customers who walked up as well.

In a matter of minutes, he placed two orange colored glasses down to you and Jamie , sticking a lime in each slit of the glass. You thanked him and immediately drank it.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea he would be here. I even looked at the guest list. That's how I knew Veronica would be here.” Jamie explained. “This is my fault. I should have let you stay home.”

You separated from the glass and leaned against the counter, putting all of your weight on your hands. “It’s not your fault Jamie. I just- I just need a second.”

“Okay. Okay…um. Do you want to leave?” She asked, placing a calming hand on your arm. “I don’t want to risk you two running into each other.”

Downing what remained of your drink, you let the liquor burn a stream of worry down your throat. You grimaced from the pain, but took it, sucking in a vat of fresh air to cool your lungs again.

“Yeah. I think I should go. I’ll go find Yunho.” you insisted, waving off Jamie from taking on anymore hassle.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting here and we can leave. Just scream if you need me. Well- don’t actually, but just call me.” She nodded to you half-heartedly. You had a feeling she was itching to follow you, but you didn’t need her to babysit you.

Seeing San was not what you had expected to happen tonight, but who were you kidding? Of course he would be wherever his friends were, they were inseparable. You just assumed that you would not have been there to even know it in the first place.

You slammed your drink back down on the bar top and gathered your clutch purse and your phone. Returning a reassuring nod to a very visibly anxious Jamie and wandered off into the thicket of the dinner crowd. You maneuvered through countless bodies, searching for a remnant of your friend. There was nothing really differentiating him from the other patrons despite his long blonde mullet in a sea of pepper-gray hairs so you looked out for that. You peeked through conversations, from behind the backs of stockholders and possible CEOs in the hopes that one of them would be Yunho who magically disappeared.

You wandering about so curiously earned you some concerned glares from the partygoers, but you gave them a soft smile in the hopes to ease their tension from seeing you so confused and distraught.

Where is he? The ballroom was large and there were so many people, you could be searching for him forever, but time was of the essence and you needed to find him so you could get out of dodge as soon as possible. The last thing you needed was to run into San or, equally, Veronica again tonight. You’ve had your fill of both of them for a lifetime even if it was for five seconds. A few minutes went by and you had searched a good sum of the ballroom floor, but there was still no sign of Yunho anywhere.

He wasn’t answering your texts or your phone calls, which was weird because he always answered no matter what. Where could he be that has him caught up? You looked around and thought for a moment and then it hit you. Standing on the tips of your heels, you looked around at the looming walls above the party hoping to find some kind of sign that pointed to the direction of the nearest bathrooms. Your eyes latched onto a black sign pointed towards a dark hallway that would lead you exactly where you wanted to go.

Quickly, you dashed that way, calling your pardons and excuses to the people you plowed through and or pushed by. There were people coming out of the darkness of the hallway, some men, some women who had just seemingly handled their business. None of who were yunho who you were hoping for. So you tread further. The hall was dimly lit by a few candelabras attached to the wall, giving it a soft yellow glow. Thanks to the light, you finally managed to locate the restrooms decorated with their set signs to let you know which was which.

Then, the door to the men’s bathroom flew open with a screech. Happiness filled your features. You waited for the moments that the striking, tall blonde would appear in front of you and crack a joke about how he drank too much and didn’t realize it.

“Yunh-“ You called out, hopeful.

But your hope was misplaced because as soon as the door opened and the man stepped out into view, you were met with black. Not blonde like Yunho was.

Your happy appearance fell. You locked eyes and both stood there awkwardly yet again. San. Of course it was San. Why wouldn’t it be San? You cursed the gods at the moment in your head.

All you could think about at that moment was escape. You needed to get away from him, you could turn around and get lost in the crowd, return to Jamie and tell her that you both lost your ride and couldn’t find him anywhere, but San was fast enough that he could catch you before you even managed to think about leaving.

So you had only one other option to make it look less suspicious. Your eyes left his and flickered over to the women’s restroom.

San called out your name, but his voice was lost to you as you charged through the door and let it shut him out.

There was no way he was going to come in here, anybody could walk in or walk out in a moment’s notice. He’ll have to leave or wait for you to come out and there was no way that you were doing that with him still here. Due to the lack of movement in any of the stalls, you assumed you were alone, so you walked over to the sinks and set down your purse, going back to your recent call logs and ringing Yunho again. You put the phone to your ear and paced against the polished tile floor.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” You repeated, wishing it was the magic words to make him reappear.

The phone rang and rang and rang. No answer.

“God dammit, Yunho.” You cursed and hung up the phone.

The bathroom door suddenly pushed open. You thought nothing of it, but silenced yourself to not disturb whatever woman was coming to do her business.

“So, you and Yunho are a thing now?”

Your heart slid from its position in your chest and down into the pits of your stomach. You quickly glanced up to see Choi San standing before you with his back perched against the door. In the women’s bathroom. He seriously came in here? Is he fucking insane?

He was simultaneously blocking you in and keeping whatever potential savior there was for you outside.

“What the fuck- you need to leave.” You commanded.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have to answer you. The door is right there. Leave.” You pointed towards the exit again, but he didn’t budge.

“Are you together? Fucking? What is it?” He asked again, this time moving off of the door and taking a few steps towards you. He was working the last nerve you were willing to give him right now.

“Why does it matter to you anyway?!” You bit back, your voice echoing through the emptiness of the restroom. “You know what? Fuck this, I’ll leave.”

You grabbed your things and tucked them under your arm, heading right for him. You put your hand on the door handle and pulled it open slightly, but San slammed his palm against it and closed it on you again.

“It matters because he’s my best friend. And he wouldn’t give me an answer, so I’m asking you.”

You laughed. You didn’t mean to, but you found the irony in his statement too funny to pass up the opportunity. “I’m sorry, that’s just really rich coming from you, San, considering you fucked my friend behind my back.”

“And you fucked mine. So, that makes us even.”

“Not even close. Yes, I had sex with Yunho, but I didn’t fuck him behind your back. You lost all my loyalty, when you chose Veronica over me. That’s on you.”

He huffed, staring down at you with those piercing brown eyes. Now that you could see him up close, his once baby-faced features were replaced with a stoic disposition. His brows were thicker and sharp making them more prone to furrow. His jawline was sharp and tense from how he was gritting his teeth, seemingly trying to hold back whatever words were about to come out of his mouth.

“Look..” San spoke your name so gently that it threw you off guard. His eyes softened and he looked upon you with no awkwardness or fear. He looked.. genuine. For the first time in forever.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to hear whatever it is he had to say to you. “Save it, San. Please.. save it. I don’t want to hear whatever excuse you cooked up in the last four years, or rehearsed to say to me whenever we saw each other again. I don’t.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry? That’s… not what you expected. You didn’t have a snarky comeback for that one, it completely threw you for a loop. He doesn’t apologize for anything. Why is he apologizing to you now?

“I fucked up. I know and I realize that, even if it was too late when I did. I had already lost you at that point, I just didn’t know how to fix it. I hurt you. What I did with Veronica was stupid and it was on me. It was no one’s fault but mine. I’m sorry for everything that I put you through. You can keep hating me forever if you want, that’s your choice, but I couldn’t keep going on knowing that you were the only person who ever loved me and I ruined it and never apologized.”

Each word was like a shot to your stomach. Every ounce of resolve that you had was slowly beginning to crumble before him. You turned your head away from him, staring down at the ground for a moment, folding your arms across your slightly exposed chest.

“Why did you do it?” You asked firmly, still keeping your guard up with him. “Did you like her?”

There was a push on the door that startled you both and then a knock. You looked at one another in a panic and motioned to San to handle it since he was the one blocking the door.

San didn’t say a word and neither did you. He just kept a steady pressure on the door as they tried to get it open, until they only assumed that the door was jammed. There were a few disgruntled noises outside the door and then they walked off, leaving the two of you alone again.

“To answer your question. No, I didn’t like her. I didn’t love her—I didn’t feel anything for her that was remotely close to what I felt for you. I don’t know why I did it…it just happened. We were with friends and we were hanging out, we talked a bit, I guess a bit too much. Next thing I know, we kissed and well.. the rest was history.”

“And tonight? Did you come with her?”

He scoffed. “No. I’m not stupid.”

“Well?” You sang.

San glared at you.

“Sorry, it was too easy.” You shrugged. “Go on.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I did come with her, but I didn’t technically come with her. She just needed a ride, Seonghwa and I gave her one. I cut it off with her a few weeks after we…” He motioned between the two of you. “You know. She was already on to the next by then and we haven’t seen each other much since, until now.”

You nodded your head, feeling somewhat lighter now that he told you. “I see. Well, uhm. About Yunho and I..”

San stopped you before you could start. “You don’t have to explain to me. Let’s just say that it just happened.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it just happened.”

There was a mutual understanding in those words. Though you and Yunho had a deeper connection than what San and Veronica had, it was merely an understanding of position. You didn’t forgive him for what he did and San was probably livid deep down and probably couldn’t forgive you either, but the anger that was there from before was subsiding.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you spoke. “I- thank you for that, San. It was nice of you to apologize, but I have to go.”

You tried to open the door again, but instead of slamming it shut on you like he did last time, he grabbed you by your hand and held it in his. You whipped around to look at him and were met with the most heartfelt look you had ever seen him wear.

“Did you know that I’ve thought about you everyday for the last four years? I couldn’t get you out of my head for the life of me.”

“San-“

“No. It’s always been you. Everything has always been you. I can’t go to sleep at night without seeing your face. When I laugh, I think about yours. When someone smiles at me, I think about how yours was always brighter.”

“San stop.” You begged. You wanted to pull your hand from his, but for some reason you just couldn’t move. You had to get to Yunho. You needed to find him— you needed to leave. Why can’t you leave?

“Do you know what that feels like?” His hand tightened around yours. “It’s agony.”

“Why are you telling me this?” His grip only tightened.

“I meant what I said back then. I just should have said it sooner. I love you. I never stopped loving you and seeing you tonight only confirmed it. And if you don’t feel anything for me at all, we can free each other from this fucked up game right now. I’ll get out of your life for good.”

You stood there like an inanimate object. Not knowing what to say or what to do. You had felt everything that he was feeling ten times over and then some. Of course you thought about him in the past. You had thought about him living a life without you more than once. You thought about him every second of the day. The two of you were tethered by a string of damnation—you two were messy and you knew it, but you always thought that there was a possibility that you could work. Maybe he could love you the way you loved him. Maybe you could love him again. Maybe.. You wished maybe was a guarantee.

You wiggled your hand free from his grasp. San looked at you obviously distraught by the way the light in his eyes suddenly faded. You dropped everything that you were carrying in your arms as your phone and purse went clattering to the bathroom floor. Your hands moved faster than your brain ever could. You reached out to San, clasping both of your hands against his face and pulled him into you, lips crashing into a fiery slope of passion as he wrapped his arms around your backside like it was second nature to him. His build was much wider now and you felt incredibly small in his grasp, but San held you with every intent not to let go of you again.

As the kiss grew deeper, San careened his hands across your body, feeling the very places that he had been missing for the last few years. He worked your frame like he was trying to remember what spots connected to what, which ones were your favorites to be touched nowadays— he was trying to figure what kind of person you were now in just a matter of seconds.

Removing your hands from his chiseled features, you found new purchase on his suit jacket, which you tore off immediately, pulling the expensive fabric over his muscles. San pressed you against the door, letting your back meet the cool, polished wood; a single hand wrapped around your neck while an extended tongue flicked across your bottom lip, nonverbally asking for entrance, which you granted him with no hesitation. He slid his tongue between your parted lips and into your mouth, swirling his own instrument around yours. The kiss turned frantic, more hungry and needy. You moaned into his mouth, fingering the strands of his slightly long black hair while he simultaneously shifted the leg slit on your dress to the side, gripped the back of your thigh and pulled it to wrap around his slim waist.

This somehow brought the two of you even closer than you were already. He fell into you perfectly like a missing puzzle piece. You could feel his growing erection between your thighs each time he ground into you. The two of you were a bumbling mess of hormones and unsatiated emotions. San broke the kiss, using the same hand that was wrapped around your throat to tilt your head to the side. He attacked your neck like a predator, and you let him. His mouth was warm and wet and your body reacted almost instantly. You could feel the temperature rise inside your body. San continues his performance, lapping up the skin on your neck like it was refreshing to him, his kisses led down to your collarbone, your breasts. Unfortunately with the minimal time you had as well as the fabric of your dress covering the rest of you, San was limited in the love he wanted to show to your body, but that did not deter him.

Falling to his knees before you, he took the very thigh that he had wrapped around him and began to pepper it with kisses as well. Your hand was caught in his hair as you guided him, your mouth agape at the sight. You watch San with intention, as he kisses further and further up your thigh, inching the silver silk out of his way. You stuck your teeth into your bottom lip and smiled naughtily. San pulled his sharp gaze to you, and you could feel a gush between your legs. Why did he have to look at you like that? Your immediate reaction to this excited him and he continued onward in a devilish manner. Using both of his hands, he caressed your legs admiring you in all of your glory and fiddled underneath your dress, finding a latch on your panties and tugging them downwards to your ankles leaving you completely exposed.

San repositions himself as well as you. He places your leg just over his shoulder now, giving him a full view of your womanhood that was now glistening with your moisture. San licks his lips, practically salivating and grumbles with satisfaction even when he didn’t have a taste of you yet.

“God, I miss the way you taste. I think I need to remind myself again.” He said sweetly before moving forward against you.

Your breath caught in your throat once his lips connected with the sensitive hood of your clit. It was a small kiss to it, but it had so much power as well. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the doorframe, moaning softly into the air while San worked his magic. You still played with his hair offering some encouragement to continue even though you could not speak very clearly without a moan following soon after. San flushed his mouth against your pussy, you could see the lust swimming in his eyes as he stared at you the entire time.

���You’re already dripping for me. Good.”

He widened the part in your lips to give him enough room to slither his tongue inside, invading you, but of course you did not mind. It felt good already, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“Fuck..” you groaned to yourself, putting your eyes back on the beautiful man that was between your thighs.

His tongue prodded at your insides, slurping and sloshing about your velvety walls and sipping on the honey-like thickness of your juices. Every lick sent you further into the depths, you couldn’t control your moans. You almost felt too loud, but you couldn’t stop. And by the look in his eye, you almost felt like that was what he wanted. San continued to suck and kiss along the flaps of your portions , savoring every ounce of your flavor.

San separated from you for a split moment, leaving a string of his saliva as well as your wetness which his mouth was completely drenched in, and smiled at you deviously. “Damn, you taste so good.”

You could feel the rope that was holding your senses together slowly begin to unwind itself. You were too sensitive for your own liking sometimes and San knew that much about you. It didn’t take much for you to cave and now was no different. The way he was eating you out was almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want him to stop. You were just getting started.

San followed a figure eight movement on your clit, but moved his tongue like an expert inside of you, never leaving a single part of your pussy untouched. Your moans got louder and louder, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him deeper into your temple. Your hips worked against his mouth and he invited it, digging his nails into your hips and pulling you closer to him. You whimpered, sounding more desperate than you had hoped to. With the way you were grinding on him, you were practically riding his nose at this point— each buck getting more uncontrollable than the last. San’s satisfied groans vibrated against your clit and you were even closer to losing it now. And he knew it.

San put more pressure on your clit using his free hand, massaging it in light circles with his thumb while he ate you out. You were getting attacked from all angles and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You let out a blood curdling yelp, followed by sharp moans and heavy breathing — releasing all of your pent up aggression onto his mouth. You twitched in place and tried to find some grip on the wall beside you to right yourself but there was nothing to hold you other than him. San lapped up your climax, and planted a kiss on your pussy before coming to meet you again. He didn’t give you a second to think as he kissed you. This time more direct and with intent. You could taste yourself on his lips. It was sweet and sticky.

“How bad do you want me to fuck you?” He asked lowly between kisses.

You were in a state of delirium, but you responded coherently. “Really fucking bad. I just want to feel you right now.”

“Good. Take it out.” He commanded.

You didn’t hesitate much to do so. You lurched forward, hooking one finger inside of his dress pants and pulled him closer to you. You undid his belt without issue, and his button followed, giving you free access to what you wanted the most. Your eyes were locked on San as you did this and he watched you with joy evident on his features. You swiftly pulled down his pants along with his boxers in the same fashion he did your panties, the belt hit the ground with a clanging noise leaving San exposed to you. He was just as big as you remembered him being if not bigger. It frightened you almost the way it stood massively at attention, twitching with eagerness. A smirk found his features, his tongue ran smoothly across his K-9’s and you had a feeling that you were in for a treat.

San pressed you flat against the door again, closing the space between you with his body. He kissed your lips again, and then your cheek and hummed lightly against your skin. “I can’t wait to see how pretty you look while I make you cum.”

San wrapped his hand around his hard-on, glancing down as he rubbed himself against your warmth, letting out a low rumble in his throat from the sensation. You soft groans mixed with his as the adrenaline pumped through your veins, filling the next few moments with anticipation. He pressed his tip against your opening, and slowly pushed himself inside of you— filling that space that he left empty. Your mouth fell agape at the shock of his size, it felt like he was stretching you out completely just to adjust to his size.

He started moving inside of you slowly at first, helping you to get used to him. “I got you baby just keep taking it, you’re doing so good.”

“You’re so fucking big..” you huffed out, holding onto San’s wide shoulders as he dug you out.

His pace quickened slightly, he wrapped your leg around him again, angling himself to hit you in just the right spot while he bounced you on his dick. His thrusts were powerful, but cohesive. His hips had a flow to them that made it feel like he was fucking you in waves.

“Yeah, you feel good wrapped around my dick. You take me so well.” He complimented, lurching into you at a speed that you were trying to keep up with. His hand was still wrapped around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. The pressure was comfortable, but just enough to heighten every sensation. You held onto his arm, scratching at his skin.

Still sopping wet from the last climax you had, the sounds of skin on skin contact along with the constant sloshing of your insides, was the perfect storm for the both of you. San gripped your thigh tightly, hiding his face in the thick of your neck as he roared loudly from the pressure building up against you.

“Oh San, Right there!” You coached, holding him close to you as he fucked you. Your nails clawed at the fabric on his shirt so harshly you thought that you would pierce it. The remnants of your sexual encounter were running down between your legs and you were almost at your limit. “Oh fuck, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum for me.” He stammered. “God, you’re so wet.”

His dick pumps into you at a pace no man should reach, making you cry out for him in pleasure. You grip tightly onto his backside, struggling to keep yourself upright while he fucked you senseless to the point you lost your balance. If it weren’t for his strength, there was no way you were standing up on your own.

San was committed to making you cum first, but he becomes sloppy the closer he gets, but he doesn’t stop. “Cum for me babygirl,” he demands, “Cum for me..!”

And like a dog with a whistle, you obeyed his command and came. Your orgasm smacked you like a ton of bricks, and everything came rushing out of you all at once with no forgiveness. San followed suit with your flow, hearing the beauty of your moans and bursted inside of you. His pants were ragged, and his grunts were deep and gravely. The two of you tried to catch your breath, but the air escaped you. The two of you stood sweaty and stuck together with your juices intermingling inside of you. You were high off of all the sensations. It took you more than a second to come down off it. San collapsed into you and you did the same.

“That felt good..” He said into your skin.

You stared blankly up at the ceiling, admiring the intricate designs of old Renaissance paintings that you had never noticed until now. Your vision began to come back to you, and you were welcomed to reality once more. And the realization hit you.

“Yeah..” You responded shortly.

San pulled out of you and collided with the door beside you. sweat beading off his brow.

“About what you said earlier. About me feeling something for you?” You turned your head to look at him.

He glanced back at you with a wandering look, but still curious as to what you were going to say. “Yeah?”

“I still feel something for you, San. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, but…” You paced yourself, swallowing your own spit to lubricate your throat as you said the words. “After everything we've been through, I don’t think I can love you..”

“Why not? You said you felt something right?”

“I do,” You paused for a moment trying your best to find the words to say it, but you took a deep breath and finally let it out.

“I…I think I fell in love with Yunho.”

TO BE CONTINUED IN

‘LOUDER THAN BOMBS’

(OUT NOW)

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez mingi #ateez scenarios #ateez smau #ateez wooyoung #ateez x reader #idol fic #idol smut #kpop #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez san #san fic #choi san x y/n #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san x you #x reader #ateez edit #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #kpop smut #san x reader #ateez ff #ateez fanfiction #ateez fake texts

[clockwayswrites]

We Will Mend

*whistles innocently*

Part... 1?

Puck = Danny

CW: Under negotiated kink, mild choking

“What?” Jason asked, the question harsh through the modulation of the helmet.

Puck just tilted his head a little. The white hair was finally long enough to move slightly with the motion.

“I’m not a fucking piece of art, stop staring.”

Puck snorted and stepped in enough to close and lock the door. “You’re a masterpiece, Boss, don’t let them say otherwise.”

“Did you hit your head again?” Jason asked. He knew it was unkind to point out the scar that still showed fresh and pink through the covering of white hair, but he wasn’t feeling kind right then.

“Didn’t hit it the first time,” Puck said, apparently undeterred by Jason’s harsh tone.

He crossed the room, silent in his steps even though the floor was designed to make noise. Jason would have to do something better. For the moment though, he let Puck work to pull him and the heavy oak chair back from his desk.

Then he watched Puck make neat piles of the mess of papers and files and set them aside crossing each other off to the side. Puck turned and hopped up onto the desk, sitting where Jason’s pile of infuriating work had been. He had to get the rights for the new building transferred over properly and then get—

“Fuck me.”

Jason’s planning screeched to a halt like one of the trams derailing dramatically off an elevated T-line— fiery explosion of the cars below and all.

“What?”

“Fuck me,” Puck repeated like the request wasn’t completely insane. “You’re stressed, but you’re so stressed that you won’t fight someone because you’re afraid of going too far. So fuck me. Get it out of your system. I can take the bruises.”

“You can take the bruises,” Jason repeated incredulously.

“Yes. And I think you need to give them,” Puck said. “It’s why you don’t ever go to a prostitute, you’re worried about ruining your good reputation with them. You can’t have anyone at home either, there’s no way they would put up with the hours you work. But I’m already here and willing. You take care of me so let me take care of you.”

Jason was quite for a long moment, not sure of what to say. The best he could come up with is, “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, probably. It comes with the territory, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m offering,” Puck said with a little shrug. He braced his hands and leaned back, making his body one long line.

There was no denying that Puck was attractive. He was a slight thing, sure, but it was all muscles and scars. He didn’t try to hide the scars away either. His arms and half his sides were bare in the muscle tee that Puck wore. Scars of all sorts crossed his skin, telling a story that Jason tried not to read.

In one fluid motion, Jason shot up from his chair and leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Puck’s thighs. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Puck met the dark lenses of the helmet without flinching. “I’m asking you to fuck me already. Mark me up. Make a mess of me. Use me. Just get the fuck on—”

The words cut off sharply as Jason wrapped a hand around Puck’s throat and squeezed just enough for it to be uncomfortable. Jason could feel Puck swallow, but didn’t have too much time to think on it with how Puck strained against the hand so that he could wrap his leg’s around Jason’s waist and pull.

“There,” Puck whispered throat bobbing against Jason’s fingers, “isn’t that better? Doesn’t it feel good to let loose?”

The worst of it was that it did feel better— that Puck was right. Something dangerous and hungry stirred low in Jason’s gut as he watched Puck arched like that under his hand.

“I can take the bruises.”

Jason hoped Puck was right.

#dp x dc #dead on main

[a-soft-hornytiny]

Loved.

Summary: They don’t love me as much as I love them was what you thought while leaving for the better. And it was too late when they realized how important you are to them.

Word count: 1.5k+

Genre: Angst

Pairing: poly!ateez x neutral!reader

Warnings: neglect (be careful while reading) let me know if i missed something.

Notes: this is an anon request, thanks for requesting. It reminded me of the reaction i did to you distancing yourself hehe i rarely write angst and im not sure how happy i am with it but I hope it’s to your liking! 

Part 2 is up!

Taglist: after the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)

—————————————

Where did it go wrong? You thought while frantically packing your things. You had spent hours and hours to find what you did to deserve this but you couldn’t find anything. Nothing pointed towards you doing something wrong but nonetheless you were here, aggressively stuffing your things into a bag while tears were streaming down your face. 

It had started about a month ago. You should’ve been suspicious when they started coming home even later than usual, some of them not at all. Always telling you that there was a meeting at work and that they had already eaten, leaving you to sit at the dining table alone. In the beginning you had still waited for them, hoping every day that at least one of them would be there and have dinner with you but it was always the same.

“Sorry.” “The boss invited us for dinner.” “I’m so tired I need to go to sleep.” “We had take out at work.” 

It left you confused. There was a time where they fought about who can sit next to you during the meals but now it seemed like they didn’t care anymore. You had only realised what exactly was happening when you saw a picture on Wooyoung phone. A picture of them with one of their colleagues. A beautiful woman with a bright smile, surrounded by your boyfriends. 

Jealousy had immediately risen inside of you but you didn’t say anything. It was not like they weren’t allowed to spend time with other people. Instead, you let your doubts eat you from the inside. Did they eat with her every day? Was she the reason they stayed at work longer than they would normally? Was she better than you? 

The worst part was that they didn’t notice. They didn’t notice how you felt and that you were distancing yourself. You would’ve thought that at least one of them cares. But all they cared about was being with that woman. 

What hurt you the most was that they didn’t tell you about her. If they had been honest with you, you wouldn’t have created all these scenarios in your head. But they lied to you. 

“Yeosang?” You tried to get his attention by tapping his shoulder. It was rare that all eight of them were at home. You wanted to talk about it. Voice your anxious thoughts. Letting them go. “Who is that woman you all have been hanging around?” You asked him because you knew he would be honest with you. The room instantly became silent.

“Oh? Do you mean Haeun? She works with us.” Yeosang answered, not giving you a lot of information. “Why do you ask?” 

You didn’t know what to say. “I-.. I’m just curious.” You stuttered, looking down at your feet. 

“She is really fun to be around! Recently she even invited us for dinner and paid.” San said excitedly. His words stabbed right into your heart. This was worse than you expected.

They weren’t cheating on you. You somehow could feel that. It was worse. They hadn’t been doing anything with a bad intention. They simply enjoyed spending time with her. 

They took you for granted. 

From that conversation on you decided not to chase after them anymore. You didn’t wait until they came home to eat dinner. You didn’t ask them how their day was. The few messages that you got during the day, you ignored. If they wanted to tell you something they could tell you in person. 

Your boyfriends on the other side didn’t realize how much time they were spending with Haeun. And how less they were spending time with you. 

The first one to notice that something was weird about you was Mingi. He had always left you a message during the day. Sometimes about work, what they ate for lunch or when they would be coming home. And normally you would respond relatively quickly. But you didn’t answer at all.

He sat in his practice room, eyes glued on his phone. Read two hours ago. It said on his screen. Mingi had voiced his concerns to the others but they disagreed saying that you didn’t behave differently. But he missed you. He wanted to eat dinner with you. Yes, Haeun was fun and when she first got introduced to the team, it was exciting to meet someone new. But he missed the familiarity. It had always been important to Mingi that he was not taken for granted and now he was afraid that they had done exactly that to you. 

But he didn’t act on his feelings. He didn’t want to cause drama where there was none.

The second one to miss you was Jongho. “Y/n what do you…” He wanted to ask you for your opinion on his singing when he turned around and faced an empty room. Right, Y/n isn’t here. He reminded himself, immediately feeling a sting in his heart. Every Tuesday you would follow him to practice and listen to him sing. But as soon as he thought about it he realized that you hadn’t been there in multiple weeks. Jongho instantly remembered Mingi’s concerns and decided to go look for him.

When they finally opened up about their feelings and what they had been observing, Mingi and Jongho went to tell the others. 

Before they could even finish what they were trying to say, Seonghwa tried to call you. He was blaming himself for not giving you the attention you deserved. He wanted to beat himself up. It was so clear now that Mingi and Jongho had mentioned it.

How could they neglect you like this and not even notice? 

And that was the same question you asked yourself as you zipped up your bag. Just as you wanted to put your phone into your pocket, it started ringing. It was Seonghwa. You took a deep breath as you declined the call and left the apartment.

You didn’t know for how long or how far but you needed to get away. Right after getting into the taxi you had ordered, you turned off your phone indefinitely.

“Y/n isn’t answering.” Seonghwa announced, his voice shaking. 

“Get in the car. I’m driving us home.” Yunho said, leaving the room with big steps. The others following him. Yunho’s mind was racing. He wanted to stay calm. He needed to stay calm. He had to be strong. It didn’t matter how he felt, all he wanted was to see your face and make sure everything is fine. It was all just imagination. You will be waiting at home. He tried to tell himself while he was getting into the car. 

Hongjoong was trying to remember any signs of you changing while he was squeezing himself into the car. He had never been home as much as the others so it wasn’t strange for him to eat alone or to sneak into the bedroom without waking anyone up. But something had been strange. This morning, when he came out of the bathroom, he caught you staring at him. And he could swear you had tears in your eyes. But since you didn’t say anything he had assumed you were fine. This damn assumption.

When they finally arrived at their apartment, San immediately jumped out of the car and ran to the door.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called you before he even entered the building. Wooyoung and Yeosang were right behind him. After finally opening the door they stormed in searching for you in their home. The rest followed them slowly, scared to not find you. 

It wasn’t until he heard a sob that Wooyoung slowed down. A sob? He made his way over to your room, gently pushing the door open. His eyes widened as he saw San kneeling in front of your bed, a note in his hands and his face buried in your sheets. 

“Sannie?” Wooyoung slowly walked closer to his loved one. “Y/n…” San sobbed, not able to form a sentence. “What is it Sannie?” Wooyoung kneeled down next to him, softly taking the note from his hands. As he started reading, tears formed in his eyes. 

And that was when the others finally found them. They looked at Wooyoung, hope and pain in their eyes at the same time as he slowly shook his head. Yeosang’s legs gave in as he saw the expression on Wooyoung’s face. You were gone. No no no that’s impossible he thought, staring to the ceiling with a blank face. You couldn’t leave them.

Still not wanting to believe what was happening, Yunho harshly snapped the note out of Wooyoung’s hand. 

I am going on a trip. Don’t text or call me, I need time to think. I hope you understand. I loved you so much.

His head went numb.

Loved. 

————

Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives

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#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez story #neutral!reader #ateez angst #angst #fanfiction #ateez fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #ateez fanfic #poly!ateez #kpop #kpop angst #kpop imagines #request #anon #📌

[sugaimhome]

back it up  - myg

pairing: producer yoongi x female reader (established relationship)

genre: smut, fluff

mdni!

summary: after a long day of work, yoongi tries to find a way to make the both of you relax, what better than recording your moans to go on his backing track. 

warnings: yoongi is lowkey a workaholic but will do anything for reader, spanking, overstimulation if you squint, unprotected sex, recording of moans, little bit of dry humping, dom! yoongi, dirty talk, they should totally get married, the softest yoongi ever

Yoongi was fed up with work. He’d woken up at the same time as you this morning, had gotten ready alongside you, he even had breakfast. He’d kissed you before you left, smacked you on the arse as you walked out the door. Then he tried to work. He had worked for ten hours and had nothing to show for it. Ten hours of reshaping the same song again and again, but it wasn’t right, would never be, there was something missing that he couldn’t quite figure out.

Sitting on the sofa, feet up just waiting to hug you the second you got in, Yoongi contemplated all of this. He thought about the missing part to the track, and how he would need to figure it out soon, the two of you relied on his income, without it you wouldn’t be able to afford this place. Yoongi didn’t want to let you down. He couldn’t seem to be able to move on from the song either, his brain was totally stuck on it.  

He’d show you. You, with no musical knowledge would have the answer. He’s shaking his leg anxiously when the door opens and you step in, your bags weighing you down completely. You'd taken more shifts. Because of him, because he couldn't sort his shit out. He rushes to you, taking your bags and kissing you on the forehead, if he had the choice, you'd never suffer that stupid job again. Selfless when it comes to Yoongi you ask "how did it go today?" an understanding smile on your face, this wasn't a ridicule it was a kind question, to show you cared, hadn't given up on him.

Instead of disappointing you, Yoongi takes your hand "I want to show you."

Your face lights up, he felt bad for giving you hope, but he was so convinced you knew the answer. You wash your hands, wiping them on the towel before following Yoongi upstairs. 

The genius lab sign seemed to be a little bit of a joke as he opened the door, he was no genius these days. But you had gotten him that sign, you trusted him. 

Leading you through the door, he takes prime seat on his chair, holding your waist to lead you onto his lap where he cages you between his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder to view his computer. Setting up the speakers, making sure they're not too loud for you after a long day at work, he pulls up the file. You look at it in awe, unsure how all the layers and levels work. Proudness consumed his body.

As the beat shakes the floor, Yoongi holds onto you tight. Pulling your ass onto his crotch, he leans back for a moment just to look at the way your bodies fitted together. When his voice starts playing over the track, he almost wants to turn it off straight away. There was no way this was good enough. You don't say a thing, only sucking in a breath when his laugh cuts all the music and vocals. That was a good reaction at least. He'd spent five hours getting that laugh right. You tap a foot to the beat, leaning back against him as you watch the track run across the screen. Yoongi is glad when it's over.

"Oh my goodness Yoongi,'' you say, and instantly Yoongi assumes the worst.

"It's bad?" He asks you, frowning.

"No! No! just so vulgar" You raise your eyebrows at him. You hadn't missed the sexual references. He hadn't intended for it to be so sexual but that's how it ended up. Maybe that's what was wrong with it. "I really like it, Yoongi, but maybe there's something missing?"

Damn. He's not mad, but he had hoped you would have more than that. "Maybe it's a beat or something in the backing track, considering it's so sexual, maybe it needs to be slower? or add more laughs in?" 

He looks at you wide eyed. "I like that idea." he kisses you on the neck "thank you for listening, love."

You almost melt into his touch, sighing as his hands caress your body. "Go have a shower, clean off and cool down, okay?" He says to you, "I've got a surprise for you when you come out."

You giggle, not knowing what this surprise was. Happy nonetheless, and Yoongi wonders what he did right to have a living ball of light like you to brighten his darkness. 

Walking away, swaying your hips on purpose Yoongi tries his very best to ignore you, focusing on his computer and slowing down his voice and the track. It was much better, but he would have to re-record his voice later, though it seems you were right. Though slower and definitely fitting the vibe better, the backing track now felt empty. He facepalms. He’d have to re-work the backing track and his vocals.

Just as he contemplates opening up his microphone, you appear in the doorway, hair wet, tits pressing against a thin nightgown you had put on after your shower. “Yoongi, need you to come hug me.” you say, and you would always come before his work, so leaving his computer and set up open he heads towards you. Grabbing you gently around the thighs he prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist. You do, and as you hug into his neck, he carries you down the stairs, being careful not to trip and hurt you. 

“Long day?” he asks, though fearful of your answer, your extra hours were proving to be the bane of his existence. 

“Just busy, would have been the same no matter how many hours I worked”

He’s laying back on the sofa now, letting you lay against his chest. “I am sorry” he admits, just saying what he had been thinking.

“Don’t apologise Yoongi, I really don’t mind” 

He strokes your hair, running a hand though the wet strands. He lived to comfort you. “I’ll sort it out soon, I promise.”

Yoongi knows he will do anything. “I would work 23 hours a day Yoongi, but as long as I got to spend the other hour with you, it would all be worth it.”

He really needed to sort his shit out. Though, until he could do that, he thought of another way to make it up to you. “Let me help you relax,” he says. All you do is hum, running a finger over his bicep. “Wanna make you feel good” In response to this, you move slightly against his crotch. Hissing, he shifts his hips to rub against your core. “Want you moaning around my cock.” 

You hum again, though this time it’s more of a moan. Heat rushes to his core.

“Whose cock are you gonna moan around?” he asks, halting his dry humping until you respond. 

“Gonna moan because of Yoongi.”

Proud, he starts moving again, then he freezes. Moaning. 

A slowed version of his song. With moaning in the background. Not a lot, but enough to make it obvious to someone who knew how to please, or had been pleased.

“Y//N” he says, and you whine. “How do you feel about recording your moans”

Instantly, your head snaps up to look him in the eyes. With your chin on his chest he can’t help but miss how tired you looked. “Huh”

“The song. I think that's the answer.”

“And you want my moans on the track?”

His eyebrows shoot upwards, “why wouldn’t I. You’re my girlfriend.” 

“My moans aren’t very pretty.” you tell him, and he wants to call you a fool.

“Your moans are the prettiest moans I have ever heard.” he says, rocking his hips back up into yours again, your eyes go wide.

“Yeah, we can record my moans, if you make me feel good enough.” you taunt him.

“Do you doubt my ability, love?” he replies to you, his little brat. You shake your head, suddenly compliment after your previous comment.

Carrying you back up stairs he kicks his foot against the genius lab door, it swings open as you grind yourself against him, your dress has ridden up and your smooth thighs are all he can see. God, he's so drunk on you, he hasn't yet figured out how he's going to do this though. He hits the microphone button with his hand, it opens up and a new recording starts. Now he needed to find a way to get you comfortable where the microphone would pick up on all your little sounds. "I'll be alright like this Yoongi" You tell him when you see him faffing about.

Here, is bent over the microphone, mouth practically on the soft foam, legs slightly open, hands on the desk in front of you. "Fuck this is hot" he tells you, instantly dropping to his knees and lifting your dress up around your waist.

As always, when he sees your cunt, his jaw drops to the flaw. You are so beautiful. He would always be amazed when he saw you. Then it hits him that you're not wearing any pants. "Little slut" he calls you and he watches you shift on your feet.

"Only for you, Yoongi." You respond and Yoongi is more turned on than he'd like to admit when he realises all of this will be recorded, not just your moans but your words for him. Knelt on the ground behind you, he watches your entrance glisten as he parts you with his fingers. 

"So wet for me Y/N"

Moaning in response, you struggle to hold yourself up as he presses one finger against your clit and one against your entrance, slowly pushing it inside of you. Your body makes squelching sounds as he enters another finger, then fucks them into you. Every time he pushes back into your pussy the wetness can be heard throughout the room, the sound definitely picked up by the microphone. Yoongi just sits and watches your ass jiggle everytime his palm presses against it. When you begin to uncontrollably moan, he stops, knowing you're close to orgasm.

"Yoongi-" you begin.

"You know the rules, only around my cock" he says, standing up and gripping your waist to press his clothed, hard cock against your ass.

He unzips his trousers, pulling them down and stepping out of them, his cock bounces up and hits him in the stomach. Yoongi hisses through his teeth at the freedom. 

There was no way he was going to give you the satisfaction of fucking you straight away, so he presses his palm against the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing it in his hand. He raises it into the air and brings it back down quickly.

He would find a space in his song for the sound of his hand hitting your ass, and the moan you let out even if he had to redo it completely. Smoothing his hand over the reddened skin he comforts you until the skin has calmed down, then he does the same on the other side. The sound music to his ears. This time, your moan is almost a short confined scream. Damn.

He'd have this recording to play back for himself whenever he wanted. At the tip of his fingers. He slaps your ass three more times on each side, sending you flying forward each time until there's tears falling down your face.

"Are you okay, my love, do you need to use the safe word?" He asks, his number one concern is always how you were feeling with the situation, but you shake your head, happy to carry on.

The weight of his dick in his hand is a gentle release, he was immensely hard and horny and desperately needed to be buried to the hilt inside your cunt. "All this cunt just for me."

"I'm all for you Yoongi." You sigh, compliant to his need to possess you, to make sure the world knew you were his. As an artist, he had to share many moments of his private life, but he would never share you. He grabs your waist, his nails digging crescents into your skin. His cock rests against your ass, sitting snugly between your reddened cheeks. He could orgasm just like this, but it wasn't about him, it was all about you. It was always about you. 

Gripping the base of his cock he glides it though your folds, you sigh, moaning into the microphone. Everytime he entered you, even if he did it three times a day, would be exactly like the first time for him. The two of you were made for each other, he fits inside of you so well and you squeezed his cock so wonderfully. He felt so comfortable inside of you, and he knew that you felt the same. "Fucking hell, I love you Y/N" is all he can manage to say before he's thrusting his hips into you, deep and slow, threading a hand though your hair to make sure he could hit the deepest spots inside of you. This was making love roughly, the way he held you so hard it hurt, compared to the gentle but deep thrusts of his cock against your walls. Everytime he bottoms out, you moan sweetly into the microphone, he almost forgot that that's what all of this was about. Your moans on his track everyone would know you were his.

He fucks you deeper, loving the way your pussy fluttered around his cock, he could tell you were close, moaning every time he pushes into you. “Are you gonna cum around my cock?” he asks, dying to feel you milk him of his cum. When you don’t reply, he spanks your ass once, kneading the skin afterwards.

“I’m close Yoongi” you moan “I love your cock.”

That was going on the track. Maybe he’d change professions and become a porn star. 

When you cum, you let out such a guttural moan he’s not sure if it's the most perfect moan to add to his track, or if it's just too vulgar, you weren’t over exaggerating as you came around him, your walls clenching him into your pussy as he came as well, shooting his cum as deep into your pussy as he could manage. He pulls out, loving the way both of your juices coated his cock. “Even our cum looks good together.” 

He can tell you’re still feeling your orgasm, so he reaches up and slaps you on the pussy once, you flinch, shooting forward on the table and complaining “sensitive” 

This only made Yoongi laugh. “Come on, lets get you tucked up into bed huh” he says, walking past the microphone and clicking the save button before he picks you up bridal style and walks the two of you across the hallway to your room. 

“Need a hug” you mumble, kissing at his jawline.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

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#yoongi #yoongi smut #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #bts #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts x reader #yoongi imagine #bts imagines

[smellrain]

𝐧𝐡𝟏𝟑 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

in which: nico and you had met years ago in a cold rink in canada but then lost touch for several reasons. It's hard, growing and correcting mistakes of your past but you try anyway.

tags: written, angst, hopeful ending, mentions of: depression, injuries, hospitals, doctors, etc. (masterlist)

notes: [5.1k] I have no idea what this is? I woke up, wrote the entire thing and passed out again for 2 hours. Tried polishing it through editing? Yeah. It turned out a lot different than the rest of my stuff so far, so it's scary posting this. Come & tell me if you liked it.

The ice was as harsh as it was unforgiving. 

The cold air of the rink has seeped into your bones years ago and the reddend tips of your fingers went numb a while ago, but you were used to it by now. Nothing really mattered when you got like this, too caught up in your head for anyone to reach. 

Not even yourself. 

You had been home and then suddenly not, your body already knowing what you needed before your mind caught up to it. 

The rink wasn’t open, not yet, but you had gotten a key years ago. The owner, David, had been the only one that had looked at you the same back then. There had been a knowing sort of look in his eyes when he had seen you waiting for him at the front door stepps, eyes red. 

He had given you a key, because he had seen you for who you were: a girl whose entire life had collapsed around her. 

Bronze at fifteen, silver at sixteen, gold forever out of reach. 

You could still remember the red pen tucked into your doctor’s coat. The ‘my condolences, but’, the white light, the letter in your hand, the sinking realisation that this was it. 

That you were going to be one of the several girls that had pushed their body too far.

The same way you had done everything back then you had followed the instructions of your therapist to the letter. Stretching, compressions, different exercises. Still, there was no full recovery, no chance of ever skating professionally again. 

That might be the worst part, still being able to skate but knowing that you will never be able to feel it anymore. That you were cursed to be in this limbo, never letting go of it but never being able to live for it anymore. 

The harsh sound of your blade cutting over the fresh ice was as pleasant as it was torture. You wanted more, but you had to settle for this. You had to learn that this was all you were ever going to get. 

These select few hours in the early morning, just before your classes started, before you had to start living your life. 

You could feel yourself drawing harsh breaths, but it didn’t matter. You had pushed through worse, hunger, hurt and feelings just to stand here for a bit longer. The ringing in your ear accumulated when you thought about all that you had lost, that you could never regain.

Suddenly the heavy door of the entrance fell closed. You slowed down, curious who it might be. The clock in the corner of your vision reflected a red 05:57 back at you. It was too early for it to be anyone aside from David or another person with a key, someone like you.

It was a guy, a bag in his hand and another slung over his shoulder. 

You would recognize the equipment anywhere, familiar with it in a distant way. It must be a hockey player that David had picked out out of the hundreds that frequented this place. 

For some reason you already didn’t like him. Maybe because unlike you, he had the chance of actually archiving his dreams. Bitterness was an annoying but frecent emotion that stained the back of your mouth. 

You wanted. You wanted more than this. You wanted the early morning practices, the ones after school, the rigidous schedule, the heavy monitoring. What were you without all that?

The static in your mind had been interrupted by his arrival but you hardly noticed, more focused on the way he walked down the stairs, casually like he had done so hundreds of times already.

It was almost six, which meant it was time to get off the ice anyways, so you circled a few laps, rotating your wrists and shoulders to feel if anything was off, and then made your way towards the outside of the rink. 

“You look pretty,” said the boy from where he was tying his shoelaces up on the benches. “Out on the ice, I mean.”

Something in you hurt at that, as if your heart started pulling at its own strings. It’s been a while since anyone has watched you skate,, since you let someone else watch you. There was a sharp kind of anger rising up in you that it had been him watching you which dissipated as soon as you looked back at him.

It wasn’t his fault. There really was something wrong with you.

You knew your parents didn’t approve of you being here, but they couldn’t look at you anymore when you skated, disappointed that this was how it had ended. Disappointed in you.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice completely scraped raw. You hoped he didn’t notice it. 

“I’m Nico,” he said, approaching you. He held out his hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves yet but his dark shirt had thumbholes that his thumb peeked through which was weirdly endearing on him. 

You looked back up to his face. There was a tired but polite smile plastered on it but you didn’t have the energy to give him one. Instead you simply told him your name and took his hand. Even through his layer of fabric it was warm beneath your icy fingers.

He didn’t flinch at the cold of your hand and instead started genuinely smiling which took you by surprise. People didn’t react to meeting you like this, not anymore. 

Then, without saying anything else, he took off his guards and stepped on the ice, skating around to warm up. You watched him for a bit while scraping off the excess ice and putting your skates away. 

His skating was differentthan yours; not as delicate. The beauty of it had been hammered into you from an early age on which didn’t seem to be the case form him. It was weird, not being on the ice, being the one to watch instead. 

You changed back into your shoes and walked up the steps. 

From the top, which wasn’t all that high because this rink wasn’t that big, he seemed small. You wondered if you looked like that too, if anyone had thought that when you fell down, when they had seen you sprawled on the ice at fifteen, not being able to get up again. 

A sick shudder passed through you. You wondered if you had ever gotten up from that ice.

Then you turned around, your back to him and left without saying goodbye. 

~*~

The next time you saw him again, was two days later, just after six. 

You knew you were going to be late for class but didn’t really care. Today you weren’t as cooped up in your own head, but it was still hard to let go of these stolen few hours of freedom and face reality. 

“Hey,” Nico said, “it’s you again.”

“Hello,” you said in return. He stepped on the ice and you fought off the urge to leave immediately. That would be impolite, a voice reminded you in your head, even if you didn’t want him to be here right now.

“Are you here every morning?” he asked you, falling into step beside you and therefore joining you on your cooldown laps. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Couldn’t he just do his own thing? Did he have to come talk to you? “Yes.” 

"Dedicated. I only come every second day,” he said as if it mattered to you. You might have to leave early every second day now to avoid talking to him, which made your scowl even worse. 

“Okay.” You said instead. 

He hummed in reason but dropped the conversation after. When you took a look at him from the corner of your eye he didn’t seem deterred at your attitude, seemingly just satisfied that he got a response.

After another lap in, you hated to admit it but companionable silence, you left, without saying anything but this time he waved back at you from below. You didn’t return his gesture. 

~*~

Despite your early judgement, the two of you formed some kind of routine over the next few weeks. You came early, and sometimes you left a protein bar for him in the stands and sometimes he brought  you a hot tea for when you got off the ice. 

Still, always without fail, he joined you for a few laps. He talked about his life and sometimes asked you a few questions. Sometimes you answered him, other times you didn’t. He never pressed for answers. 

Nico told you that he was from Switzerland, which explained the heavy accent. He just joined Halifax, and he came early to work on his technique, preferring to do so in silence without his teammates chirping at him. You, in turn, told him that you had skated, professionally, before your injury. He didn’t ask for details about either of these things and you didn’t share of your own accord. 

Slowly, so slowly that you didn’t even notice, you realised that he had become your friend. 

It was strange. You hadn’t made friends in a long time. Before, you had had school friends, but because you never hung out outside of it, always training, it never deepend. 

A weird sort warmth seeped in under your skin at the thought of the two of you being friends like a steady fire that kept you warm at night.

The friends you had made while skating splintered along with your knee. 

It was hard, you knew that, to see their worst fear reflected back at them, but it was still hard for you to reach out, so you simply stopped talking to each other. 

On your bad days you thought that it was all their fault, on your good you knew that it was a mutual mistake. 

The thing about Nico was that he was hard to pin down. He was hardworking, thrived under pressure and loved hockey. He was also afraid of falling and failing, he loved sitting under the sun in the summers, feeling his skin heat up and his favorite colour was green, but he admitted that it changed every few weeks. 

You knew that this friendship wouldn’t last, not really. Neither of you had any way of reaching out to the other, and neither expressed the desire to do so but it was still nice, this tentative kinship.

~*~

“Have you ever played hockey?” he asked you, once. 

It must have been a Saturday or Sunday because you were in no hurry to get off the ice, instead basking in his company. 

“No,” you answered, simply.

He grinned, “you are missing out.”

“Really now?” you asked, teasingly, when you turned around to skate with your front to him.

“Really. I wanna teach you,” he said, leaving the choice up to you without outright asking. If you wanted to you could just brush it off and the conversation would continue. 

Instead you said, “yeah, sure, why not.”

His smile was blinding, the adoration for his sport bleeding from every inch of his skin. It was a good look on him, happiness. Distantly you wondered if anyone had ever thought that about you.

It was different, skating with a stick in your hands but it was fun. He taught you how to shoot and aim at a certain spot which you weren’t half bad at if you stood still.

Hours later when the two of you stepped off the ice your tea was cold but you hardly noticed it.

~*~

Another day you asked him what he was reaching for. 

“Olympics,” he had answered immediately but after a beat of silence he looked up as if the lights in the ceiling were stars he could wish upon. “I think I want someone to look at me and think ‘I want to do that. I want to start playing hockey.’”

You looked at him and the only thought that crossed your mind was that he was the reason you could step off the ice again, that you knew you would always be able to come back, just one more time. 

“I like that,” you said because it was true. 

He tilted his head back to you, and the way his eyes glimmered with a rare vulnerability made your breath catch. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, standing still, alive and just in reach.

Oh. 

That was that feeling in your chest. 

~*~

Yet another day he joined you on the ice and you immediately kicked him off again. 

“What did I say about injuries?” you asked, frustrated in a way only he could make you. 

“That they were not to be ignored,” he parroted back, his gaze between his feet as if staring at his ankle would magically heal it. 

“Exactly,” you said. Then, gentler than before, “you need to give yourself time to heal, otherwise you will never get better.”

He looked back up to where you were hovering above him. “Okay.”

You didn’t want him to have the last word. “Okay,” you said firmly and sat down next to him. 

The two migrated up to the changing rooms  where he sat on a bench with his ankle elevated while you worked through your stretches, your knewww aching in phantom pain.

~*~

Today your mind was quiet.

It was your last time and you had wanted to take it all in again, one last time. You were moving, your father had gotten a new job somewhere in New Jersey. You knew it was good, a new start away from everything, a chance to start over. 

But still, you were going to miss this. The rink, the quiet, the place you had grown up in. The place that was your prison as much as it was your salvation. 

As you looked up towards the ceiling, the lights shining down on you, the dark gary that seemed black in contrast, you thought you should cry. This was the perfect moment to, and you hadn’t yet. 

Then, the door opened. 

You were surprised because he wasn’t supposed to be here today. Nico had been here yesterday and the two of you had argued about your favorite brand of cereal, and you selfishly had wanted to leave it at that. 

To leave your friendship without having to say goodbye, without having to ever really let go of him. 

“Nico,” you breathed, before you could stop yourself. 

“Hey you,” he said, as he came up to you. You didn’t even realise that you had stopped moving. 

“It’s late,” he stated. You looked up to the clock and sure enough, it was almost twenty past. 

“Ah,” you said, uncaring. It’s not like you had school today. You wondered when he went to school, if his just started later than yours had. In all your talks you had never actually talked about it. 

And you never were going to anymore, you had to remind yourself. Suddenly it was a lot harder to breathe through the ache in your chest. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you knew he meant it, “you look, I don’t know, sad?”

“I’m moving,” before he could ask anything more, “like tomorrow. This is the last time I’m going to see you in a while.”

“Oh.” The expression on his face was hurt, because he must have realised that you had intended to leave without saying anything. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “for everything.” You weren’t really sure for what, but it seemed like the right thing to say. For your intentions, the way you acted, maybe.

“It’s okay,” he said, but it wasn’t, not really. You knew that and he knew that you knew.

“I’m moving to New Jersey.”

He was quiet for a bit.”America,” he started. Then, “do you want to exchange numbers?”

You ignored the sting behind your eyes. “I’m probably going to have to get a new simcard, but you can give me yours.”

The two of you skated back to the door, from where you had stood still in the middle of the open space. He got a piece of paper and a pen from his bag and then somewhat messily tore off the corner of a worksheet and scribbled down his number in blue ink and signed it with his name.

He looked up at you but neither of you said anything for a while. What was there to say, anymore? 

“Don’t forget about me,” he ended up telling you and you reached out to hug him. He was warm under your hands, steady and you were going to miss this, him.

“Don’t forget me either,” you murmured into the crook of his neck. 

Still, in the back of your mind, you knew that you were never going to use his number. You were going to cut off your old life before it could follow you to your new one. But for once you had told him the truth, you weren’t going to forget about him, probably ever. 

And that was that. You said goodbye, waved and you left him there. He returned the gesture, face unreadable and you were sad that the last time he looked at you he wasn’t smiling.

From the top you looked down at him one last time. He seemed bigger now, compared to that first time you had looked down at him, still filled with bitterness.

Maybe that was just your imagination, or maybe it was his confidence after playing with his current team, after seeing his results pay off. 

You turned and let the door fall closed behind you. 

Then, and only then tears started to well up in your eyes. You ignored them and moved on. Always looking ahead, never back. 

Still, you kept the number tucked away safely hidden in a small corner of your wallet. A piece of him that you would always carry with you. 

~*~

You made new friends, graduated and decided to attend college. Got diagnosed with chronic depression and mild anxiety, got a boyfriend and broke it off again after three months, cried, laughed and finally lived. 

But there was part of you hidden in the corner of your wallet, too.

~*~

If you were being honest, Nico didn’t really cross your mind when your friend asked you to go to a hockey game with you. 

In a way he did, because he had been one of your few friends that played hockey, but it was more of an oh yeah, the sport Nico loved and not oh yeah I’m going to a hockey game and I wonder if Nico is still playing, I wonder if he made it to the big leagues. 

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a lie, but still. You hadn’t expected this. 

The two of you went to the Prudential Center and you were excited despite your earlier apprehension. Your phone with the blocked tags of icehockey and nhl seemed to burn a hole in your pants but it’s not like anyone would know. 

Your friend had told you a bit about the team, but if you were being honest, you could not remember any of their names, much less which position and line they played. 

When the players got announced, the home team first, you froze. Suddenly the noise of the cheers around you were completely quiet until they flooded back to you, a harsh reminder of reality.

Because it was him. That was Nico. Your Nico. Or like your past Nico.

There, with a red thirteen and a small C over his chest, was Nico. He was all grown up now, and instead of thinking wow, he is kind of attractive when he smiled at the camera, you thought, holy shit, he is really, really handsome. 

Your friend picked up on your strange behaviour. “What's wrong?”

I know him, you wanted to scream. I think he saved my life without meaning to, and I think I loved him but I never told him. What came out instead was, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“What?” she asked, suddenly even more worried, “do you need fresh air? Or do you just want to leave?”

You wanted to stay. You wanted to shoot a puck at his head and tell him to look up at you, the way he had done back then. 

“No, don’t worry about it,” you said and when didn’t change at your reply, you added, “I’m just going to get some water. I think it might be the crowd or something.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with?”

You knew how much she had been looking forward to it, and besides there was nothing she could help you with anyhow. “No, really, it’s all good. Just need to breathe for a second.”

She gave you a look, and you smiled despite wanting to curl up in a corner and cry, “if you are sure. But if anything,” she took your hand in hers, “if anything is wrong call me. I’m gonna have my phone in my hand the entire time.”

You squeezed her hand the same way your heart did at her words. “Thank you, really, but it’s okay. I'll be right back.”

Then you fled up the stands and you couldn’t help but think about the first time you had seen him, how you had left without saying anything. You looked down, just once, and spotted him immediately, as if he was the north pole to your south, your eyes drawn to him. 

He seemed even bigger now, as if he had finally grown into the steady confidence he had had, even back then. 

You smiled. He deserved it, genuinely. You were glad that he did end up making it to the big leagues, even if some part of you hurt at that. You still missed ice skating, your rink from back then, David, but most of all you missed what could have been if you hadn’t been scared. 

What could have been if you had just texted him. 

Regret was a useless emotion to feel, but all of a sudden you felt yourself drown in and you coughed once, just to ease that feeling in your throat.

Then you turned your back to the ice and walked up the rest of the stairs to the stands to get yourself some water. 

It was useless trying to think about any of it now, so you pushed the thoughts aside for later. 

~*~

A week later you were drunk. It was a Friday evening and you had finally finished the gruelling lab you had worked on for the entire day. 

You were hanging out in your friend’s room, the same friend that had taken you to the game a week before. Two of your other friends were sat ob the floor, leaning gainst the opposite bed and a warm, content feeling spread through your chest. 

You had friends now. 

“What’s wrong?” she suddenly asked from where she was sat next to you on her bed, her back against the headboard, yours against the wall adjacent to it.

“Nothing,” you answered because nothing was. 

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me, tell me,” she said, “you've been quiet ever since we came back from the game a week ago and I’ve waited long enough for you to say something, so now I’m going to.”

Had you been that obvious? Or did she just know you that well? Either way, she deserved the truth, the full truth.

“I just,” you began and stopped again, starting to peel off the sticker on your beer with the blunt edge of your nail. 

“When I was younger, I skated.” You started. You knew that she had never expressed any kind of interest in skating so you elaborated further, “really well.” Wow, you were really eloquent tonight.

“Okay,” she said, no doubt wondering where you were going with this. 

Your mind was fuzzy around the edges because of the drinks which made harder than usual to focus on your words, but it made it easier to talk about it, too. These people didn’t know about anything that had been, only what was. “I was good enough to win. Olympics, I mean.”

Suddenly one of the other two friends from the other side of the room joined in. “The Olympics?”

“Yeah,” you said, staring firmly at the bottle in your hands, not looking at any of them. “I won bronze and silver, fifteen and sixteen.”

“Holy shit,” she said, as did your other friend, but one of them remained quiet, so you looked at her. 

From the look in her eyes you knew that she knew. “And then I fell, badly. Tried to get up again but couldn’t. Went to the doctor and you know,” you trailed off, “retired. Started physiotherapy, got a lot better but…”

“Not enough to ever compete again,” she finished for you. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “But I couldn’t let go of it, you know? So sometimes, before school, I snuck out to the local rink and skated around just because I didn’t know anything else.”

Your friend that was next to you on the bed made an encouraging noise, and laid a hand on your knee, so you continued. 

“Then I met a guy. I was in a bad mental place, not really talking to anyone unless I had to, but we somehow became friends.”

Then you looked at them, “I don’t know, it was a weird friendship because we only ever saw each other at the rink every few days, but I felt something for him anyway. It wasn’t quite love but could have been, maybe.”

The others were still listening, and the words rushed out before you could stop yourself. “Then I moved. Wanted to leave before saying goodbye because that would hurt too much. On the day I was leaving I saw him anyway. He gave me his number but I never used it.”

“You wanted to make a clean cut?” your friend asked. 

“Yeah. It was sefish, because it wasn’t just about me, you know? I should have told him how I felt, but I didn’t.” You shook your head, “but that’s not even the point. I saw him again at the game.”

“Oh,” your friend that had dragged you to it, said. 

“Yeah,” you answered, and your other friend asked, “why didn’t you talk to him?”

The other friend, the one that had never asked you about your skating, even though she had known, even though she had every opportunity to, said, “because he was playing, right?”

“Yeah,” you said and you wanted to cry. You could still hear his name announced by the speakers. “Funny, all the time we spent together and I never knew his last name.”

“Who is it?” she asked, gentle, and you knew you could just not answer. You could bury it deep down, once and for all. But that’s not what you wanted to do, not anymore. 

“Nico Hischier.” And your friend laughed. 

“Of course it’s the captain,” she said and you couldn’t help but join in, the effects of the alcohol cursig through your veins. What were the chances, really? That he ended up in the state you had moved to all those years ago.

The others joined it. “He changed his number by now, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” one of them said. 

All of you were quiet for a second. “Wait, I have an idea,” she said and moved her hand from your leg and grabbed your phone. 

She gave it to you and made a motion for you to unlock it. You did and gave it back to her. From where you were sat you weren’t able to see your screen, much less what she typed on it. 

After a few seconds she gave it back to you. 

It was Nico’s instagram profile. You hesitated before clicking on his most recent post. Your other friends that had been sitting on the floor climbed up to join you. 

“Follow him,” one of them said. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest. This was not the account you had used to document your wins and training back then, but it still had your first and last name in the username, but it was on private. 

Underneath your thumb the button changed colour. “Fuck,” you said.

The other three laughed at your exclamation. “Wait, do I text him?” you asked, turning to the others. 

They all looked back at you, and one of them asked, “do you want to?”

You did. You really fucking did, but you had no idea what to say. “But what do I say? Hey, sorry for being a dick to you when we were like seventeen, I was half in love with you and didn’t know how to tell you, so I just cut you out before anything could possibly hurt me.”

One of them leaned her head on your shoulder. “If you leave out the half in love part, it’s not too bad.”

“You should also ask if he wants to meet and talk in person,” the other said. 

You opened your notes app and the four of you composed a message to him. 

Your hands were shaking and your heart was beating too fast. This was it, this was your chance and you weren’t going to let go again without a fight. This time you would stay and he could make the choice: to stay or to leave. 

Then, you hit the small blue icon and sent it and let out a quiet scream. You wouldn’t be able to take it back, not anymore. 

You threw your phone away from you onto a small patch where the blanket you were sitting on was still visible. 

Over an hour passed and you still hadn’t heard back from him. Soon after you pased out, but a quiet acceptance had settled in your stomach. He forgot. Or maybe he didn’t see the message or maybe he didn't want to talk to you again, which you couldn’t blame him for. 

But when you woke up the next morning, you had a single notification from him. 

For a second you debated not clicking on it, but that would mean standing still. It would be different this time. You would be different this time. There was an unfamiliar, new kind of determination that flickered up your spine and it reminded you of the steady ice under your skates, of the final hug the two of you had shared. Harsh, unforgiving, certain. 

You clicked on it and there was no going back now.

Nico Hischier Hello, it’s been a while.  Of course I remember you, didn’t I tell you?  For sure, I'd love to meet up and talk. Does next weekend work for you? I have a home game which makes it easier for both of us. 

notes: So. How are we feeling? Thoughts? Part 2? Please talk to me about this one because this lives in my mind rent free.

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