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xerotiny99 · 29 days

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Game Night Gone Wrong // Our Precious #2

Game Night Gone Wrong (Our precious series #2)

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Warnings: smut, dom!yunho, soft dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, threesome, striptease, big dick yunho, masturbating, throat-fucking/blowjob, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation (Yunho's got a dirty mouth), praising/praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, pussy slapping (yikes), hair pulling and a lot of teasing.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable with any of the mentioned tags. :) PS: this got too long, and I got too lazy to divide this into parts. PPS: the initial part of the smut might seem like it's nonconsensual, but it is completely consensual. Again, apologies for keeping this too long, don't let the word count intimidate you from the smutty goodness. ;)

Gist: you decide to make an appearance at this supposed game night Jongho was talking about. Unfortunately, you did not know how badly riled up you'd become after meeting his seven other flatmates which also includes Yunho; the man who sees it as a perfect opportunity to stay true to his word but there's someone else who also craves to touch you. Wait...is it only one person who's interested in you?

Word Count: 16,452

Standing in front of the wooden door, the one moored with the numbers "405" in silver chrome, you're hesitant to raise your hand ring the doorbell. There you were, in front of Jongho's apartment, the one he shares with seven other men. The apparent loft was located a little farther from the university, situated on the east side of the city where the streets are abuzz. You've been to this part of the town, the quiet by day and busy by night kinda place—this area has a lot of interesting spots, one of them being Jongho's loft where eight people are residing.

Tiny tremors have already taken up the space under your skin, demurring your sense of self to the awaiting incredulity on the other side of the door. You take a deep breath in, letting out with a feigned smile as you bring out your phone to text the only man you knew inside. Technically, two of them. Your phone buzzes in your hand, even before you could send a text to your friend; having received a text, which reads 'are you coming over?' from Yunho, you brace yourself and heave out another sigh.

"Here goes nothing," you mumble to yourself, dipping your finger against the elevated button as a mellow ding rings inside, loud and clear, however.

You could hear muffled whispers coming from the other side. Anticipation had numbed a part of you, shattering the reality when the locks click, and the door flings open inside. The man who stood there was staring at you with a small smile, comforting. Though, you could only focus on how well-mannered he seemed, even from his body language—he was gorgeous.

He ushers you in, "oh, you must be Angel. I didn't expect you to be this early, actually."

"Jongho gave me the time..." you trail.

"Ah, then I believe he must've mixed up some of his timings. I apologise on his behalf."

"It's fine, to be honest."

You shrug and step inside; the vestibule has a shoe rack to the side, housing house slippers and other accessories. There's a coat rack right beside it where the ebony haired man hangs your coat after asking you to hand it to him. He picks out a pair of house slippers for you to wear, laying them on the floor as you take your time slipping out of your boots and into them. As he leads you further inside the loft, you notice everything about the place—even the man in front of you. His back faced you as you strode in, but you could gauge him to be as tall as Yunho, maybe a few inches shorter but that didn't matter much. He was clad in a beige dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top to expose bit of his tanned skin and pairing the shirt with dark brown pants. The ruly strands of his hair were permed, and framed his face neatly, even though a few of it laid flat on his forehead.

The narrow hallway leads you to the living room from the vestibule, where you find three men lounging leisurely on the couch and the floor. The living room was minimally decorated with the centre space being occupied by the couch and two chairs seemingly from the same set, a wooden coffee table was situated in front of the couch and a long cabinet was placed behind the couch. On top of the cabinet were few glass showpieces and magazines strewn on about, not making it seem crowded; your eyes stray past it and to the long sliding doors at the back, aligned in the same lines of the cabinet. The doors opened to a small balcony apparently, but the curtains were draped over to give you any sight of the evening outside. There was no television in the living room but oddly enough there were set of three hallways which ran along three different directions. You wondered where those took you to, even more so, you wondered how huge this loft actually was if it was housing eight people.

You focus back on the men, two of them were seated on the couch, close together and the other one sat down, between the couch and the coffee table, leaning against the couch as he scrolled through his phone. One of the two sitting on the couch has a broad yet teasing smile on his face, as he mumbles softly at the person to his right and the person to his right...he was actually breathtaking—he didn't try to hide the annoyance on his face as the other teased him on. However, the one sitting down on the floor was a little too lost in his world to even acknowledge your presence. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you played along anyway.

"Guys, Angel's here." The man leading you announces, capturing the attention of the others. "Be nice to her."

His warning tone makes the other three scoff, but unbothered by their response, he turns to you and offers you an even wider smile. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you something to drink..."

He's two steps ahead of you but then swivels on his heels and murmurs awkwardly, "I'm Seonghwa. If you need anything else, just let me know."

With that he's off, sauntering down another hallway to the right, merging with the open spaced kitchen. You take another deep breath, rummaging your eyes through the scene in front of you. The teasing guy has his hair pulled back in a half ponytail, a few streaks of blond stitched in between his black hair; he seems smug, and defiant, probably a delinquent.

"Hi," he initiates, a lazy smile on his face. "Come on, take a seat."

He shifts on the couch, purposely sliding closer to the man onto his right, as to make space for you on his left. "Only the best seat in Wooyoung's house for a pretty woman like you."

Listening to him, the other one scoffs, "tone down on your confidence, Woo."

"Flirting is all about confidence, Sangie," he keeps his teasing tone low and pinches the man's cheeks. "Right, Angel?"

"Uhhh..."

"Please ignore him, he's a little straightforward and hasn't learnt how to speak to women properly," the said man rolls his eyes, "on a serious note, please sit anywhere but next to him."

"Ugh, you always treat me like a sick joke..." Wooyoung sighs, dramatically throwing himself off to the other side of the couch. "I'm nothing but a man with a good heart."

"Your exes say otherwise, but okay."

As the two continue back and forth with their unsolicited burns and remarks, you decide to make yourself comfortable on the chair adjacent to the couch, seemingly belonging to the set of the seating arrangement. Two pair of eyes follow you as you sit down and pull the hem of your skirt down in an attempt to cover whatever it could. You were slightly regretting your dressing choices; you wore a black skirt which rode upto your mid thighs and paired it with a red crop top which was tucked in your skirt. Going a little overboard, you even wore thigh high socks, ending an inch below the skirt. You didn't bother with makeup and kept it light, having only applied light blush and peachy eyeshadow, and gloss on your lips.

The third man was least interested in meeting you or even getting the introductions started. You noticed how buff he was, not much compared to the man sitting on the couch right above him; but he was toned in places a man should be, and regrettably, his body was mostly hidden behind an oversized cloak of red sweatshirt and baggy sweats. Wooyoung had a casual approach to his outfit, wearing a black jacket with its zipper pulled all the way down till the middle of his chest, revealing a simple white graphic tee under it complementing the outfit with baggy sweatpants; on the other hand, the man next to him, having awe-inspiring features and a body worth drooling on, has black hair growing out till his shoulders, wore a black woven cardigan and a black tank top underneath, with black jogger shorts. Black was his shade, since his skin was stark and as fair as the snow, like Yunho.

"Jongho talks a lot about you," Wooyoung begins, grinning. "It's nice to meet you in person, finally. Name's Wooyoung and this is Yeosang, don't pay him any mind, he's a little vapid. And umm, that's Mingi. Hey, Mingi, why don't you introduce yourself."

He nods to the man sitting on the floor, who then actually takes a little effort to glance your way. Mingi grunts in return for your dazed smile, which already tells you that it's going to be hard to get along with him.

"Mingi, that's rude," Seonghwa chimes, keeping a smile on his face as he emerges out of the hallway with a tray of drinks in his hand, "introduce yourself properly."

The latter takes it as a warning and clears his throat, "Mingi, Song Mingi." he eyes you for a second before turning to Seonghwa, "that's the best you'd get from of me."

Seonghwa sighs, placing the tray of drinks on the coffee table and urging you to pick a glass, "I really apologise for his behaviour, but have a drink and try not to pay him any heed."

You reflect back with a smile and pick a glass filled with cola, "thank you."

"So, you're in Jongho's department, right?" Seonghwa asks, sitting next to Wooyoung. "We've heard a lot about you from him, actually. He's always gushing about you and how much he likes to hang out with you."

Okay, you didn't know the latter of that.

"I really didn't know that..." you mumble, taking a sip of cola. "We're friends. Right. We share same subject groups so, he's my only friend, to be honest. And he's enough so I didn't bother making any more friends."

"Hey, now you have us!" Wooyoung cheers, "any friend of Jongho's is our friend."

"Calm down, Wooyoung," Yeosang rolls his eyes, "for the better part of it, I'll have to agree with him. From now on, we're your friends too. So, don't hesitate."

Seonghwa chirps, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he talks, "you're in your sophomore year, right?

"Final semester," you mutter, "in few months I'll be in my junior year. Just as Jongho."

Seonghwa nods, "I hope you're not feeling uncomfortable with us; all these unfamiliar faces..."

"I'm good, actually." You reassure and Wooyoung adds, "I think I have seen you around the campus, so not an unfamiliar face to take a sight of—maybe you've seen me around too, I am a culinary major."

Even though you wouldn't admit it to yourself, or them, you had long forgotten about the awkwardness without Jongho being here. And, deeming Wooyoung as a culinary major was something you probably never even considered in your wildest dreams. One by one, after Wooyoung's little introduction, the others take his lead and talk about themselves.

"I'm a college dropout," Yeosang begins, "and now I'm a freelancer. I mostly do graphic design and illustration."

You nod, intently listening to them.

"I graduated last year." Seonghwa says, "now, I work full time as a software designer for a small startup company."

Intriguing.

There was something about Seonghwa you found alluringly interesting, like maybe it was the way he spoke to you, or the way he engaged with the other guys. Expectantly, you glance over at Mingi, hoping, he too, would have something to say or add to the discussion. Everyone's eyes are on him, expecting.

Mingi croons his neck up to meet your eyes, and he sighs, "I'm a dance major and I graduate soon."

So... similar to Yunho?

You see him lock his phone and stuff it into the pocket of his sweatpants, not uttering a word further; Seonghwa clears his throat and casts a longing gaze at the front door.

"Others will be here soon," he says, grabbing a glass of sprite from the tray. "I actually sent Jongho and San out to get us some beers, there's only one six pack left in the fridge. And I also did not expect you to come early." he was informing you of Jongho's whereabouts, "Hongjoong and Yunho are usually the late ones because of their work."

At the mention of Yunho, your stomach lurches and your mind recalls to the night you two had lost yourself in the heat of the moment—you were hiding it pretty well, at least, you thought you were. There's nothing trapped between your teeth, there's no evident clues to that night for anyone to know; let alone anyone would doubt you two had interacted before. Though, your heart claims to have an intense anticipation for this night to unfold, considering Yunho had warned you that he would fuck you senseless if you showed up tonight. And here you were...

"Beer gets us going," Wooyoung comments, eyeing Yeosang. "But this one needs wine."

"How is that relevant in this context?" the latter deadpans, causing Mingi to chuckle softly, "he's intending to say you've got an expensive taste, Sangie."

Yeosang pouts, "wine tastes better than beer."

"I'd drink to that," Seonghwa laughs along, raising his glass and looking at you, "I hope you're not a lightweight. Unless you don't drink at all."

"I do. Occasionally." you grimace at the memory sitting far back in your head, the first time you drank alcohol (beer) wasn't really worth it. "I am not so fond of alcohol, though. Who says you need to have alcohol to have fun?"

"I do," Wooyoung deadpans.

"No one asked you—"

Yeosang grows silent in his words upon hearing the lock to the front door rattle; soon, it's being pushed inside with a heavy voice—which you could never forget—grumbling to someone. The first person to walk in the living room is a blue haired man, a lot shorter than Yunho, carrying a leather laptop bag and a roll of red fabric in his hand. He somehow manages to stumble across the floor to the long dining table in front of the kitchen—dumping the stuff on top of the table, he slumps himself on the chair and sighs. Yunho is the second person to walk inside, followed by Jongho and other man with sharp eyes and features.

"I told you that man was weird!" the one with sharp eyes groans, and Yunho sighs, "but you didn't have to say that right to his face, did you now, Sannie?"

"If we hadn't made a sound, it would've gotten weirder," Jongho adds, walking in with a couple of polythene bags crinkling in his hands.

"He almost licked my neck!" the other—apparently named Sannie or to your understanding, San as Seonghwa mentioned it before, groans, "that's why I never take the elevator."

"I only suggested 'cause we had stuff to carry." Jongho raises his hands to show him the bags he carried in them. "I didn't think Mr. Yoshida would follow us in."

"Guys, drop it," the blue haired man tuts from the table, raising his head to meet your eyes, "we've got a guest, might as well show her a little respect."

He smiles at you before getting up from his chair; and that's when the others' heads turn toward you. Jongho grins wide, Yunho smirks, and San appears to have wide eyes and rounded lips, confused as if.

"Angel!" Jongho squeals, taking tiny hop-like steps toward you; his arms open wide as to hug you.

Placing your glass back on the tray, you find yourself rushing to him to get his hug. You round the coffee table from the other side as Mingi sat still on the couch's side and scoffed at your excitement to hug your friend. You and him are going to have problems getting along if you ever decide to hang out with the guys in the future. Seamlessly, you wrap your arms around Jongho's chest as he somehow manages to return the embrace with the bags in his hands.

"You made it!" he mumbles, pulling back.

"She was early," Seonghwa quips, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen. "You gave her the wrong time, baby bear."

"Hmm, I really apologise," he pouts, backing away from you and eventually tiptoeing to the kitchen, you follow him, a smile on your face.

"It's okay, baby bear," you tease him only to get a reaction out of him. And he groans, "that name isn't sticking. Please."

You shake your head, as you lean over the kitchen island and watch him place the bags on top of it. The polythene bags crinkle as he keeps them down and proceeds to take out their contents; there's chinese takeout in two of the bags, and the other one had a six pack. You're about to initiate a conversation with Jongho until you're interrupted by a sleek yet hoarse voice.

"So, you're Angel..." a soft voice resounds from behind you and when you turn, you find the blue haired man smiling at you, "I'm Hongjoong and I believe you've heard this from everyone here, but Jongho can't shut up about you."

You glance at Jongho. "Awww..."

"Ahhh, please. Stop it!" he whines louder, blushing.

"What? It's the truth." Hongjoong grins, "I'll freshen up while the others set up everything. Usually our game nights happen much later in the night. We made an exception for you 'cause this one's been nagging us for days now about inviting you."

He offers you a gentle smile before disappearing down the hallway leading to the left of the kitchen; his stringent yet relaxed posture had an imposed meaning behind his personality. From the way body language seemed more pronounced in the royal blue suit he adorned himself in and the way he hushed others, you could tell he was a domineering man. Someone whose authoritativeness would bring any woman down to her knees—you were thinking too much. Or were you really?

The desolate kitchen is rejoiced with Seonghwa's harmless little scolds directed at Jongho, but before you could comprehend any of their tiff, an arm snakes around your waist, with a presence warming up your side.

"Hey, Angel," his deep voice was like nectar, dripping in your ears and snaring your mind to his will. "Glad you could make it. Good choice. Good decision. And good thinking..." his words trail off to a whisper as he leans near your ear, "...but keeping my word—oh wait—keeping my promise, I'm going to keep you to myself for this night. I hope you're prepared for that."

His arm skims down your waist, fingers fluttering below and under your skirt as his tickling touches caress your inner thighs. That's it. He doesn't inch his hand closer to your aroused cunt; you were wet, you knew—his words were riling you up with every ounce of strength in them. In retrospect, you were playing out the night in your head where he'd be fucking you the way he wants to, the way he promises to.

Clasping your bottom lip with your teeth, you try to squeeze your thighs, to get that extra little friction to feel something (at least). Though, it had slipped your mind that his hand was still holding onto one of your thighs; catching up on your intentions, he lightly smacks your inner thigh and draws out a yelp from your lips. Your cunt clenches around nothing, feeling the heated rumble in your chest and the exasperated urge to have him stuffed in you.

The sound you let out attracted the squabbling pair; they cast their eyes on you, weary and dubious, silently judging the interaction between you two. You could call it your luck, but the two weren't able to get a view of what was happening behind the kitchen island.

"Are you alright, Angel?" Yunho feigns his concern, taking a small step away from you.

"Feeling under the weather?" Jongho urges, lips pouting slightly. "Do you want to leave...?"

"I'm okay," you voice out, taking a deep breath. "Yunho was talking about how peaches bruise easily and I just happened to gasp, dramatically."

"No double entendres, right Yun?" Seonghwa jokes and Yunho nods his head, "really, nothing of the sort. Just a casual conversation."

He clears his throat, "By any means, I'll take your leave. I need to freshen up and change my clothes. Jongho, go help the others set the living room."

With a ribbing curve stretching on his lips, Yunho excuses himself and saunters away from you down the hallway on the right. The moment he's out of your eyesight, Jongho slides next to you, purposely bumping into your hips as he does. Meanwhile, Seonghwa picks out the takeout containers and other necessities before leaving the two of you in the kitchen.

"Angel," Jongho murmurs, "are you trying to impress someone."

He's smug.

You shake your head, refusing to meet his eyes as he leans over to taunt you. "Shut up! Why would I need to impress any of your flatmates?"

"The way you're dressed, I guess," he shrugs, staring at you from top to bottom, "thigh high socks, that skirt, that top. Modest make-up. You wouldn't take this much effort if you weren't trying to impress someone."

"Hmm...so, who is it?" he nudges your arm, his lips pressed together—a line struck with jealousy, probably.

"Jongho, you're getting the wrong idea, why would I really want to impress any of the guys I barely know?" You pout, glancing at him for a hot second before reverting back to staring down at your fingers as you tapped them away on the island counter.

"I don't know, for starters they're all good looking." he turns on his feet and leans against the countertop, "maybe you're seeking out a relationship with someone. Either it's been too long since you've gotten laid or someone here has intrigued you enough to date them."

"Jongho..."

He interrupts, "is it Yunho?"

"What?"

"Do you like Yu—"

"—living room has been...am I interrupting something?" Seonghwa questions, stopping a few steps short from the two of you.

"Oh, it's nothing," Jongho murmurs, sounding a little bitter. "We were discussing a few things related to our classes."

Seonghwa nods and you stifle a silly whine, the stupefying urge to confront Jongho about his nonchalant sneer at your outfit. The older picks up a few more things from the kitchen before heading out; two of you follow him to the living room, with Jongho not uttering a single word. Sighing to yourself, you find the coffee table in the living room was pushed to a side, leaving the centre carpeted space to be occupied. Others were already sitting in a circle, eating out of the Chinese takeout containers —you lurk behind a little as the sitting arrangements played out. Jongho clears his throat and sits next to Mingi, leaning back against the couch where Seonghwa makes himself comfortable. Wooyoung, Yeosang and San, they sat opposite to the couch, slumping themselves against the coffee table as support.

You take a deep breath, put on a frail smile as you sit down next to San on the lush and soft carpet; the man offers you a dimpled smile and hands you a takeout container along with chopsticks and a bottle of beer. Helplessly, you eye Jongho from the corner of your vision, as he too starts guzzling down food from his own container. Sitting next to Jongho would have made either of you uncomfortable since the harmless squabble between you two had been left unresolved. You were doing it out of spite, however.

"So, what are we playing tonight?" Yeosang pipes in, gazing around and pointing his stained chopsticks at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa shrugs, "we'll keep it light. Nothing which strains Angel's ease or brings her discomfort."

"Damn," Wooyoung winces, "I was about suggest strip-uno."

San rolls his eyes, glaring at the said man—slowly chewing the bite of chicken in his mouth, "I sometimes wonder how your brain functions."

"It probably doesn't," Jongho adds, earning a whine from the latter. "Suggest something else."

"How about strip-monopoly?" Wooyoung suggests, eyebrow twitching in a goading manner.

"Anything which has strip in it will be rebuked; so, something else has to work," Seonghwa utters with annoyance, fixing himself a container of noodles.

"To be fair, I don't have any problem playing 'strip' games," you shyly enunciate, not meeting anyone's gazes on you. "In all honesty, it sounds fun. And what's the worst that could happen?"

You were joking. In your mind you were considering all worst possible scenarios where things could wrong; you could be taken advantage of and made to strip all the way, you could lose the remaining of your dignity to Yunho in case you go all bare, or—there's no or here, it's too risky to play these games with them.

"We understand your perspective, darling. But we're men and for a woman to engage herself in those kind of games with us is both unethical and unfair," Hongjoong's voice gushes through, offering your spine a dainty tingle. "We will keep it light, and hearty, as Seonghwa said."

He has his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black sweatpants; on top he wears a tank top, exposing his defined arms, not too buff or too lean. The deep cut on his neckline gives you a small glimpse of his chest, eventually delighting you with an accidental nip-slip. It happens again as he carefully sits next to Seonghwa, making sure he doesn't hurt Jongho or Mingi who were leaning against the front of the couch. He runs his hand through his freshly washed hair, sighing out a string of incoherent words as he glances at the man next to him. Seonghwa is quick enough to hand him his share food and as he eats, his eyes occasionally fleet over to you.

"If you bend the rules of your game night for me, then how is that fair and ethical?" you tilt your head to a side, pouting at him. "I'm comfortable with whatever, so I think we should not waste any more time."

Seonghwa chuckles and Hongjoong breaks out into a mischievous smile, keeping his stare on you. "Alright then, we'll play strip-uno as Wooyoung initially suggested."

Darkness swirled in Hongjoong's eyes, the kind of ambiguity which dominates—something like the predator forcing its prey into submission. You were weak already, staring and catching up on the minute details sketched in his eyes, and his lips. Hongjoong had an authority, a commanding aura which could force any one into submission. You were no stranger to these kind of men, and for some reason, you were hella attracted to them.

"Sure," Wooyoung sleazes, smirking. He keeps the takeout to a side, and leans back onto the coffee table to grab what seems to be a deck of cards. "I had already picked these out. And to explain the rules," he trails off, eyeing everyone and shuffling the cards. "Don't worry, Angel. They're quite easy to understand."

Hongjoong begins, "there are less severe penalties for when you fail to match the colour of the cards in the discard pile, or when you draw a card from the draw pile."

"There's a strip penalty when the person before you throws a draw two or draw four in," San says from next to you, "you have to take a shot when you get a wild card from the person before you. And as Hongjoong said, the less severe penalties are truth or dare, and kiss a player, with tongue."

You reel back, repeating his words in your mind, "kiss a player, you guys are okay kissing each other?"

"I've frenched all of them if you're wondering, except for Yunho because I'm not his 'type'." Wooyoung says, passing two bottles of beer to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, "besides, we all have different sexual preferences. It doesn't matter to us."

You nod along, noticing how quiet Mingi had been from the start. He has a problem with you, doesn't he? You heave out a sigh and grin, "alrighty. I understood the rules, so can we start?"

"Aww, are you forgetting about me, Angel?" Yunho's voice ridicules you, followed by his footsteps as he sits next to you. "I'm hurt," he pouts, taking his food container from San as Wooyoung passes it to him. "I'm devastated, really. I hold no significance to you, do I?"

You look at him, cheeks heating up instantly when you catch him staring back at you smugly; the outfit he changed into was far more fitting to his personality than the one he had before. He was wearing a matching red hoodie with Mingi, and black jogger shorts. You notice how well his blue hair contrasted with the hoodie, finding it cute the way some of his strands kissed the collars and hid beneath the hood. His skin was flushed, yet as fair as snow—and his scent was driving you wild. A miasma of musk, cinnamon and vanilla. You were losing your mind sitting next to him.

Though, when you come back to your senses, you realise he's being dramatic. Overly dramatic. You roll your eyes and continue eating, shaking your head as a sly smile stretches your lips. Jongho catches up on your interaction with him, side eyeing you while acknowledging nothing.

"There's too many of you, it's hard to keep up with everyone," you snide at Yunho, your smirk widening. "So, excuse me if I tend to forget 'bout some of you."

"Oh Angel, I'm quite unforgettable, you know," Yunho jeers, sneakily pinching your waist. He leans closer to your ear, whispering under his breath, "but sadly you'll have to wait the night until I show how you much of an exceptional man I am."

"Keep dreaming..." you lean toward him and murmur, "you're really confident in your skills, aren't you? Can't wait to prove you wrong."

"I think I've already proven myself to you the night you—"

"—ahem. I think we should start with the game." Mingi clears his throat, purposely keeping it loud enough for the two of you to pull apart. "I don't know about Yunho, but I've got an early class tomorrow."

"Oh come on, Mingi," Yunho whines, "I'm making a benign effort to be friends with Angel. She seems cool."

Jongho begins, rolling his eyes, "oh, she is. I've already narrated of her tales to you."

Was he sarcastic? You couldn't tell.

Hongjoong sighs, his voice booming, "enough, I can't go on a day without either of you jabbering at each other." Staring at Wooyoung, he calls out, "just deal the cards, Woo."

Soon the cards are dealt and each of you receive seven cards; the games go on, filled with whines, groans, cheers and derisive comments. In the first few rounds, you lose your socks, lucky. Jongho loses his sweatshirt, but he wore a full sleeved shirt under it; Wooyoung was only in his boxers, and you knew Yeosang and Mingi had it planned all along. San, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were borderline drunk to the number of shots they were forced to take. Mingi and Yunho were fully dressed, and neither too drunk because of the shots—although Yunho kept leaning over to your side to whisper filthy things in your ear. You were mostly on guard against him, praying to your own soul to keep San from listening to any of his coquettish remarks.

The current round you were stuck in was supposedly the last round of the night according to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Surprisingly, everyone agreed to their judgement and no one riposted against them. It shows how influential those two were, and you found that extremely hot. You had two cards in your hand, all of them predicting your victory—that is only if San doesn't snitch on you and makes it hard for you to win. In all likelihood, everyone around you wants you to lose, that's how the game works.

You hold your breath, watching San take his turn after Wooyoung, and all hell comes crashing down onto you when he flicks a draw two on the discarded pile.

Oh no.

You have to strip.

He was saving his best card for the last, which makes his attempt at drawing more cards have a lot more sense. You sigh, dropping your cards down and slouching your shoulders.

"Strip, Angel," Yunho rejoices, nudging your shoulder with his.

"Yes, strip, strip, strip, strip..." Wooyoung chants and the others follow him, except for Mingi, Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

Seonghwa clears his throat, silencing everyone. "You don't have to if you're uncomfortable, Angel."

You shake your head, all the alcohol (especially, the vodka and beer) buzzing in your mind and coerced you to do the unthinkable. You find the hem of your crop top, fingers pinching at the very edge; with a ribald smile on your face, you pull your top over your head and fling it across towards Jongho. He catches it in one of his hands, as his other hand held onto a bottle of beer. These were the consequences of you not keeping a count of how many beers you had guzzled while playing and interacting with San. If your hazy memory serves you right, then San is a bartender and thanks to him showing you how to drink beer and vodka, you were woozy.

Some of the guys whistle at your exposed chest, while some avert their eyes and cover them with the palm of their hand. Yunho wasn't one of the guys to turn a blind eye on you; he stared. Being taller than you gave him an advantage at peeking over your shoulder and since you were slouched, the cups of your bra dangled slightly off—exposing a lot of your deal than you thought. He gulped lightly upon drinking in your curves, and the way your lacy bra hugged your tits—he was drooling at the sight, imagining what it would be like to grope and hold them. They actually seemed perfect for his hands—perfect to knead and suck.

"Angel is a wild one," Wooyoung mumbles lowly, looking away in haste as he realises he had been staring. "Wilder than me, to be honest."

"What?" you shrug, "a draw two means strip. I stripped."

"Yes, but we didn't think you'd actually do it," Jongho hisses through his gritted teeth, crawling the space across to drape his sweatshirt over you.

To your undivided attention, and bewilderment, Jongho belonged to the ones who were caught staring at you; which also included San, and Mingi.

Yunho clicks his tongue, "I certainly did not expect that, certainly did not."

Jongho scoffs at Yunho's reaction and returns back to his place, "no one expected that."

You pout, tugging the ends of Jongho's sweatshirt over your head to cover yourself. "It was fun, though."

You were starting to think it was alcohol talking in your stead.

"Alright, alright," Hongjoong draws everyone's attention, even yours, "like I said, this was supposedly the last round, so let's call it a night. And, Angel," he pauses, perusing your tipsy face, "I think you should stay the night, you're inebriate, regardless not a lot to misguide yourself to your dorm room alone at night. But it's not safe for you to leave in your current state of mind. So, please spend the night here."

You wanted to protest, but then you realised you stayed outside way past the timings of your dormitories, meaning, you'll have to spend the night here and somehow manage to sneak in tomorrow morning.

"Okay..." you nod.

Seonghwa adds, "you can sleep in my bedroom, it has a joint bathroom. Plus it is spacious and has a comfortable bed." he gets up from the couch, keeping his empty bottle of beer down on the carpet, "come on, I'll show you to my room."

You nod again, stumbling up on your feet as you take small strides toward him.

"Okay, whose duty is it to clean tonight?" you hear Hongjoong ask, followed by Mingi's and San's groans. He continues, "clean up before you go to bed, lads. Good night."

A couple of whines resound from behind you as Seonghwa leads you down the hallway to his bedroom. The wooden door has a board hung on it, which reads 'do not disturb' with a much tinier font written below it, 'knock twice in case of emergency'. It makes you wonder of the shenanigans which have occurred in this house. The wooden door opens smoothly inside and you're ushered inside a very neat and clean room.

"I did not get much time to clean around after coming back from work," he apologises, leading you further in.

You did not understand why he was apologising, his room was spotless with no unnecessary mess around. Rummaging your curious eyes through his room, you notice a lot of things; there's a window on the wall opposite to the entrance overlooking the Main Street, a queen size bed was pushed to the side of the room, and right below the window was a small desk with his MacBook on top alongside few other things arranged in a precise order. As said, there was a door to the left, where the bathroom was situated. Overall, the room was elegant with debonair decorations and furniture—nothing about it foretold you it was a man's room.

"To be fair, I'd be put to shame if you saw my dorm room." Muttering under your breath, you slump on the bed and watch Seonghwa's lips twitch into a smile.

"It's okay," he whispers, heading to his closet, which was adjacently placed to the bed. "I understand, you're a full time college student—trust me, my room used to be a mess too. It can't be that bad. Right?"

You grumble and throw yourself back on the mattress, it sinks to your weight and relaxes every muscle of your body. "I think I should call you over sometime. You could see it for yourself. Maybe, help me clean."

"Wouldn't mind that," he chuckles, his footsteps receding to you. "Here, change into something comfortable."

Sitting up straighter, you watch him hand you an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. "There was no need for this."

"And there is no need for your formalities," he offers you a toothy grin. "Sleep wearing something light. I don't think your current outfit is all that comfortable."

"Alright." you mumble, waiting for him to take your leave before you could change.

"Sleep well," he sings, his smile crinkling the corner of his eyes as he does.

Turning on his heel he's almost out through the door when you ask, "where will you be sleeping? The couch? I'm sorry for that..."

"Couch? No. That place is a little ill-at-ease," he laughs, "but, I'll be sleeping with Hongjoong, he's got a bigger bed. And, you don't have to be sorry. What kind of men we'd be if we let you go to your dorms at the dead of night. Right? It's better if you stay and leave in the morning, I'll have Jongho or someone drop you off."

You nod along, butterflies in your stomach coming alive to his words. Chivalry wasn't dead, after all. But the thought of you spending the night here, with Yunho fixated on fucking you, might be the most exhilarating thing ever. Although, you were starting to catch those same fuzzy feelings for Seonghwa—thinking about the kind of man he'd be in bed. The sweet one, showering you with praises, being a soft dom, and all other things which you shouldn't be thinking about him.

"Good night, Angel."

He snaps you out of your dreams, bringing you to the reality.

"Good night, Seonghwa."

A smile fleets behind on your face when he leaves. The door closes with a soft thud, and you sigh, preparing yourself to change into the clothes he gave you. Quickly, you slip out of clothes and into the oversized shirt; for some reason you didn't feel the need to wear the shorts. Actually, the reasons were pretty obvious. Folding your clothes, you keep them on the desk and lay back in the bed. You heave out another breath and decide to surf through the internet, checking your socials, and other things. You're too dazed reading your department's group chat to even hear the sound of a knock on your door for the first time. When the knocks sound for the second time, even louder than before, you flinch and your phone slips off your grip; rolling your eyes as your heart tries to compose itself from the little jumpscare, you hop off the bed and saunter to the door to answer it.

You open the door a slit, only for it to be pushed aside by a burly man to make his way in. It was Yunho, you knew it from the all-too-familiar sounding grunt as you're pushed against the door in a blink of an eye. Trapped, he places one hand on your waist and the other next to your face, pressing his body with yours and forcing you back into the door.

"I told you, didn't I?" he murmurs leaning in, his breath tickles your face as he continues, "I said I'd be true to my words and here I am."

You close your eyes for a hot second, wanting to compose the fire flamed in your heart by his words; most precisely, by his darkened eyes staring right into your soul.

"Never doubted you," you grin, sliding your hands along his back and to his neck. Wrapping them around, you pull yourself close, your lips hovering a few whispers from his. "But the thing is, are you going to do what you intended on doing from the moment we started this, with all your flatmates around? Aren't you worried they might hear us?"

"I couldn't care any less about them," he smirks, brushing his lips against yours, "are you trying to get out of this? You were the one to start it, princess."

His voice is low, as he continues, "the shameless teasing with this raunchy outfit and the stripping, plus the unwanted provocation...do I need to say anything more?"

Shaking your head, you nudge your lips to touch his; he was taken off guard at first, but the moment he realised what you were doing, he grew wild. An untamed kiss broke out between you two, lips lapping and sucking in an unquenched desire. Both of his hands tug at your waist, causing your shirt to lift up slightly.

He mumbles against your lips but doesn't break the kiss. "Only a tee? God, you are such a tease."

And he's diving back into the kiss. It started off so innocent with only a mere touch, delicate yet hungry in way; but you didn't think it'd escalate so quickly into a pining war between your tongues. His warm tongue rubbed with yours, tackling it down to reach down your throat. You moan, not only because of the fact that his tongue was indisputably plunging down your throat, but also because he had traced one of his hands down your waist to the dainty band of your panties. Feeling him smirk against your lips, your stomach ties itself in a knot, realising he was about to something very odious to arouse you. Though, the kiss had already made you wet, your slick soaking into your panties.

One finger slips past the waistband, softly snapping it as he drags to your wet slit; you were melting in the heat his mouth offered, his tongue showing no signs of stopping at what it was doing. You were breathless, you wanted air, you wanted to breathe and peruse his flushed face. Seemingly suffocating, you tilt your head slightly behind to take a deep breath, your lungs filling in with much needed air—while he shows you his conceited smile, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasure he got after abusing your mouth.

"Tired already?" he bites his lower lip, rubbing his long finger along your slit and you moan, not registering what he says next. "This is just the beginning, princess."

He buries his head in your neck, lips scattering kitten like kisses on your skin and trailing further down your collarbones. The yearning was taking you to a different level of desperate, his ravenous touches were working so well to rile you up and you were so sure you could come undone with only his middle finger thrusting into your cunt. In your hazy mind you were lost, closing your eyes, you throw your head back against the door and try to breathe normally—because his sleek finger was stroking your slit vigorously.

This was maddening. And you weren't holding back. "Fuck, Yunho...just fuck me already. Please."

You whimper as the walls of your cunt clench around nothing in utter torment while his middle finger only caressed your slit and nothing else.

"No, princess. Nuh-uh," he hisses, now pressing his thumb on your clit and moving it in a circular motion. "Not so fast. You won't be getting anything more than this—fuck—fuck—" he grunts in his own anguish, "—a dirty slut like you should be punished for wanting everyone's attention on you. Isn't that—fuck, isn't that why you took your top off, hmm? For everyone to fucking take a look, for them to drool on your perky little tits."

You whine, stuttering, "no—no—I only—I only did it because—because those were the rules—fuck, Yunho...just, please—please..."

Mind fogging with unlikely possibilities of him actually giving it to you, made your tongue heavy. You couldn't form sentences in your head, let alone voice them for yourself.

"So, so, so hopeless."

Yunho clicks his tongue, using his other hand to lift the loosely hanging tee up to your chest; his hand quickly cups one of your tits and eventually, he's groping it with his fingers digging in your flesh. His mouth sucks beautiful bruises along your neck, while his finger and thumb keep working on your wet cunt.

"God, I caught Jongho and Mingi staring at these taut little things," he murmurs, licking your skin as he keeps sucking purple bruises, "and I gotta say, I wasn't too fond of it—fond of their eyes lurking anywhere near you. Just thinking about it—ugh—can't even get myself to think about it."

"I didn't—" you groan, "—I didn't think you'd be the jealous type—fuck!"

All air is knocked out of your lungs as soon as he lets his middle finger slip into your cunt; your walls squelch, causing more of your juices to drip down your thighs.

"Oh, you really don't know me yet," he slyly whispers, keeping the pace of his finger teasingly slow inside you.

Detaching his lips from your neck, he stares down at you with a lilting smirk, one ever so gravely etched in a nettlesome curve. His hazel eyes show a spark of ardour, seemingly growing into a soft murmur of feral desires. You crack your eyes open, fluttering your lids heavily as the pleasure of his finger drives you to your edge; you were getting weak in your knees—your body could go limp any moment if he continues to tease your cunt this slow. Sliding your hands down his neck, you hold onto his shoulders and heave out a breath, chaotic and painful.

"Would you like to know me better, princess?" he breathes his words out, sneering as he glances down at his finger thrusting in and out of you. "...I'm sure we'd get along just fine."

"I don't doubt that either," you smirk at him, impatiently waiting for him to add another finger in you.

When you knew, he wasn't going to do anything more than finger your cunt teasingly, you start bucking your hips into his hands, hoping it'd make his finger plunge deep into you. The squelch of your walls is loud this time, resonating in the empty room as it soon merges with his chuckle. Yunho draws in an amusing breath, tittering at your messed up persona, and desperation.

He clicks his tongue, bringing his finger out of you altogether; the emptiness was lot worse than having only one of his sleek finger in. Maybe, you shouldn't have been so desperate for him. You couldn't blame yourself; it was evident from that night itself that you yearned for him, all of him. Keeping his stare on you, he brings his finger, the one which was plunging deep into your cunt, close to his mouth and darts his tongue out. His middle finger glistens with your juices around it, so unbelievably fucking attractive but nothing prepared you for what he did next; he licked and lapped his tongue all over his finger, humming in satisfaction as he tastes you.

"Sweet and salty, just like my little slut," he smirks, teeth trapping his bottom lip in, "can't wait to fuck that cunt with my tongue—it'd be fucking perfect."

You don't make a sound, simply because his words were giving you a sensory whiplash and depriving you from any fraction of sanity at all. He lets his other hand slip from your chest, tracing it to your neck to grab your throat. His fingers dug in the sides, leaving faint bruises as he brought you close to him; in a blink of an eye, his lips were back on yours, tasting your desperation and teasing your lower lip with a sharp tug of his teeth.

"Yun..." you murmur against his lips, absorbing the vibrations of his chuckle as he pulls back to address, "princess, you are not getting me so easily. I can play hard to get, and I always have."

You are a little annoyed by his attitude, his conceited slapdash personality was an antithetical factor to his charisma and chivalry. He shakes his head, in disbelief, as if he had read your mind when you were thinking about his pomposity.

Clicking his tongue, he pecks your lips, "no, princess, I'm not conceited. I'm just...returning the favour."

You're muddled, not comprehending what he was hinting at. And considering that, he slightly rolls his eyes, while his other hand ghosts over your lower abdomen and grabs the waistband of your panties. Not giving you any sign of his intentions, he uses his mere strength to pull the panties up your waist. The material of your lacy panty chafes with your wet folds as he pulls and continues to do so until you're writhing with tickles on your spine.

"Fuck—that feels good, but—I want you." you mewl in such ache, craving everything of him, "I need you."

"Like, I said, I'm returning the favour, princess," he softly lets out a laugh, stroking his thumb along your windpipe, "consider this a bestowal of all the pleasure you can get from me. Because..."

His teasing tone is back, infuriating you—tears well in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as you whimper, "because...?"

"Because I can't let a slut like you get what she wants by deftly ribbing me in front of my flatmates," he states, his hold on your throat tightening, while he pulls your panties further up.

The overbearing sensation of your panties rolling up and slotting into your wet slit makes your skin crawl in pleasure. It was unbearable at this point, the rigorous friction of the material and your soaked cunt.

"I need to teach my whore a lesson, don't I? And that's what she's going to get tonight. A punishment for provoking me in front of my flatmates and being an attention whore," he smiles haughtily, pulling himself back completely before stepping away from you.

His warmth was gone, so was his touch which drove you away into your insanity, and all you were left with was an abysmal hollowness full of chagrin and hankering. Taking another step back, he shrugs while you lean back against the door to recollect your shattered pieces—you were trying to relax yourself after all that he had done to make your pussy drip uncontrollably.

"My precious little princess should try to get some sleep for the night," he smiles, coming close to you again but only to caress your cheek with his thumb. "Trust me, princess, my package will be worth the wait."

"Good night, Angel."

He presses his lips lightly to your cheek and pushes you carefully to the side to leave the room. The moment he dashes out the room, you wait for his footsteps to quiet down the hallway before you're sliding down against the door and groaning out in frustration as you lay on the floor like a crumpled paper. This was too much! Too much! You do remember him mentioning he was a tease from your night of sexting, but you didn't believe him—not until he was teasing you to hell and back. You could consider this as borderline torture which in turn was making you wonder if his dick was really worth all this torment.

Although, as he left the room, you caught a glimpse of his cock straining against his jogger shorts—the outline was clear, and that clarity was enough to push you back in your delusions and fantasises. Regardless, it also meant how badly you had him riled too, you got him hard, got him to masturbate before he goes to bed—it was obvious he would jerk off to your thoughts, and that passing notion was undoubtedly making you even wetter. You heave out a sigh as you pick yourself up and carry your trembling body to the edge of the bed. Settling down comfortably with your legs open wide, you pull the hem of your shirt and trap it between your teeth. Exposed, and free from the shirt, you drag one of your hands down your chest, purposely pushing the cups of your bra aside to let your tits hang outside. Your mind rutted with lascivious thoughts of Yunho playing with your tits, cupping them, groping them, kneading them, all the things you wanted him to do, maybe a little more which would cause your dignity to falter in front of him.

You moan out loud, but it's muffled by the shirt in your mouth; you were senselessly pinching your nipple, all while tracing your other hand to your cunt. Pushing the panties (now ruined by your arousal) to a side, you ghost your fingers over your clit, gradually touching your swollen bud to feel the ecstasy take over you. Throwing your head back to the sensation, you let out a whimper; soon, the image of Yunho licking his middle finger flashes in your mind, making you moan again. You do what he was doing a minute prior, stroke the length of your own middle finger along your slit. Your mouth stays open this time instead, but your shirt doesn't roll all the way down because your hand, playing with your tits, obstructed it from doing so.

Somehow, in the darker light of your mind, you're fixated on that burning scenario of Yunho rubbing his tongue along his finger to rid it of your juices. At first, you wonder, and then glimmer in joy, nevertheless that fleeting moment is cut short when you realise an odd detail about him. If his middle finger was that long, then how huge would his cock be? That cascading thought itself makes you shiver, and you start rubbing yourself faster; not caring if the sounds you made were discernible and audible to the others in the apartment. Seemingly, your noises were growing louder, and you were getting closer to your edge. Dropping your hand from your chest to your side, you fist your hand into the sheets, and ease your finger into your cunt. Again, the wetness makes your walls squelch and your action makes a popping sound.

Keeping a steady pace at first, you thrust the upper part of your middle finger in, then gradually moving the entire finger inside. Once you were comfortable, you increase the pace of your thrusts and mutter out a sweet string of moans, incoherent and dumb. You close your eyes, screw them tight for tears to stream down the side of your face; you're driven to a point of lunacy where all you could think about was Yunho fucking you with his finger. However, one finger wasn't enough for that, so you add in another, your ring finger this time. Both of your fingers rhythmically slide in and out of your cunt, letting your flesh slop and your juices make a mess of them.

Your grip on the sheets tightens, enough for your knuckles to turn white. Your eyes are shut, reveling the pleasure your fingers gave you, while your chest heaved up and down uncomfortably, trying to fathom the suffocation brought by your eerily palpitating heart. Lost in your jolly world of fantasies, where all you could think of was Yunho, you don't hear a soft knock sounding on the door of your room. Although, the person standing on the other side of the door had heard your moans and groans clearly. Yep, this man had heard you, and knows you're masturbating, yet he gulps to himself and scours a little bit of courage to enter the room.

He twists the doorknob and pushes the door inside; second after second, the door cracks open and reveals bits of you, the bed, your legs wide open and your hand between them, to him. Drooling at the sight for what his momentary mind could capture, he clears his throat to snap you out of your daze. Your heart beats slow, adrenaline rushing through and through when you open your eyes to meet with the familiar man standing a step closer to the door.

"Seonghwa..." you gasp, quickly pulling your shirt down to cover to exposed legs, and everything in between them—you hold your hand out to a side, wet and glistening with your juices all over them.

He clears his throat yet again, "Angel, what—well, don't stop."

You're taken off guard by his silly eyes lurking on yours, his lips curling deliriously into a smirk; leaving you to fend for his words, he trudges to his desk and carries the chair to set it in front of you. In utter disbelief, you watch him sit on the chair, spreading his legs wider in front of you, giving you the glimpse of the gradually forming tent in his pants. He unbuttons a few buttons on the top of his shirt, pulling the collars apart to expose a little of his tanned and toned chest.

"Don't stop?" you gawk, slightly breathless.

"I'm sorry if my sudden intrusion made you halt your..." he pauses, eyes trailing down your face to your chest, and legs. "...I wouldn't mind if you were to put on a show for me. Maybe, we could help each other out later on."

You were stumbling in your own mind to regard his words, even if you were past the point of acting on your rationality, this proposition of his was beyond tempting. Unlikely, you'd then have to be embarrassed to have masturbated in front of him too—especially since you and Yunho had shared that sensual call the other night. Everything is a standpoint of your dilemma, whether you should give in to your impulses, and act on your desires or not. After all, contemplating and accepting the reality of your sybaritic situation would precisely put you in a rough place with Yunho if he were to ever find out about your and Seonghwa's deal.

"But..."

"But?" Seonghwa repeats, "there are no buts, sweetheart. Though, to sate my curiosity, I'd like to ask you something."

You nod your head, your cheeks warm and red, hazy from all that's happened in the span of mere minutes.

"What got you all worked up, or rather, who?" you purse your lips together, unable to answer him. And he continues taking your silence as the testimony. "Was it anyone amongst us, or all of us? I saw Yunho leave this room a while before I made my way here. Was it him?"

You nod again, and he chuckles, "guess, Hongjoong owes me fifty bucks now."

Taking offence, you narrow your eyes at him; he shakes his head and enunciates more clearly, "no one's betting on you, sweetheart. It's just...during the game, I saw a few sparks fly between you two. As it made Jongho a little envious, it gave me an insight to your dynamic with Yunho. Surprisingly, he was as cheerful as he was that night—I suppose it was the night he was talking to you, wasn't it? Anyway, me and Hongjoong, a few minutes prior now when Yunho disappeared from the living room, construed a harmless wager."

"Are you all alike?"

"Alike as in, similar to Yunho?" he shakes his head in amusement, "oh, darling. We're anything but alike to that brat."

You don't know what it was about him, maybe that simple of nudge of his head as he satirically insulted Yunho, or the lax foreboding smile which offered you a sight of his sharp canines. There was something about Seonghwa which was making you want him more now—more than Yunho, to be precise. Although, when the remnant of your rationality sticks to your mind, you knew the attraction was simply because you had been played with and left high and dry by Yunho. You were too desperate to feel something in between your legs, literally anything at all—and as demeaning and belittling that is, even to yourself, you couldn't help but weigh your judgment down to Seonghwa's side.

You put on a show for him, he enjoys it while jerking himself off, and later on you get what you wanted all along. Sounds simple. Right? Maybe.

As you're lost in your thoughts, the never-ending brooding of the current situation, Seonghwa turns weary and tilts his head to a side. He licks his lips and asks, presumably snapping you out of your reverie. "Angel, I don't want you doing anything that you're uncomfortable with."

At the shift of his personality, you pout, shaking your head to convey your words. "I'm not uncomfortable with...this. Only, I wonder what it would be like with us if we were to, you know."

Your shoulders flinch, and he sighs, crossing his legs and leaning back into the chair. He smiles softly, "the solution is as straightforward as it can be, Angel."

"I'm not looking for a relationship, however," you whisper, undermining your own words as you come to that conclusion. "If that is what you were about to suggest."

"Relationships aren't really my thing either," he replies, a sly smile on his face, "we keep this exclusive to sex. I'm assuming Yunho put forth a much similar bargain."

You nod, "he did. And I was anticipating he'd..." Seonghwa's brow cocks up in astonishment, "...I anticipated he'd let things get steamy between us tonight. It's the reason why he had been texting me, convincing me to come."

"So, you came here for his dick?" Seonghwa laughs, not in a debasing manner, it was more of an amused laugh. "I understand, but I've been thinking you only decided to come because you didn't want to hurt Jongho's feelings."

"You're not in the wrong," you sigh, "I wanted to be a better friend to him too, but all the while Yunho had been pestering me, teasing me with his semi-nudes...okay, why are we talking about this? Shouldn't we just get done with it as quickly as possible?" you realise you had spoken too much.

Seonghwa shrugs it off, "Angel, I said I wouldn't want you doing anything which would cause you discomfort."

"And I said I'm okay with it."

Smirking, you lift your shirt back up, showing off your completely drenched panties and your sheeny cunt. Tired of pushing your panties to the side, you decide to take them off and once you've rid yourself of them, you spread your legs for his perusal before dipping your hand in between them. You resume your actions, plunging your middle and ring finger into your cunt—to your unbridled desire, your fingers slip in too easily because of the number of times of you were aroused.

"Oh dear, Angel," Seonghwa grunts, palming his crotch through his pants.

You smirk at his utterance and glance up, glazing your eyes over him as his legs are back to being spread wide in front of you, while his hand is busy stroking his cock through his pants. He bites his lower lip, giving you an encouraging nod to increase your pace; throwing your head back, your jaw slacks open when you start thrusting your fingers deep in you. The walls of your cunt quell around your fingers—the feeling reels you back to your sense of salaciousness, forcing you to increase your pace. Seonghwa's groans soon fill in the room, blending in too perfectly with your moans as you continue to finger yourself.

Seonghwa, seemingly too tired of rubbing himself through his pants, unbuttons, unzips, and tugs them down to pull his fully hard cock out. You watch him wrap his hand along the tip at first, stroking it softly with his fingers as he gradually drags his hand down along the shaft. Precum glisters on the tip of his cock, and along the length of it; and the more he pumps his cock, the more of his arousal leaks from his tip. Trapping his bottom lip in the grasp of his teeth, he prevents any vile sounds to slip from his mouth. And wanting to do the same, you clasp your free hand over your mouth but fail to do so when your mind loses every inch of control. It doesn't work as it should, because your hand is sliding down to your chest, to play around with your taut nipples.

"You're so pretty, Hwa," the comment slides out of your mouth with such ease that you don't even realise you had said it. "You look so pretty like this, stroking your cock to me fingering myself."

Again, you didn't know where you got the confidence to speak.

He chuckles softly, which mixes with his grunt as he increases the pace of his hand around his cock. "My Angel dearest, I think the sight—the—the sight of my cock—my cock thrusting into that tight little cunt of your—yours, might be the prettiest—prettiest sight of all."

His stutter was absolutely driving you insane; not just the way he stumbled his with his words, but also the way he was pumping his cock vigorously to the thought of that. Holding his shirt up by his other hand, preventing it from getting ruined, he tightens his hand around his cock, keeping a steady pace.

"Then why don't we see it—"

Thud!

The door closes shut, startling both of you as you freeze in your places. You focus your attention to the door, but Seonghwa doesn't really bother to look behind; and from the way he smirked, it was evident to you that he knew who had just arrived. It wasn't a surprise to you either, because somewhere in your heart, you were waiting for him to come.

"Tch, what an alluring sight my eyes behold," Yunho clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest and steps ahead to stand behind Seonghwa. "Let's say, I'm not all too confounded with your behaviour, 'Hwa. But I certainly did not expect my princess to acquit herself from her punishment."

His condescending tone was back, and very much alluring; his way of degrading you never gets boring, it's always tipping you off to your extremity. Yunho steps past Seonghwa and stands right in front of you. His gaze penetrates through your ruse, causing you to shiver as you sit straighter and composed, a little stoic to his advances maybe. You're not so much tolerant when you drag your eyes down to his body, his buff chest at first, then his bulging arms folded on his chest, and lastly, you're spanning your eyes across his abdomen and crotch. His shorts are confining his boner, sadly so, the outline of his cock makes you drool and imagine of the sensation you'd get from him filling you up.

"Eyes up here, princess."

You whimper, "Yunho, I can explain."

"Shush," he presses his index finger on your lips and glances back at Seonghwa over his shoulder, "it turns out my precious princess can't control herself. Why don't we teach her a little discipline?"

Seonghwa smirks, as if he had caught up on Yunho's intentions already. "Only if she's okay with us ruining her."

"Oh, a whore like her would certainly enjoy herself being fucked by both of us, would she not?" he brings his hand down to your throat and squeezes it, grunting as he brings you close to his face, "right, princess? Want to be filled with both of our cocks, right? Be nothing but a cum-slut for both of us...hmm?"

You nod your head, murmuring, "yes, yes...I want to be filled—be filled with both of you...use me as your..."

"So, so, so hopeless," Yunho tuts in pity. "I think you should take the fron—"

"—I'm in no mood today, Yun," Seonghwa interrupts him, getting up from the chair with his pants pulled over, as he strides across to stand next to Yunho. His eyes darken, a wretched curl taking its shape on his lips. "But, I would like to see what this pretty mouth can do."

You groan in such desperation, feeling his thumb caress your lower lip till he's tugging it down for you to open your mouth a little wider.

"Don't expect much, Hwa," Yunho grumbles, pulling his red hoodie over his head and discarding it down on the floor. He wears nothing under it, though, and you start checking out his toned upper body with your blurry eyes. "This mouth knows nothing but to complain and whine. Maybe yap around a bit and haul foul words at others."

Seonghwa chuckles and holds your jaw instead, thumb pressing down on your chin to do what he had been trying to do; getting your mouth to open wide. And maybe he was trying to get your attention off of Yunho.

"I better not believe him, Angel. Show me what you can do."

"Hmm," your eyes are back on Seonghwa, "I can—"

He doesn't let you finish your words leans down to kiss you. A mere contact of your lips inflames your heart into a fiery pit of despair, and you're kissing him back with much intensity. Your lips lap, collide, and suck, while he's too busy trying to drag his tongue into your mouth. He does it soon, however. His tongue caresses your lips at first, then as your widely opened mouth lets him in, he's scraping his tongue across your teeth and tackling yours into a soft brawl. Your eyes flutter close to the sensation of his warm and rough tongue rubbing with yours, delving down deep in your throat as his hands are now cupping your face.

Meanwhile, Yunho is certainly bewildered to watch his friend suck your mouth off, at the same time, an uncurbed tremor of jealousy aches his heart. Yet, he watches the two of you, observes how Seonghwa's hands were caressing your cheeks, how his tongue was shoving itself down your throat. To a certain degree of envy, he gives in and clears his throat, eventually pulling at Seonghwa's collar to break you apart.

"Jealous much?" Seonghwa comments, which goes unacknowledged by Yunho who grunts at you, "I want you on all your fours. Now."

You gulp, struck with intimidation by his voice, and the ambiguous shade of grey in his eyes. Obliging to him, you slide back on the bed and get on your fours, facing the edge of the bed as you anticipated their next move. Yunho doesn't say anything and moves on about to situate himself behind you, meanwhile Seonghwa settles himself in front of you. You're in eye level with Seonghwa's cock, hard and leaking precum, it's tip laying flat against his stomach as he takes a minute to shrug his shirt off. His pants were already off when you were trying to get comfortable on your knees and hands on the bed.

The mattress dips to Yunho's weight behind you, giving you the obvious sign that he was upto something. To your apparent satisfaction, he pushed the hem of your shirt along your back to give him better access to your rear. The warmth of his hands caresses your buttcheeks, eventually dwindling down to your inner thighs as he pushes your legs further apart. He's mentally slobbering at the sight of your folds, all wet and glistening in their glory; his cock twitches at the thought of rubbing himself all over you before sliding into your warmth.

"So fucking wet already," Yunho grumbles, "probably doesn't even need me to prep this cunt before fucking it with my cock."

"Yun—fuck..."

You clench around nothing as you listen to him growl all those words under his breath. Seonghwa chortles, grabbing your jaw and guiding the tip of his cock to your mouth; he rubs it along your lips before he eases himself inside. Engulfed by your warmth, he groans softly and closes his eyes to relish the atypical sensation for first few seconds. He knows he'll get used to you in a little bit and so will you. You wrap your lips around him, as he continues to slide his cock in your mouth. Once he grows aware of how much him you can take in, he stops and entangles both of his hands in your hair instead, helping him to hold your head down.

"Hmmm," you moan around his cock, feeling the tip brush past your tongue and the walls of your throat. The saltiness from his precum is too evident on your tongue, but you swallow it down and focus on him.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good around me," Seonghwa's chest sounds a low gruff, glancing down at you through his half-lidded eyes. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Hmm, I'll try to be gentle, okay?"

You nod, trying to pacify the sting at the corner of your lips from the way they were stretched around his cock. He doesn't push himself further than he already is and starts thrusting his cock into your throat. You merely gagged around the tip but held your breath. Seonghwa's lips remain parted, and his eyes remain shut, he was a moaning mess, subsiding to the warmth of your mouth rocking him in and out.

Yunho's jealousy knows no bounds, he's fuming inside as he watches Seonghwa fuck your mouth. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his upper lip, he smirks smugly and traces his fingers from your inner thighs to your folds, eventually to your slit. His fingers collect bits of your wetness before tucking them in your cunt; first it's the fingertips, gradually the entire length of his fingers are thrusting in and out of your cunt.

You're so out of it, buzzing with pleasure received on both sides. One, you weren't able to moan because of how deep Seonghwa was plunging his cock into your throat. Two, Yunho's fingers were curling in the deepest parts of your cunt, squelching around the flesh and making you squirm from time to time. Three, you knew Seonghwa's pace was picking itself up, but however you weren't sure if you'd be able to keep up with him.

Relentlessly, you fist your hands in the sheets underneath, holding onto them for your dear life because Seonghwa's hips were rutting into your face. Your mind was fogged by the way he rammed his cock in your throat, making you gag and choke while he guided you down by holding your head. His fingers were tangled in your hair, which eventually turns into a makeshift ponytail. You flatten your tongue toward the roof of your mouth, licking the underside of his shaft as he rapidly thrusted in and out.

"Dear sweet lord—fuck, Angel, don't stop—don't—don't stop doing that." He grumbles out, voiceless as he tries to catch a breath.

Tears are streaming down your face, as your nose scrunches up against his pubic bone and littlest of pubic hair, you're suffocating too, having lost the ability to breathe through your nose. Seonghwa's hips come to a halt, but doesn't really let you go—he likes the way your mouth is wrapped around him, likes the way your cheeks are hollowed and confined to his cock.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself, Hwa." Yunho pouts, "makes me regret to not have used her mouth before you..." his fingers are spreading you apart, stretching your walls to their limits. "Hmm, but doesn't matter anymore, I'll be the first to ruin this tight little thing."

With that being said, he flicks the direction of his wrist, bringing his fingers out only for a meagre second before he's thrusting them back in. He only did that to get his thumb in front, to toy with your clit as he presses down on it, eliciting a whine from you. Though, the vibrations of your whine are absorbed by Seonghwa's cock stuffed in your mouth, driving him wild. His thrusts resume, however, his pace picks up slowly but doesn't show any signs of faltering. Your jaw is slack and limp, already lethargic from taking him in.

"You're missing—you're missing out, Yun," Seonghwa's mumbles before bestowing his praises upon you, "you're doing so—doing so well, my dear. Such a good girl—good girl to take my cock—cock in without complaining. A little bit—little bit more..."

You have your eyes closed and mind shut down, the pleasure was unbearably long and everlasting till your body gave you enough strength to withstand their ministrations. At the way Yunho's fingers were moving in you, and brushing your sweet spot, you knew you wouldn't last long. The hot and vehement knot tightens itself in your stomach and wrenches your gut, preparing you for your climax. Your walls clench around Yunho's fingers, making him click his tongue as he pulls them out.

"Not so soon, princess." he sighs, quickly ridding himself of his shorts and briefs. "Not till you make a mess on my cock—fuck, this might—this might sting a bit."

He aligns the tip of his cock with you and rubs it along your slit before easing himself into your cunt bit by bit; your walls stretch to his girth, a tiny fire burning your skin as you whimper and wince. Although, Seonghwa's faltering thrusts try to distract you from the initial pain of Yunho's cock submerging into you—he is twitching in your mouth like crazy, knowing well he was close to his edge. You weren't so sure about your own orgasm, since you were already senseless to Yunho's cock plunging into you; and to your greater surprise, it was only the tip of his cock pounding into you. Yet he was driving you wild, his cock screwing itself so deep into you, and stretching you raw. Every time Yunho bucked his hips into yours, your body rolled into Seonghwa's, making your mouth slip further down on his cock and gag around your throat.

"Fuck, baby, gimme a min," Seonghwa mumbles and you nod slightly, causing him to pull out before you passed out of suffocation.

Taking a deep breath in through your mouth, you glance up at Seonghwa with teary eyes, finding sweat make his hair stick to his forehead and a few drops dribble down the sides of his head. You couldn't be too mesmerised by his beauty, because Yunho takes that time to ease himself fully into your cunt; his cock throbbing inside you, as his thrusts are fast paced and concise.

Seonghwa shares a look with Yunho before turning down to you, "take a deep breath, sweetheart..." he was breathless, yet he was able to pronounce each word with care and concern.

"Fuck, Yunho..." you mumbled under your breath, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Yunho's hips ram into yours. "You're—you're too fast—fuck—feels good, feels really—really good."

"Such a good slut, taking me in raw and making herself feel good with my cock," Yunho grunts.

"Yun—"

You couldn't thread your words together let alone voice them, and even if you could, Seonghwa wouldn't let you because he's already nudging the tip of his cock against your lips. Opening your mouth, as you're now used to his size, you wrap your lips around him; he keeps his pace slow this time, letting the tip of his cock poke your cheek as his thrust aren't well timed or rhythmical. Although, he's close, so close. He tightens his fingers in your hair, tugging at your strands as he pushes your head down on his cock—the warmth of your throat tips him off, and he twitches insanely before coming undone in your throat. His load trickles down, making you forcefully swallow it, tasting mild undertones of sweetness followed by the saltiness of his cum; he rides his high out with a few placid thrusts, filling your mouth with his cum. He only pulls out when he's sure he's emptied himself entirely into your mouth and when he does, he sighs and smiles down at you with a dazed look in his eyes.

"You did a great job, sweetheart. Made me cum with only your mouth, such a good and obedient slut," he pats your head, stroking your hair with his one hand as other one wipes the trickling drops of his cum from your lips. "Hmm, good girl."

He leans in to kiss you, humming in satisfaction as he tastes himself on your lips—though, out of nowhere he darts his tongue inside your mouth swallows a bit of his own cum, alleviating your struggle to swallow it whole. Pulling back, he groans softly and pushes himself off the bed completely. He gets dressed in no time, sparing no particular attention to you or Yunho, who's too busy hurling his cock into you.

"Clean up after you're done, Yun." He says one last time before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud.

You're brought to your senses then; the tight grip of Yunho's hands on your thighs which certainly has left dark bruises on your skin, the way his thrusts were proper yet short to prolong your orgasm, and the way weakness had taken over your body. Without warning, your hands give in, and you land face first into the mattress; however, Yunho clicks his tongue and groans softly before establishing a good grip on the back of your neck, pressing a little harder he lets his hand trace to the back of your head instead and his fingers entwine with your hair. He pulls your body up by tugging harshly on your hair, making you yelp and let out a small whine in protest. Your back is flushed against his chest, his thighs are hitching into yours, and his hands are all over you. One of his hands grabs your throat, choking you, while the other slithers under your shirt to grope your tits. Cupping them under your shirt, as they're already hanging out from your bra, he pulls on the tauten nipples, pinches them and rolls them between his forefinger and thumb; you moan, your mouth agape at the wild sensation It brought to you.

"How does it feel now, princess?" he grumbles, and you throw your head back resting it on his shoulder, "too much—too much—wanna cum."

Yunho hums, "as expected from my slut."

You nod to him, unable to force out words from your mouth, or even form them in your head. His thrusts pick up again, his hand drops from your chest and traces down to your clit; fingers rub down motions on your swollen bud, and you realise how sensitive you had gotten. Needless to say, every time he rolls his hips into yours, his cock plunges deep, so deep it tickles your gut—the tip of his cock was simultaneously abusing your sweet spot, nudging hard against the pit of your stomach. Bringing his hand to your lower stomach, he presses down, and your walls convulse immensely around his cock; you could really feel him in abdomen, sending all sorts of shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, being so deep in you, it's driving me crazy," he grumbles, "you feel me, princess? Feel my cock pound you good, huh?"

Again, you nod, profusely melting under the heat and sweat of your bodies—you were long gone to comprehend sanity at this point. He buries his head in your neck and sucks purple bruises all over your skin; they're going to be super evident in the morning, and you're going to get questionable looks from the others in the loft. Not that you thought you could get away with this, you were so sure the others were able to hear you, and that thought itself drove you into your diverting state of mind. It made you even wetter to know that others could hear you get fucked by Seonghwa and Yunho.

"Fuck—princess, use your words." Yunho flattens his palm on your pussy and gives it a slap, jerking you out of your daze and making you mumble, dumbfounded. The crass impact of his hand makes you cry and put your mind on ease knowing how full you were from his cock. You sob softly, feeling the pleasure take over you, "yes—yes, please, wanna cum so badly—wanna make a mess on—mess on your cock."

Yunho, satisfied with your response, supports your body against his with his hands on either side of your waist now; he pulls out and rams his cock back into you, keeping a steady pace before picking it up. You're definitely going to be left sore tomorrow, maybe deprived of your ability to walk even. His cock was reaching deep into you, knowing this angle was better to fuck and abuse your sweet spot. It doesn't take him long to bring that familiar tightness back in the pit your stomach—it twists your guts thinking how close you really were to your climax. In the room, along with your moans, and his grunts, the sound of your skin slapping against his also reverberated; every time he thrusted in, his hips would be in touch with yours for a mere second before he'd go back to dive deeper into you.

"Right, this tight—tight cunt only needs my cock to make a mess, doesn't it?" Yunho grunts close to your ear, steadying himself with his thrusts.

His words tip you off and you squeal, "yes, fuck—Yunho—Yunho—I'm going to..."

"Go on, princess."

Offering you few more long and sharp thrusts, which causes your wall to squelch and clench; without your notice, that tightness is coming undone. You let go of all the confines and your orgasm washes over you. Ironically, you really do make a mess on his cock, as it still keeps plunging into you. The warmth of your cum drips down your inner thighs, coating Yunho's thighs as well when he bucks his hips into yours. A sly smirk curves on his face, as he smacks his lips to the warmth of your juices dripping over his cock, squirting a bit around because of his thrusts.

"Oh, my princess, such a good slut. A bit more...a bit more, I'm close too," Yunho grunts close to your war, sloppily sliding in and out of you.

He was close, remotely, he usually lasts longer than this, but considering how tight your walls were around him, he had no choice but to push himself to his edge. You feel him twitch inside you, and your walls clench tightly around him; his hold on your waist goes tight as he pushes you down on the mattress—the lowered angle gave him a leverage and he continued slamming his cock into you at an animalistic pace for as long as he could. It takes him a while to get to his point, and before you know, the warmth of his cum is filling you up to your brim and dribbling past your hole. He rides out his high with a few more short and brief thrusts, digging his nails into your flesh to leave back minuscule crescents and breathes heavily, before sliding out and falling limp against your body.

You heave out a sigh, relaxing your body back into his, as your chest rises and falls; it takes the two of you a moment before Yunho lays you down on the bed and then rests himself next to you. Tiredness evident in the ragged breathing of his, he doesn't try to speak anything unless he's composed himself, and so do you—you press your lips together and lay in silence till your mind clears out and the post-orgasm clarity sinks in. You stare at the spotless ceiling above, listening to Yunho's hushed attempts at abating his breathing.

After a few minutes of silence, Yunho is the first to disrupt the tranquility between you two. "That was intense, quite something I did not anticipate."

"As much as I hate to agree, but I hadn't sucked a cock in a while. I feel my jaw slack and loose." you murmur, reminiscing your past sexual encounters with others; knowing no blowjobs had ever been so hard as this one. "Feels like I've lost the capability to talk, my throat feels sore too."

Yunho chuckles, turning to his side and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling himself close to your body, "Seonghwa usually prefers throat-fucking more to penetrating. You should be glad he wasn't as rough as he used to be with his past lovers." he shrugs, resting his head on your shoulder and inhales your scent, which apparently was a concoction of sex, sweat, a bit of Seonghwa's scent on you, and his too. "Don't worry, I'll make you a cup of hot tea, you'll feel better."

"Well, I'm taking you up on that, mister," you titter, leaning to the side to put your head on his. Seemingly pondering, you wrung your thoughts and initiate, "hey, umm, do you think—I'm not sure, but would you be comfortable if I..."

Your words dither to a whisper and Yunho's sighs, second guessing your notions and interrupting you, "you want to be with both of us, right?"

"After this, I don't think I can regard him as a friend," you grumble, whining softly, "I mean, I sucked his dick. That's something friends don't do."

Yunho heaves out a small breath, peeking up at you through his lashes as his hair sticks to his forehead from all the sweat. "Angel, I think we should discuss this tomorrow. With a fresh mind and refueled bodies. My thinking adeptness has left my mind. To be fair, all I can think about is actually pretty pathetic and many more sordid things which include you. So, it's better if we call it a night and talk it out tomorrow, hmm?"

Sighing, you nod to his suggestion and reassure him with a blink of your eyes. "Fine, I'll leave it for tomorrow."

"Good girl," Yunho chirps, "now, let's get you cleaned. Inside out. I don't want you knocking at my door after nine months showing up with a cute little spawn of my devilry."

"Shut up, you."

The rest of the night was pretty tame; Yunho helped you clean, inside out as he promised. Seonghwa's bathroom was far too spacious than he had sold to you, there was a bathtub, a shower and a completely secluded section where the toilet was. While you were relaxing in the hot bath in the tub, prepared for you by Yunho, he took a quick shower and proceeded to change the sheets of the bed. Once you were well scrubbed and washed, he wiped you dry and slipped his hoodie over your body. He got dressed only in his shorts and the two of you then cuddled each other to sleep.

As the night dawned to a new morning, you kept thinking about the events of the night—the sinister impulses you had given into and the reverting cataclysmic effects to your dynamic with Yunho and Seonghwa. Though, Yunho did say they'd talk it out in the morning, but maybe you were worried for that morning to come. Regardless of your overthinking, the night passes you quick, your mind waking up from its slumber at the exact moment when the bright rays of sun cascaded in the room.

You open your eyes to a bright white light, squinting them to the golden glow of the sunshine; you murmur in a daze, a sleepy daze of yours as you urged yourself to go back to sleep. Groaning softly, you stretch your arms out and feel an empty void next to you. Yunho was no longer sleeping by your side. You pout and try to disregard the bitter feeling in your mouth. Gently and eagerly biting back sobs whenever your sore hips, thighs and back, inflicted pain upon your body, you get yourself off the bed and slip into the shorts which Seonghwa had offered you last night. The same ones you refused to wear since you were on tenterhooks for Yunho's cock. Stifling a yawn, you wash your face in the bathroom, pat it dry and make sure all your sleep is gone before heading out to the kitchen.

"There she is," you hear a muffled chirping from a familiar voice, "good morning, Angel."

"G'morning."

You rub the remaining sleep from your eyes and focus your blurry gaze onto the said man; you find Yunho sitting on the chair of the dining table, alongside Hongjoong, with Yeosang and Jongho sitting opposite to them, their back facing you. Meanwhile, you also heard faint sizzling of pan coming from the kitchen and only assumed someone was cooking breakfast for the others. Not having a clue about the time, you murmur incoherently under your breath and paddle your way across to the table.

Hongjoong offers you a small smile, as you settle down next to Jongho, "good morning, Angel. I hope you slept well, more than well perhaps."

You choke on your saliva, gazing up at him and then at Yunho. "Uh, yeah. I slept good."

"Only good?" Yunho pouts.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him; and look around instead, noticing Seonghwa was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. The others were freshly showered, neatly dressed and sitting around the table with a plateful of breakfast in front of them. Jongho had a frown on his face every time he glanced at you, Hongjoong's eyes were rather beguiling and beaming at you with a few ulterior motives hidden in clear sight, and Yeosang barely acknowledged your presence as he was busy working on his laptop which he had propped in front of him instead of a plate.

Jongho, who's fidgeting with the sleeves of his university sweatshirt, flashes you a disdainful glance and looks back down at his plate of half-eaten pancakes. "Are you going to make it to any of your classes today?"

Ouch.

"What do you mean?" you act coy, squeezing your thighs together as you reel off into the memories of last night.

"Don't pretend to be a doll, Ange." he groans softly, training his eyes on you, "I know what happened last night, well everyone does."

Yunho adds, "she was loud enough for our neighbours to hear, I wouldn't be surprised if y'all heard her too."

"Not the time to boast, Yun," Hongjoong warns, shaking his head; you watch him smiling at you, smugly, sitting poised dressed in a grunge green suit and a black shirt under it. He fiddles with an emerald ring sitting on his thumb, raising his brow at you in sheer wonder. "It's better if we address this situation first, and later on, you can go back to your teasings and haughty nothings."

"What is there to address?" you gawk, blinking twice as your eyes remain wide and fixated on Hongjoong.

Seonghwa walks in with a plate of hot pancakes and places it in front of you before sitting next to Hongjoong. "Us." he mutters, motioning his index finger between you, him, and Yunho. "We need to confront what we feel and superimpose our feelings onto what we did last night."

"I mean..." you trail off, glancing at Yunho, "I was already considering Yunho's proposition to be exclusively friends with benefits. I'm not sure about..." you peek at Seonghwa.

"It's not just about them, for now," Jongho mutters, his cheeks turning a flimsy shade of red as he continues, "I like you, I've always had. Though, it's not a reason enough for me to be with you. I enjoy your company too and I wouldn't mind being a part of your..."

"Where are you going with this?" you mumble, bemused and lost in a whirlwind of confusion.

"What we're trying to put forth is a—umm, sort of a similar premise to Yunho's," Hongjoong initiates and Seonghwa adds to it, "we want you to be our precious little thing."

"We, as in all of us maybe," Yunho knocks his knuckles on the table to get Yeosang's attention, "Sangie, are you in or not?"

Yeosang looks up at him, nibbling on his lower lip as he nods, eyes quickly rummaging to check you out. "Sure."

"Basically, the ones who are sitting around here." Yunho continues, "we need someone who could help us out with our frustrations and oddly enough sexual desires. Only, that is, if you're comfortable being a part of it."

"I would need some time to think." You're beyond tempted to accept it, be their scarlet woman but you didn't want to come off as too eager to accept it.

"Take all the time you need, doll," Hongjoong assures you with a warming smile.

"After all, you're going to be our precious one."

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#ateez #ateez yunho #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #park seonghwa #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #smut #park seonghwa x jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho x you #park seonghwa x you

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allwaswell16 · 4 months

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F a v o r i t e F i c s O f 2 0 2 3

As an avid One Direction fan fic reader, 2023 has been a truly amazing year for fics! I read so many incredible fics this year, so please check out all my recs for the year here! Below you will find fics that made me cry or cry with laughter. Others brought me comfort during hard times or filled my heart with joy or had me screaming into my pillow in surprise. I share this list with you all not to say that these fics are better than others from this year, but to say thank you to these writers who have left a mark on me with their fics.

To all our fandom's writers, thank you for the gift of your stories! Sending much love to you in the new year!

⚜️ Louis / Harry ⚜️

And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, famous/not famous) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart? And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

De amore ex tempore by @persephoneflouwers

(M, 101k, historical) the Middle Ages AU where Harry is a philosopher, whose thoughts happen five centuries too soon and Louis is a painter, whose art happens five centuries too late. & Or: the Time Travel AU where alternate versions of themselves live simultaneously in different realities and their paths collide every time, until somehow, they converge into one.

Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence

(NR, 82k, age difference) Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

Teach me how to love by @perfectdagger

(E, 70k, one night stand) The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone

saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 61k, murder mystery) Unfortunately, Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 56k, omegaverse) Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Suddenly he has someone who listens to him and cares about what he thinks. Someone who really sees him. But their happily ever after is forever marred by an incident at a party during Labor Day weekend, and Louis is left with a choice to make.

Train Tracks and Porcelain by @jaerie

(E, 41k, historical circus au) Shadows were forming into people and things and, there in the middle of it, Louis watched the humongous head of an elephant emerge from a box car right in front of his eyes. Or a Water For Elephants inspired AU

You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(M, 38k, omegaverse) This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost.

My Other Half Was You by @lululawrence

(NR, 35k, small town au) Four years, seven months, and sixteen days after the day that changed everything, Louis turns a corner and literally runs into the man who just might change it all again.

I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours

(T, 35k, coffee shop) Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies.

You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 32, coworkers) Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Cowboy Like Me by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(M, 29k, thief au) Going legit and starting over in a small town was supposed to solve all of Harry’s problems. That was until a string of robberies in wealthy towns brings him face-to-face with his rogue ex-partner and their dicey, unresolved past.

'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better) by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(NR, 26k, omegaverse) When Louis gets invited along to Anne's wedding, Harry is prepared to let people think whatever they want about their relationship. That's what Louis said -- let people think whatever they want.

what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(E, 22k, fwb) A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for.

'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 17k, girl direction) Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

Captain Cupid by @2tiedships2

(NR, 15k, omegaverse) the one where Niall enlists his friends to help start a speed dating side hustle. Things don't go as planned... or maybe they do?

It Will Always Be You by @phdmama

(E, 15k, older Larry) If you had told Louis Tomlinson a year ago that he would be celebrating his birthday by kissing the man who is the love of his life on a Church Street park bench in Burlington VT as the snow drifted softly down, he would have told you that you were extremely imaginative.

Eyes on the Horizon by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 12k, age difference) Freshly dumped, recently fired, and about to turn 40, Harry's friends insist on taking him skydiving to cheer him up.

You Light Up the Path by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(T, 12k, mermaid au) Louis Tomlinson left his home in Doncaster as a young man with the intent of making enough money to send it back home to his family and support them however he could. Harry, or so he likes to be called, is the myth and legend himself known as the Staithes Mermaid.

Sex Drunk Suckerpunch by thinlines / @thinlinez

(E, 7k, sugar baby) Sugar Baby Louis did what any sugar baby should avoid doing but (clichely) end up doing anyways, that is, failing for his sugar mama.

Court Wine by @enchantedlandcoffee , red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 7k, omegaverse) after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.

you give me feelings that i adore by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 7k, a/b/o) 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

Truth or Drink by @kingsofeverything

(M, 6k, exes to lovers) Harry and Louis broke up years ago, and they're seeing each other again for the first time to play Truth or Drink. On camera.

Perfect, For Now by @parmahamlarrie

(T, 4k, omegaverse) Moving to a new city is always hard, being away from home, finding your new community - none of it is easy. Dealing with all of this while being touch deprived is even more difficult.

Unplant by @hellolovers13

(M, 4k, neighbors) Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.

nights like these by localopa / @voulezloux

(G, 3k, angst with a happy ending) you smile at me and say “it’s time to go.” but i don’t feel like going home.

sorry for... by stretchmybones / @lookwhatyoumademelou

(M, 1k, roommates) How else was Harry supposed to apologize properly? He was indeed a stress baker.

Mistletoe Kiss by @neondiamond

(G, 1k, roommates) A little bit of mistletoe is just the thing Louis needed to let his roommate Harry know he’s got quite the crush on him.

Still by downcamethelightning / @downcamethelightnings

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⚜️ Rare Pairs ⚜️

The Light Out In The Madness (Hold Tight) by @lalalaartje

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neither wanting more, neither asking why (series) by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 40k, OT5) If Louis is the origin, Zayn the expansion, Liam the complication, Niall the solution, then Harry - Harry's the completion.

Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 28k, Louis/Liam) In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

Jump! by @reminiscingintherain

(M, 15k, Louis/Tommy Longhurst) “I absolutely know what this means, lad,” he replied, his voice gentle and supportive. “The way you’re reacting to being out there? That’s exactly why I chose you for the support slot.” He gave a reassuring squeeze. “You deserve this, okay?”

Cold Spring by @nouies

(E, 8k, Louis/Pedro Pascal) Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

Chaos by @haztobegood

(M, 100 words, Louis/OMC [bodyguard]) Against the barricade, it’s complete chaos.

237 notes · View notes

reina-petrova · 3 months

Text

You Have My Word ・❥・ Elejah

“Elena, you don’t have to just be a doppelgänger… you have to be a virgin. So, theoretically, if you lost it to someone, the ritual wouldn’t work.” “Are you serious?” “Yes, but there’s a catch…” “Of course there is. What is it, Bonnie?” “It has to be with an Original.” ↳AU where Elena discovers that Klaus’s hybrid ritual requires a virgin doppelgänger sacrifice and Elena never lost the V-card. Now her only hope is a certain Original. Set around season 3 during ripper!stefan and pining!Damon, post Elijah!haircut and post Elena's 18th birthday.

↳Warnings: Smut, virgin kink, dirty talk, light dom/sub undertones if you squint.

↳6.7k words

↳Cross-posted to AO3 here

↳Song rec: Terrible Thing by AG (A/N: this is just a silly AU fic that popped into my head, it’s only a vehicle for smut so be forewarned the canon details/timeline may be off 🤪)

・❥・

[text: 2:48pm] I found something. Call me l8tr. - Bonnie

Elena let out a shaky breath at the text in front of her. She finished putting the last of her books into her locker and slung her bag over her shoulder. She could hardly look away from the text as she shut the metal door closed, typing a quick response to Bonnie in the meantime.

[text: 2:49pm] I will. Thx B. - Elena

It almost seemed too good to be true, and as Elena returned to her car, she allowed herself a brief moment to envision a happy ending where Bonnie's new plan would actually work and they'd kill Klaus. Stefan would return to her. The Originals would be gone. Her town would be safe. She'd live.

Still, after so many run-ins with the supernatural, she'd learned to keep a healthy dose of reality mixed in with her positivity. Every plan was sure to work until it wasn't, and unfortunately, the last few indeed hadn't. It wasn't her life she was so worried about saving, it was everybody else's. With Klaus gone, they would be safe. But while Bonnie searched for any answers she could find, putting in all this time and effort, Elena had to at least try.

The moment she arrived home, she called Bonnie.

"Hey Elena,"

"Hi Bonnie, you said you found something? What's going on?" Elena sat down onto her bed with a small sigh.

"Yes and no. It's more of a loophole than anything else." Bonnie seemed a bit unsure, which gave rise to uncertainty in Elena. She prepared herself. Nothing was out of the question anymore.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Like I said before, most of my grimoires don't go back far enough for the hybrid ritual, it's way too old. But I did find something in my oldest one, a description of it that included a word I've never seen before - virgino, in Latin."

Elena paused at that. She couldn't be hearing this correctly.

"As in...?"

"Yep. Virgin." Okay, so she had heard correctly.

"So what does that mean?"

“Elena, you don’t have to just be a doppelgänger… you have to be a virgin. So, theoretically, if you lost it, the ritual wouldn’t work.”

Elena's brows furrowed in confusion. She'd never heard that part of the ritual before. She wondered how accurate this description of the ritual could possibly be.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, but there’s a catch…” She heard Bonnie's voice grow more dim, and she knew it was nothing good.

“Of course there is. What is it, Bonnie?”

“Well... in order to ensure total loss of purity... it has to be with an Original.”

・❥・

“Thank you for meeting with me, Elijah.”

Elena’s fingers fidgeted around the coffee mug, her nails tracing over the width of it with anxiety. Elijah inclined his head politely, sitting opposite her at the Mystic Grill. It was far from a private place to speak, but Elena chose it for that very reason. Though the conversation was awkward at best, she didn’t know how she’d react if the two of them were alone. She didn’t even know how he’d react.

Despite all his wisdom, she knew he’d never guess why she’d asked to meet here.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Elena?”

He cut a handsome figure, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his shoulders with a matching black collared shirt underneath. The shirt opened at his throat and exposed the smallest peek of his clavicle. His hair was shorter now, brushed back and away from his face. A gold ring encircled one of his fingers. Noticing these details certainly wasn’t helping her nervousness. She swallowed the dryness in her throat at sound of the word pleasure.

Their “relationship” was built on shifting sands and she knew that, a tentative trust that both she and he tested the boundaries of. This would certainly cross the next three boundaries.

“Well, Bonnie was reading more into the hybrid ritual, trying to find a loophole. Trying to find our opportunity to kill Klaus.”

Elijah’s eyes searched hers but he said nothing in response, patiently waiting for her to continue. The words seem to spill out of her mouth as slowly as possible, yet her heart rammed in her rib cage. She was grateful he couldn't read her mind but doubtless he heard that at least.

What if he says no? How embarrassing would that be? And if it happened, how would she even explain to Stefan and Damon why suddenly the ritual wouldn’t work? Why it had to be Elijah?

“Yes.”

His smooth voice broke her from her reverie. She cleared her throat and tried again, taking another sip of her coffee. Matt had courteously slipped an extra something in her coffee when she’d asked, figuring even a drop of liquid courage would do her some good. It burned like a low ember in her stomach. Elijah’s tea stood in front of him, untouched.

“She found one other way that the ritual could be dismantled, apart from all the other options.” The other options being actually dying, becoming a vampire, etc. She’d gladly give her life if it meant her friends and town were safe, but killing Klaus would ensure safety forever. She had to at least try.

“Apparently, it’s not just the sacrifice of the doppelgänger… it’s the sacrifice of a virginal doppelgänger. So if the doppelgänger is no longer... you know, it won't work.”

Elijah’s brow furrowed, and she held some small victory in the fact that she was able to catch him so completely off guard. It made her feel less ridiculous in suggesting this, but also showed that not even the Originals knew all.

“But how can this be? I’ve never heard of such a requirement.”

“I guess it’s just one of the old failsafes from that era, tied in with the idea of innocence and purity in the face of…” She trailed off hesitantly.

“Evil.” He finished for her with a slow smile. She allowed herself a small smile in return.

When silence settled upon the conversation once more, Elijah took up the mantle, shifting to lean closer to her across the table. “And I assume you are a-“

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper but she knew he heard it loud and clear.

Elijah raised his brows in some surprise, a smirk crossing his lips for the briefest of flashes. His hands quickly moved the teacup to the side of the table, the drink long forgotten. His fingers tapped slowly at the wooden table in thought, and Elena took a small breath into her lungs and held it.

“Forgive me, but with both Salvatore’s at your heels, and if I recall their history with Katerina-“ Elijah’s palm turned upwards, his eyes casting downwards for a moment.

“I am not Katherine.”

Then his gaze flickered up to hers, amusement clear in his warm brown eyes. She thought she saw a small look of admiration somewhere in those eyes.

“No. You are certainly not, Elena.”

Elena took another sip of the coffee, begging for the alcohol to provide some inspiration. As it was, her words were failing her and they hadn’t even gotten to the brunt of it. Part of her hoped he’d ascertain it himself without her even needing to say it. Though she wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to hear he’d say it either. Elijah was a noble man, and he ensured any and all terms of a deal were clear. He was the key to their plan to kill Klaus, and innuendos would never do, not when there was so much on the line. Thankfully, he wasn’t one for vulgarity either.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, there’s only one thing left for you to do.” The amusement still never left Elijah’s eyes and it made her squirm in her chair. His gaze was so intent and heavy on her, his presence commanding. He was a man unlike she’d ever known. “But I’m assuming there’s a reason you called me here.”

"Yes." Here goes nothing. "The only way to ensure the total-“ she cleared her throat again. “-loss of purity is for it to be with an Original.”

Realization dawned on his features in the blink of an eye. Then, ever so slowly, she watched his face darken with something else. Her eyes dropped back to her fingers, nails digging into her nail beds. She wanted to disappear, to melt right into her chair.

“And further ensure the division of the family.” Elijah murmured. “If it can only be an Original, then only Niklaus’s own family can betray him.”

A small knot of fear tied itself in Elena’s stomach. If he refused, if he changed his mind about killing Klaus, all hope was lost. She tried her best to gauge his reaction, but he was unreadable at best, a stone statue at worst. Elijah never let his hand slip, and she could no more understand him than she could an ancient language.

Suddenly, her nerves got the better of her. The caffeine outweighed the alcohol, and she felt herself standing to her feet, grabbing her bag from the back of the chair.

“I’m sorry, this was a ridiculous idea. We’ll find another way-“ She took no more than a step away from the table, prepared to flee the building when she felt his hand take hers gently.

“Elena.”

He pulled on her hand slightly, just enough that she stepped back towards him and towards the table. Even in the smallest, most delicate of gestures, she felt his strength thrumming in his fingertips. She turned to face him, and he’d stood to his full height, his broad frame dwarfing hers.

It was then that she allowed herself the opportunity to even process what she was asking. She’d been so caught up in trying to kill Klaus, prevent any more innocent lives lost, that she hadn’t thought about what this would. mean. Her and Elijah. Together.

A flash of their bodies intertwining appeared in her mind, the heat of his hand on hers suddenly feeling like a searing flame on her skin. The knot of fear began to dissolve, and something else pooled in her lower stomach.

The same feeling she saw in his eyes just then.

Four little words, and despite herself, she felt her heart flutter.

“You have my word.”

・❥・

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Bonnie repeated for the fifth time that evening. Elena shot her a half annoyed glance, to which Bonnie grinned in response.

“I know.” Elena repeated for the sixth. All too well. Though she had a feeling she had no real idea.

Elena sat down into the bed with a quiet sigh. Bonnie had brought the grimoire where she found the loophole so Elena could see it for herself. Though her Latin was nonexistent, there was no denying that word. Virgin. She'd even brought a few extras she didn't have time to go through earlier in case they had any other information to offer. So far, nothing. The books shifted slightly towards Elena in their careful piles as her weight settled into the covers.

“What about Stefan? I thought you guys were waiting.”

The reminder of Stefan struck a chord in her heart, but one that had been struck too many times lately. She believed in her and Stefan’s love, but with him firmly in Klaus’s grasp, she could hardly recognize him. As it was, she had little time to wait.

“Stefan’s lost right now, Bonnie. And if this could get him away from Klaus and save his life, I’m going to try.”

“And Damon?” Bonnie offered quietly, with some note of derision in her voice. Elena knew how she felt about him, but there was also no denying Damon's obvious feelings for her, and how protective he'd become. It was almost too much to think about. Instead, she stood up and began aimlessly tidying the room, putting things away in random drawers. What does one do to prepare for this situation?

“He doesn’t know- he can’t know. He’ll lose it. He’ll say it’s a bad plan.” Along with a few choice words for Elijah and maybe a dagger dipped in white oak ash. Then they’d have no plan.

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s a good plan.” Bonnie responded sardonically.

Elena’s mouth dropped in fake disbelief as she put her diary away.

“This was your idea!”

“You’re the one going through with it! And I mean, Elijah? He’s kind of scary.”

“As opposed to who?” Elena responded with a mirthless laugh. “And he’s not that scary. He’s just… aristocratic."

“No? Oh.” Bonnie teased coyly. “I forgot how well you’re acquainted…" She cocked a brow at Elena's pattering around the room "Are you actually cleaning right now?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She admitted. “How does one seduce an Original?”

Bonnie started flipped some of the grimoires closed, and Elena looked up nervously at the clock. He would arrive in 30 minutes. Anticipation buzzed through her veins at the thought. Bonnie slid off the bed once the books allowed a path and stood in front of Elena, taking her hands in hers as a show of strength.

“I'm sorry, Elena, this is a big deal. Your first time but it comes with the caveat of saving your life and everybody else's. Not to mention it's happening with a thousand year old vampire. Just be your normal, charming self. This is a common interest of killing Klaus and nothing more.”

“Right,” Elena smiled. Nothing more. Right?

“But-“ Bonnie reached behind her and pulled one of the drawers she’d just shut open and retrieved her hair brush. With a shrug, she handed it to Elena. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Elena smirked and took the hairbrush from her hands, combing it through her locks gently.

・❥・

After Bonnie left, Elena paced for another ten minutes incessantly. She'd brushed her hair, done minimal makeup, but left herself in her usual outfit of jeans and a tank top. Anything else felt like it was trying too hard.

She sat down onto edge of the bed and glanced at her phone. A few messages from Damon and Caroline. Nothing from Stefan. She dropped the phone onto the bed and waited. With each passing minute, she felt her heart beginning to race faster and faster.

This is insane. How is this my life?

The fact that it was happening in her bedroom was even stranger. Elijah had been inside of her house before but this was something else entirely. He'd been perfectly gentlemanly in allowing her to choose the location, but there weren't many options. Elijah had no permanent domicile as of yet, and a hotel room felt too seedy, even the nicest one in town; though he'd even assured her he'd take care of the cost.

Only after she ensured Ric and Jeremy wouldn't be home did she suggest her place, a small level of familiarity in this situation. She wasn't afraid per se, but the way her body reacted to his was jarring. There was something deeply forbidden about it, and she couldn't help but be drawn to it. Being home would help ground her.

His knock came, short and sweet. Elena's heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she stood up and walked down the stairs to let him in. Her fingers curling around the knob, she took one more quiet breath. No going back now.

She opened the door to Elijah standing on her porch, clad in his usual tailored suit. The black fabric looked heavy and luxurious with the way it laid on his shoulders, accentuating his broad frame. The dark shirt he was wearing that afternoon was replaced with a crisp white one, and the tie he wore was black to match the jacket. There was stubble on his jaw, she noticed with a note of appreciation. It gave him a slightly more disheveled look than usual. Her nervousness began to melt away at the sight of his handsome face and his calm demeanour.

He was wearing the same gold ring as before, and she only noticed when she spotted the crimson red rose in his fingers. With a smile, he extended it to her. "Elena."

"Elijah." Elena reached out and took the rose from his hands, giving a slight smirk. "A flower. Very symbolic of you."

Elijah let out a quiet laugh. "I assure you, I meant no such innuendo. It didn't seem right to come without a gift."

"Well, it's beautiful. Please come in."

He stepped in as invited and she shut the door behind him. Now that they were well and truly alone, her heart picked up the pace once more, but she busied her fingers with the stem of the rose so as not to betray it. The man was a thousand years old and undoubtedly had known countless women. Her experience to his could not pale more in comparison. "I'm sorry, this is a bit... overwhelming."

"Undoubtedly."

Elijah stepped towards her slowly, closing the distance between them more than they ever had before. Elena stared upwards at him, her eyes barely at the level of his lips. His gaze was compelling but warm as it fell upon her, and she felt a breath hitch in her lungs at the nearness of him. "I want to make this experience comfortable for you, Elena. Your terms."

Elena nodded slowly, swallowing back her saliva. "Should we go upstairs?"

Elijah inclined his head with a small smile to which Elena smiled back. As intimidating as he could be, he was trying to put her at ease, and she appreciated it. She led the way up the stairs and to her bedroom, Elijah trailing behind. Once upstairs, she placed the rose delicately on the top of the dresser and then turned to face him.

Elijah looked incredibly out of place in her bedroom. Finely dressed and with an air of sophistication only a thousand years on earth could garner, he was like an ancient relic pulled straight from the history books. He looked better suited to a battlefield than a modern-day bedroom. But if he was ill at ease, he certainly never showed it.

His eyes met hers again and Elena's stomach flip-flopped. He had barely even touched her yet, and she was already reacting so viscerally to the vampire in front of her. Again, snapshots of their bodies entwining flashed in her mind like a promise of what was to come. Amusement crossed his chiseled features and he raised a hand to gently place his thumb and forefinger on her chin. "I can hear your heart beating, Elena."

Beating was an understatement. It felt like it was about to pop out of her chest. His touch on her face certainly wasn't helping that matter.

"Are you nervous?"

She thought before answering, their eyes searching each other, trying to gauge the other's feelings. But despite what she'd initially thought... she wasn't. Excitement thrummed within her, her arousal beginning to simmer at the seductive way he seemed to be looking down at her. He knew exactly what kind of power he held, and he enjoyed it. It was unnerving, but it was thrilling.

"No."

"Good. I want you to enjoy yourself, Elena. To let go and give in." To me, his eyes seemed to say. Give in to me completely. She managed a nod but found that words had escaped her completely. Was he moving in closer?

His fingers never dropped from her chin and she had nowhere to look but directly at him. Warmth bloomed from inside her stomach, her body signalling just how much she wanted to give in.

Using his other hand, he lifted a single finger to trace over the curvature of her neck, beginning from her collarbone all the way up to where her jaw began. His finger pressed just so behind her jawbone where her pulse was strongest, and she felt her blood sing in response to him.

"I meant what I said. Your terms. You're in complete control."

"I know..." Closer still. Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart.

"Yes?" She could feel the smile in his lips.

"Yes."

His lips met with hers and she felt herself crumble. His kiss was as captivating as she could've imagined, without a trace of insistence. He was telling the truth; the pace was in her hands. At first, shyness won out. Elena returned the kiss slowly at first, but as her lips deepened, so did his.

His hand had fallen from her face and instead, he pressed his palm to to her mid-back. It dipped no lower. Ever the gentleman, she thought, unable to supress the smile between their kiss.

He seemed to sense her amusement because his hand fell lower not a moment later, placing itself into the small of her back. He pressed her body closer to his, her chest landing flush with his as though he were challenging her.

Something sparked within Elena as the warmth of Elijah's hand spread through her hips. A need to know, a need to discover. She found the courage to touch him back, raising her hands to slip over his shoulders, fingers delicately tracing over the back of his neck. The fabric of his suit was soft to the touch, his skin softer still.

She'd done some things with Matt and Stefan before, but with Elijah, it felt as though she knew nothing at all. In this, she wanted him to take the lead. It seemed he intended to to some degree as both of his hands came down to her waist, the large expanse of his hands burning through her shirt. Desire began to take over, and their kisses grew deeper still. She ran her fingernails along the nape of his neck, coming down to scratch over his shoulders.

His hands pressed into her hips again before he broke the kiss. Elena felt how flushed she was, cheeks pink and lips swollen from his amorousness. She saw a muscle work in his jaw and he regarded her with half-lidded eyes. He raised a graceful hand and indicated towards the bed with a half-smirk.

"Please."

Elena pulled herself away from Elijah and obeyed, sitting on the side of the bed before lying down. Not once did she look away from him as he shrugged his jacket off, then loosened the knot of his tie. Desire pooled in the deepest parts of her at the sign of him so untidy. He looked like every woman's dream as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and rolled them up slowly, exposing tanned forearms corded with lean muscle.

He returned to her, eyes appreciatively slipping from her neck downwards to her chest and her hips. "Good girl."

Slowly, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss again, his arms on either side of her head. The night had fallen in earnest now, the single lamp she left on providing a faint warm glow in the room. Elijah’s body swallowed her, the broadness of his shoulders and the dimness of the room entombed her in what felt like an eternity of him.

Elena reached up and twirled her fingers around his tie, giving an experimental tug to pull him down closer to her. He chuckled against her mouth and she did it again, pleased with the way his weight settling on her felt.

"Not that good." She whispered against his mouth.

"No? Show me."

Passion reignited, his mouth was suddenly everywhere. On hers, trailing kisses along her jaw, her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts. When his mouth stopped where her shirt ended, his fingers tugged upwards at the bottom of it, and she broke the kiss to pull it over her head.

With practiced ease, he unbuttoned her jeans and began to tug them down. She sat up slightly to help pull them off, then fell back in only her bra and underwear. Just before he could continue, she reached for one of his hands and tentatively placed it between her legs. Elijah raised his brows at her but acquiesced.

One arm outstretched between her thighs, the other bent as he hovered over her, he gazed down at her with darkened eyes. "I think you'll be good for me."

Elena's breathing pitched into a soft moan as she felt Elijah's fingers press against her underwear. Moving softly but with intent, his index and middle finger rubbed upwards, careful to barely brush against her covered clit, just where she needed him most. Her hips shifted at the pleasure, lips parting as another moan escaped her lips. His fingers were trained and precise.

"Won't you?" He asked, and she could hardly piece together a sentence. His voice was deep enough it reverberated in her chest. She felt herself growing wetter and she knew he could feel it too.

"Yes, Elijah."

"Mm."

She reached for his tie again to pull him down into another kiss. In the meantime, his fingers brushed the edge of her underwear aside and as his fingers slipped against her pussy, she gasped into his mouth. Finally, after a few moments, his fingers slowly came to her clit, and she felt every nerve sizzle in her body at the feeling.

He pressed another kiss to her lips as his fingers slowly slipped inside of her, and she suppressed another moan into his mouth. They moved slowly, collecting her wetness and teasing her. Her hips bucked lightly, chasing the feeling.

"So innocent... What do you want, Elena?" His fingers paused over her clit and she let out a soft whine at the cessation.

"I want you to touch me, Elijah. Please."

His touch felt like electricity as his fingers returned to run against her clit, and her body tensed as the pleasure swam through her. She already felt spent and yet he was still fully clothed.

Her hands reached for his shirt, but his hands captured hers before she could even the score. "Not yet. Not until I think you've had enough."

Her head and shoulders fell back onto the bed as his fingers picked up their pace. He alternated between slipping inside of her and pressing his thumb against her clit, until the energy building inside of her threatened to spill over. Her hands found his shoulders and her fingernails dug into his shirt at the pleasure, brow creasing as it threatened to overtake her.

Finally, with one last roll of his fingers, she felt the wave crash into her, sending ripples of sparks down to her very fingers and toes. If he were a mortal man, the grip she had on his body would've left marks. Elijah's mouth swallowed the last of the moans escaping from Elena's lips as his fingers rode out her orgasm, his thumb occasionally brushing against her sensitive clit, causing her to jump.

"I like the sight of you like this, sweet Elena. Undone, writhing. Your pleasure in my hands."

"And yours in mine." She panted.

Elena pushed up on Elijah's shoulders and he allowed it, the positions reversing until she straddled his hips. His hands came up to her waist, gripping it as she slowly rolled them over his. His desire was evident in the bulge of his pants, and it gave her immense satisfaction to know she had the same effect that he did on her.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt, unbuttoning while pressing her hand against the outline of him. He released a quiet groan at the feeling of her touch, and she wanted to hear more. His fingers came away from her hips to divest himself of his tie properly, slipping the satin from around his neck.

She slid from off his hips and stood at the foot of the bed, leaning over to tug him towards her by the loop of his trousers. He stood, his shirt half unbuttoned and creased, and his belt hanging around his hips. Elena felt herself grow wetter as she sank to her knees in front of him, and he watched with dark eyes as she began to pull his trousers and underwear down, just low enough to release his cock.

He was long and thick in her hand, and his head fell back as she leaned forward and licked a trail from shaft to tip. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, licking and sucking his heavy length until she could take him no more.

A deep growl emanated from Elijah’s chest, his hand coming up to rest against the back of her head. He let her set the pace, but his fingers knotted themselves in her hair as she swirled her tongue around his tip, tasting every last inch of him.

“You wicked little thing.” He sighed, his jaw clenching and his muscle tensing. She could see he desperately wanted to move his hips, but stayed in full control as she pressed him deeper into her mouth.

She placed her hands on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his trousers to give herself more balance, and she felt his fingers brush the hair away from her face and behind her ear before lightly collecting it into his grip. The small gesture made her heart skip as she set a quick rhythm.

He groaned again in pleasure, allowing himself a few more moments before delicately tugging on her hair to bring her back up to standing position. In a flash, the moment she stood, he had her trapped against the wall, his chest pressing into her shoulder blades. Her fingers bent and scratched against the wall, seeking purchase as her lungs seemed to give out. His scent enveloped her. His mouth was hot against her ear.

“So innocent and yet so wicked. So ready to be defiled. Will you give into me, Elena?” Give in, her mind whispered.

She found herself pushing back against the wall to be closer to him, the outline of his body providing delicious heat against hers. She felt his strength emanating from every muscle, both hands pressed on either side of her. Using one hand, he tilted her jaw until her neck was exposed to him. For a moment, she thought he would drink from her, but instead, he placed gentle half-kiss-half-bites along the slope of her neck. His hand then dipped to her back where he quickly unhooked her bra and slipped it off her shoulders. Her underwear was tugged down until it fell. Goosebumps rose all over her skin at the thought of being fully naked in front of Elijah Mikaelson.

“I want to give in, Elijah. Give me all of you.”

Her back was pressed into the mattress before she realized, her body softly settling on the bed. Elijah undid the last of the buttons on his shirt and pulled off his trousers.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, his hand coming up to cup her breast, thumb tracing over her pebbled nipple. Elena sighed at the feeling.

Elijah’s body was just as beautiful, she thought. The expanse of his chest was strong, his abdomen and arms both lean with taut muscle. A deep V-line followed into his hips, his cock erect.

Just as their lips moved to reconnect, Elena’s eyes met his again. Suddenly, this became more than just breaking a ritual. Both were entrenched in their desire, desperate to for release in the other’s body. Nervousness bubbled up inside of her again as she realized it was time. Everything else she had done before, but not this. She knew generally what to expect of sex, but certainly not when it came to a thousand year old vampire being her first.

“I’ll be gentle.”

Elena nodded at his kind words, fingers reaching up to his shoulders again. He balanced on one arm as the other reached out to touch her slick heat, and instantly, she felt the unreleased desire come flooding back. Satisfied, Elijah slowly guided himself between her legs.

Her chest arched upwards at the feeling. Heat spread from her hips as her pussy stretched to accommodate his length. True to his word, he moved slowly as he rolled his hips towards her, sinking deeper into her with every breath. She could feel him gauging her reaction and moving only so long as she allowed it.

Elena felt as though she might burst from the feeling, her breathing devolving into moans as he settled himself to the hilt inside of her. One of her legs was bent, the other laid straight, and one of his hands gripped her thigh as he used the other to balance himself over her, watching her face.

Once the burn of the stretch passed, pleasure began to trickle in. He felt immense inside of her, overwhelming in every aspect of his body as he stilled his hips against hers.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes- yes.” Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Does it feel good, Elena?”

He slowly rolled his hips back and she let out an involuntarily moan at the feeling of him moving inside of her. When he rolled his hips forward again, pleasure erupted from within her, and her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders.

“Yes, yes!“

Elijah pressed a kiss to her lips, and obeyed. He set a slow but sensual rhythm to his hips as he moved in and out of her with deliberate care. Any discomfort long forgotten, Elena felt her own hips moving in tandem, hissing in delight at the friction their hips created.

He chuckled at her reaction. “So good for me.”

The praise was like an extra douse of kerosene to the flame.

“Please, Elijah- more.”

“More what? Hm?”

All the while, he never stopped moving, his hips picking up a faster pace. In that moment, the hand resting on her thigh slipped between their two entwined bodies. His fingers immediately located her clit, and the combination of him pumping in and out of her, and his thumb pad rolling against her clit, her moan nearly turned into a scream. She could hardly think past her own name.

“Use your words, Elena. Tell me what you want.”

But she couldn’t. Her body shook with pleasure, her nails digging crescent shaped impressions into his skin.

“I’m so close, please…”

His fingers and hips slowed down ever so slightly, and she whined at the feeling of her release slowly ebbing away.

“Do you want more?” He asked again.

“Yes.” Her voice was thick with desperation. All she could think about was the way his hips moved in between her thighs. The length of him hit all of the most inner parts, sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine. She wanted more of anything he would give her.

He slowly pulled out of her, releasing his grip on her and flipped their positions once more. He kneeled behind her on the bed while she lay flat on her stomach, then he slowly moved until his body hovered over hers.

She pressed her thighs together, trying to gain back some friction, frustrated at the loss of him. She felt him press a kiss to her shoulder blade and in the same moment, he lifted her hips and slowly slid back into her.

She gasped at the feeling, her hips rising to meet his, and he settled back onto his knees, gripping her hips as he set a quicker pace. She felt herself dripping between her thighs, moans slipping past her lips as Elijah thrusted in and out.

She was desperate for release, and as his hips stuttered a bit, she knew he was too. He reached forward for her, pulling her back towards him until her back was pressed to his chest once more. One arm encircled her waist while the other hand reached for her clit. She nearly folded at the feeling, but his arm kept her to him, and suddenly she was right at the precipice of her release once more.

“Will you be good for me, Elena?”

She managed a nod, fingers digging into his forearm. His cock and fingers were relentless against her, and she felt like she was about to scream.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Elijah, I’m so- so close.”

“So good...” He murmured. “Cum for me.”

The pleasure erupted inside of her, her hips stuttering and her pussy clenching around him as she reached the brink of orgasm. Elijah groaned at the feeling of her coming undone around him, his hand falling away from her clit. He gripped her to him and thrusted inside of her a handful more times before spilling inside of her. Elena relished in the feeling of him in those last moments before he released her.

It was done.

Elena collapsed onto the bed with Elijah close by, unable to move, to think, even to breathe. He shifted himself over so as not to crush her, the pair panting deeply in the thralls of their desire.

The phrase total loss of purity echoed in her mind as she opened her eyes and looked upon Elijah. The shameless way she begged for him, the way her hips moved in search of him. She had corrupted herself entirely. Defiled by an Original.

In more ways than one, they were linked together forever.

After a minute, their breathing settled into silence.

“Do you think it’ll work?” She whispered.

Elijah looked over at her, sitting up slightly. He raised a hand to gently move one of the strands of her hair away from her face. It felt as intimate as anything they'd just done. The heat having died down between them, there was nothing left to do but face the music.

"I have long learned to keep hope at bay whenever Niklaus is involved."

Elena nodded. Of course he was right, but she tried not to look too concerned. He seemed to notice.

"I hope you don't regret this night too deeply if it does not. I recognize what a sacrifice this must've been for you."

Elena shook her head, mirroring him as she slowly sat up as well.

"I don't regret it, Elijah."

He smiled softly, and she returned it.

"Neither do I."

・❥・

The next morning after Elijah left, Damon arrived at her house. She could tell he was relieved that she was indeed alive, but simultaneously annoyed at having been ignored. He wore his usual leather jacket, black jeans and boots, with a few strands of black hair falling into his eyes. She couldn't help but compare the two men that were at her door just a few hours apart. A leather jacket and a suit.

"Oh good, you're still standing. Would've been nice to know." He raised his cellphone up as he crossed the threshold. "You know these nifty little things called cellphones? I called like three times."

She'd passed out almost immediately after Elijah had left, though she'd only been able to sleep a few hours before she couldn't ignore Damon any longer.

"Sorry, I just fell asleep. Bonnie and I were going through some old grimoires trying to find something." I hope that's convincing enough. She'd even made sure to shower and change after Elijah had left, not wanting Damon to risk sensing anything had been awry. She led him upstairs back up to her bedroom, desperate to go back to sleep.

"And? Did our witchy encyclopedia find anything?"

"She did, actually."

"Mhm. I bet."

Elena looked over at Damon with a raised brow at his suspicion and he met it with a smirk.

"You hatched a plan, didn't you?" He did the eye thing. Elena blinked and turned away, giving a noncommittal shrug.

"Not really. It was barely a plan."

"Fine, don't tell me." Damon closed the space between them with a single stride until he was looking down at Elena. He gave another smirk. "Just promise me it wasn't anything stupid."

Elena smiled. "You have my w- I mean, I promise."

Damon nodded once, then reached over her shoulder to grab something from her dresser. Elena's heart dropped when Elijah's red rose came into view. Damon twirled it between his fingers with narrowed eyes and a crooked smile.

"What's this, then?"

・❥・

Fin.

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries fic #tvd fic #tvd fanfic #elijah mikaelson #elena gilbert #elejah #elena x elijah #tvd smut #elijah mikaelson x elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson smut #elena gilbert smut #tvd au #tvd au fic #tvd smut au

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purpleyoonn · 2 years

Text

My Mate

Summary: Your village was surrounded by a never-ending forest. Every 20 years, for as long as the village people could remember, offerings were held for the beast who roamed the forest. It was the only way your village could remain safe. This times offering, you were one of the women being offered up to the beast. You only hoped that you could make it out alive.

Pairing: Werewolf Jungkook x Human Sacrifice reader

Genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, werewolf au, angst, bts au, medieval fantasy au,

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: not much, drug concoction, slight drugging, some minor violence, normal medieval female treatment, mentions of sacrifice, mentions of death, mentions of kidnapping, protective Jungkook, possessive Jungkook, shitty villagers, women trying to fight back, mc not being able to fight back, weird mate rituals,

Masterlist // Navigation

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The morning light had just began to creep over the tree line on the edge of your village. You lived in a quiet village, one where everyone knew everyone and the peace between families was always kept. Your own family resided close to the edge of the forest, surrounded by a small field your family used for farming. You produced most of the vegetables for the town.

Unfortunately, it was your job to take care of most of the crops, your elder brother out of town right now. He was out looking for an “appropriate wife”, not that you thought anyone fit that title.

As the second eldest, it was your responsibility to take on your brother, Jacob’s, jobs. You knew you would be next though, your father and mother already trying to make matches for you with men from your village.

You hated all of the men in town, thinking they were all pig-headed and stupid. You would rather be taken by the beast then marry anyone in town. Which is precisely why your bother left for neighboring towns, not liking any of the females here, either.

Every 23 years, the young maidens in town were wrangled up and tied to trees in the middle of the forest as tribute to the beast who lived in the forest. It was the hope that by providing him with a mate, he would leave your village alone.

For seven days, a group of maidens would be blindfolded, dressed in white gowns, and tied to trees like pigs for slaughter. If no maiden was taken, it would continue on until someone was. Usually, a maiden was taken within the first two nights, leaving the others safe and the seven days of terror would seize.

This year, it would be your first time in the sacrifice. You refused to call it anything else. The entire idea of tying girls up to a tree, waiting for a beast to take them…was a sacrifice. Your mother hadn’t participated in the last one but had told you stories of it growing up. She had known you would be involved with the next one, had known as soon as she became pregnant with you that you fit the timeline and age requirements.

You had just had your nineteenth spring, which meant you would be a part of the maidens who would be brought into the woods. Like many of the other women in town, everyone was preparing for the next seven days when their daughters and sisters would be dragged to their probable deaths.

Your mother had told of her own time, watching as her best friend was dragged from her home, stripped naked and placed in a white dress before being blindfolded and dragged into the woods. Another girl had been found to be unvirtuous, thus leading to a girl from the next group to be brought out.

“I had tried to stop them, tried to take their arms off of her but my father had held me back.” Your mother brushed your hair back as she spoke, her words wrapping around you like a cocoon, keeping you entranced.

“I had to watch as she pleaded for help, while no one moved but me.”

You swore you would fight back if you were to be taken, would do anything you could to keep your life. It seemed all of the women being prepared for the beast felt the same way, each of us meeting in secret for defence lessons from our brothers. Jacob had even given me a dagger for my last birthday, claiming it was pure silver, something that would kill any beast that came my way.

And it seemed the beast would be coming your way soon, no matter how hard you fought.

Your mother had tried to keep you in the field as long as she could, but when it came time to get ready, the town’s elders had different ideas. You had tried to fight, to injure the people sent to gather you, but they had a different plan.

It seemed as though the elders had learnt from the last virgin sacrifice and had made sleeping potions for the maidens to drink. As soon as they entered your home to take you, your mother had pushed them back, not wanting you to go through what her best friend did. When they threw her to the ground, that’s when you got angry. Your vision went red ss you through yourself at the closest man, going straight for their neck as he tried to steady himself against your weight.

When the second man, the one who pushed your mother, came over, he grabbed you by your hair and pulled you off the man. You were quick though, thanks to your brother and his friends, and was able to grab your dagger from the folds of your dress and stab him in the leg. He screamed out and let you go, giving you the opportunity to help your mother up from her place on the floor.

This gave you the disadvantage, your back to them as the lunged for you once you helped your mother up. They grabbed your arms and held them behind your back, your shoulder aching as you were maneuvered into a standing position.

“Stop, please! She isn’t a danger.” Your mother pleaded with them as you tried to thrash in place, hoping their grip on you would loosen enough where you could get away. The one man was quick though, his hands moving fast as he uncorked the potion and shoved it down your throat, his grip on your jaw harsh as he held your head in place.

Your vision quickly became blurry as the strength slowly fell from your muscles, your limbs falling to your side as you lost your footing. You could hear your mother and younger sister screaming for you as you fell into the men’s arms, their bodies moving to hoist you up so they could carry you out.

The last thing you remember was your father moving to hold your mother back from coming after you before you felt cold and your vision went black.

-*-*-

Your head was pounding, and the sobs coming from around you weren’t helping. It took you a couple minutes to open your eyes, but when you did you realized your situation. You were tied to one of the big oak trees in the forest, the village leaders having already left for the town.

It was past nightfall, and you could tell that it wouldn’t be too long until the dreaded beast came for his sacrifice. You couldn’t see much, but you could recognize the white dresses the others were also in. You could only see three girls from where you were tied, none that you could recognize in the dark.

They were all crying, fighting against their restraints. You would be too if you hadn’t of felt how well the leaders had ties your bounds. Ignoring them, you looked around, trying to see if you could see the moon through the tree line. If you could see how high the moon sat in the sky, you could figure out what time it was.

A sharp cry had you trying to turn your head, the trunk in your way as your skin rubbed itself raw. A low growl followed the cry, before others started crying out as well. None of the cries were ones of pain, giving you some hope that no one had been hurt yet.

You could hear the beast’s footsteps, gradually getting louder and more forceful as he moved from tree to tree, as if on a purposeful hunt. It seemed to be searching for something, the cries dying out as the beast walked away from each trunk.

You remained quiet, listening for any sign of him getting closer to you, you eye catching with the girl across from you. You watcher her eyes, looking for any sign that she could see the beast. It took only a couple of minutes, heavy breathing and low growls filling the silence before her eyes widened and her chest started moving quicker.

The beast was close now, you thought. Their footsteps now sounding as if they were in your ear, adjacent to the sound of your heart echoing in your throat. You could hear the beast sniffing, taking in deep breaths as he moved, using his sense of smell to find his victim for the night.

Vibrations could be felt from the trunk you were tied to, his claws digging into the trunk and moving until he was right by your ear. You could see the blatant fear in the woman’s eyes, her tears being lit by the moon as they fell down her cheeks. She cried out for you, but her words were drowned out by the feeling of the beast’s nose at your throat.

You held your breath as the beast brought his face closer, taking in a deep breath as he brushed his nose against the expanse of your neck. You tried turning your head away but his… hand held your jaw in place.

The beast was a human? You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, your fear quickly turning into terror as the thought of a human causing so much fear in your village’s hearts.

“Shhhhh. Don’t cry mate.” The beast spoke up, his voice was low and rough as he spoke in your ear. His finger’s trailed a path down your jaw and neck, hoping to calm you down.

Jungkook couldn’t believe he had found his mate. The lavender scent had been drawing him in for weeks now, but his father had made him wait, claiming the moon goddess would bring you to him during the ritual. That your scent was only coming to him so he knew how to find you.

Jungkook moved away from your decadent scent and stood in front of you, your eyes shut as you tried to push yourself further into the rough bark. He roamed over you, watching the way your dress fluttered and flowed against your thighs. He searched for any indication that you were hurt, his nose picking up on the scent of your blood.

He growled again when he didn’t see anything, moving around the trunk to where your hands were tied. He snarled at the sight of your wrists, blood dripping down onto the bark from where you were subconsciously fighting against the rope, your skin rubbed raw.

“Don’t worry mate, I won’t let them hurt you again.” He growled out, his anger at the villagers growing as he cut the rope with his claws. He moved quickly to catch you, your legs succumbing under your weight.

Jungkook brought you into his chest, holding you close as he stood up. You tried to push him away, but your strength was still depleted from whatever concoction they had forced down your throat. You let out a small whimper when he started moving, further into the forest and away from the others, still tied to their trees.

Hearing your whimpers, Jungkook began to run, hoping to get home to his den so he could properly take care of you. He didn’t want your wrists to get infected, and he wanted to make sure you had no other wounds.

“please” you murmured, your speech slurred from the damn concoction. Your mind was clear but it seemed your body was still fighting.

“We are almost home, my mate. Do not worry.” He pleaded with you, hoping that you would stay awake. He didn’t know what the village gave its sacrifices, and neither did his father. They first used it on his mother, and she never remembered if they said anything about it. But it worried him, how limp your body seemed, how out of it your mind appeared.

Only minutes passed before he made it back to his pack, everyone asleep as they waited patiently for him to bring their Luna home. He moved quickly, weaving in and out of cabins before coming upon his own, prepared and ready for your arrival.

Opening the door, Jungkook moved quickly, placing you in the nest he spent hours making for you, the furs and blankets perfect for your soft skin. He wanted it to be warm enough, to bring you enough comfort as you adjusted to pack life.

The man left you in the pile of blankets and furs before moving to a chest on the other side of the room, grabbing something out of it before returning to you. You could do nothing but try to protest as he undressed you and put a large shirt over your body before doing the same to himself. He wore only pants as he moved in behind you.

You cried quietly as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his chest, the warmth coming from him had you squirming in unwanted comfort. You felt safe with the beast, and you hated it. You tried to move away from him but he held onto your wrists, bringing one up to his lips before he started to lick at your wounds.

“what..?” you tried to speak but he only cooed at you, his eyes softening as he looked down at you.

“I’m only trying to clean your wounds, baby. Don’t want them to get infected.” He placed a kiss on your palm before licking at your wounds again. Despite the weirdness of the situation, and the fear you still felt, you could feel your core start to warm, the tingles moving down your spine with every touch of his tongue against your skin.

Jungkook could smell your arousal, his eyebrow quirking as he noticed your thighs clenching together. The hand that wasn’t holding your wrist to his mouth moved slowly until he was cupping your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing the top of your uncovered skin.

“I promise I’ll take care of you, my mate. Just let me clean your wounds first.” His voice was raspy with lust, happy and pleased you were now feeling the effects of the bond. He knew you would eventually.

His words had you turning your head away from him, your eyes now looking around the room he brought you into. It seemed he put you in the bed, as it was the only thing that closely resembled one.

Next to you, a couple of feet away was a small table with two chairs, and behind that was a small kitchen. In front of you, by the door that he brought you through, was a large comfy chair, along with even more blankets. A chest sat against the wall, the same one where you now knew the clothes were held.

“I’m glad you like it. The second I sensed you I began to prepare our nest. I wanted to make it warm and comfy for you.” He had finally finished “cleaning” your wounds, his arms now holding you flush against him as his hand continued to rub at your thigh.

“I’m glad I found you, my beautiful mate.” His lips whispered against your ear, capturing your lobe in between his teeth as he finished. His hand moved the shirt up to your stomach before his hand began to trail closer to your core, your breath hitching at the feeling of tingles crawling across your skin.

#bts #bts au #bts jungkook #bts jungkook au #bts werewolf #bts werewolf au #werewolf jungkook #protective jungkook #werewolf mate #bts jungkook one shot #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader

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wandering-winchesters · 1 year

Text

Tragedy

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3,626 Summary: The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured. Trigger Warnings: injury, firearms, blood, death. SPN level violence Requested: No A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I had fun writing it. Please let me know what you think. :)

Masterlist

I let out a sigh, tossing my laptop onto the motel bed, frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. I had spent the last several hours searching through local records, looking for any deaths that fit the profile of the ghosty murderer floating around town, but nothing lined up. I wished Sam was here, he would’ve been incredibly helpful searching for an answer. But I had split off from them a couple weeks ago, returning to solo hunts, like the old days. They had both argued with me, tried to convince me to stay with them., but I had insisted on going off on my own again. I had to prove to myself that I still could, I felt as if I was slipping into a pit of dependance and a lack of self sufficiency.

I had spent the last six months hunting with the two Winchester boys, helping them tackle numerous cases, which was nice. However, it terrified me how comfortable I was around them, I had told myself that I wouldn’t ever get too close to someone ever again. But with them, it was too easy to fall into comfortable dependency. Especially Dean. God, Dean Winchester. His eyes could pierce my soul if I let them, they appeal to me like a siren appeals to helpless sailors. I couldn’t resist him when I was around him, causing me to make stupid choices, I went with his gut over my own and it left me feeling helpless. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t doing anything intentionally, I just couldn’t help but fall further in love with the green eyed hunter every moment I spent with him. Which is exactly why I left, love had never come easy for me. I had lost my parents as a teenager and branched off on my own, evading the torment that would have greeted me had I gone to live with my Uncle. I never went to college, I hunted. Yet while on one of those hunts, I met Ian. Ian had been the love of my life, before he met an unfortunate end in a terrible car accident, eerily similar to the way my parents died. Death, followed me and those that I let in and loved.

So I had sworn off love, friendship and anything else that let people into my life. That was until the two Winchesters had busted down the door to the old house, guns drawn, expecting to find me in the captivity of a werewolf den. Instead, they found me. My own weapon drawn, the body of a dead werewolf at my feet. I wish I had been recording that moment, the looks on their faces were utterly priceless. I had agreed to help them on one more hunt, that turned into three, which turned into six months worth. I was getting too comfortable and I just had to get out. That’s how I wound up alone in this motel, attempting to crack the case in this podunk town. I laid down on the musty motel bed, pushing my laptop onto the far side and leaving enough room for me to lay down. I stare at the cracks in the ceiling, following the trail they make and trying to distinguish where one starts and another one ends. Then it hits me, I have been looking in the wrong place this whole time. All of the deaths had occurred at the local bar and I had assumed it was a vengeful spirit, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was a, shit- what are they called? I grab my laptop hurriedly pulling up the lore I had been reading earlier, my eyes scanning the words quickly, skimming until I land on what I was looking for. A wraith. They had all died under mysterious circumstances, but they all had the same wound on their forehead. A small, circular incision. It had to be a wraith, but who was it? There was one bartender, he was my number one suspect. I glance at the clock, it’s not too late to go now. I ensure it is loaded with silver bullets before I tuck my gun into the holster, placing it at the small of my back and covering it with my leather jacket. I glance around my room once more making sure that I am not leaving anything behind. I send Sam a quick text, updating him as to my suspicions, he had texted me earlier in the day just checking in with me, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep him updated.

The drive to the small little dive bar was short and uneventful. I checked to make sure my gun was still in place as I opened the door to the interior, the hinges in need of help judging by the loud shriek of protest they gave off as I opened it. I take in my surroundings, making note of the few people inside the bar. There were five, the bartender and four other customers not including myself. The bartender glances my way, gesturing that I can sit anywhere, he’s an unassuming man. His hair neat and well groomed, yet everything else about him is a mystery, we’ll call him blondie. I take a seat at the corner of the bar, my back to a wall and my field of view encompassing the majority of the room.

“What can I get you?” He asks, setting a coaster down in front of me. I consider him carefully, trying to determine if he was a threat. I order a beer and a water, fully prepared to sit back and wait everyone else out. The television is the loudest sound in the bar, conversations around me hushed and sparse. Most people too focused on their drinks or the television to be deep in conversation. That’s how the next hour goes, I sip my beer and observe the people around me, watching and waiting. I pull out my phone and see a text and a missed call.

-Missed call, 9:53 P.M. Sam Winchester

-10:13 P.M., From Dean Winchester- Sammy said you found a wraith? Want some backup? They can be tricky bastards.

An unconscious smile pricks my lips, the concern in his text obvious. I respond with a brief thanks, but no thanks and send Sammy another text asking if everything is okay.

A few of the other people in the room had left by this point, leaving just myself, the blonde man behind the bar and one other guy, who appeared to be in his mid thirties. I drained the last sip of my beer, setting the bottle down on the surface of the bar. I rolled my shoulders back, my upper back starting to ache from the lack of support provided by the stool that I had been sitting on for the last while. I am taken aback by another beer being set down in front of me, I hadn’t ordered it. The confusion must be clear on my face, because the bar tender gestures to the man a few seats away from me. “It’s from him.” Blondie says, a small smile pulling at his features, which confuses me further. I glance once more to the one other customer in the bar and I find his eyes are already fixed on me, dark and focused.

“Thanks.” I mutter, raising my beer towards him, suspicion heavy in my voice. For whatever reason, this rubs me the wrong way. The environment in the room had changed and every bone in my body was screaming danger. My gut said this was about to get bad.

“I figured you deserved another beer before you meet your accidental death. We knew you were a hunter from the second you pulled into town. It’s a pity, you’re too pretty to die this young. Too bad.” His words hit me like a brick to the face, my eyes close and I take a deep breath. This was it, it wasn’t one wraith it was two. In that moment, I regretted leaving the safety of numbers. Had Sam and Dean been here, it would’ve been three to two. Not two to one, with me on the losing team. I blink once more, taking one more deep breath, the kind that makes your lungs scream from too much oxygen and I hurl my beer bottle at the bartenders head. This action buying me a few seconds, enough to get off the stool and anchor my feet on the old wooden floor. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough. Blondie had stumbled back from the impact of my beer smacking off the side of his head, however that had given the other wraith the opportunity to close the distance between us. His fist collided with the corner of my jaw he then proceeded to throw me into the hard surface of the bar. I grunt, the sheer force that he had thrown me with enough to knock the air out of my lungs. This hunt was about to go down terribly, I could handle one wraith on my own, but two? I don’t know if I could manage to take out both of them. I can already feel the throbbing in my jaw from his blow and I am dreading how I will feel in the morning, if I make it to the morning. I rest my elbows on the bar top, using my momentum to kick my feet into his chest and send him flying backwards. I use the gap I have created to pull my gun from the waistband of my pants, aim and fire a silver bullet right between his eyes. He drops, dead weight.

“NO! You’re going to pay for that, you bitch!” Blondie yells, his eyes trained on his friend who had just fallen, dead, to the floor of the bar. I turn to face him, my gun pointed directly at him. He snarls, his attention turned towards me. For whatever reason, I hesitate, my finger doesn’t pull the trigger and I don’t end him. A complete mistake, he closes the distance between us faster than I can comprehend and sends my gun clattering to the floor. His hands shoving me backwards, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. It happens in a matter of seconds, seconds I cannot even process. My gun is no longer in my hands, but it is clutched in his grip. He points it towards me and fires, it hits me directly in the side. A scream leaves my lips, but I don’t have time to process what just happened because his body is now on top of mine, his anger clear and pulsating through him. My hands come up to defend my face, pushing him away with all of my strength, but he is stronger. I wrap my fingers around his wrist, knowing what is to follow. The spike in his wrist is already extended and it is clear that he intends to send it straight through my skull.

“Any last words?” He asks, his mouth set into a sneer, his fingers just brushing my forehead preparing to send the spike through my forehead.

I grit my teeth, every nerve in my body screaming, adrenaline pumping and thoughts rushing through me. I laugh, bitter and cold and It catches him off guard. That slight hesitation is all I need to get the upper hand, I slide my hand up from where I was gripping his arm. I grab onto the spike extended from his wrist and wrench it backwards with all of my strength, effectively breaking it in two. His scream sends shivers down my spine, the spike still clutched tightly in my fist. I pull the knife from where I keep it hidden around my neck and drive it through his skull, much like he had intended to do to me. His full weight falls onto me and I cry out in pain, his body crushing the oxygen out of my lungs and the bullet wound in my side is throbbing like no other. I manage to slide out from underneath of him, slowly and agonizingly. I scoot myself backwards towards the wall, finally reaching it and I slump back against it. I look down at the hand I had pressed to the gun shot wound on my side and wince, it’s not a pretty sight. Crimson has soaked through the white t-shirt I was wearing, a lot of blood by the looks of it. My head is spinning, either from blood loss or the blow to the head, I wasn’t sure which one. I cover my mouth as a coughing fit wracks my body and when I pull my hand away there are traces of blood there too. Fuck. This really wasn’t good. Before I could even register what I was doing, I had pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Dean. He picks up on the second ring.

“How’s it going sweetheart? Did you change your mind about wanting help with the wraiths?” He asks, his tone cheery, I can hear the roar of the Impala in the background and it brings a slight smile to my face. I must have remained silent for longer than I thought because Dean speaks again, his voice serious and concern flecked throughout. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mmm, I took out the wraiths, but they got me good too. Any chance you’re nearby?” I groan, trying to reposition myself in such a way that I can apply better pressure to the wound in my side. I can hear the Impala accelerating, as Dean responds. “Shit. We are twenty minutes out from town, figured we’d surprise you. Where’s the bar?” I manage to give him brief directions, doing my best to recall where exactly I was.

“I’m so tired Dean.” I whisper, the phone beginning to slip from my hand and away from my ear.

“Hey, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that, you hear me? You stay with me, talk to me. I am almost there sweetheart.” He responds and I can hear the panic rising in his voice but its too late. Every breath is a battle, holding my phone to my ear is impossible. The amount of strength it requires is simply too much. I watch as it clatters to the floor, my eyes slowly blinking shut. I slump forward, the world around me fading into black.

—

I vaguely notice voices, irritating voices drawing me back towards consciousness. I try my damndest to ignore them, the more I focus on them the greater the pain is flowing through my body. I hear my name being yelled, my shoulders behind jostled and my body being laid flat on a hard wooden surface. My head is placed onto something soft and I take that as permission to sleep. Yet I don’t get to do that, hands grab my face pulling me back into consciousness.

“Y/N, hey, oh thank God, look at me Y/N.” Dean is leaning over me grim faced, his hand pressed tightly against my rips holding something against it. I wince, trying to pull his hand away but he stops me. Sam’s face swims into view as well, his hand cradling the back of my head.

“Dean.” I sigh, my voice weak and seemingly coming from someone other than myself. “Doesn’t seem too bad, does it?” I ask, laughing slightly before grimacing from the pain that causes. His face is pale, eyes searching for the answer to my question, he doesn’t have to answer, I know it doesn’t look good.

“Im going to get you out of here, I promise. You’re gonna be okay.” He says, lifting my shirt so he can tie the bandage around me as tight as he can. He picks me up, a yell leaving my lips in the process. I can hear him whispering reassurances and apologies as he carries me out to the Impala. It all feels like a dream, as if I am watching from above as all of this happens. I drift in and out of the darkness the entire car ride, the whole way into the motel room. Until eventually, it all fades to black once again.

—

“I don’t know what else to do Sammy, the bullet went all of the way through. We stopped the bleeding and stitched her up. But that was hours ago! She still hasn’t woken back up.” Deans voice sounds nearby, anxious and completely grating on my nerves at the moment.

“Would you shut up! ‘M trying to sleep here.” I groan, the throbbing of my nerves returning like a wave of pain rushing over me. I hear a flurry of movement, before the bed sinks down next to me and I can feel a hand rest against the side of my face. I open my eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust my eyes to the harsh lighting a stark comparison to the darkness of sleep I was used to. When my eyes his, he falls apart. Tears spring to his eyes and he breaks down before my very eyes. His mouth opens and closes multiple times, searching for something, anything to say.

“Dean, Im okay.” I whisper, my voice raspy and aching in my throat. He shakes his head, his eyes still trained on my own.

“You weren’t, we almost lost you so many times Y/N.” His words sink in slowly, understanding for his reaction lands on me in droves.

“I’m sorry I worried you. Thank you for getting to me in time.” I reach my hand up and touch the side of his face, surprised when he leans into my touch.

“He made the twenty minute drive into an eight minute one.” Sam says, and for the first time I realize that he’s sitting in the chair a couple of feet from the bed. I chuckle lightly, unsurprised, Dean was always able to drive way too fast when he needed to, a talent almost.

We spend the next few hours talking, questions being thrown at me from every angle. I do my best to answer them, but exhaustion quickly settles in. Sam notices and mentions to Dean that they should let me get some sleep, there’s a slight argument over who will stay with me. Much to my surprise, Dean is insistent upon staying himself. Sam gives me a quick hug and excuses himself from the room, which leaves Dean and I alone. Oh so alone. It wasn’t the first time we had shared a room, but it felt completely different this time. An uncomfortable silence hangs between us, neither one of us wanting to be the one that breaks it. I shift my body, trying to prop myself up further in bed. A decision I regret as soon as I flex the wrong muscle and am greeted by a screaming pain in my side. I throw my head back, my mouth opening in a silent yell. Deans hands are on me in an instant, helping me settle into a more comfortable position. I give him a grateful smile and expect the silence to continue, but it doesn’t.

“You’re never doing this again, you hear me? You’re only ever hunting with us from now on. I could’t bear it when I found you like that and I definitely couldn’t bear it if it ever happened again.” Dean says quietly, his eyes trained on the floor. I’m quiet for a minute, considering my response carefully, unsure where his words were coming from. Dean wasn’t controlling, so it wasn’t that. Concern was evident, but I didn’t think that was enough to spur him to make that declaration.

“Dean, I am really okay. It was a bad turn of events, but I have been hunting for years on my own and I made it this far. You don’t need to worry about me, ill be-“ He cuts me off, his voice raised and his hands running through his already disheveled hair.

“You don’t get it, do you? Ever since that night, six months ago, I have worried about you. I care about you, Y/N, so worrying comes with the territory. For a time, I thought you cared about me in that way. But then you left. You just left and I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I followed after you, not wanting something to happen to you and thank god I did.” His words leave me speechless, did he mean what I think he means? Before I can protest or respond in anyway, he’s walking over to me. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning towards me. His hand comes to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me towards him ever so slightly. He leans in, his face nearing my own and my eyes flutter shut. His nose brushes my own, his breath causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

“ I love you, Y/N and nearly losing you, made me realize that I couldn’t keep that to myself any longer. Fear in the face of tragedy and all of that.” He mumbles, his lips nearly brushing against my own as he speaks. I don’t think, I just act. I close the distance and press my lips against his own, dissolving into the kiss and I can tell he does too. His warmth envelopes me entirely, his lips, his touch, everything. When I finally pull away, my head is spinning. His words rushing through my mind, over and over again. “I love you too, Dean.” I whisper, smiling gently and I press another kiss to his lips. “Fear in the face of tragedy, how poetic.”

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flyonthewallmedstudent · 2 months

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The weirdness of high school.

And university too maybe.

Plus or minus med school. But not residency. Watching THis is Us and other bingeable shows recently.

There's a lot of flash backs and flash forwards in the show.

There's the high school ones, which like all TV shows is very stereotype'd. They go to an alumni event, and the nerdy girl now surgeon is estactic to hang out with the former football star/cool guy. Who is very thick.

I was a super weird, nerdy, socially awkward kid. Afraid of a lot of social things, but not afraid of science, history anything academic or what I looked like. I wore oversized sweats all day everyday. I never knew how to say the right things or act in a crowd. I hated crowds. 2 or 3 close friends was great, and the best I could muster. I was terrified of their parents.

But funnily enough, I never knew I was weird. I wasn't unhappy either.

I liked having 2-3 close friends, nothing more or less.

Then close to graduation, one of the guidance counselors (the non-crazy one) said to me, she didn't have a great high school experience either. But it gets better after high school. I'll see. It took me years as a teenager to understand what she meant.

Later on I realized that other people felt sorry for me. Thinking because I didn't have the stereotype of the great high school experience I was some how sad, ashamed, unhappy.

Ironically I never even thought about it and was actually happy in my own world and space. I had my separate universe in academics. Like it never dawned on me that I was missing out on anything.

I felt embarassed, in a strange way as an adult reflecting on those experiences. Slightly embarassed for me, but more embarrassed for the small town/city around me. I did not fit in that place, but I didn't know it either back then or didn't care to. We were very much ships passing in the night. I didn't and don't hate where I grew up, I actually loved it in my own way. I got a great education there, and it got me where I wanted to go.

Looking back, plenty of kids probably made underhanded mean comments or passive aggressive statements - but it all went over my head. I suppose I would have been unhappy, had I read between the lines back then. Someone even stole my math text the week of the math exam, but I was actually flattered. That hey, someone thought I was that smart (imposter syndrome starts when you're young). It was one of the best days of my life.

It was also hilarious to me then, that stealing the text of one of the nerds during exam week would sabotage anything - because they spend their entire free time studying the whole year. They don't cram. Cramming was a terrible habit I acquired in university/undergrad. In med school, I'd fail exams because I crammed.

Another time I had left my draft math home work in a common room table, a classmate told me (2 weeks after the fact) that 5-6 different kids grabbed it and copied it. unfortunately for them, it was a draft full of errors, so I completely disregarded as trash. the final copy I submitted with the correct formulae was substantially different. Our math teacher of course realized that everyone had the same errors, but couldn't figure out the source. No one ever said anything mean or confronting, so it wasn't hard to brush aside. they self-sabotaged themselves, nothing actually happened to me.

Again, it was like we lived on different planets. Had they asked, I probably would have helped them out, I didn't get the grades I got by myself either. My far smarter co-nerd friends taught me a lot. On the other hand, I was intensely shy, they probably interpreted it as being "aloof." Or worse, condescending.

I'd felt my entire time during school, that it was the path to something else. I wouldn't get there till about 10-15 years later. Maybe even 20. It was a means to an end. If I was going to be working, then I wanted that work to have meaning. Or what would the point of all those hours. My parents worked in jobs they grew to hate to just go home and be tired.

Med school was a bit like high school. After the first few months of first year, i spent most of it hiding from other med students. (They were fucking crazy, a good chunk of them although not all, the anxiety, stress, competitiveness, the back stabbing, entitlement and bravado --> by the way, people do mature and get better. of course not all them do. anyhoo).

It was after selecting a vocation and starting residency that I found "home." Where I suddenly was comfortable having more than 2-3 friends and happy to be in crowds. Because everyone in the crowd was pretty much like me. We wanted to talk about all the same things. Maybe I grew more comfortable in my own skin along the way too.

But you know, it wasn't me that need to grow and change. I had found the environment where I finally could be myself in.

#medblrs #medblr #med school

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builtbybrokenbells · 6 months

Text

Catch-22 | i

It always feels like the harder you try to forget, the more you seem to remember.

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: talks about sexual situations, mentions of hookups, talk of general sadness/heartbreak/breakups, mentions of mean girls/high school bullies, poor-self image/insecurity, small town drama, touch of angst, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

hello darlings 😁 im so excited to start this new adventure with you all. a bit of a slowburn but i hope that it will be worth it in time. as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

The air was chilly, nipping at your exposed skin to remind you of the seasons change, but it was not yet cold enough to be truly bothersome. The night sky was polluted with city lights and the sidewalks were littered with faces of vague familiarity, forcing you to recall a lifetime that you had lived long ago. The town was covered in a haze of melancholic grey, haunting you with years of memories that you had been trying so hard to forget. Your hometown was a place that you had been constantly trying to run away from, something that you had been dreaming of leaving behind for more, yet every holiday season you found yourself back in the same place, wondering if it would ever possible to cleanse yourself of the curses of a small town.

Your bedroom of your childhood home was the same, plastered with posters and photographs of people you hadn’t spoken to in years. You slept under the same comforter that your high-school self had picked out from a Walmart shelf, sixteen and in love with the tasteless pattern mostly because it was new and your very own, rather than one of your sisters well worn hand-me downs. Your pillows held memories of ex-boyfriends and friends that had all broken your heart, even after endless sleepovers and nights spent pouring your souls into each other. Your graduation cap and honours cords decorated your computer desk, and your abhorrent wardrobe was still hung in your closet alongside the embarrassing prom and homecoming dresses. Your parents sat in the same spots in the living room, effectively ignoring each other while trying to force themselves to fall back in love for the greater good of the family. They hadn’t touched a single thing in your room since you moved out.

It was familiar, comfortable, but it was a world you no longer wished to live in. Sure, the memories would be something fond to look back on when you were eighty and reminiscing about your youth while staring death in the face, but as a 23 year old who was eager to step into the real world, it was nothing short of an evocative ode to the person you forever wished you could destroy. You didn’t hate yourself in high school like many others did, at least not seriously; of course, there was a struggle with self image and insecurities, but what teenage girl did not face such problems? You were far from perfect, and you were definitely not a part of the popular clique (Which was just another small town narrative that drove you crazy), but you were alright with what you had made yourself to be all those years ago. You were a selfless soul who loved learning, a great friend who would sacrifice your own happiness if it were for another in need, and one who did fantastically in everything she set her mind to.

It was not your person that made you so eager for change, but rather the lack thereof. You were perfectly mediocre, someone who always flew just under the radar and never stood out. You wanted to be memorable, a person in which others would think of in decades to come, and you knew that the only way to do that was to leave everything behind. Mediocrity would forever become you in a town where it was cherished, and deep down, you knew that you were destined for something greater. Unfortunately, until your university degree was in your hand, you were forced to return home for the holidays. You were not yet able to move across the state and disappear from everyone’s memory, even if it was something you desperately craved.

As you walked, you questioned yourself on your own decisions. Why, especially after reiterating your opinion on your hometown in your mind, did you feel the need to agree to a night of drinking with a group of girls you hadn’t seen in years? At first, it seemed like a fantastic idea, a chance to catch up with people who reminded you of childhood innocence, but as you neared the bar, you felt dread settle in your stomach. These people had no idea who you were, and barely did even when they spent every day with you in grade school. Your lives were worlds apart; some were settled down with kids, some were still living with their parents while trying to relive senior year every weekend despite it being almost half a decade ago. Some had graduated college and started their full time jobs, but none of them were the type of people you wanted to associate with anymore.

Yet, you couldn’t seem to say no. Your generosity was your greatest strength, but somehow also your biggest weakness.

You knew that the night would not be horrible. Mind-numbing, perhaps, but survivable. You would sit and listen to their accomplishments, learn the names of their kids who you would never meet, and you might even share your own stories of life after high school. You would recall old memories, maybe even learn some new ones, and you would get to hear all about the people they loathed in your younger years. Then, you would all go your separate ways and maybe see each other at the ten-year high school reunion. It was predictable, but so were all of the small town dwellers who never took the leap of faith in changing. You would go home and sleep it off, and they would gossip about you over coffee at the shitty cafe down the street the next morning. It was inevitable, unpleasant, yet still seemed more appealing than trying to do schoolwork while listening to your parents passive-aggressive talk about things that were less than important in the background.

You checked your makeup in the camera of your phone, swiping away any specs of mascara and smudged lipstick before entering the bar. You weren’t willing to give them any fuel to talk behind your back once you went home. You had even put on a nice skirt and a shirt that was a little out of your comfort zone for the occasion. You knew you didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, but growing up alongside a sea of cheerleaders and athletes had severely impacted your self confidence. You were average in every aspect; your younger self was a little bigger than most in terms of weight. You had glasses and poor makeup skills, always trying to cover your acne yet only ever making it more obvious. You never dressed up, and most often dressed down, and you were so involved in academics that you never bothered much with a social life beyond your small group. You hated school dances, and your family never had the extra money to spend on any extracurricular activities. With three children, you couldn’t blame them; you knew that you and your sisters had a good life, even if you had to miss out on some things here and there.

You were not bullied, but your peers were certainly not overly friendly nor concerned with your existence. Since then, you weren’t shy to admit that your appearance had drastically improved. Not in any grand sense, but your metabolism finally caught up to speed, your skin cleared, you learned some tricks with makeup brush and had discovered contact lenses. Maybe your agreement to join them had less to do with your fear of saying no, and more to do with your desire to prove your worth. If they were going to talk, you hoped that you could at least give them something good to say.

You opened the door, drawing in a long breath to settle your thoughts as you were slapped in the face with the warmth of the air inside. You could hear music drifting through the sound system, likely a song from the same playlist they were using the last time you had visited over a year prior. Originality was not something that was greatly cherished, and the regulars would probably still hoot and holler for songs they had heard ten times that night alone. The bar was lit with dim lamps shining from underneath the liquor wall and the neon projections from the dance floor. It was so predictable, yet you still found an unexplainable charm in it. It was one of the few bars that remained standing amidst a nasty fight for business, and it had been open since your parents enjoyed a night on the town (which was a very long time ago). Still, the staff was friendly and every now and again there was a diamond in the rough that sang when they broke out the karaoke machine. It wasn’t miserable, but it was nothing like the bars you were used to in your university town.

You slipped your coat from your shoulders, already finding it too warm inside, and fought your way through the crowd to the bar. You pulled a twenty from your wallet, anxiously awaiting your turn to order. Eventually, after a few moments of watching them sling pitchers of draft beer across the countertop, a bartender made her way towards you. “What can I get you, honey?” She asked, a blinding smile on her face. You wanted to believe it was genuine, but you knew that it was likely an act to coerce a tip from you. Either way, the kindness was appreciated, especially when you were feeling so jittery.

“Just a double vodka soda for now, please.” You said, drumming your fingertips against the countertop. She gave a curt nod, rushing away to fix the drink. Whether her speed was because she wanted to get rid of you or because she wanted to provide five-star customer service was neither here nor there. Within a minute, she sat a frosty glass of liquid courage before you and was already offering to start a tab. With hesitancy, you slipped the bill back in your pocket and agreed to pay later, handing her your credit card instead. You were aiming for a drink and dash, but you figured you shouldn’t walk into an interaction with such negativity. For all you knew, the night could be the best time you had during your visit home.

‘That would be pathetic.’ You shut the thought down as soon as it surfaced.

With the glass in your hand, you turned towards the crowd. Your eyes scanned the bodies, aiming to locate your company for the night, but knowing that you would be just as content if they decided not to show. After a moment, you heard your name over the mess of drunken chatter and shitty music. Your head turned in the direction of the sound, locating a group of girls in a corner booth. You forced yourself to smile, sipping on your straw as you stepped towards them. A whirlwind of emotion struck you once you were within earshot of their conversation, only questioning yourself more as the seconds continued to pass by. Before you could convince yourself to turn and run, they slid over and invited you in.

“Well hello, y/n.” A bubbly blonde greeted. Her name was Beth, and in middle school, she had started dating a boy named Jack. You could recall the toxic, jealous display the two often engaged in and the cheating scandals that seemed to surface every other week. When you all graduated, he joined the military right after he popped the big question. They were married two months later and had their first kid seven months after the graduation ceremony. Now, she was a stay at home mom with three kids and a blog about her family life, which to you just seemed like a huge cry for help.

“Hi,” you smiled, settling into the booth.

“We were so happy to hear that you could make it.” Another girl spoke, Allyson (the ‘y’ was very much important to her identity as she liked to remind everyone, although you did remember her spelling it with an ‘I’ until high school), with fake ginger hair and so much plastic surgery that she was nearly unrecognizable in comparison to your early days. She came from a rich family, one who never taught her much about hard work or discipline. She considered herself a professional social media influencer, which she claimed paid for the mansion she now lived in. You all knew her parents gifted it to her, yet nobody seemed keen on calling her on her bullshit. But, she was gorgeous, and she did take some damn good pictures from what you had seen on her Instagram. You never minded her much in school.

“Yeah, I was really happy to get the invitation.” You forced through your teeth, still wondering why you came at all.

“How’s life at UMichigan?” The last woman spoke, voice quiet and genuinely curious. You looked to your side, eyes softening at the sight. It was your best friend from elementary school, someone in which you shared lots of dreams about being an astronaut over juice boxes and Barbie dream houses. You didn’t see much of her once middle school came around; she loved soccer, and you loved the library. The world played its part in your separation, yet there never seemed to be any ill feelings about the shattered friendship. Her name was Sarah, and she was admittedly still the prettiest woman you had ever seen. She went to community college and worked at a daycare somewhere around town. Strangely enough, even after years of radio silence in grade school, once you both graduated, you remained in contact. She was one of the few people from Frankenmuth that you kept any kind of contact with, even if it was minimal. (In truth, it was really only the occasional ‘how are you’ and funny pictures sent through social media, but contact is contact, right?)

“It’s good,” you nodded, already nearing the end of your drink. “Just a few more months and I’m done, so that’s exciting. The city is nice, and so are the people. It’s kind of like a home away from home.”

“What are you taking, again?” Allyson asked.

“Oh, English literature. Guess I never really grew out of my love for books.” You chuckled, stirring your ice around your glass with the straw.

“You did love to read,” Beth chuckled, fidgeting with her wedding ring. You wondered if she craved escape the same way you did, or if she ever wondered what life would be like if she didn’t rush herself into marriage. After the endless heartbreak her now husband seemed to cause her all those years ago, you doubted that she was any more than just content. People didn’t change that much, and you feared that she was still living the same reality as her high school self did.

“I did,” you agreed, feeling the awkwardness already begin to creep up on you. “What about you? Your kids are absolutely adorable, by the way.” You shifted the attention away from yourself, despising the empty small talk.

“Oh, thank you.” She gushed. You could tell that they were her pride and joy, and despite her potential distaste for the life she chose for herself, she had not one bit of regret for them. “I’m doing good, but they definitely keep me busy. Don’t have much time for anything else with them running around all of the time.”

“I can imagine.” You sympathized, wondering if her extended invitation was just an excuse to be a real person and have some alone time for ten minutes. “Love the blog, by the way. Your recipe page is my go to for any kind of get-together.” You could tell she needed the gratification, and you never minded dishing any out.

“Really?” She squeaked, almost like she couldn’t believe someone actually cared enough to read them.

“Of course.” You nodded. Maybe you had misjudged the situation, and catching up after so long wasn’t terribly bad. After all, you had all grown and changed so much that it was almost like getting to know each other all over again. “And Allyson, I saw you just got back from Bali not too long ago. How was that?”

“It was phenomenal.” She gushed, eager that the conversation was pointed in her direction. “Definitely my favourite place I’ve been so far.” You were almost sickened at the thought of footing her travel bill, but smiled despite your astonishment at the fact that she had the money to travel the world so freely. You were thankful that the bartender came to clear the table, prolonging your process of trying to think of another question. You all put in another drink order, knowing that intoxication would be key to making the night enjoyable. Stale air surrounded you as you waited for the next round of drinks, none of you sure of where to go from there. When your second double of the night was within reach, you could already feel the tension melting away in your shoulders.

“You look really good, y/n.” Sarah said, studying every detail your face had to offer. “University life is definitely for you.”

“Oh,” you gave a nervous laugh “thank you. I finally discovered the benefits of contact lenses, so that really helped.” You joked, recalling the bulky frames that used to sit on your nose. They were so horrendous that it was impossible to forget them.

“No, you look happier.” She replied, giving you a small smile.

“Yeah, I am.” You nodded, knowing that she had hit the nail on the head. Leaving town had done wonders for your mental well-being, and even more for your personal development. You were free to spend time with others just like yourself, and ones so different that they constantly challenged you to step out of your comfort zone. Different as adult was so much better than different as kids, because you never felt shamed or outcasted for your previously strange likes and interests. Different after eighteen was so unlike what you had known as a child, and you quickly learned that there were so many divergent personalities like your own waiting to be discovered. Back when you lived under your parents roof and knew nothing but your high school, you were well aware that if you didn’t fit in with the culture of the community, you were better off lying rather than showing your true colours. Small towns always seemed to beat any unconventional traits out of a person and they cherished likeness. There were thousands of people who resided in your town, yet they all seemed like the same personality, just in a different body.

“All it took was getting away from Frankenmuth.” Beth said, sending a wink your way.

“Or getting away from Sam Kiszka.” Allyson giggled, but you found her comment far from humorous. The name seemed to strike you like a gunshot, tearing through you and leaving little behind. You choked on your drink, sputtering and coughing to expel the liquid and hopefully his memory, too. You hadn’t heard the name in a long time, and if you had it your way, you would never hear it again.

“Stop,” Beth gave a gentle smack on her arm, but still found herself laughing alongside the other girl. You were too distracted to care about their pointed snickering, already pulled back into a violent confrontation in your mind over the one person you had promised to forget. It seemed that at the sound of his name alone, you could remember his spirit and his presence so clearly, like he was sat right in the booth beside you and no distance had ever separated you from him. You could hear his voice, the sound of his laughter, and you could feel his hand on your arm, gripping you tightly as he laughed at one of your stupid jokes. The air was stolen from your lungs, your own mind was suffocating you as it forced you to recall the memories.

It was almost funny, grieving someone so deeply while they were still alive and breathing. It was almost terrifying, knowing that after years of trying to forget, you only ever seemed to remember with more clarity.

“Do you ever hear from him?” The words pulled you back into reality, but the impact of his memory was so profound that reality did not even seem real. Your eyes flickered up to Beth’s face, unsure if they were asking out of curiosity, or if their plan was to torture you all along. You thought it best to just continue as if the topic hadn’t completely derailed your entire life in just a few seconds. You were never one to hang your dirty laundry on the line for everyone to see.

“No, never.” You shook your head, but it was a lie. Well, only partially. There was a stash of saved voicemails from him in your inbox, but they ended somewhere around your third year of university beginning. The sober version of yourself questioned why you would ever keep such things so easily accessible, as they were nothing but a trophy of your misery, but the drunkest version of you needed to hear them to go to sleep at night. There was an entire album of pictures of him saved deep in the stores of your phone, retrieved only on nights when you had too much wine and too little self control. There was a box of memories tied to a man who no longer knew if you were alive or dead stored in a box underneath your bed, just because you could never find the courage or the strength to discard them. So no, you weren’t lying when you said that you never heard from him, but you would be lying in saying that you had managed to rid yourself of him. Even when you begged yourself to forget, you never really wanted to let it all go. You promised yourself that with time, you would finally be free, but the time was nowhere near right yet, even if you wished it was. “He seems to be doing great for himself, though.”

“Oh my god, I know.” Allyson gushed, almost like she had been waiting to address the elephant in the room. It was a culture shock to everyone in the town to see you and Sam finally go your separate ways, and you were certain that it had been a common topic of discussion for the people left behind. “They’re all so hot now.”

“Hey,” you defended, the response automatic even if it wasn’t deserved. “Sam was… I mean, he was… they were all good looking.” You muttered, only digging yourself a deeper hole as you continued speaking. A chorus of giggles sounded from the booth, but you did not participate. You wished you could disappear, or even have the booth swallow you whole just to avoid any further embarrassment.

“Some things never change,” Beth sighed, reminiscing on an easier life.

“Did you ever meet anyone new?” Sarah asked, hoping to change topics to make it a little more digestible for you. As much as her concern for you was endearing, the time had long passed for any type of relief. You were now completely uninvolved in whatever the dynamic was at the table, instead thrown back into a whirlpool of emotions at the thought of the boy you hoped you would never have to see again. You should have known better than to accept the invitation, because small town girls only ever cared about gossip, and the legacy that you and Sam Kiszka had left on the town was too tempting for them to pass up.

“I mean, there were a couple flings, but nothing ever lasted long.” You whispered, burying yourself in the vodka soda to suppress the sour taste that was left in your mouth after speaking his name. “I don’t think dating is for me, anyway. Maybe in the future once I’m graduated and have a steady job, but just not right now.” You confessed, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

“Don’t say that,�� Allyson reached over, giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “You never know what’s waiting for you. If you don’t want to date, just have some fun. No strings attached is a whole new world of possibilities.” She gave you a smirk, knowing that you were never the type for meaningless sex. They didn’t have to know you very well to know that; innocence was written all over you, even in the newest, most powerful version of yourself.

“You’re right,” you agreed, mostly just so you could move on, but you couldn’t deny that there was some truth in her statement. Maybe you had such a hard time forgetting because you wouldn’t allow yourself to learn about anything else. One night of nothing but fun seemed like a sure way to start moving forward, and after a year and a half of radio silence, you figured there could be no harm in trying.

“Oooh,” she wiggled her eyebrows, enticed by your intrigue. “Let me pick one for you, please.” She said, turning around and looking into the sea of people.

“Maybe not tonight.” You laughed, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. You were sat with three women in which you never thought you would speak to again, in the middle of a bar in your hometown that you hated with a passion, while your company begged you to let them pick you a one night stand. A dream would be the most logical explanation for the series of events, but your burning cheeks and nervous jitters were too strong to be a figment of your imagination.

“Why not tonight!” She exclaimed. “The sooner you learn that the world has more to offer than Sam Kiszka, the better you’ll feel.” She assured you. You gave a tight lipped smile, sipping the last of your drink away, knowing you shouldn’t protest the statement. If you did, you would only be further proving your ignorance to the truth, ultimately cementing your blind loyalty to someone who probably hadn’t given you a second thought in years. Still, even knowing you shouldn’t feel such a way, deep down you believed that the most the world could offer was Sam Kiszka, and you would be foolish for thinking otherwise. “Maybe we’ll get a few drinks into you, that’ll change your mind.” She said, signalling a bartender to the table.

And drink you did; it didn’t take long for the rosiness of your cheeks to change from embarrassment to tipsiness. The chatter about your love life died down and was replaced by humorous retellings of stories that had been long forgotten in your minds. Every now and again, Allyson would point to a man walking by in hopes that he would be suitable for your taste, but you always turned the other way. Along the way, you had switched from vodka to rum, and that was never a good thing for you. You were shocked at the lighthearted nature of the hangout, elated that you had decided to come, knowing that this would indeed be the most fun you had during your stay in Frankenmuth. The music only got better the drunker you got, and the bar seemed more and more inviting as you continued to sip away at the alcohol.

Somewhere around the sixth round of drinks, Allyson had convinced the crowd to move to the dance floor and further the fun. You were never one to dance, yet the rum coursing throughout your veins made it seem like a tempting endeavour. With a shot of tequila down and a lime wedge stuck between your lips, you were the first to make the move towards the swarm of bodies. Under the neon strobe lights, the world seemed like such a beautiful place, one in which no heartbreak or melancholic memory could touch you, nor could the weight of your hometown drag you down any further. Phones were out, snapping pictures of a night none of you ever envisioned for yourselves, but it would be one you would remember in years to come. Beth was free of the chains of motherhood for a night, Sarah was celebrating something none of you knew a thing about, Allyson was in search of a suitor for you and for herself, and for the first time in your entire life, Sam Kiszka was not even a thought in your mind.

It was so fantastic, that you even found yourself with your hands all over a nameless man who was quite easy on the eyes. He was tall, had a nice smile, and most importantly, was nothing like the boy you wanted to forget. There were few words shared between the two of you, but it seemed that the liquor was doing all of the work for you. You were both dancing, knowing that it didn’t matter what conversation you made, because you were both in search of the same thing; companionship for a single night, then leaving and never speaking again, just like it never happened at all. No Instagram follows, no Facebook stalking, or anything of the sorts. Just simple sexual pleasure without any further requirements. You would even be okay if he neglected telling you his name, because in truth, you did not care. You were only concerned in the ability of his hands, and perhaps even his mouth as long as there was a promise of him using it for anything but speaking.

When the song ended, he whisked you away to the bar to buy you another drink in hopes of winning you over. You did not have the heart to tell him that there was no need for any convincing, because you were more than ready to go home with him for the night. You took post on a bar stool, head swirling with endless possibilities. Your face was warm, and your eyes were glossy with intoxication. Much to your regular-selfs dismay, you would even be willing to compromise for a bathroom hookup just to avoid spending the entire night together. You were hammered, and it had been far too long since you had felt the hands of another. Your only rationale was that one time would not be the end of the world, and you likely wouldn’t remember most of it when the sun began shining in the sky again.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” He asked, leaning so close to you that your noses were nearly touching. There it was, the dreaded formalities expected before sexual intimacy. You hated it, and you hated getting to know people. Small talk killed you, and talk as simple as that was just dirt piling on top of the casket.

“Y/n,” you hummed, drinking down the fruity beverage the bartender had mixed for you. “What about you?”

“Austin,” he replied, eyes casting a heavy-lidded gaze over your face.

“I can work with that.” You smiled, wondering if he would take the final step toward the finish line, or if you would have to beat him to it.

“I’m sure you can.” He grinned, already showcasing excitement for what seemed like a certain agreement between the two of you. “Do you want to head back to my place?”

“I think that would be fine.” You nodded, inching closer to him. You wanted to kiss him, but you were afraid that the tension was so intense that you would not be able to contain yourself if you did.

“I’ll call us a cab.” He said, hand lingering on your hip with a burning touch. He pulled back, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone when you caught sight of a view that made your heart skip a beat. You shifted to the side, hopeful for a better look, even while knowing it was in your best interest to mind your own business and tend to your own needs, for once.

You squinted, trying to rid yourself of the double vision and focus in on your target. You leaned forward on your chair, eyebrows knitted together as you held onto the bar top for support. “Oh my god.” You audibly gasped, too drunk to hold back your shock. Your company gave you a look of confusion, unsure of what had caught your eye. When you didn’t answer, he turned his head to look in the direction of the disturbance. You waited, hoping that your eyes were deceiving you, but the longer you stared, the more familiar the long mop of curly hair seemed. When the subject in question turned to face the bartender rather than the body beside him, you thought you were going to be sick. You knew that big nose and that blinding smile, and you knew it far too well. It was one you hadn’t seen in years, but no amount of time would ever allow you to forget it. “I have to go.” You blurred out, rushing to your feet and nearly tripping over yourself to get away.

“Wait, did I do something?” Austin asked, completely clueless about anything that was happening.

“No, sorry, just have to go.” You muttered, pulling your jacket from the back of your chair. You grabbed your purse, scrambling away from the scene to try and locate the girls you had spent the evening with. Approaching the dance floor, your eyes landed on the group you had left behind. You scrambled towards them, frantic and breathless in hopes of saying goodbye. When you were a few feet away, a body stepped in front of them before you could reach them. Your eyes widened as you stepped backwards, knowing that there was no way in which you could continue forward with him in your way. He was short, his long brown hair cascading down his shoulders as he adorned a lazy smile. His face was so similar to someone you knew too well, so achingly beautiful and haunting in its familiarity.

You made it off of the dance floor, relieved to be free from an interaction you were absolutely unwilling to have. You let out a long exhale, turning towards the exit. You thought you were in the clear until you saw someone lingering by the main entrance, a dopey grin on his cheeks as he chatted up a group of people at a nearby booth. “Why are there so fucking many of them?!” You exclaimed to yourself, not even loud enough to reach your own ears over the music. You wondered if you could slip by unnoticed; maybe, if you put the hood of your jacket up, he wouldn’t even recognize you as you walked by. You thought it was your best chance at escape, not seeing any other way out of the grisly predicament you had found yourself in.

As you were slipping your coat on, you noticed the body by the door finishing up his conversation. Your heart sped, palms breaking into a sweat as you rushed to pull your hood up, but you were much too late. The boy had started to make his way towards you, his curious eyes settled on your face as he attempted to place your astounding familiarity. After a few seconds, his eyes lit up like he’d won the grand prize. He sped his pace, trying to reach you before he lost you. In a panic, you took a few steps backwards, recklessly trying to run before he could close in on you. Instead of a graceful disappearance, you had walked straight into someone standing a few feet behind you. Luckily, the person was not carrying a drink and there was no mess to be had. You figured you could mutter an apology and be on your way.

You turned, ready to rush out an apologetic comment for being so clumsy, but when your eyes landed on the face, you thought the ground was going to disappear from under you and the sky would come crashing down. Your stomach was positively sick with stress and your heart was on the verge of combusting. Your hands were shaking, no longer concerned with concealing your face, because there was no need to hide, anymore. You had been caught red handed, and by the absolute worst person out of them all. If you would have just mustered the courage for an awkward chat with one of the others, perhaps you would not have been so unlucky to run into Sam Kiszka himself, smiling down at you with a far away look in his eye.

“Long time no see, Rapunzel.” He gave you a small smirk, stealing the air directly from your lungs and effectively shattering your psyche.

Your house was still, not a peep to be heard from any of your siblings bedrooms nor your parents. The soft hum of the television could be heard if you listened hard enough. Your fathers snoring was extremely faint in the background, and the putter of rain against the steel roof enveloped the home in a cozy atmosphere. For a Saturday night, you were all tucked away considerably early with no better place to be. You had your record player on the lowest setting, giving an ambience in your room without disturbing any peace. A soft yellow light from a lamp by your beside was the only thing illuminating the room, and you were seconds away from sleep. That was, until a soft plunk of something hitting against your window scared you back into wakefulness.

You climbed from your bed, uncertain of the cause of the noise, yet having a sneaking suspicion rise in the back of your mind. As you peered into the darkness of the night, your heart gave an excited flutter as your eyes landed on the culprit. You cracked the window open, popping the screen out and gently leaning it against your wall. “Let down your hair, Rapunzel.” His voice was quiet, both of you fearful of being caught but never enough to sway your decision on seeing each other.

You reached down, extending your hands to him. He grabbed on to them and you helped him up, slowly letting go once you were certain he had a good grip on the windowsill. He pulled himself up, gracelessly tumbling inside through the small open area. “You’re stupid, you know.” You giggled, making sure to be as quiet as possible.

“You love it.” Sam said, looking down at you. There was a glimmer of adoration shining in his eye, one that told you he would be happy to insulted by you for the rest of his life. “My parents weren’t home, so I figured I’d come and see you.”

“Well, my parents are home, and they’ll kill us if we get caught.” He was barely listening to you, already sliding the window shut to lock out the cold air. He turned back to you, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. You melted into the feeling, knowing that it had realistically only been a day since you had felt his touch, but it felt more like an eternity.

“I would be more than happy to die if it meant it would be by your side, y/n.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered closed at the euphoric feeling, knowing that you too would be alright with dying as long as he was by your side.

“How are you, Samuel?” You asked, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as you tried to think of a way out of the conversation.

“Better now that you’re here.” He said, looking as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, yet knowing that he shouldn’t.

“Please, let’s not act like this is a joyous reunion.” You chuckled, averting your gaze to the floor. The longer you looked at him, the worse your chest ached.

“Come on, Princess. You knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.” He chuckled, looking down at you with the same adoration he had all of those years ago. His hair was longer now; you recalled the last time you saw him, when he had told you he was working on growing it out. You had seen pictures, but he was so much different in person. The childish nature of his face had long gone, replaced by the face of a man you no longer knew. It was horrific, astounding to know that everything had changed. He was not the same person you remembered him as, and it was a hard pill to swallow even if you had been telling yourself that for months.

But, just because you knew that Sam was not the same person who once was so important to you, did not mean that you wanted to accept the fact. As you continued staring at him, a lifetimes worth of memories flooded back to you, making home in your heart despite you desperately trying to keep them out. His eyes held familiarity, and a sense of home that you hadn’t felt since the last time he stood before you, and they were drawing you in further with every second that passed. You would forever break underneath the weight of your love for Sam, and even years after the initial heartbreak, the feeling never seemed to fade. It had been more than a year since you were last face to face with him, now accompanied by someone you knew absolutely nothing about, but there was a fizzle of joy in your heart to finally be in his presence again. You hated him, but you loved him despite the hatred, and that was the most wretched part about it. He knew you so wholly and completely that you despised him for it, yet it held an odd comfort that you had never felt with another. You never wanted anyone to know you as well as Sam, but most of the time, you did not even want him to know you so well.

“Guess I did,” you shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Can’t ever seem to stay away from each other.” It was the painful truth; no matter how far you ran, you could never get far enough away. Or, you ran so far that you made it all the way around the world, just to end up staring at the back of his head.

“You look stunning, y/n.” He said, almost seeming nervous to voice the compliment. “I miss you.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled, your cheeks turning red at the kind words. “I, uh… I miss you, too.”

“I left so many voicemails, and I never heard back. Just figured it would be best to give you some space. Didn’t realize it would turn into months, and then I was too scared to reach out.” He explained. You bit down on the inside of your lip, recalling the declined calls and unanswered messages. You felt horrible about it, yet you knew that it was ultimately for the best. Back then, you never pictured yourself coming face to face with him again. Maybe if you had at least given an amicable goodbye, it wouldn’t be so difficult to look him in the eyes. Then again, you could not blame yourself too harshly for leaving without a word, because god knows he deserved much less than a silent goodbye.

“Some things are better left unsaid, Sam.” You reminded, trying shake away the looming sadness that was hanging over your head. How can you love someone’s company and loathe it all the same?

“I know, and I don’t blame you.” He agreed, hoping that you knew he wasn’t angry. “Can I buy you a drink, maybe? I know it won’t make up for anything, but it’s the least I could do. It would be really nice to catch up.” You looked up, finally meeting his eyes. You wished you hadn’t, because the pain he held in his gaze was too much to bear. It was the same one you had been carrying around for so long. You wanted to say yes, to let the past remain the past and move forward somehow, but you felt frozen. It would be nice to hear about his life, to say hello to his brothers, and Danny. ‘Sweet Danny’ you thought, another wave of grief washing over you. You missed him so badly, and you craved to rekindle your friendship with him, but he had always been Sam’s friend, first. It would not be fair for you to impede on their relationship for any selfish reason, and selfishness seemed to be all you knew when it came to Sam.

“No,” you shook your head, the weight of your rejection heavy in the air. “No, Sam. I have to get home.”

“Oh,” he attempted to cover his hurt with the word, but it only made it all the more clear. “Yeah, okay. Maybe some other time?” It was not likely that you would ever be willing to make plans with him in the future, but you could not seem to break the bad news to him. Instead, a little white lie would solve your immediate problems, and you could continue on trying to pretend he did not exist. That way, you would never actually need to confront the issue. Avoidance was a game the two of you had mastered, and you only thought it right to keep up the same energy.

“Sure, Sam. Some other time.” You nodded, already stepping away from him. “Have a good night.”

“You too, y/n. It was good seeing you.” He said, wishing he could find the right words to convince you to stay. Instead, he watched as you disappeared into the sea of people, wondering if he would ever get the chance to see you again.

You pushed through the door, tumbling into the night as tears threatened your eyes. Your heart was heavy, so heavy that you were having trouble placing one foot in front of the other due to the sheer weight of it. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, trying to keep out the cold and exile the lingering feeling of his company. You wished that you had declined the girls invitation, not because of any reason you previously thought you would, but because you knew that the innocent reunion with Sam would hinder your healing and bring you right back to square one. The hardest part about being in love with Sam was not actually loving him, but rather falling out of love with him. You had been trying for years, and every time you thought you made progress, it would ultimately be for nothing, because something else would come along that would make you fall in love all over again.

As you walked back to your childhood home, the streets reminding you of the version of yourself you were desperate to kill, you realized that your hatred for Frankenmuth had little to do with your need for change. You weren’t eager to leave because of the gossip, nor the close-minded nature of the population, and not even because of the lack of substance. Your hometown was quite beautiful if you knew where to look, and held charm like no other. It was not the worst place in the world, and in truth, it was quite far from it. Your desperation to leave was directly accredited to your desire to forget Sam Kiszka. You wished to purge yourself of his memory and erase him from your life. You craved to be a new person, one who his hand never had the opportunity to touch, and one who was strong enough to break from the incessant cycle that you had been stuck in since the beginning of time. The person you wished not to be was not the one who grew up in a small town in Michigan, it was the one who fell irrevocably and unequivocally in love with Sam.

As you wiped a tear from your cheek, you were terrified that you would never see a lifetime in which he did not exist. Above all else, you feared that even if you escaped the town and the shackles in which it held you with, you would still never be free from the curse of loving Sam Kiszka with every fibre of your being.

TAGLIST: @itsafullmoon @freefallthoughts

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bingbongsupremacy · 4 months

Text

Lonely Pt. 1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Warnings:

Summary: A few days after the zombie apocolypse took over Hawkins you lost everyone. Once you finally run out of supplies, you're forced to venture out into the town, hoping not to run into anyone and make it to safety alive. Unfortunately, life doesn't always go how you want it.

*Not Proof Read*

This Fic does not mention body type, weight, race, gender, etc. If I happened to mess up and add a pronoun or anything that could define the readers appearance, please let me know so I can fix it. Ty!

ABC List Stranger Things Master List

*****

People are evil. They truly. When things get rough the worst parts of us tend to leak out. Maybe it's from fear, maybe it's from adrenaline. Whatever it is, the worst parts of us tend to leak out, forever changing us.

Three days after the virus hit Hawkins my family was killed. A group of blood thirsty survivors tore through my parents' house, killing everyone. Well almost everyone.

I managed to get out. I'm not sure how, but I did. I ran until my lungs hurt. Until I felt like I would die if I kept going.

Flashes of Jason Carver, the athlete turned cold blooded survivalist leader, killing my parents running through my mind. The lack of emotions sent shivers down my spine. How can someone take the life of another and not feel anything? Not feel guilty or disgusting. Somehow the previous three days turned the cocky pretty boy into an emotionless killer.

The personality change is terrifying.

I managed to find a house away from the inner heart of Hawkins. Away from the people. Thankfully, whoever lived there left behind a good amount of food and water.

Unfortunately, food and water can only last so long. I knew this day would come. The day where surviving off of the pantries of nearby homes wouldn't be possible anymore.

Frankly, I'm not sure how I've made it 6 months on my own. I still struggle to kill the zombie things out there. I hide away whenever they come out, hoping they don't hear me move around.

I tuck the last few remaining bits of food into my backpack before pulling the heavy pack onto my shoulders. I do one last sweep around the house, making sure I have everything I need.

I tightly grip onto the kitchen knife in my hand. Hopefully I don't run into a hoard. There's no way in hell I could survive if I do.

I close the front door of the house I've been borrowing for the past half a year. I feel anxiety bubble up in my stomach. I'm scared. I can't deny it. What if I get bitten? Or kidnapped by Jason Carver's pack of assholes?

I have no choice.

The sound of crunching leaves beneath my feet and wind are the only sounds I hear as I step onto empty street. It's silent, the way it has been for months. The last time I heard something was when a small group of zombies wandered through the the neighborhood, managing to somehow stumble into every garbage can possible.

Any sign of human life is gone. The lack of animals is terrifying. Is everything dead? What if I'm the only person alive.

Will I be alone forever?

It's been hard being alone for so long. There's not much you can do when you're by yourself with no access to electricity or running water.

I never thought I'd say this, but I miss my fucking job. At least there I got to talk to people, even if it was a forced greeting.

I finally make it out of the neighborhood. Even though I haven't been this far out in months, I remember every road. I know exactly how to get to the center of town.

There has to be some place with food, right? There's no way Jason Carver could have gotten absolutely everything.

As I pass another neighborhood, I immediately spot the smashed in doors. Windows are shattered and belongings from inside and thrown around the yard. People have raided here.

In a weird way it gives me some sort of hope. Maybe there are people besides Jason and his friends that are alive. Maybe they'll help me.

Not everyone can be evil, right?

Not everyone is a murderer.

A few cars litter the roads, rotting people sitting inside. Some have turned and others are still, their bodies decomposing.

I finally make it to the entrance of main street. All of the surrounding buildings are smashed in. I pass a four car crash in the center of the road, dried blood staining all around.

The loud sound of groans fills my ears. A shiver runs through my back.

There's a zombie somewhere out here.

I turn onto a nearby street and immediately regret my decision. Dozens of zombies wander around the street.

" Fuck. " I mumble, fear crawling it's way towards my throat.

The heads of the zombies snap towards me, their dead grey eyes piercing into my body like a knife.

They have fucking super hearing or some shit. I'm fucked. I'm fucked.

I quickly turn to run down the street. The sounds of shuffling feet follows behind me. They're not super fast, but there's no way I'd be able to run for miles with them behind me. If I stop running they'd easily catch up.

Clenching the knife in my hand, I run as I fast I can off of main street. Maybe I can make it back to the house? Fuck fuck!

Fuck me. The side road is blocked by another group of zombies. My old neighbors, people I used to talk to every day, quickly turn their hungry eyes on me.

I'm so screwed.

I have two fucking hoards behind me.

I turn onto another street, hoping there's not another group on this street.

I'm so caught up in panic that I don't register the sound of a speeding car and gun shots.

A brown and white van speeds in front of me. The door opens as it quickly halts to a stop a few feet in front of me.

" Get in! " The man yells. His eyes trained on the group behind me. In his hands is a large shot gun.

I hesitate. What if this guy fucking kills me?

" Earth to girl, get in the fucking van! " Another man in the drivers seat yells, shooting the pistol in his dirty hands.

Fuck it, being killed by them might hurt less than being eaten alive.

I scramble into the van, immediately noticing the pile of tools and weapons laying around.

The man at the van door slams it shut. He clutches onto the back of the passenger seat in front of him as the driver speeds down the street. He turns his attention to me, immediately raising his gun towards me when the van stops jumping around.

I push myself against the van wall, fear coursing through my veins. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should've just gotten eaten. " Please don't hurt me! " I keep the knife in front of me, hoping it'll help somehow.

Who am I kidding, a fucking knife won't save me from shit.

" Drop the knife. " The man grunts. His face is covered by a short beard. His long frizzy hair is tied back into a bun, his head covered with a battered hat. A small scar runs down the left side of his face, near his eyebrow. His eyes look familiar but I can't quite place it.

Deciding it's probably best if I listen, I carefully set down the knife. " Okay, okay. " My breath is shaky.

" Check for bites. " The guy up front barks, glancing back at us from the rear view mirror. His skin is covered in splotches of dirt and grime, his eyes are covered with a pair of dark sunglasses. His hair however, reminds me of someone; Steve Harrington. It's neatly put up, only a few stray strands framing his face.

I don't have time to question the looks of the man up front before the guy holding a shotgun speaks to me.

" Show me your arms and legs. "

I don't hesitate to shrug off my bag and jacket. I pull up the ends up my sleeves, turning my arms back and forth before pulling up my jeans. I let out a small wince when I notice a large gash on my ankle. I have no idea where I got this. Maybe I scraped it against something? "

" Where did you get that? " The shotgun man asks, nodding down to my leg.

" I have no idea. I had no idea I was bleeding. "

" Tie them, E. " The man up front says nonchalantly.

My eyes widen. " What? But I haven't been bitten! I swear to god, I haven't been bitten. I-I'll take everything off and show you! " I offer, terrified about what these men are going to do to me.

Guilt flashes in the shot gun holding guys' eyes. " Look, until we know you're not dangerous or infected, we can't take any risks. If you're clear, you'll be out of this in no time. " The guy pulls a handful of zipties from his pocket. " Please give me your hands. "

I hesitantly hand his my hands, seeing no way out of this.

The guy quickly ties my hands and ankles before putting anything sharp in my reach in a locked box. He pulls a small red bag out of the box and scoots towards me.

I try to scoot further into the corner of the van, tucking my arms into my body.

The guy notices. " I'm not going to hurt you. " He pulls out a Band-Aid. " I'm gonna clean your cut up. If it's not infected with the virus, it's going to get infected by some other shit. The last thing you need is an fucked up leg. " His tone is slightly softer than it was a few minutes ago.

I allow him to take a look at my ankle. His cold hands pull my ankles onto his lap before he begins cleaning up my cut. The anti bacterial wipe stings but not bad enough to cause me to wince.

" Good news is it's not deep. Probably a branch or wire that scraped you. "

I take this opportunity to study the mans face. Small dark bags rest under his brown eyes. Over grown bangs droop past his eyes, pushes aside by him every once in a while.

Up closer I notice the shirt he's wearing. It's covered in dirt and blood, making it nearly impossible to tell it was once white. My eyes trace the familiar design. The Hellfire Club.

I was never apart of it, but I'd heard of it. I'd thought about joining back in high school but I was too scared. I worried they wouldn't let me play since I'd be the only girl in the group or think I wasn't good enough to join. I let my fears get the best of me.

" Eddie Munson? " I ask, my eyes looking up at the mans' face.

His eyes meet mine, widening in confusion. " Yeah? "

A little bit of relief fills my chest. I was never friends with Eddie, but I'd worked on a couple of assignments with him growing up. He was always kind and for the most part, did his part of the project. I'm not exactly sure why he got held back. He was smart, he just didn't seem to want to put in the hard work needed to graduate. It was like he didn't believe in himself.

" I'm Y/N. You probably don't remember me, it was so long- " I'm cut off by him.

" From world civ! " His lips curl into a small smile. " I remember you. "

My heart jumps a little. I'd always had a small crush on the dark haired boy. He was one of the reasons I wanted to join Hellfire. He'd talk about it sometimes during our projects, making it sound so fun.

" Is that Steve Harrington? " I ask, glancing to the driver.

" It's me. " Steve replies, his eyes not leaving the road. " Sorry, I don't think I remember you, Y/N. "

I nod. " I was 3 years older than you so we never really crossed paths. " I feel slightly more safe knowing I at least semi know the people I'm with. " Did we lose the zombies? "

" Yeah we lost them a while back. " Steve nods, his eyes glancing back at the rear view mirror every once in a while. " We're going to need to stop for gas soon, Eddie. "

" Fuck. " Eddie sighs. " Of course we are. "

" Should've filled the tank up when I told you. " Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie finishes bandaging up my ankle before gently fixing the positioning of the ties around it. " I was busy grabbing bullets. "

The van pulls to a stop and Steve shuts off the engine, making sure to take the keys out of the ignition. " Grab the tube. "

Eddie grabs a small bag. A small tube pokes out of the top of it, quickly disappearing when Eddie shoves it down. " We'll be back. " He reassures me before opening the back doors and jumping out.

I quietly lean against the van wall.

" Let's just cut them free. " Eddie's voice is muffled slightly .

" No fucking way, Eddie. I know you know them, but we still have to follow protocol. We keep them tied for at least a week. Until we know they aren't infected. Besides, we don't even know if they're dangerous. They could slit our fucking throats and steal our supplies. " Steve's voice is stern.

Eddie sighs. " They wouldn't do that. I know they would- "

" When was the last time you saw them, Eddie? High school? It doesn't sound like you guys were friends when they graduated. I'm pretty sure you'd be able to recognize them faster if you were. " Steve points out.

" Well, yeah but they're a good person. They wouldn't do that shit. " Eddie defends me, making my heart jump a little.

My stupid fucking crush is back.

" It's been years Eddie. You don't know them. It's been 6 months since shit hit the fan. People change, especially after all the crap that's been going on. They probably aren't the same person they were years ago. Look, nobody's going to hurt them. We just have to keep the ties on until with get back to the lab. "

Eddie gives up arguing. The two return and Eddie tosses the bag on top of the tool box. The van slightly fills with the scent of gasoline as Eddie and Steve close the doors. The source being the tube.

Steve rolls down the front windows, letting air filter through the van.

Eddie sits across from me, his shot gun next to him. " We're going to help you. " He reassures me. " We just can't risk that you aren't infected. As soon as we're sure you can get those off. " He glances down at the zip ties.

I nod. " I understand. Thank you for saving me. "

Eddie smiles. " Of course. Couldn't just let you die out there. " He leans back against the van wall, crossing his arms. " We've got a bit of a ride, sit back and relax. "

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cacoetheswriting · 1 year

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pearl: november & december 1984

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.6k chapter summary: when life throws you an unexpected curveball, the person who's there for you the most is one you wish wasn't — so you get your wish, but only after completely altering your friendship.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, angst, minor character death, loss of a parent, grief and grief management, emotional hurt / comfort, self-doubt / insecurities, use of pet names - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

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December 1984

Winter was a lot harsher this year compared to last.

Starting as soon as mid-November, it brought with it grey musky clouds, dark days and even darker nights, along with a snow storm worse than The Blizzard of 1888. It was the sort of cold that could freeze the blood of those who did not or could not take sufficient care to be warm.

The season was never your favourite. This year it was even more unbearable and it had nothing to do with the weather — which the news reported was only supposed to get worse.

Early November, while off living your best life at college, you got a call no kid ever wishes to receive.

Your dad had worked as a police officer ever since you were born. Even as a kid, you were smart enough to deduct his job was not of the safe variety. However, he’d reassure you endlessly that Hawkins, Indiana was by far the most boring town in this country and nothing bad would ever happen to him — that’s why you moved here in the first place.

Until it did.

Jim Hopper rang to break the news. You don’t remember exactly what he said, just that there was an incident at Hawkins Lab and unfortunately your dad didn’t make it.

“I am so sorry, kiddo.”

You were calm, collected. At least you pretended to be for the sake of your mom.

You packed a small bag, told your roommate you had a family emergency, and hopped in the car your dad let you keep when he dropped you off back in August. You drove all night in complete and utter silence. Every single part of your body felt numb and your mind was replaying every single conversation you held with the parent you just lost, yet you didn’t cry.

The tears hadn’t come until after the funeral ceremony.

You were washing up some of the dishes after the wake while your mom was being consoled by Karen Wheeler. Entirely too focused on the cool stream of water, you didn’t realise someone stood beside you until they spoke.

“Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s offer broke you. Him being there broke you.

You immediately turned off the tap and wiped your wet hands against the silk material of your black dress before collapsing into his frame, no longer strong. The metalhead wrapped his arms around you instantly and the two of you were completely still as you sobbed into his shirt.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he muttered in a soothing tone, “Let it all out. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

That day was the last time the two of you spoke.

For the remainder of the month, after you had gone back to school, you didn’t call him or send the letters you had been writing.

Ignoring him was one of the hardest things you had ever done 'cause not a day went by where you didn’t think about Eddie Munson and your last moment together, but the thought of losing him like you lost your dad was just too overbearing. You figured if you put some more distance between you two, should the worst happen, it wouldn’t be as painful.

The logic was flawed, you knew that. It was also perhaps the most selfish thing you had ever done since Eddie done nothing wrong.

One could argue however, you did all of this as a result of your grief. Consumed by all of these uncharted feelings around losing your dad and simply weren’t thinking clearly. There was just one problem. Eddie would never believe that. He knew you too well.

Which is why, your whole body was quivering with anticipation as you knocked on the trailer door.

You had prepared an apology speech, rehearsed it all night plus during your drive here. Although, now, as you stood waiting in the snow, you were second guessing everything.

“Forget it,” you mutter to yourself and are about to turn, walk away, when the door swings open.

Eddie gapes at you with his big brown eyes, surprise gracing his features. He sizes you up, wondering why you're here after all this time apart, then proceeds to adjust his posture before stepping to the side. It’s a form of an unspoken invitation you accept with grace, albeit hesitantly. Once inside, you can hear him close the door with a gentle thud. He walks around you and slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” you say eventually, nervously meeting his gaze as you unwrap the scarf from around you neck.

“Hey,” Eddie repeats. No nickname, no emotion.

You swallow your breath. “H-how are you?”

He scoffs. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, although one you definitely deserve.

“Seriously? We don’t talk for over a month and that’s the best you can come up with?” Eddie sounds mad. He is mad.

“Right, sorry,” you reply and momentarily chew on the inside of your cheek. “I-I honestly just wanted to come by and explain myself. If you’d let me, that is.”

The metalhead exhales softly. He lets his shoulder slouch, relax a little, and opens his mouth to say something when a knock on the trailer door interrupts him. He glances at the clock on the wall and his reaction causes you to think it’s a client, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom, giving him a few minutes to conduct his business.

You're certainly not trying to listen to his conversation. In fact, you turn the tap on just so you can focus on the sound of running water instead of his conversation, but the paper thin walls of the trailer make it nearly impossible not to eavesdrop.

“Thanks again for lending this to me,” a preppy voice you don’t really recognise speaks, “You were so right, perfect record for getting high,” the girl chuckles and your stomach twists ‘cause unfortunately it seems you couldn’t have been more wrong about this being some sort of deal.

“No worries, darlin’. Glad I could be of service,” Eddie’s charming. You picture him smiling, most likely towering over the girl who came to see him and your heart aches.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, I came by to give you that tape back and see if you’re free this Saturday. My parents are out of town and…” You force yourself to fizzle out the rest of that sentence. You did not want to be thinking about him with someone else right now — or ever.

When a soft slam indicates the girl has most likely left, you re-emerge from the bathroom.

Eddie doesn’t look at you. Not at first anyway. He places the item he just received on one of the kitchen counters and leans his back against another.

As you open your mouth to begin your rehearsed apology, your focus unintentionally darts to the item now next to him. Whoever said curiosity killed the cat was a hundred percent correct because the moment you register what album that girl was referring to, you go stiff.

“What the fuck, Eddie.”

The metalhead is confused by your words. He raises a brow in your direction but realisation only dawns on him when you snatch the tape from the counter and lift it in front of his face. Janis Joplin’s Pearl.

“Why would you give this to some random chick?” You question, hoping he can detect the hurt in the tone of your voice.

But Eddie only shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“You gave it to me. It’s mine now. I figured I could do whatever I wanted with it.”

“That wasn’t the point of me gifting this to you. How dare you pawn it off onto some girl who you most likely just wanna have sex with?!”

That causes him to stand straight and take a step towards you.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset by this. You are the one who iced me out when all I ever did was be there for you. I figured if you could disregard our years of friendship for no apparent reasons and with no communication, I can lend a stupid tape to someone.”

“I had my reasons—”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie interrupts, “But you never shared them with me. I called you every fucking day after you went back to college! The list of pathetic excuses your roommate has given me, if she ever bothered to pick up the phone you clearly forgot how to use, is long enough to fill a goddamn novel!”

“That’s literally why I came here this evening! I want to explain and get back to where we were before!”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

Something inside you snaps in that moment.

“My dad died, Eddie!” You shout, tears starting to trail down your cheeks, “God, I am so fucking sorry that his death and how I chose to grieve losing a fucking parent was an inconvenience for you! I am so fucking sorry that your ego was bruised when I didn’t pick up the phone or return your calls while my life was literally falling apart at the seams!”

He’s taken aback by your sudden outburst, mouth half-open as if he doesn’t know what to say next. It made sense that he doesn't. In all the years you've been friends, you have never raised your voice at him. The two of you didn’t argue, ever, because there was never a reason to.

“You have every right to be annoyed with me for icing you out, I’m not trying to take away from that," you continue, slightly calmer, “But handing out a tape that literally means the world to me since it reminds me solely of you, is a fucking stab in the back. Especially knowing now your intention was to hurt me.”

You chuck the cassette at Eddie’s chest. He catches it, not breaking the hold he had on your gaze.

“You may not see it that way and you may even think I’m dramatic or over reacting. That’s fine too. What you don’t get to do however, is give me shit about how I chose to handle my dad’s death because that’s not fair,” you sob that last part, voice breaking.

Eddie’s clutching onto the tape.

There’s an agonising moment of silence. You're not sure how long it lasts. A minute, perhaps, or ten. During that time, your eyes remain locked with Eddie’s and you can feel your heart breaking. You wonder if he feels the same and then you wonder if hoping he did, made you a terrible person.

“So where do we go from here, huh?” Eddie asks, monotone.

Apparently your lack of rebuttal was all Eddie needed, because after another moment of heavy silence, he states: “Perhaps… Perhaps space is exactly what we need.”

Earth shattering, his words.

“That’s the conclusion you’re coming to?” You probe, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your winter coat.

He nods. “We clearly forgot how to be there for one another.”

You realise then that nothing could have prepared you for this. Pushing Eddie out of your life these last few weeks wasn’t going to make losing him any more bearable. If anything, it only hurt more.

Chewing down on the inside of your cheek in a lame attempt to prevent the floodgates opening further, you reach for the inside pocket of your coat and retrieve a small stack of envelopes, tied together with a green bow.

“Here,” you say blankly, devoid of any further emotion, “I meant when I said I came here to explain myself, but if you believe being apart is for the better, I guess I don’t owe you anything.”

He slowly takes the envelopes out of your grasp and you adjust your hold in the process to make sure your fingers don’t brush against his.

“These are all the letters I wrote you while we didn’t speak. Read ‘em, burn ‘em, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Your exit is swift. Not like it matters because Eddie doesn’t bother chasing after you.

After starting your car and glancing at his trailer one last time, you drive off completely heartbroken because Eddie was no longer your Bobby McGee. He was not your best friend and apparently you meant nothing to him.

November 1984

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s question remains unanswered for approximately forty three seconds while you try to gather your thoughts. The carpeted floor of your childhood bedroom is oddly comforting, so in a way, right this moment, you're doing relatively okay.

Eddie’s next to you. His hand is on your thigh which he squeezes gently every so often, probably to check if you're awake since your eyes are closed.

After your breakdown in the kitchen, Eddie practically carried you upstairs, away from the pitiful looks of everyone gathered in the living room. He carefully sat you down on the floor, just under the window, and opened it with ease. Who knew? Fresh air was all you apparently needed.

But how were you really doing? Not good, would be the simple option. Not good, would tell him all he needed to know and it would also be the honest answer ‘cause how else are you supposed to be doing hours after burying your dad.

“Better,” you lie.

He stiffens next to you, meaning he didn’t exactly believe you.

“Sweetheart—”

“Why are you calling me that?” You ask, finally opening your eyes and immediately turning your head to look at him.

Judging by the expression on his face, he’s taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He doesn’t say that though.

“It’s just a nickname.”

“No, it’s not," you protest, almost in a scoff. “That’s not what you usually call me, so why do you keep calling me that?”

Eddie frowns. “Seriously, sweetheart, don’t read too much into it. It’s really just a nickname.”

Unsure of why you're so on edge and why his new pet name has irritated you so much, you stand. Even with the open window, the room suddenly felt really stuffy. You place your hands on your hips, only to cross them across your chest, then quickly uncross them again.

“That’s not what— It sounds like you’re taking pity on me. Like you think I’m weak and you need to baby me or some shit.”

Eddie’s now up on his feet too. He towers over you, one hand on your shoulder while the other cups your face, and for a split-second, you're a little calmer.

“You’re overreacting.”

You were a little calmer. Eddie’s attempt at dissolving the situation only made you feel worse and so you free yourself from his grasp and take a step back.

“Prove it.”

His brows string together. “What?”

“Prove it,” you repeat. “Kiss me.”

The silence is overbearing. You knew the request was idiotic, yet it’s like your mouth had a mind of its own and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled like coffee. Worst part was, you didn’t even feel bad for putting him in this awkward position.

“I-I… I'm not going to do that.” Eddie says eventually. “It’s been a really emotional day, an emotional week, and you’re in your head, which is understandable, so let’s just—”

“Don’t tell me how emotional it’s been, Eddie. I know how emotional it’s been,” you practically snap at him, frustration levels rising. “Downstairs, there is a room full of people acting differently towards me because of what happened. I-I can’t have you being one of ‘em, Eddie. I need you to treat me like you’ve always treated me.”

“And I am.”

He reaches out for you, but you pull back from his plea.

“No, you’re not.”

That must’ve been the breaking point for the metalhead because right in front of your eyes, his demeanour changes completely. As does his tone of voice.

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me ‘cause it’ll make you feel better or what’s the deal here? ‘Cause what I’m failing to understand is how is asking me to kiss you going to prove that I’m treatin’ you any different? We don’t— That’s not what we— Fuck!”

He sighs and runs a hand through his messy locks in frustration. That’s when you see it. A certain melancholy behind his chocolate-like gaze that you've only ever witnessed on a few rare occasions.

In retrospect, you should’ve stopped then. You should’ve said sorry and put this entire conversation to bed. You should’ve instead asked him to join you on the rooftop for a smoke or asked him to take a nap in your bed. You should’ve said literally anything else other than what you said next.

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. Suddenly you feel like you're suffocating. The entire room is spinning, only Eddie is still and staring right through you. His soft expression hardened, almost displaying betrayal.

“Not like this.”

His voice is a mere whisper and for a brief moment you're not sure you even hear him correctly. You open your mouth, but no words come out. You're frozen. Dumbfounded.

The metalhead clears his throat. “I-I should go,” is all he says before walking out of the room and you force yourself to shake awake, hurrying after him.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask, but he ignores you, approaching the stairs. “Eddie, please.”

He stops. Eyes closing momentarily at the soft plea which just escaped your lips. He chewing on the inside of his cheek, debating what to do next 'cause either way, your relationship will never be the same.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask again, only softer, while closing the gap between you.

Eddie looks at you then. He scans every inch of your face as your hands hesitantly settle on his chest. He's sure you can feel his heart hammering, just as he can feel the unsteady beating of yours. And so he thinks how much he loves you and how he wanted to tell you that anyway in a few short weeks.

“Fuck it,” he mutters and dips his head lower, his lips crashing against yours in a yearning kiss.

He tastes like cigarettes and the mints he indulges in to try and cover up the tar on his breath — intoxicating. His hands cup your face, firmly pulling you in closer with every passing second, as his body pushes into yours, causing you to stumble backwards until you hit a random wall.

The kiss is fuelled by pent up tension, a desire you both shared but didn't want to admit in fear of ruining the best friendship you've ever had. It's a dance of fire and ice. Both of you are aching for even more, yet wanting nothing more at the same time. However, since that line was now crossed and there's no going back, Eddie gets braver and bites down your bottom lip and as you gasp against his mouth, he slides his tongue in with ease.

You feel elated as his tongue explores your mouth, hands squishing your face while your fingers tug at his shirt. The kiss is perfect. This moment is. He's perfect.

But then you think how you landed in this situation and a ping of guilt rushes through you. Shit.

Your fingers splay flat across his chest and you open your eyes, suddenly pushing him away. Eddie feels the pressure and breaks the kiss, pulling his head back slightly, gaze dropping from your eyes to where your hands are then back to your eyes.

You look panicked and his heart sinks.

He drops his hold on you and takes a step back. He opens his mouth to say that this is what you wanted but if he crossed a line than he's sorry, unfortunately he just doesn't get the chance. In the blink of an eye, you disappear back into your room, slamming the door shut.

December 1984

The sound of the car engine starting makes Eddie flinch.

He's holding onto the unopened letters completely speechless and his heart is aching because all he has ever wanted was to make you happy, yet instead he hurt you.

Deeply.

All because his feelings were hurt; thinking back to the kiss you shared.

A kiss that should have been heaven, and instead ended like hell. The feeling of your lips against his invades Eddie’s thoughts at the best and worst of times. And the image of you disappearing into your room without a word… that haunts his nightmares.

But at the end of the day, his love for you is ever present. If not stronger. Just because you pulled him in, then pushed him away twice as fast, that didn’t change how he feels.

He unfortunately had to be a prick about it. ‘Cause he has no self control, no self respect, and hurt people, hurt people.

So he debates running after you, following you home so the two of you could maybe finish this conversation on a better note. Yet, something within him is holding him back.

Your words, "I don't give a shit anymore", are ringing in his ears and the letters are heavy in his grasp. He glances down at them and chews on the inside of his cheek, shuffling through the stack as he wanders towards the couch to sit.

He’s not really sure what he’s expecting to find out. What he reads though, is deeply personal and the further down the stack he gets, the guiltier he feels.

With the letters still in his grasp, Eddie is back on his feet in a flash. He doesn't bother throwing on a jacket, in his mind there is no time 'cause you love him just as much as he loves you and he fucked it up.

He hastily reaches for the keys to his van and the scarf you left behind. Unfortunately, the stupid piece of shit car doesn't start and the rational part of Eddie's brain knows it's the icy conditions, the engine block probably froze over, however he also can't help but feel this is karma.

Jesus Christ, he runs a hand down his face and exhales. He is such a fucking idiot.

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thank you for reading <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson best friend #bestfriend!eddie #pearl (eddies version)

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bookish-bi-mormon · 1 month

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There's a Mormon church across the road from my house and I've been curious about attending for years but I'm also an incredibly anxious queer bean. Any advice?

Hi! I appreciate you trusting me with this question and I wish I could give you a certain answer.

Unfortunately it's really a gamble. I've been lucky enough to be in a ward (congregation/neighborhood) where I've gotten a lot of positive feedback and support. My partner and I (very visibly queer) have been going to church together for the past month+ and we've only ever had kind things said to us. I think even the members who might believe that being queer is contrary to God's will still want to be kind and help us feel at home and recognize that our journeys on earth are not really their business.

Sadly, that can't be said of everyone. I've been in Sunday School classes in the past where hurtful things were said about queer people that sent me spiraling. I've heard of church leaders who pull trans people aside and ask them to stop attending because their presence is a "disruption." It really varies and I wish I could give you something to measure it by but I've been welcomed in the same town that a friend of mine was rejected.

more advice under the cut:

If you want to learn more about the LDS church, what we believe, how we started, and the Book of Mormon, this website is a good place to start. I don't know if you're a praying type, but in this situation I'd usually recommend praying and asking God if exploring mormonism is a good path for you. If you do feel like attending services, this website can help you see what time the wards in your area meet.

Things to know about church services:

Sacrament Meeting is the meeting where everyone sits in pews and listens to talks. Second Hour (which alternates between gendered and mixed classes every other week) are smaller group discussions where people read scriptures and quotes, and talk about how the gospel fits into our lives. If you want to go to second hour after sacrament meeting, I would just kinda follow whoever looks like they're your age/gender, or if you're feeling brave you could ask someone.

Women usually wear modest dresses, or a shirt+skirt combo. Men usually wear white shirt, tie, and slacks. I personally wear colorful button ups and slacks, sometimes a tie and sometimes not, to express my nonbinary gender. But I don't mind standing out. You really can wear whatever you want, but if you are anxious about standing out, then knowing the dress customs can be helpful.

They usually sing 3 or 4 songs during sacrament meeting. You don't have to sing along, but there should be a hymn book available in case you do.

Part way through sacrament meeting, they pass the sacrament (the bread and water that represent Christ's body and blood). A small tray will be passed down the pews. You don't have to eat/drink, but you can if you want. We see it as a renewal of the promises we make when we are baptized.

People tend to be very friendly, and use the time before/after meetings to socialize. Someone might see an unfamiliar face and come say hi. I promise they mean well, but if it stresses you out feel free to excuse yourself.

#ray's ramblings #queerstake #religion #mormon #advice #I wish you all the luck in the world!#if you want to know more feel free to message me

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wheresarizona · 2 years

Text

Learning to Live Part 8

summary: Javier wanted to show you a good time and take you to the farmers market. Unfortunately, he hadn’t anticipated how much attention you both would get in such a busy place.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: E (18+!!! Soft!Javier Peña (like so soft and sweet), Car sex, unprotected P in V (wrap it up!), creampie, hand job(s), dirty talk, praise, body worship, (1) bite, feelings, lots of kissing, fluff, teasing, Protective!Javi, Protective!reader, emotions, small town drama, feelings of insecurity, food mentions, whirlwind romance.) If I missed anything, please dm me!

word count: 16k+ (I’m sorry! A lot happens!)

A/N: Hello! I finished the full chapter, and I think it’s better all together, so here it is, and I hope you like it! There was a lot to cover, which is why it’s so long. Thank you so much for the continued support and loving these two! It means the world to me! ❤️❤️❤️ I don’t know how many chapters this whole fic will be, but we’re not even halfway through my outline. So, still, more to come! I do have a Spotify playlist for this story on the series masterlist if you wanna check that out. As always, this is dedicated to my bestie @juletheghoul and thank you to my incredible beta @invisibleismyname.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated and I do my best to respond to them all!

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It was a beautiful morning, the sky clear and blue. Javi was driving his truck, you sitting in the passenger seat, holding his hand on your thigh, heading to the farmers market. An oldies station was softly playing, and the air conditioning was cranked high to stave off the already considerable heat outside, even though it was only nine in the morning.

You were excited to spend the day with him and see more of the town. Your first week in Laredo mainly consisted of getting your apartment figured out, starting your new job, and learning where places were. You hadn’t gotten to really explore, and now you had an inside man to show you the spots worth visiting, and Javi said the market was one of them.

You weren't entirely sure why there was a nervous fluttering in your tummy. Maybe it was because you ran into his ex the last time you’d gone out in public for a date, and she unceremoniously spilled his secrets. You didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable like that again, and he’d told you that practically the whole town knew who he was and about his checkered past. You didn’t care what anybody thought about you or your relationship, you were happy, and that was all that mattered—what would bother you, was if anyone decided to do what Lorraine did at the restaurant and put Javi into a situation like that again.

You squeezed his hand in yours, so big and warm, engulfing your smaller one.

He looked over at you, wearing his aviator sunglasses and smiling.

You were willing to fight an entire town for this man.

You wouldn’t let anyone be disrespectful to him, and you knew he could stick up for himself—he was an adult man almost in his forties and had been dealing with this for years—but he was your boyfriend, your partner, and you knew he’d do the same for you. You had each other's backs; you were positive of that.

“What are you wanting to get?” He asked, eyes moving back to the road. “I know you wanted flowers.”

You smiled.

“Someone has spoiled me with flowers.”

He chuckled, looking at you again.

“And I’ll keep spoiling you,” he said with a wink.

You giggled, bringing his hand up to kiss the back of it.

“Probably fruits and veggies for sure. I’ll have to see what else there is.”

“I’ll get you whatever you want.”

You laughed.

“You’re not paying for my stuff. That’s ridiculous.”

He was staring straight ahead, and you saw his mouth turn down in a frown. He glanced over.

“I want to,” he said a little quieter, and your heart clenched.

“You may purchase a couple of reasonably priced items,” you said.

He smiled again, nodding.

“Okay.”

You chatted a little more, and before long, the truck was parked, and the two of you were walking hand in hand down the sidewalk.

The farmers market was located downtown in a large park. Big leaf-covered trees towered beside the wide concrete paths that the booths lined the edges of, and red brick retaining walls separated the grass from the walkways. It was a beautiful park, notably very green with the contrast of the red bricks.

The place was already busy, and you’d never seen so many people in one place the whole time you’d been in Laredo.

You saw Javi stiffen out of the corner of your eye, his hand tightening around yours, and immediately you were moving into his side and hugging his arm against you.

You looked up at him, his lips in a straight line, jaw clenched.

“You okay?” You asked.

He looked down at you, and you saw his eyes soften a little behind the darkened lenses.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he said, squeezing your hand again, his attention moving back to your surroundings. He said the words, but you didn’t quite believe them, making you frown.

The two of you should have been lost in the crowd of people—just one insignificant couple amongst dozens of others, and yet you saw the curious looks and heard the whispers as you both walked by, catching mentions of Javi’s name. He hadn’t been joking about everybody knowing about you; the townspeople were apparently a bunch of gossips.

You stopped at the first stall advertising farm fresh eggs at a very reasonable price, the person manning it greeting you with a big smile and nodding at Javi, their attention moving to new people that walked up next to you.

Javi leaned down.

“You want some of these?” He asked quietly.

You tipped up on your toes so your face was closer to his ear when you whispered for only him to hear.

“We do need the extra protein with the way you fuck my brains out. It’s like you’re determined to wreck my pussy.”

He sucked in a breath so hard he choked on his spit and started coughing, covering his mouth with his arm.

Your free hand rubbed against his chest.

“Sorry!” You said.

He calmed down after some seconds, his face a little red and eyes wet.

Javi got the attention of the person who greeted you.

“Three dozen, please,” he said, voice a bit hoarse as he grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, and you laughed.

Javi carried your purchases in a canvas tote bag you’d bought with the eggs in one hand and held yours in his other as you went from stall to stall.

You noticed he had his guard up and seemed to be on alert, eyes scanning the crowd, a hand always on you, keeping you close to him. He had a serious look on his face, lips dipping in a frown, the crinkle between his eyebrows more prominent. His demeanor was so different from how he was when you were alone, and it was a bit of a shock.

Was this how he was normally?

Intense, reserved, grumpy.

He was polite with others and replied when spoken to, but his answers were short and to the point, offering a forced smile if the occasion called for it, and it just made you miss his real smiles. The happy, genuine ones, so you made it your mission to try and get him to relax a little.

You were at a stall with artisan soap bars, holding one up to your nose as you smelled it. You were hit with scents of amber, patchouli, Madagascar vanilla, something floral, and some citrus. It smelled pretty good, and you lifted it towards Javi.

“Do you like this?” You asked.

He leaned in, breathing it in.

“Smells good,” he replied with a nod, but he was still frowning.

You moved up on your toes, and he bent his head so you could speak in his ear.

“If I got it,” you whispered. “Can I wash you with it? Just imagine my hands all over your body, maybe I’m behind you with my hand at your front, wrapped around your—”

“Cielito,” he interrupted in a rough tone. He turned his head to kiss your forehead. “Get it.”

You kissed his cheek, and he gave you a tiny smile that you counted as a win.

The flowers at the next stall were gorgeous, your eyes taking in the vibrant rainbow of colors neatly displayed.

“Which ones?” Javi asked.

You looked up at him, and the tiny smile had gotten a little bigger, which meant you had to get some—it would make him happy.

You smiled, turning to look at the choices.

“The pink peonies.”

He leaned into your space.

“I can name maybe three of what we’re looking at. Which ones…?”

You giggled.

“Sorry,” you said, reaching to grab a small bouquet and showing him your choice.

“They’re pretty,” he said, lips curving up a little more. His hand left yours as he juggled the canvas bag to get his wallet from his pocket, quickly paying. He put his arm around your shoulders as you both started walking, joining the many others walking down the path.

He’d forgotten how many people came out for the farmers market.

It was a big deal for their community. Everything sold was grown and made within two hundred miles of Laredo. It happened every second Saturday of the month, and it seemed like the whole fucking town was there to show their support.

It should be a good thing, everybody coming together and supporting the local vendors, but for Javier, it meant being in the spotlight, people watching him and Cielito with looks ranging from curiosity to pity. He felt like he was always the talk of the town, either because of what happened seventeen years ago with Lorraine or, more recently, with Colombia; his life was constantly a hot topic of discussion.

He’d gone from Javier Peña, the man who left the Mayor’s daughter at the altar and became a social pariah, to Javier Peña, the man who helped take down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel and was now considered Laredo’s golden boy.

His accomplishments overshadowed his past sins—to most of the people. He was called a hero by many, still hated by some, and there were the ones who didn’t give a fuck one way or the other but ate up all of the news about him anyway.

All of the interest in him made Javier avoid town functions like the fucking plague. He didn’t like the hero-worship, never thought he deserved such admiration for the shit he’d done in South America, and then there was the opposite he experienced, too; the dirty looks, the sneers, the outright animosity. He had to change barbers because his old one was Lorraine’s uncle, and he’d been told he wasn’t welcome upon his return.

He’d kept to himself since coming back. He worked, ran errands, and drank alone at the bar and in the comfort of his father’s house. Javier hadn’t been seen with a woman and turned down any advances because he knew his reputation preceded him, he knew the women offering to buy him drinks only wanted one thing, and he was tired. He wanted more than just sex; he wanted connection, passion, an actual relationship, and by some fucking miracle, he’d found what he was looking for in a beautiful woman who simply wanted to help him pick out some produce.

But now he was being seen in public with her, a sign that something was going on between them, and he was pretty sure the town was collectively having flashbacks to seventeen years prior. The pitiful looks stung him the most, knowing that people felt bad for Cielito like she was making a big mistake being with him. Doubt was beginning to creep into his brain that maybe she was, maybe he wasn’t good for her.

He felt his frown deepen, and suddenly arms wrapped around his middle, Cielito’s head resting against his chest, her flowers at his stomach, and he relaxed a little, his arm around her shoulders pulling her closer to him.

Javier wanted to spend time with her, take her places, show her a good time, and be a normal couple, but being in a busy place like this made him wish they were back at her apartment or even the booth at El Mercadito—he hated all of the attention and felt awful that she had to deal with it. The people, the looks, the whispers, all of it had him on edge and alert, wanting to keep her safe from it all—shield her, protect her. He worried everything would be too much, and she’d end things, realizing he wasn’t worth all the trouble.

They were coming up to another stall after browsing only a few before.

“Ooh, this looks fun,” she said, unwrapping herself from him, and Javier missed her immediately.

He watched her pick up a bottle of red wine on display, the winery located a few towns away.

“Thoughts on wine?” She asked, showing it to him.

“I prefer whiskey,” he said with a shrug.

The man selling came over to them, Javier not recognizing him, and started going through his sales pitch about how the one she was holding was a sweet wine with hints of cherries and strawberries and other things he didn’t understand. He’d never been a wine drinker; he preferred stronger liquor.

“Did you hear that, Javi? It’s versatile.”

She was looking at him with big eyes and a smile.

Someone else got the vendor's attention, and he politely excused himself.

“What does that mean?” Javier asked.

“You can drink it with food or by itself. Do you like wine?” She asked.

“I never drink it.”

He saw her eyes brighten, a smirk lifting on her lips, and he knew whatever she was about to say probably wouldn’t be appropriate with people around, and he felt his heart begin to speed up.

“So,” she started, looking around, the others close by in animated conversation, and she leaned close, lowering her voice a little. “Does that mean you wouldn’t want to get wine drunk and fool around on the couch?”

He was reminded of the previous things they’d done in her living room, his throat going dry, want beginning to stir in his belly, and he had to keep himself from groaning, huffing out an amused breath instead. His lips turned up in a small smile.

“Get the wine, Cielito.”

She grinned at him, her face lighting up, and he felt his heart stutter at how beautiful she looked. It took a couple of minutes for her to make her purchase, and he placed the bottle in the bag he was holding, taking her hand with his free one as they started walking.

“When was the last time you came here?” She asked him.

He looked at her, seeing her curious expression.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “I don’t even remember.”

He hadn’t been in recent years.

“It’s a really nice place,” she said, leaning into him. “I love looking at all the different things, and it’s such a beautiful day to walk around outside.” It was still morning, and the heat wasn’t overwhelming, the tree branches overhead offering shade. Their gazes met. “I’m having a great time being here with you.” She smiled at him, and he could see it on her face that she was telling the truth, and his eyes widened.

“You are?” He asked, not able to keep the surprise from his tone.

Her forehead crinkled, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s not too much?” He asked slowly.

He knew she was seeing and hearing the same things he was. The older couple behind them were talking in hushed voices, but he’d heard his name and the wife say, that poor girl.

Cielito’s expression relaxed, a smile on her lips.

“Like I told you on our second date, I don’t care what people say about me. As long as I’m happy and you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

He smiled a little bigger and felt some of the tension in his body release.

“I’m happy being with you,” he said truthfully, bringing their joined hands up so he could kiss the back of hers.

Her smile got bigger.

“Then fuck ‘em.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning down to kiss her temple.

“I’d rather just fuck you,” he said for only her to hear.

“You’re insatiable,” she laughed.

He smiled.

“Only for you.”

All it took were her words to have his earlier doubts and worries slipping from his mind, replaced with thoughts of how much he adored her and how lucky he was to have her.

They approached a table laden with little glass sculptures of animals and plants, the woman running it looking vaguely familiar, but Javier couldn’t recall her name as she greeted them with a friendly hello.

“These are really beautiful,” Cielito said, smiling at the vendor.

“Thank you. I make them myself.”

Javier listened as the two women spoke for a few minutes, his eyes on Cielito, watching how genuinely interested she was to hear about the other woman’s craft. He felt himself soften a little, warmth filling his chest. He was feeling better knowing she was having a good time, and he was glad she chose to ignore everyone and just enjoy herself.

She ended up buying a glass tulip, the stem green, and the flower yellow. It was packaged up safely, and Javier happily took it when it was handed to him to put in the bag.

They walked hand in hand to the next stall selling raw honey.

“Well, if it isn’t Javier Peña!” The owner, an older woman in her early seventies, said in a strong Texas drawl.

“Hi, Mrs. Moore,” he said, giving her a smile.

The older woman’s hair was completely white, and she was wearing a brightly printed blouse in a fun pattern, with a denim jacket. She had always been fond of him and his family, and had been a friend of his mother’s.

“Who is this lovely woman with you? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Pauletta Moore,” she said, sticking out her hand.

Cielito shook it, introducing herself.

“It’s nice to meet you, dear. A gorgeous couple!” Mrs. Moore’s attention moved to him. “Javier, you’ve gotten more handsome with age! When I saw your picture in the paper about all that stuff you did in South America, I could not believe it was the same young man who helped me build those bee boxes when you were what, nineteen?”

“I was twenty,” he said, turning to Cielito, who looked at him. “Mrs. Moore went to church with my parents, and she wanted to start beekeeping—”

“Something to keep me busy in my retirement,” Mrs. Moore added.

“And she asked around if someone could help her build the boxes—”

“And Javier’s wonderful mother offered his services.”

“She didn’t give me a choice,” he said with a chuckle.

“Such an incredible woman,” Mrs. Moore said. “I miss her dearly. She made the best tamales in Webb County, if not the entire state of Texas! But I’m happy she sent you. I used those boxes for years.”

He knew he probably looked a little surprised.

“Really?” He asked.

He’d had to go to the library and check out books on how to build them.

“Yes! Had to expand when I really started selling. I’ll always fondly remember you coming over in your white tank top and jeans, hammering away.” She looked at Cielito. “You are one lucky girl. He’s aged like a fine wine. Look at those arms!”

He felt heat crawling up his neck, clearing his throat as Cielito giggled.

“They’re good arms,” Cielito agreed, letting go of his hand to rub her own along his forearm. “And I know I’m very lucky.” She looked up at him, grinning, and he smiled back.

Mrs. Moore grabbed a jar of honey from the table.

“Take some honey!” she said, holding it out to him.

“Oh, Mrs. Moore, I couldn’t possibly—” He started.

“I insist, Javier,” she said, pushing it towards him. “It was with your help I got my start. Take it as thanks.” Her tone stated she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He carefully accepted it from her.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Anytime, and don’t be a stranger!”

He chuckled.

“I won’t.”

“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Moore!” Cielito said.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

Javier put the honey in the bag and retook Cielito’s hand, pulling her away from the booth. She started speaking when they were further down the path.

“I’m pretty sure if Mrs. Moore was thirty years younger, she would have definitely come onto you.”

He groaned, and she giggled.

“You’re just so handsome,” she continued. “And your arms are apparently lady kryptonite.”

He looked at her, and she was wearing a big toothy grin.

“Yeah? Do you feel the same?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You know how I feel about them,” she replied with a wink.

He leaned down to speak in her ear.

“That’s right, you think it’s sexy when I manhandle you,” he whispered. “You like it when I pull out, flip you over, and fu—”

His sentence was cut off when she turned her head, kissing him, a surprised sound coming out of his mouth.

“We are in public,” she murmured against his lips.

He kissed her quickly, pulling back to look at her.

��You started it,” he said with a smirk. “The eggs, the soap? Teasing me.” He looked forward, seeing the next booth. “Want some food?”

“I could eat.”

They arrived at a little pastry place, the table containing trays of different flavored croissants and danishes, all from a bakery in town. The owner running the stall was the cousin of a guy he’d gone to school with who Javier didn’t know too well; he was pretty sure his name was Mike—he saw he was right when he spotted the man’s name tag.

“Good morning,” Mike greeted.

“Morning. What would you like?” Javier asked Cielito.

“Hmmm,” she said, appraising what was in front of them. “Would you want to share an almond croissant?” She asked, looking at him.

“Yeah. That sounds good,” he answered. He turned his attention back to the owner. “Can we get one of the almond ones, please?”

“Sure thing, Javier,” Mike replied, getting a piece of parchment paper, grabbing the pastry, and handing it to Cielito. She let go of his hand to take it.

Javier moved the tote bag to his left hand, pulling his wallet from his back pocket with his right. He snagged two ones and handed them over.

“Keep the change,” he said.

“Thank you!”

He put his wallet away, his arm moving to rest on Cielito’s shoulders as they walked a little down the path and stepped to the edge in an empty space between stalls, the brick retainer wall next to them as she stood in front of him.

The croissant was golden brown and had slices of almonds and powdered sugar on top. He watched as she held it up to his mouth; Javier opened and took a bite. It tasted buttery and nutty, with sweetness from the sugar and filling. He’d never had one before; a little too fancy for him, but he had to admit it wasn’t bad, nodding his head as he chewed.

“What do you think?” She asked, biting into it.

“It’s good,” he said after swallowing.

She brought it back up to his lips, and he bit into it again.

It went like that until the pastry was finished, each of them taking bites until finally, Javier told her to have the last of it, loving the little smile she gave him.

She tossed the used parchment paper in a nearby trash can and returned, her hand reaching up to his face.

“You got a little sugar right here,” she said, rubbing her thumb against the side of his mouth, and he watched, eyes transfixed on her as she brought it to her mouth, her tongue licking away the powder. He gulped, feeling heat under his skin that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

She smiled, eyes sparkling.

“It looks like I missed some,” she said. “Come here.” She beckoned him to lean down, and he did it, immediately bringing his head closer to hers, his heartbeat racing.

She got close to him, his face an inch from hers, as her fingers lightly grabbed his chin to turn his head at an angle. Her lips touched the spot her thumb had, kissing it first, then her tongue licked over the small area, Javier’s eyes closing for a second as a tingle went down his spine. He wanted to kiss her, and the urge became too much; Javier quickly turned his head to capture her lips with his. He was delighted by her surprised sound, his tongue tasting the sweetness on her lips as he kissed her, swallowing her moan when he deepened it. Her hand cupped his jaw, and Javier didn’t care if anyone saw—they were in their own little bubble, enjoying one another for the moment, kissing until they needed to breathe.

They finally parted, looking at each other with smiles on their faces.

“I liked the croissant,” he said.

“Good. I’m kind of thirsty.”

He straightened up, looking down the path at the booths as people passed by, until he spotted one, turning back towards her.

“Lemonade?” He asked.

“Lemonade works.”

He took her hand, and she followed, moving with the crowd of people, until he got them to their destination, standing in line behind a small family.

They got to the table and the person running it was one of Lorraine’s many cousins; he watched her face sour when she realized who her next customer was. Her eyes moved from him to Cielito and back to him.

“Javier,” she said in an icy tone.

He sighed.

“Hi, Tammy.”

He really hoped she wouldn’t make a scene. Cielito squeezed his hand.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“Just one lemonade, please.”

She glared at him and aggressively grabbed a paper cup from the stack, eyes on his as she moved in front of the big glass spigot jar that held the bright yellow drink.

He let go of Cielito’s hand to get his wallet, taking out the dollar needed to pay and stuffing the billfold back into his pocket.

She was back in front of them after a moment, her attention moving to the woman next to him.

“Word of advice, sweetie,” Tammy started, tone sickly sweet. “I wouldn’t grow too attached to this one. He’s the love them and leave them type, and really good at the leaving.”

His eyes widened, blood rushing in his ears as his stomach dropped.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

As soon as he saw Tammy, they should’ve gone somewhere else, and he was kicking himself in the ass for thinking she’d be civil. It made no fucking sense to him why this family was so adamant about making his life hell—Lorraine had moved on, married a rich and successful man, and had a family, for Christ’s sake. He wished they’d all let it go, it happened seventeen years ago, and they acted like they were trying to make him suffer for all of the time he’d been away.

He was about to speak when Cielito beat him to it.

“Word of advice, sweetie,” she said, using the same sickly sweet tone. His head turned towards her, seeing her glaring at the other woman. “Mind your own fucking business. But seeing as you’re advertising fresh-squeezed lemonade when in reality you’re using a powdered mix—” Tammy sucked in a breath. “I can tell by that artificial yellow color,” she waved her hand at the glass. “Also, the canister is literally on the ground behind you, barely shoved behind that sign proudly declaring you’re only using the freshest lemons. Where are the lemons, Tammy?”

“Right there,” Tammy said.

Javier looked at the table, seeing a basket with unnaturally shiny lemons.

“Tammy, sweetie,” Cielito continued. “Some more advice: If you’re trying to fool people, use real lemons.” He watched as she plucked one of the fruits up, moving the flowers she was holding to the crook of her arm so she could use both of her hands to split the lemon in two. It was made of foam, and she tossed the pieces onto the table. “As I was saying, mind your own fucking business, but it’s pretty fucking clear you’re bad at that, too. So, keep your falsely advertised lemonade and have a nice day.”

Cielito grabbed his wrist, leading him away, and Javier got one last look at Tammy seeing her face bright red, mouth open, and eyes wide, and he couldn’t help smiling, wanting to do nothing more than kiss his girlfriend on the mouth.

When they stopped walking, they were standing at a food cart, and he wasn’t paying attention; his eyes focused on the amazing woman next to him. He knew she ordered something, her hand leaving him as she dug around in her purse one-handed to pull out a dollar and turned towards him to carefully take the one he was still holding. She exchanged the money for a clear plastic cup containing a golden liquid, and she looked at him.

“Follow me,” she said.

She didn’t even have to ask. He was her shadow; he’d follow her anywhere.

They ended up in another empty spot by the small wall, her standing in front of him, their eyes locked on one another, and he was in awe—this woman who always stood up for him with zero hesitation, even when they’d barely known each other, she was ready to fight for him. He felt his features soften, the smile still pulled up on his lips, and he just felt so much adoration for her it was squeezing his heart and making his chest tight.

She held the cup up to him, and he saw her lips move like she was saying something, but his brain didn’t process the words.

“Sorry?” He asked.

She smiled at him—her lips softly curving up, and a knowing look in her beautiful eyes, like she could read his thoughts.

“You want the first sip?” She asked again.

He shook his head.

“No, mi Cielito. You first,” he insisted.

Her smile got bigger, taking a gulp and sighing when she finished.

She passed it to him, and he was surprised when he took a drink, not expecting the taste.

“Beer?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, handing it back to her. He looked at his watch. “It’s not even eleven.”

“People drink beer with brunch,” she said with a shrug, taking another sip.

“Brunch implies we’re eating something more substantial than cereal and pastries.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to make us something when we get back to my apartment.” She smiled.

At the mention of her apartment, he felt a pulse of excitement flow through his body, ideas of the things he wanted to do to her once they were alone. He needed to show her how thankful he was, how much he cherished her, and how happy he was to be with her. He stepped into her space, fingers tipping her chin up, eyes locked on hers.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” She asked softly.

He looked at her lips, wet from the beer, and he saw her tongue peek out to lick the bottom one, him mimicking her actions as his gaze moved back up.

“Sticking up for me,” he rasped. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.” She was speaking quietly for only him to hear. “You’re my boyfriend, and I won’t let people treat you like that. And even if you weren’t my boyfriend, I still would have told Tammy off for being rude and a liar. She has to be related to Lorraine.” She made a face, and he chuckled.

“Her cousin.”

“Is her whole family a bunch of dicks or something?”

“Her brother’s decent, but he’s the exception—the black sheep of the family.”

“Okay, so a bunch of dicks. Noted.”

“Thank you,” he said again.

“Stop thanking me,” she said in an exasperated tone, smiling. “You would have done the same.”

That was true.

The need to kiss her was back, eyes back on her lips, seeing how inviting they looked. He gave in, closing the distance and slanting his mouth against hers, and he smiled when he felt her melt into it, kissing her harder.

He nipped at her lip and gave her one last kiss.

“Let’s finish our morning beer. I’m getting… hungry.” He said the last word in a deeper register and saw her pupils dilate, making him smirk.

“Then we better get our shopping done,” she said, moving her head to speak in his ear. “I’m feeling hungry, too, and not just for food. You ruined my panties.” She kissed his cheek before stepping back.

Javier groaned, a spike of arousal shooting down his spine at the memory of what they’d done in the kitchen earlier. She stood in front of him, eyes on his with a sly smile, lifting the cup to her mouth, and he rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, drinking her in—admiring the way her dress fit her figure and accentuated her breasts, knowing how she looked without any of the clothes on. The thoughts and images in his brain had his body going hot, and the reminder that she was standing there with his come still inside her, had blood heading towards his dick. She was driving him wild, and he wanted to be alone with her and away from all of these people. The quicker they finished, the quicker they could go.

There wasn’t too much beer left, and Javier gently took it from her hand and gulped the remaining liquid down, tossing the empty plastic into the nearby trash. He grabbed her free hand.

“What do you need to buy?” He asked.

“Bread, vegetables, and fruit,” she replied.

“Okay,” he nodded. “We’ll get those things and go.” He pulled her along, on a mission to find those items and get them going. She giggled behind him as he led her down the path briskly, passing people until he found a place selling bread.

He recognized the woman running the stand right away.

Anna Martinez was in the same graduating class as him in high school, and they’d been on friendly terms, very friendly terms. She looked almost the same as she did in high school; laugh lines were the only thing showing her age. She still had the curly brown hair that went past her shoulders and lips painted red in the same shade she wore when they were teens. She now had a gold band on her left ring finger and a kid who probably wasn’t even ten that looked like her spitting imagine filling a paper bag with pastries for another customer.

On the table were loaves of bread, cookies, and pan dulce, Mexican pastries, laid out in front of them. Anna smiled when she looked up and saw him standing there.

“Hey, Javi,” she said. “Haven’t seen you since Danny’s wedding. Knew you’d come back to town, been keeping busy?”

“Hi, Anna. Just working on the ranch.”

She gave him a once over, nodding her head.

“I can tell,” she said with a wink, still smiling warmly when she looked over at Cielito. “You must be the woman everyone is talking about.” She stuck out her hand. ”I’m Anna.” Cielito shook her hand, introducing herself. Anna pointed at the child next to her. “That’s my daughter, Erica.” The child waved and returned to work, refilling a tray with sweet breads. “It’s lovely to put a face and name to the mystery woman Javi was seen around town with,” Anna said. “You know, I heard from a credible source you had a wonderful interaction with Lorraine.”

Cielito laughed.

“I don’t know about wonderful, but it was something,” she said.

“Oh, it was definitely wonderful. It’s good somebody put her in her place. That whole family thinks they rule this town, and it’s tiring.”

Javi sighed.

“It really is,” he said.

Anna looked sympathetic, and he quickly changed the subject.

“How are the kids? Your husband?” He asked.

She smiled.

“Kids are great, doing well in school and their sports. Alejandro just got a promotion at the bank, so that’s been amazing! How’s life treating you, Javi?”

He looked at Cielito, feeling himself smile.

“Life’s really good,” he replied. “Things are looking up.”

“I’m glad to hear that! Now, what can I get you both?”

Cielito and Anna had a friendly discussion about the bread, leading to Cielito choosing two loaves to buy and paying. Anna gave her the change, the bread safely in their tote bag, before getting a small piece of parchment paper and grabbing a chocolate chip cookie, holding it out to Javier.

“Here’s a cookie, Javi. For old time's sake. A strong man like you deserves it,” she winked.

“Let me pay for it,” he said, moving his hand towards his pocket.

“No voy a dejar que pages (I won’t let you pay).”

“Lo insisto (I insist),” he said.

She looked at Cielito.

“Tell your man to accept the damn cookie.” She shook her head, muttering. “Dios mío, que terco este hombre (So stubborn this man, my god.)”

Cielito laughed.

“You heard her. Take the cookie,” she said.

He reluctantly accepted it.

“Muchas gracias, Anna,” He said.

“De nada (no problem).” Her eyes moved to the woman next to him. “Keep him out of trouble, and don’t let him take you to the lookout.”

He felt his ears heat, clearing his throat.

“I’ll do my best,” Cielito said.

They started walking away from the booth, Javier passing her the cookie.

“For you,” he said.

“I’m not eating your cookie.”

He sighed.

“We can split it?”

She smiled.

“That is acceptable,” she said. He broke it in two and handed her half.

He had to admit the cookie was pretty good. When they’d finished eating, he took her free hand into his, lacing their fingers as they walked towards a stall with vegetables and fruits.

“What did she mean by not letting you take me to the lookout?” Cielito asked.

His eyes went a little wide, looking away from her.

“Uh, something stupid happened there years ago. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said.

“Well, now I’m curious.”

He sighed again.

“Just high school kids being dumb.”

“Oof, the stupid things I did as a teenager.”

Aside from the Tammy fiasco, you were having a great time and ignored the looks and whispers, just happy to be with Javi, flowers in one hand, his own in your other, walking and talking to him. You could see that needling away at his walls had worked. You saw the stiffness in him slowly disappear, caught glimpses of the smiles you liked, and it made you happy to see him loosening up.

“It’s time for you to use the knowledge I bestowed,” you said, the two of you standing at a large booth with crates upon crates of colorful produce displayed on many tables. You let go of his hand, pointing at some tomatoes in front of you. “Find us the perfect tomato, babe. I’ll make you my version of a BLT for lunch.”

He looked at you, eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s your version?”

“A secret you will soon discover when we get back to my place,” you said with a smile.

He nodded, looking back at the vegetables, staring them down with a serious look, like he was trying to intimidate them into speaking. You smiled, because it was the same expression he had the first time you saw him at the grocery store. He picked one up, feeling it in his hand, and you noticed how easily he held it, the large heirloom tomato fitting in his palm. He pressed into it gently to test it.

“Too ripe,” he said, putting it down, and you smiled big, watching with rapt attention. He picked up another, going through the same motions and setting it back down. He looked for a second and picked up another, holding it in his hand, and inspected it before testing it with his thumb. He nodded to himself, holding it out to you. “This one.”

You took it, and you couldn’t wrap your fingers around it, checking it out and lightly pressing into it, the color of it bright red and unblemished. You looked up at him, and he was watching intently.

“Are you positive this is the one you want to go with?” You asked.

He frowned, looking unsure.

“Yeah..?”

You smiled.

“Congratulations, Javi. You picked the perfect tomato.”

This was when he gave you the biggest, happiest, genuine smile that took your breath away, when his dimple appeared and his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Really?” He asked.

“Really! I’m so proud.”

He chuckled, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips.

“What else do we need?” He asked.

“Arugula, avocado, and I’m looking at the fruit—need to get some for pies and maybe pastries.”

He ducked his head to whisper in your ear.

“For apology baked goods?” He asked.

“Yes,” you laughed.

His voice went a bit deeper. “Do you still feel my come?”

You softly gasped.

“Am I dripping out of you?” He continued.

“Javi,” you breathed.

Your cunt clenched at the reminder, reveling in the delicious ache in your core. He really had ruined your panties, the wet fabric sticking to you.

He went on, his breath tickling your ear.

“Thinking about how easy it is to lift up that pretty dress and wreck your tight—”

You turned your head, cutting off his sentence with your lips.

“Again, we are in public,” you said against his mouth.

He kissed you a little harder.

He pulled back. “Can’t wait to get back to your apartment,” he said with a smirk. He kissed your forehead. “I’ll get the avocado, and we can leave when you’ve gotten the rest.”

Javi was carrying two bags in his hand, keeping his other free to hold yours, while you held the flowers—it was the only thing he’d let you carry.

The two of you were heading toward the truck when some jewelry caught your attention, and you dragged him over to take a quick look. The person working the booth was a beautiful woman who, based on her looks, was a little younger than you. She ignored you, turning her attention to Javi.

“Hi, Javier.” Her tone was extremely flirty as she twirled some of her blonde hair on her finger. Your eyebrows were in your hairline, looking down to double-check that you were still holding his hand, and there it was, his fingers laced with your own.

“Hi, uh…” He didn’t know her name, and you smiled as your eyes moved to the handmade jewelry in front of you—all of the pieces made from silver, with intricate engraving work, and some with precious stones.

“Rebecca. The Wilson’s oldest,” she said.

“Right,” he said. You glanced at him to see he had a fake polite smile on his face, so different from the ones he had given Mrs. Moore or Anna.

“You’re looking really good,” she said and reached over the table to touch his arm, and it froze you in place at how bold she was being. You felt like there was a rock in the pit of your stomach, the tendrils of an unpleasant feeling beginning to form inside your chest.

“Thanks,” he replied, his voice tight and clearly uncomfortable with the attention. He moved closer into your side, Rebecca’s hand dropping away.

“You know all that stuff you did in South America; I’d love to buy you a drink sometime and thank you properly,” she said suggestively, practically eye fucking him.

Your body tensed up, feeling your blood boil at this woman’s blatant disregard for you. You’d seen the looks women gave Javi at the bar on your first date, and even while you’d been out today; you knew others found him attractive—you sure as fuck did, and you wouldn’t be bothered by mild, fun-flirting, that was harmless, like the interactions he’d had earlier, but this was different. This made you angry that someone would be so hurtful.

Insecurity was clawing in your chest, making it feel tight, because why would Javi choose you over someone so young and beautiful? You were beginning to spiral, feeling the emotions starting to overwhelm you.

“I’m not interested,” Javi said sternly, the polite tone gone. Your head whipped toward him, seeing that he looked angry. “And I clearly have a girlfriend—a fucking incredible one at that, and she doesn’t deserve this kind of disrespect.” He looked at you, and his face softened. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You nodded, letting him pull you away.

You were both quiet as you walked back to the truck, his hand holding yours tightly.

His words played over in your head on repeat. I’m not interested, and I clearly have a girlfriend. Being seen together, holding hands, and showing public displays of affection didn’t indicate the nature of your relationship. With Javi’s past, most people would probably assume it was a fling or nothing special—but he’d announced it, and made sure they knew you were dating and that it was serious. Sure, he’d only said it to Rebecca, but the townspeople were a bunch of gossips, and you had no doubt the news would spread like wildfire. You were shocked with how easily he proclaimed it, and elated, just so fucking happy that he was so committed to you, and you felt silly for having any doubts.

Javi opened the truck's passenger door, leaning in to put the bags in the backseat, and turned to gently take the flowers from you, putting those in the back also. When he faced you again, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said softly.

“It’s okay,” your muffled voice replied.

He loosened his hold, a hand tipping your chin up to look at him.

His forehead was scrunched.

“It’s not okay,” he said. “It was fucked up and rude.”

“Maybe she didn’t know?”

He huffed out a breath.

“The whole fucking town knows. She knew. I was holding your hand, it was obvious, and she didn’t give a fuck.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was fucked up, and I didn’t care for it.”

“I know, Cielito.”

“Like Mrs. Moore talking about how handsome you are and your great arms? That was fine and fun. Or Anna being flirty and insisting a strong man like you needed a chocolate chip cookie? That was okay; she acknowledged we were together, and you got a free cookie.”

“That I tried to give you.”

“That we split.”

He sighed.

“I’m sorry. Just really fucking sorry you had to deal with all that and everything that happened today.”

“You can’t control what other people say,” you said with a shrug. “So, there’s no reason to be sorry. You also can’t help that you’re just so damn irresistible women lose complete common sense when interacting with you. Except for Tammy.” You made a face.

He chuckled, smirking.

“You seem to do pretty well with my irresistible charm.”

“It takes a lot of effort—like so much. Your neck looks so fucking good in that shirt, all I can think about is lick—”

He kissed you hard, interrupting your sentence, a moan slipping out of your mouth.

“Let’s head back to your place,” he said, pulling back, eyes full of promise.

“Okay,” you nodded.

You got into the truck, and Javi kissed you, before he shut the door and walked around to get into the driver’s side seconds later. You moved to the middle seat, wanting to be closer to him. He held your hand, resting them on his thigh as he pulled out of the parking spot and into traffic. The music was softly playing, the air conditioning blowing, and you leaned your head against his arm.

All of the negative emotions had been replaced with happiness, contentedness, need. You were still thinking about what he’d said to Rebecca.

“You told her I was your girlfriend,” you said.

“Of course I did. That’s what you are.”

You turned your head, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at his profile, admiring the curve of his nose and lips.

“I mean, I know we’ve labeled our relationship to each other, but telling others, I don’t know, makes it feel more real? We’re serious enough that we’re comfortable with people knowing.”

“I’m very serious,” he said without missing a beat.

Your heart sped up.

“What do you mean by that?”

He glanced over at you.

“If I don’t fuck this up.” He looked back at the road. “And you’re still happy with me in the future. Hopefully, you’d consider taking my last name.”

Your eyes widened.

“You’re interested in the possibility of getting married?”

His eyes met yours briefly, his eyebrows furrowing as he frowned.

“Yeah? Is that not something you want?”

“I’m okay with marriage,” you reassured. “It’s just surprising to me that after what you’ve gone through, you’d even fathom the idea.”

Javi sighed, hearing the creak of his hand tightening on the steering wheel.

“I’m not against it. My parents were my example of what a healthy marriage should look like. If I marry, I want it to be with someone I genuinely love, who will stick with me through thick or thin, and not put up with any of my shit. And I want to have the choice on marrying—not doing it simply because it’s the right thing to do.” He looked at you again, eyes softer, vulnerability shining in the dark pools. “I want to marry for love, not duty.”

“That’s how it should be,” you nodded, a small smile on your lips. “And I want the same things. If I’m tying myself to someone for the rest of my life, I need to like them, love them, and know they feel the same.”

He smiled, facing forward again.

“I’m glad we have similar wants,” he said.

“I am, too,” you said, grinning.

You were leaning into his side, your left hand holding his, and you moved your right one across your body to rub it against his jean-clad thigh.

“So,” you started. “If this all works out, your goal is to one day make me Mrs. Javier Peña?”

He chuckled.

“Yeah.”

In the past when you dated, things were a bit more casual. You saw the other person once a week, and talked on the phone maybe one or two times between seeing each other, but with Javi, the two of you had packed basically a month of dates into a matter of days. It was a bit unconventional, but there was something between the two of you that you’d never felt with anyone else—a strong connection, and the fact you could see a future with him—that you wanted a future with him.

You could picture him meeting your family and friends, and knew they’d all like him, because he was charming and fun to talk to when he was comfortable. It made you sad that he couldn’t be like that all the time in the town he’d grown up in—that the people put him on edge, and only a few got to see what he was really like without his walls up. All this to say that talking about the future didn’t scare you—you knew he’d be a part of yours, and it made sense to figure things out and see if you wanted the same things.

“What else do you want?” You asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Kids? No kids?”

He tensed, throat bobbing, and he wasn’t looking at you, but you could see his eyes had widened, and you bet they looked a little panicked.

“Uh… I… I don’t… I’m not….”

Yep, panicked.

You squeezed his thigh.

“A topic for later discussion,” you said, throwing him a line. You started rubbing your hand up and down his thigh again, moving up and inward, feeling it tense, and going back down.

He looked at you.

“What… Uh… What about you?”

You saw his throat swallow.

“Kids or no kids, I’m happy with whichever.” You said truthfully. “It’s a big decision I’d want to make with my partner, and I’d want both of us on board, you know?”

“Yeah...”

Your hand was still moving, doing a circuit up and back down, over and over again.

“Pets?” You asked.

“What about them?”

“Yes or no.”

He visibly relaxed.

“If I had the space, yes,” he said, looking over at you and smiling. “A dog.”

“Not into cats?”

Your hand went further up his inner thigh, and he sucked in a breath before you moved it back down.

“Allergic,” he answered breathlessly.

“That is a damn shame.”

“Do you want pets?” He asked.

“I love animals,” you said. “I always envisioned having a dog and cat one day, but I can live without a cat.”

He looked at you and smiled.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. Dogs are wonderful.”

Your hand was still moving on his thigh, and you were feeling bold—everything he’d done and said while you’d been out and in the truck made you want him so badly that you decided to test the waters, finally moving your hand between his legs, and rubbing at his groin.

“Cielito,” Javi groaned, squeezing your hand he was holding. “What are you doing?”

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” you said.

You could feel him becoming interested under your touch.

“I… Fuck, I don’t want you to stop.” You heard his hand tightening around the steering wheel again, his words making your cunt throb, a heady rush of arousal coursing through you and making your ruined panties even wetter.

You kept moving your hand, his jeans the only barrier keeping you from touching his cock.

“Okay,” you smiled.

He was half-hard already, his pants beginning to bulge under your ministrations.

“What else do you want?” You asked.

It was taking him a moment to respond as you kept rubbing, seconds passing.

“A house,” he finally said.

“A house is good and would have the space for your future dog. I’d like a house with a little garden to plant flowers and vegetables. What else?” You asked.

He was fully hard quickly, and you moved both of your hands to the front of his jeans, undoing his belt and pants.

“Wha—” His word cut off into a moan when your hand wrapped around his straining cock, flushed, with precum beading at the tip, and throbbing in your grasp.

You let go to lick your palm before you started stroking him, your saliva and his arousal easing your movements, feeling the hot, velvety skin under your palm, solid in your hand.

“What else?” You asked again.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “It’s hard to think with your hand around my dick.”

You stopped, and he whined.

“Is it hindering your ability to drive?” You asked.

“No, no, keep going,” he urged, eyes on the road. “I’m taking care of it.”

You didn’t know what he meant, beginning to move your hand again, up and down, flicking your wrist on the upstroke to make him moan.

You were working him over, getting him to the point that precum was steadily dribbling, making your hand glide wetly.

Javi was panting out breaths mixed with gasps and moans, his eyes never moving from in front of him.

“You never answered my question,” you said.

“Uh, what?” He asked thickly. You saw him swallow. “Oh. Fuck,” he groaned. “Uh… happiness.”

You were aware that he’d made a couple of turns you hadn’t expected. You looked out the window, not recognizing where you were—no houses or businesses—the area looked like they were planning to turn it into a neighborhood, but right now, it was completely empty, just streets with no sign of civilization for miles.

You turned your attention back to him, admiring his profile, the curve of his nose, and parted lips.

“You deserve happiness,” you said. “After the life you’ve had, I want you to be happy. Anything else you’d want?”

The truck swerved to the side of the road, coming to a complete stop, Javi throwing it into park and tossing his sunglasses onto the dashboard. His seatbelt was quickly undone and practically thrown over his shoulder in a clatter as his upper body turned towards you. His big hands came up to cradle your face as he looked you in the eyes.

“You,” he said, crashing his lips against yours.

You moaned when he pushed his tongue into your mouth, sliding it against yours, kissing you desperately. Your tongues tangled, teeth clashed, noses bumped—you could feel that he wanted you just as badly, and it lit a fire in your belly, arousal burning brightly.

His hands moved down your body, quickly undoing your seatbelt and grabbing your ass, hauling you into his lap, your hand coming off him in the move.

You were straddling his thighs, his mouth on yours while his hands pulled your dress up your hips, bunching it there as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Fucking need you, baby,” he growled against your mouth. His palms were back on your ass, moving you forward to grind your covered core against his hard cock. “Feel what you do to me.”

As he rubbed against your clit, you moaned, sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Can I—?” He asked.

You didn’t need him to finish the question; he could have whatever he wanted.

“Yes,” you gasped.

Your mouths detached as you sat up, positioning yourself over him, Javi pulling your panties aside, and you started to sink down, watching his face, seeing his eyes close and lips part, that pained expression, committing to memory the wrecked look on his face, as you both groaned in unison.

“God,” you sighed once you’d bottomed out. He was stretching your walls, filling you perfectly, and making your cunt flutter around him. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Ride me, baby,” he rasped, eyes blown wide when he looked at you. “Take what you want.”

You rolled your hips, feeling him so deep, a moan slipped from your throat, and then you started moving, riding him the way he asked. You leaned in, kissing him hard as your hands moved to his shoulders for leverage, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, helping to move you up and down.

His mouth moved to your jaw, kissing along it as you bounced on him, the tension building in your stomach, working yourself up, getting closer to your sweet release, and you were relishing in the noises he made against your skin—moans, grunts, and gasps as he kissed down the column of your throat, peppering it with kisses, bites, and licks. You still had marks from the first night in your apartment littered across your neck and chest, and you loved them—reminders of the glorious things he’d done to you.

You were losing yourself to the pleasure, his cock hitting all of the right spots, and the slick sounds between your legs spurring you on.

Javi’s hand came up to your front, tugging the neckline of your dress and the cup of your bra down to free one of your breasts. Your nipples were already stiff peaks, Javi pulling the freed one into his warm mouth, making your back arch, pushing your chest into his face. He groaned around the bud, laving at it before his mouth moved to the skin of your breast, sucking hard.

He was thrusting his hips up to meet yours, a hand on your ass to help move you, mouth back to sucking on your nipple, and now his free hand was snaked between your bodies, rubbing at your clit. You were close, everything winding you up so tightly it felt like you were on the cliff's edge, feeling your inner muscles tightening.

“Come for me,” Javi ordered in a gravelly tone that sent electricity down your spine, and his hand was pulling your face into his, kissing you messily as you tipped over the edge, shattering. He swallowed your shuddering moans, your body tensing, clenching hard around him, and breaking your rhythm. Euphoria washed over you, spreading through your body and limbs in heated waves.

His lips left yours.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped.

You were aware of both of Javi’s hands grabbing onto your ass, using his strength to work you up and down him as he chased his high and worked you through your aftershocks.

His head moved to the crook of your neck, grunting against your skin, feeling his hot breaths. You knew he was close when he started moving faster—your body going up and down in quick succession, until one last downstroke, where he held himself sheathed deep inside. His teeth sank into the soft skin of your shoulder, making you whimper from the pleasurable pain, as he came with a deep, rumbling groan that you could feel vibrating against you, his cock pulsing, filling you with his spend.

You were both panting, his lips on the same spot, sucking the heat to the surface of your skin, the flesh feeling tender, before he was moving to your neck as your highs ebbed away. His lap was a mess, you could feel the wet denim under you, and your panties were in a similar condition.

Your hands moved into his hair, tugging on it to bring his face to yours in order to kiss him. It was languid, sweet, his tongue slipping past your lips and making you moan softly.

His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you into him, so your fronts were flush together, and you continued to kiss, both of you wrapped up in each other—lost in one another, until there was a need to breathe, and you were pulling apart, resting your foreheads together.

A thought came to you, and a giggle escaped your throat.

Javi pulled back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a slight frown on his kiss-swollen lips.

“Why are you laughing?”

“You lied.”

His eyes widened.

“About what?”

“You told me there were two places where we’d fuck, but apparently, there are three.” You started laughing.

He made an amused sound, mouth turning up in a smile.

“I also said I’d fuck you anywhere, so technically I didn’t lie.”

“We’re going to get in trouble for public indecency.”

“No, we won’t.”

“Your dick is inside me, and we’re in public.”

He smirked.

“My dick is inside you, and we’re somewhere nobody will find us.”

Your brow rose.

“How can you be sure?”

“Abandoned development, or at least it’s been tied up in legalities for a long fucking time. Nothing out here and no reason for people.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“Javi, do you have a list of places where you can have sex around town?”

“I lived with my parents until I left for college. I wasn’t fucking girls at home with them there. I had to get… creative.”

“I’m amazed you never got caught.”

He grimaced.

“No,” you gasped. “Someone found you?”

“Once. The lookout. But the cop let us off with a warning.”

You sighed.

“We’re so going to get in trouble for public indecency.”

He pinched your thigh lightly, making you jump a little and laugh.

“No, we aren’t.”

“We better not,” you leaned in to kiss him.

Javi’s hand came up to cradle your jaw, slanting his lips against yours.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured.

You knew that was true.

“I know,” you said, breaking the kiss to look at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Sticking up for me.”

You could see it in the way he was looking at you, the liquid pools of his eyes on yours intently, his lips turned up, and his face relaxed—you could see the devotion, the tenderness, and it made your throat feel tight at being the recipient of the look.

“You’re my girl,” he said evenly. “And I’ll always stick up for you, Cielito. Zero hesitation. They can talk about and treat me however they fucking like, but you? No. I won’t stand for it. I’d take on the town—no, the entire fucking world to protect you. You’re the only person I care about. Period. Everybody else can go fuck themselves.”

“Oh, Javi,” you gasped, moving forward to press your lips against his hard. “I feel the same,” you murmured, and he kissed you harder, deepening it, both of you feeling something at the moment that you couldn’t quite name but felt deep in your souls.

You were breathless when you parted, smiling, and you leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

“It’s us against the world, babe.” His smile got bigger. “Wait, I’m not the only person. I mean, your dad’s gotta be up there, too.”

He chuckled.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Good. Haven’t met him, but I already adore him for helping raise such a great man.” You gave him a quick peck on his mouth. “I gotta say, you’re excelling at this boyfriend thing. You’ve made your girlfriend very happy.”

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Absolutely. Now let’s get out of here before your public sex luck really runs out.”

Javi laughed.

He was holding the driver’s side door open for Cielito to get out of the truck parked in his usual spot at the back of the lot under the big tree.

“I really messed up your pants,” she said, eyes locked on his crotch. “I’ll wash them after lunch.”

He looked down, seeing the dark wet spots and drying evidence of their activities from minutes before.

He sighed, looking back at her.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I have a change of clothes.”

She grabbed the bags from the backseat and the flowers, Javier immediately taking the totes from her as she got out of the vehicle.

She leaned up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“It’s fine. I need to do laundry anyway.”

He put both bags in one hand, keeping them positioned in front of his waist, covering himself as he shut the door, and took her free hand, letting her pull him along towards the apartment complex.

They made their way across the parking lot and down the concrete walkway, coming upon an elderly woman standing outside the door next to Cielito’s, her grey hair in a tight bun, a green watering can in hand as she tended to the potted plants under her window. Her head came up, eyes behind glasses, looking at them as they approached.

She smiled warmly at Cielito.

“¡Hola, preciosa (Hello, precious)!” She greeted.

“Hi, Mrs. Hernandez. It’s a beautiful day.”

“Sí. It is.” She glanced at the bags, and Javier pressed them closer to his body to ensure she couldn’t see his lap. “Did you go to the farmers market?”

“We did!” Cielito held out the pink peonies to show her. “It was wonderful.”

“¡Qué bellas (how lovely)! It was nice seeing you!”

They moved to Cielito’s door, her hand leaving his to get into her purse to grab her keys.

“You too, Mrs. Hernandez!” She said, her attention moving to unlocking the door and opening it, heading inside.

“Adiós, Señora Hernández.” Javier gave the older woman a friendly smile.

He watched her eyes narrow, glaring at him, and his face fell.

“Adiós, Javi,” she practically spat out his name. “Sin-vergüenza (shameless),” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she turned back towards her plants.

Javier sighed.

We were so loud she knows my fucking name and hates me. Great.

He stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him, locking it.

Javier heard the kitchen sink running, assuming Cielito was taking care of the flowers, and toed off his shoes next to hers by the door. A long, grey wooden console table was against the wall in the entryway, a glass bowl sitting on it that she had discarded her keys in. He got his own out of his pocket and set them with hers, along with his wallet.

He paused, eyes stuck on their things together. Javier hadn’t realized how comfortable he felt in her apartment, putting his stuff with hers without a second thought. He looked over at his boots sitting in their spot next to her row of shoes like that’s where they belonged or his leather jacket hanging with her coats on the wall. She’d welcomed him into her home and life, carving out spaces for him to occupy, their lives mingling together tangibly and intangibly. It all seemed like it was supposed to be like this, and wasn’t it? It sure as fuck felt like it, seeing her keys with the colorful keychains next to his plainer set or his black jacket amongst her coats in shades of deep purple, blue, and grey, and all of it just made sense to him—they made sense, the two of them being with each other; their differences, similarities, and imperfections somehow fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

He couldn’t help thinking about the day and how she’d made him feel better being out in public, and getting him out of his head. He actually had a great time, aside from the glaring mishaps, but even those just brought them closer together.

A smile crept up on his lips at the realization that every day his feelings for her grew stronger and stronger, and he knew she felt the same, reassured that they had similar wants for the future. He was happy with her—truly happy, and sure things were moving quickly, but it felt right, and he wasn’t going to fight it.

“Javi?” Cielito called.

He turned his head, seeing her standing at the kitchen doorway, looking at him inquisitively.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Is everything okay?”

He started walking towards her, still carrying the bags in one hand, and when he reached her, his free hand pushed some hair away from her face, and he leaned in to kiss her.

“Everything’s great,” he said when he pulled back, looking her in the eyes.

“You sure?”

He sighed.

“Mrs. Hernandez hates me.”

She giggled.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She does. You should have seen the way she looked at me. If looks could kill, I’d be deader than a fucking doornail.”

Her hands came up to cup his cheeks, and she looked concerned.

“Oh, Javi. I’m sorry, we’ll just have to be… quieter.”

He felt his lips quirk up.

“But I love it when you scream my name—tells me I’m fucking you right.”

She laughed.

“Well, you’ll have to figure out another way to tell.”

He leaned in to kiss her, swallowing her moan when he nipped at her bottom lip and kissed her harder.

“You do get really wet,” he murmured against her lips. “And when you come, your pussy chokes my dick and soaks me.” He kissed her one last time, leaning back enough to look at her. “Can you keep quiet, though? Or will I have to cover your mouth?”

“Fuck,” she breathed.

“Do you want me to cover your mouth if you’re getting too loud?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

He smiled, kissing her again.

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want the bags?”

She giggled, lightly patting his cheek.

“Come on. I’ll show you,” she said, kissing him quickly before heading into the kitchen.

She showed him where everything went, and gave him a quick lesson on how to store the different types of produce. He felt bad she had to reorganize her fridge to fit the three dozen eggs he’d gotten, but she reassured him that with the baking she had planned, and stuff she could make them to eat, they’d go through them in no time. It all was put away, the glass tulip residing on the table with the record player, and she held the soap in her hand, looking at him with a beaming smile as they stood in the kitchen.

“I’m going to take a quick shower before I make us lunch,” she said.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s a good idea. Can I, uh.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Can I join you?”

She grinned.

“You have an open invitation to shower with me any time.”

“I do?”

“Definitely.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek before grabbing his hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s get cleaned up,” she said, leading him out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom.

She’d put the soap in the shower and turned on the water to warm it up; the moment she turned towards him, his mouth was on hers, swallowing her surprised sound as his hands cradled her jaw.

He felt her touch his chest and move to the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one with practiced ease as they kissed until she pushed his shirt open, his hands leaving her face to shrug it off.

They parted, her eyes moving along his bare torso, her fingers sliding along his skin, touching him softly before she leaned in and kissed right over his heart.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, and he gulped.

“You’re so fucking handsome,” she said.

His body heated as she kissed all over his chest, and he moaned when she flicked her tongue over his nipple, his cock twitching in his pants as it began to harden and his fists clenched.

Her hands were on his hips as she moved lower, sinking down to kiss his ribs and stomach. Javier felt a little overwhelmed with the attention, not being used to receiving such worship, and that’s what this was—he could feel it with every press of her lips, the tenderness, and affection, the genuine adoration that she felt for him, making a pleasant shiver move down his spine.

And he knew she was doing it simply because she wanted to; she wanted to kiss him and show her admiration for his body without it being anything more than her appreciating his existence—no intention or expectation that it’d turn into something sexual, and it was a lot for him. He’d never had someone care for him like this, or kiss him so reverently, and it made his chest squeeze so fucking tight that he almost couldn’t breathe.

He loved it, couldn’t get enough of it.

Javier felt like he needed to say or do something, reciprocate, and make her feel the way he was—worship her in the same way, and he found himself pulling her up to stand, crashing his mouth against hers as he grabbed the hem of her dress and tugged it up, their lips parting as he got it off her body and tossed it to the ground.

His eyes trailed along her body, taking in her standing in nothing but her panties and bra, a matching set of red lace, and his throat went dry, his tongue wetting his bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said.

His eyes zeroed in on the visible mark on her shoulder from earlier, larger than the other hickeys littered on her body, and his stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he said, hand reaching out to touch it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Her eyebrows knit together.

“You didn’t hurt me. It’s just a little bite.”

“Cielito, it’s going to be a big bruise. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

She cupped his cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad or in pain. I like it when you mark me. Sure, I won’t be able to wear sundresses for a little while, but that’s okay. Don’t stress.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly.

“Are you sure?” He asked, frowning.

“Yeah, babe. Now let’s get naked,” she said with a wag of her eyebrows.

He chuckled.

“Okay,” he said.

He undid his pants and pushed them off while she got her bra off, their pile of discarded clothes getting larger as he pulled off his socks.

He felt arousal burn in his belly when he caught sight of her come-soaked underwear.

“Fuck, baby, we really did ruin your panties.”

She laughed.

“Yeah, we did. I told you I needed to do laundry. The amount of undies I’ve gone through this week has been ridiculous, and I solely blame you.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not.”

He smiled.

“No, I’m not.”

They were both naked, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him into the shower, the hot spray hitting their sides.

“Can I wash you?” He asked.

She gave him a toothy smile.

“It’s sweet of you to ask. Of course.”

He grabbed the loofah and the body wash she liked, getting it nice and sudsy.

This was when he reciprocated the things she’d done to him.

He kissed her softly on the lips, moving to her jaw and down her neck, pressing a light kiss against the bite mark on her shoulder. He went lower, littering every piece of satin soft skin he came across with kisses.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered against her, hearing her suck in a breath, and it spurred him on, pulled him deeper under her spell as he continued peppering kisses over her chest, on her breasts, and down her stomach. One of his hands was on her hip, holding her still as he bent down, covering every inch he came in contact with his lips, wanting her to feel his admiration, his affection, how much he liked and wanted her.

He didn’t know how long he did it for, but she spoke, her voice pulling him from his trance.

“Javi, baby, I don’t think this is washing,” she said.

He chuckled against her skin, biting at her hip before he stood up.

“Sorry,” he said, kissing her on the lips.

“It was nice.”

He nodded. “Can I wash you now?”

She laughed.

“Yes.”

He smiled and got to work washing her with the loofah, going over the places he kissed and everywhere else until it was time for her to rinse off. She quickly shampooed and conditioned her hair before turning to him.

“My turn?” She asked.

“Sure,” he said.

He ducked his head to give her better access to his hair, and sighed when her fingers moved against his scalp. It just felt so fucking good, his eyes closing as his body relaxed under her ministrations; he needed to touch her, his hands landing on her hips. She had him wash out the shampoo, and then it was time for the conditioner, Javier melting under her touch. It was over too soon, his hair washed and rinsed, and he watched her grab the bar of soap they’d bought that day. She worked it in her hands to get a thick lather before she started rubbing at his skin. Javier sighed again as she moved all over his front, getting him nice and soapy before she moved to his back.

“Hey, Javi?” She asked, standing behind him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember when we were buying this at the farmers market, and I mentioned what I wanted to do to you?”

He swallowed hard, imagining her hand on his dick, and he felt himself getting hard at the thought.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Can I?” She asked, kissing his spine.

Javier shuddered.

“Fuck.” He was hard as a rock now. “Yes,” he said thickly. “You can.”

She pressed her body against his back, her arm moving to his front. He felt the groan vibrate in his chest when her soap-slicked hand wrapped around his dick.

“God, I love the sounds you make.” The huskiness of her voice sent a wave of pleasure to his dick. “Does it feel good?”

His head was tilted down, watching in fascination as her hand started slowly stroking him, seeing how his cock looked in her hand, her fingers unable to fully wrap around his entire girth, and his dick twitched.

“Does it, Javi?” She asked again.

“Yes,” he gasped.

The soap made everything slippery, her hand working in a steady rhythm until she twisted her wrist on the upstroke, and Javier’s mind went blank, moaning loudly.

“You feel so good in my hand,” she said. “So big and hard. I love when you stretch me open—you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He felt pride swell in his chest, and his dick twitch at her words. She sped up, and he felt every nerve in his body alight with each stroke of her hand and flick of her wrist. He knew he was gasping out moans, feeling himself getting close.

She had done this enough times that she knew what he liked, and he was overcome with what he was feeling; her hand wrapped around him, her body pressed against his, the sound of her voice, all of it pushing him closer to his orgasm.

“I’ve got you, Javi. I’m going to make you come—make you feel good.”

He loved every moment, letting her do what she wanted to him, his hips bucking into her grip.

Her other hand was resting on his stomach, his muscles beginning to tense under her palm as his body thrummed.

“Are you going to come, baby?” She asked.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly. “Yes.”

She picked up in pace, making Javier gasp out breaths. He wanted to touch her, needed to feel her skin, and his hand moved back behind him, grabbing onto her hip.

His eyes slipped closed, everything building up.

“Come for me,” she ordered.

Her words did it, making him fall apart with a shudder as pleasure coursed through him, and her name fell from his lips, ropes of his come spilling onto the shower floor, her hand milking him dry.

“So good for me,” she purred.

His body slumped, blissed out, and panting.

Her hand slowed to a stop; Javier opened his eyes and saw her come and soap-covered fingers still around him.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

She let go of him, feeling her move behind him, rinsing her hand clean, and a moment later, both of her hands were rubbing against his stomach, her body pressed against him as she kissed his back.

He melted into her embrace as he came down from his high, basking in the soothing touches, with a deep sigh escaping his lungs.

Eventually, he turned in her arms, Javier’s hands pulling her into him, leaning down to kiss her hard. She moaned against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue inside. He moved her, walking her back up against the shower wall.

“Shit,” she hissed against his lips. “Cold wall.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, kissing her again.

He pulled back to look at her; her lips a bit swollen, and out of breath.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said.

She smiled.

“You’re handsome, yourself.”

“Let me eat your pussy,” he started bending down, wanting to get his mouth on her.

Her hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him up.

“No, no,” she said quickly, and he paused, looking up at her.

“You don’t want…?” He asked with a furrow of his brow.

She had a reassuring smile on her lips.

“I’m good.”

He stood back up.

“Are you sure? Because I’d really fucking love to.”

She giggled.

“Remember what you said this morning about the whole you don’t always have to reciprocate? It’s a two-way street. Sometimes I just want to make you feel good without needing anything in return.”

He frowned.

He had said that, and he understood where she was coming from, but at the same time, he really wanted to eat her out.

“Okay, I get it,” he said. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

She giggled again, pushing up on her toes to kiss him. His hands were resting on her hips.

“You’re very adorable, and I love how ready to go you are.”

His lips curled up in a smile.

“It’s you—can’t get enough. Haven’t had this much sex since, fuck, maybe my twenties? I would have passed out by now if we hadn't relaxed last night.”

She laughed.

“I’ve never in my entire life had this much sex. It’s very new and exciting, and really fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Javi, I’ve lost track of how many times you’ve made me come.”

He felt his chest puff out a little.

“Good,” he nodded.

“God, you’re so smug about it. I love it.”

He smiled.

“Good,” he said again.

“I’ll let you know if I need an orgasm or two later on,” she said with a wink. “Right now, though, I am starving and want to make you a BLT.”

“I can’t wait to try your version.”

Her face brightened.

“I hope you like it! I worked on the recipe a bit and think what I’ve created is very good.”

He kissed her quickly.

“Then let’s go make lunch,” he said, hand moving down to grab her ass.

She laughed.

“Okay, handsome.”

The shower was turned off, and she got them towels, both drying off, Javier finishing before her.

“I’ll need to take care of my hair,” she said.

“Of course,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Do you want me to grab you some clothes?” He asked.

She smiled.

“Can you get me a t-shirt out of the second drawer in the dresser and underwear from the top?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Do you have clothes to lounge in?” She asked.

“Clean jeans?” He replied.

She made a face.

“You don’t own pajama pants or sweats?”

“No?”

“Underwear?”

“Yes?”

She looked surprised.

“Do you wear the underwear?”

He smiled.

“Yes? When I’m working,” he said with a shrug.

It was more comfortable doing his work on the ranch.

Her eyes narrowed.

“You worked yesterday, and there were zero undies on your body when you came over.”

He chuckled.

“I like that you noticed. It’s because I was coming over.”

The realization hit her, and he laughed.

“You don’t wear underwear when you see me for easier access to your dick!”

“That’s one reason,” he said. “Also, less laundry. I don’t like wearing them unless they’re necessary.”

She shook her head.

“We’re going shopping tomorrow.”

He frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“If we’re hanging out, I want you to be comfortable. So, we’ll get you something better than jeans.”

He felt his chest squeeze. It was like the body worship all over again, having this clear evidence that she cared about him. His throat got a little tight.

“You, uh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Plus, if you’re in sweats or pajamas, you’ll be comfier to lay on when we watch movies.”

He liked the idea of that.

He nodded.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

He bent his head forward to kiss her.

“I’ll grab your clothes,” he said when they parted.

“Thank you,” she replied.

He left the bathroom, walking naked into her bedroom.

His duffle bag was on the floor by the door, and he stopped there first, grabbing what he needed and slipping on his clean pair of jeans, not bothering to button them.

He went to her dresser, pulled open the top drawer, and stared at her underwear. Eyes roving over the lace, silk, and cotton in various colors and patterns.

“Cielito?” Javi called.

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Sexy or comfy?”

He heard her laugh.

“Dealer’s choice.”

He pulled out a lacey white thong and, imagining her in it, had blood rushing south.

“Shit,” he whispered.

He put it back, looking at the choices. He’d only seen her wearing lace, but she had a good selection of cotton and a few silk pieces. She had talked about being comfortable. He nodded to himself, grabbing a lavender pair, and shut the drawer, the shirt already in his other hand.

Javier walked back into the bathroom, seeing that she had just finished her hair. She smiled at him, happily accepting the offered clothes. She held up the underwear.

“I see you went with comfy. I’m surprised. I was honestly expecting a thong or none.”

He watched her put them on, setting the shirt on the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“No underwear was an option?” He asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“No underwear is always an option, but I’d prefer to wear something,” she said, straightening back up.

“Will you wear a thong at some point?”

She giggled.

“For you? Yes.”

He smiled.

She grabbed the army green shirt, taking a good look at it, her face scrunching up in confusion.

“This didn’t come from my dresser,” she said slowly, looking at him.

“It’s one of mine.”

Her eyes went wide.

“You want me to wear your shirt?”

“I brought you a couple.”

“You brought me shirts to wear?”

“Yeah? Just some old ones I had laying around,” he said with a shrug.

He’d gone through his clothes at home and realized he owned nine t-shirts, bringing her two of them.

She moved forward, throwing her arms around his neck, the shirt in her hand, and leaned up to kiss him.

“This is sweet,” she murmured against his lips.

He wrapped her up in a hug, holding her close to him as he angled his head, the kiss getting greedier, deepening it and pulling a moan from her when his tongue curled against hers.

Her body is soft against his, her presence surrounding him, keeping him in the moment, and not wanting to stop kissing her, until the need to breathe became too much, and he finally had to break away from her, sharing panted breaths as they looked at one another.

“Will you wear it?” He asked, words coming out breathless.

She nodded her head.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

He smiled, releasing her from his arms, and watched her put it on, his eyes moving along her body as he took in how it fit on her.

Fuck, she looks good.

This was the best idea he’d ever had. There was just something about seeing her in his clothes that did something to him, and he loved it. He pulled her back into his arms, slanting his mouth against hers in a searing kiss that had a surprised sound escaping her throat, his hand trailing down her back, feeling the material under his fingers until they were on the soft cotton of her underwear, grabbing a handful of her ass and making her squeak against him.

They were breathing hard when they separated, looking at each other with smiles.

“Thank you for the shirt,” she said.

“No problem.”

“You hungry?” She asked.

“Starving.”

“Let’s eat, then.”

He followed her to the kitchen, watching her move about the space with practiced ease, opening the fridge, cabinets, and drawers, and setting different things on the counter for their meal. He asked how he could help, and she’d handed him vegetables to wash—tomatoes, arugula, and an avocado. He took the task seriously, washing them under running water while Cielito got a pan out and placed it on a burner to heat up.

He finished with the produce, and she handed him a bread knife to cut one of the loaves they’d gotten at the market.

Javier eyed all of the ingredients laid out on the countertop. There was a little sealed container that had something that looked like mayonnaise in it.

“I’m trying to figure out your secrets,” he said as he started slicing the bread.

She came over to him, standing behind him at his side as she put her hand on his with the knife.

“I’m going to teach you a secret, if that’s okay?” she asked, looking up at him. He nodded, letting her move his hand. “Don’t push down on the bread—you want to saw lightly back and forth.” She demonstrated the knife easily moving through the loaf with hardly any effort.

“Okay, I can do that,” he said. “How thin do you want the slices?”

She thought it over for a second.

“Maybe a little thicker than regular sliced bread.”

He nodded, and she moved back over to the stove, cutting open the package of bacon.

He went to work, slicing a piece on his own.

“That’s perfect!” She said, beginning to put the meat in the pan.

He smiled at her.

“Have you figured out my secrets?” She asked.

He looked at her.

“You’re not using the usual things I do for a BLT.”

She laughed.

“No, I’m not. The container has garlic aioli that I made earlier this week,” she said, pointing at it. “I use that instead of mayo. No iceberg or romaine lettuce; I go with arugula for an added pepperiness and then the slices of avocado.”

He cut another piece of bread.

“That all sounds good,” he said.

“It is!”

“How much bread do you want?” He asked.

“Enough to make four sandwiches,” she replied.

“Got it.”

He was comfortable and relaxed, happily doing the task set before him, listening to Cielito hum a song he wasn’t familiar with under her breath, between bits of small talk. He smiled to himself, that this was his life now, spending his Saturday afternoon making lunch with his girlfriend after they’d spent the morning going to the farmers market. It’d been a day, but even with the bad, it had been really fucking good so far, and he was happy to spend his weekend with her, doing whatever she wanted.

He had the bread finished, and the remaining loaf wrapped up before she was done cooking the bacon, and he found himself coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle, resting his head on her shoulder. Her hand not holding the spatula, set on top of his as she let out a contented sigh.

This was one of those moments he’d dreamed of—hugging her while she cooked, the two of them making another meal together. He pressed a soft kiss behind her ear, and she turned her head, having to lean back a little to get their lips to meet in a misaligned kiss that he felt her body relax into.

She looked him in the eyes.

“Are you happy?” She asked softly.

He smiled, nodding his head.

“I am. I really fucking am.”

She smiled back at him.

“Me too.”

She sighed softly.

“Is this crazy?” She asked.

His eyebrows knit together.

“Is what crazy?”

“Like this,” she said, waving the spatula. “How happy we are—how quickly we’re moving?”

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about how to respond.

“Do you feel it?” He finally asked.

She now looked confused.

“Feel what?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, just that it feels… fucking right. Do you feel that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I don’t think it’s crazy.”

“You sound very sure.”

He sighed and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“Growing up, my pops told me he knew my mom was the one the moment he saw her. She was laughing across the room, and he just felt it in his gut, and they were happily married for over thirty years, until the day she died. I never understood what he’d meant—I had never felt anything like that before. Love at first sight is a fucking joke, and I don’t buy into the true love bullshit, but I think it’s possible there’s a person out there who complements you—accepts your flaws like you accept theirs, and you just work, and your lives fit together? I don’t fucking know,” he said quickly. He took a deep breath. It sounded a lot dumber out loud than in his head. “It sounds fucking stupid, but what I’m trying to say, is I think I get it now, that gut feeling? It all just makes sense, and I think you’re my person.”

She didn’t speak, her eyes on him as his heart raced in his chest.

He probably sounded fucking insane. He opened his mouth to tell her to forget what he’d said, but she spoke first.

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” she said softly. “What you said makes sense to me—it is a gut feeling, and I like the idea of there being a person out there who complements me, and it makes me really fucking happy that you’re them, and I found you.”

He felt his dimple when he smiled.

“I’m happy you found me, too.”

She smiled just as brightly, her free hand coming up to run her finger down the bridge of his nose before leaning in to kiss the tip of it.

“I really fucking like you, Javier Peña.”

“I really fucking like you, too, Cielito.”

And he turned her body to kiss her properly—slowly, sweetly, their lips moving together in sync, like a rehearsed dance, until he nipped at her bottom lip, deepening it, and the fingers of one of her hands carded through his hair.

Javier had never once felt lucky in his entire life; he’d felt pretty fucking unlucky with all the shit he’d been through, but standing here in this kitchen, kissing Cielito, Javier couldn’t help but think maybe he was the luckiest man on the entire fucking planet—everything somehow led him to this point, and the only way he could explain it was pure luck.

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know in the comments or by dm or you can fill out my taglist form in my bio. ❤️❤️❤️

#Pedro Pascal #javier peña x reader #javier peña #Javier Peña/you #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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corrodedseraphine · 7 months

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upside down radio | #1 the dopest radio in America

pairing: steve harrington x munson!fem!reader | mentions of Steve x Nancy

chapter summary: When everything in Hawkins is trying to come back to life, you and your friends get a crazy idea for your future.

The story is also avaliable on ao3

masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

📻 LEAVE US THE MESSAGE 📻

Today is my birthday, so as a gift I decided to publish the first chapter. 😂

Honestly, I have no idea what to expect from this, the idea was sudden. I see this story as one of those where you can interact with some of the characters if you feel like it, I thought it could be a fun variation. This chapter is a small introduction to their lives, I hope it's not too boring.

Your opinion, feedback, questions or ideas are always welcome! If there is something what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about it in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

"Oh my God I can't believe you still got it!" Chrissy giggled as she took the floral dungarees out of your closet. She had the same pair, unfortunately, while she was still able to fit into them without a problem, you, sadly, were no longer getting into yours.

"I have too many memories with them to just get rid of them." you replied with a smile. "I can't believe I have my own room."

After the apocalypse that swept through Hawkins, the government in an exchange of silence offered you all many amenities. You, Eddie and Uncle Wayne were given a small house on the outskirts, your neighbors were Max and her mom, and Argyle lived across the street with his mom and grandparents.

Chrissy, as your best friend, had helped you with unpacking and decorating your room, but now the clothes scattered on the floor were to help you find something to wear to the charity festival taking place in the nearby town, which will raise money to rebuild Hawkins. Hopper immediately got you all involved to help. Chrissy will be in charge of face painting, and you'll be at the same booth doing colorful braids, and right next to you will be Robin doing henna tattoos. Eddie and Argyle are to be in charge of the audio system, and Steve has been given the role of coaching the basketball team that will be playing at the game taking place at the very end.

"We'll finally be able to do sleepovers without chasing Eddie out of his own home," she laughed.

"Right." you replied.

"And what do you think about that?" she asked throwing a yellow dress in your direction.

"Chrissy we are going to a festival not a fashion show." you rolled your eyes. Ever since the scars from the demobats' attack appeared on your body, you didn't feel comfortable in your body and wanted to do everything to stay out of sight.

"Come on, I'm sure Steve will appreciate this beautiful dress on a beautiful girl." she giggled.

"Chrissy!"

"What?"

"You're mean!"

"Why mean? I've been trying to get you the boy you've been in love with since the moment you saw him in that tragic sailor costume at Scoops Ahoy!"

"We established a long time ago that Steve would never look at me that way, besides, he's in love with Nancy."

"Nancy who cheated on him and called bullshit. Nancy who is in a relationship with Jonathan, open your eyes y/n, in all honesty I think you have a chance, find at least some hope in yourself, come on!" she said in a very dramatic way.

"Hope is the mother of fools." You rolled your eyes.

"For that matter, I can be the biggest fool in the world, for both of us." she smiled broadly. "Now go change into that beautiful dress, I don't want to hear a no!"

In the meantime while you were dressing up Robin and Steve arrived at your house. You recognized it from Robin's annoyed voice and the unusually fast words out of Steve's mouth.

"Get him away from me because I swear I'll murder him tonight!" she shouted.

"Jesus, can someone tell me what's going on here?" you asked running down the stairs.

"Steve has officially lost all his brain cells!"

"Oh come on, I really don't understand why you're angry!"

"I'm not angry, Steve. I'm worried because you're going right into the lion's mouth, you're on the perfect path to end up with a broken heart all over again!"

"Now we definitely need to know more." interjected Chrissy.

"So, Henderson told me that Nance and Jonathan broke up-"

"And the Dingus thinks that coming back to Nancy is the idea of the year!" interrupted Robin throwing his hands in the air.

"Why not?! She already fell in love with me once, she can do it again!"

"Excuse me but are we talking about the same Nancy? I'm sorry to be the one to make you realize that this is the same Nacy who cheated on you with Jonathan, who never loved you and called you bullshit! Do you want to feel like that again? Do you really want to relive it all over again?"

"If I'm not mistaken you were always the first to say that everyone deserves a second chance!"

"Oh I'm so sorry I'm worried about my best friend because I don't want someone to take his heart again and dump it!"

"Me and my heart will be fine without your care!"

"Okay, enough!" Eddie shouted. You were all shocked by their behavior, because when the two of them argued, it was like the end of the world was near. "It's time to cool down, I propose a little swap. Robin will go to the festival with me and Chrissy, and y/n will get into Harrington's glittering chariot and keep him company on the journey. I think this will be the best solution and...the safest."

Steve wordlessly left the house slamming the door, everyone looked at each other in shock until finally all pairs of eyes were on Robin.

"Are you okay?" asked Chrissy approaching her slowly.

"I just don't want him to suffer again, everyone knows that she never loved him, after all, she even admitted it herself..."

"You just want to protect your friend, it's not a bad thing, we want the best for him too." She gently placed her hand on her shoulder.

"Of course we want, but in this case trying to pull him away from her may end up in unnecessary drama." Eddie added.

"And what do you think y/n?" asked Robin.

What were you thinking? Many things. You definitely agreed with her that going back to Nancy was not the best idea however your reasons for thinking that way were a bit more personal. For a long time you had been trying to come to terms with the fact that Steve wouldn't look at you as anything other than a friend, but you hadn't quite succeeded. Maybe this was just what you needed? To witness and see for yourself that the place at his side belongs to someone else? A painful but quick rip off of the band-aid?

"I think Eddie is right, it doesn't matter if we like it or not..." you sighed, and Chrissy sent you a sympathetic look, she was the only one who knew how you felt about Steve. That would be enough of the hope she was trying to ignite in you.

When you got into the car Steve sat quietly clenching his hands on the steering wheel. There was an expression of irritation and nervousness on his face. You knew it wouldn't be the most pleasant thing for you to talk about, but you also knew that since you couldn't have him in your life as a lover, you at least wanted him as a friend. And what do friends do at a time like this?

"Do you want to talk?" you asked quietly, watching the irritation on his face mellow and turn into sadness.

"I just- I don't understand! Why is it so bad that I want to go back to Nancy?"

"It's not, Steve... Robin is just worried, no one wants to look at the breaking heart of their soulmate."

"Why does everyone think right away that she will break my heart? Maybe this time it will be different?"

"You won't know unless you try." You smiled weakly. "Whatever happens...you can count on us, and I know Robin will support you too. If it works out for you, we will all be happy for you." You extended your hand toward him, and after a moment he gave you his and squeezed. "But, if it doesn't go so well and she breaks your heart, we'll all be happy to help you put it back together again."

You didn't expect him to pull you close and lock you in a hug mumbling a silent thank you into your neck. It felt so warm, his scent entered your system slowly. Your heartbeat definitely sped up when, instead of letting you go, he pressed you even tighter to him. As you reciprocated the embrace, you desperately wanted to remember this feeling for as long as possible, the way his arms embraced your body, the way his hair gently tickled your cheek, and how everything together created a place you'd most like to never leave.

"You are the best." he whispered right into your ear, and you naively wanted to tell yourself that the shudder that went through your body was caused by a gust of wind that came in through the open window. Feeling your flinch, he moved away, and you quickly closed the window to hide your embarrassment.

"So…" you began, not wanting an awkward silence to fall between you. Despite the fact that you and Steve now considered each other good friends you very rarely managed to spend time just the two of you. "Excited about the match?"

"Yeah! But also damn stressed." At the very mention of the match he beamed. "The guys are in great shape, but I'm afraid that after a long break they might have some slight problems with chemistry y'know. Especially since we had to change the captain after what happened to Jason…"

"I'm sure they'll do great, they had a brilliant coach." let out a playful laugh.

"You will come, right?"

"Sure I will, go Tigers!"

"go Tigers!" he laughed and started the engine.

All the way he talked about the strategies they devised for the match, you didn't quite understand everything, but when you asked questions he didn't seem annoyed. On the contrary, he was very eager to answer all of them with a smile, quite as if he was pleased with your interest. Your favorite part was when, with a gleam in his eye, he told you how much potential he saw in Lucas, the boy had great talent in him.

When you pulled in Eddie, Robin and Chrissy were waiting in the parking lot. They were joined by Argyle, Max and Lucas. Robin, with a serious look on her face, approached Steve apologizing for her earlier behavior, to which he immediately hugged her, saying that he was also sorry and understood her worries.

"Thank God the world is in balance again!" exclaimed Chrissy clapping her hands.

"I really don't know if we would be able to survive another end of the world." you laughed and started walking toward your stations. "Oh shit."

"What?" asked Eddie.

"Steve I forgot my bag from your car, can we go back for it?"

"Yeah, sure."

When you got back to the car, you quickly pulled the bag out of the car and slammed the door, catching your dress with it. You only noticed it when you felt something preventing you from walking away from the vehicle.

"Hey, careful!" the brunette ran up to you and, with an amused expression on his face, opened the door releasing the material. "You look very pretty in this dress, don't ruin it." he grinned.

"Oh." There was an error in your brain caused by this compliment. All you could do was stare at him and feel your face getting hot and certainly red.

"Come on losers, what is taking you so long?!" fortunately your brother's impatient voice got you back on track and with a quick step you moved towards them.

"Tooold you." said Chrissy quietly catching you under the arm.

"How the hell did you hear that?" you asked hissing through your teeth.

"I hear everything." she giggled, and you rolled your eyes.

After a full day of braiding, your hands were begging for a rest, especially when your most demanding customer turned out not to be little girls but Argyle and his long beautiful hair. The artificial, light green hair perfectly matched his real black one.

You took a seat next to Max in the front row with pleasure. Next to you sat Robin and El. Argyle, Will, Mike, Dustin and Eddie sat a row behind you. Your brother was initially reluctant to watch the game, but you watched in shock as Argyle successfully persuaded him to do so, explaining that his three friends would be there, and his support would definitely help them. Thus, you all watched as Lucas scored the winning points for the team, Chrissy as the born captain of the cheerleading squad motivated the team to play, and the crowd to cheer and Steve almost fainting from stress in the last minutes of the game.

No one was surprised when, after the win, Lucas immediately jumped on Eddie with excitement after hugging and kissing Max, thanking him for coming. The metalhead unsuccessfully tried to mask his emotion, making him a momentary target for jokes. Steve looked around. Everyone knew exactly who he was looking for in the crowd, however, today neither Nancy nor Jonathan showed up at the festival despite the fact that the rest of their families were actively participating. Seeing his disappointed face made you sad, and the thought that you weren't the one he was looking for in the crowd nailed you even more.

"Yo, Lucas!" suddenly one of his teammates approached you. "I'm hosting a little party at my house, y'all should come!"

At that moment, six pairs of eyes turned toward you. Funnily enough, you were the first ones they turned to for permission, and not their own parents.

"I know that look…" said Steve and rested his hands on his hips, taking his "mom pose."

"Please, coach!" said Lucas, hitting that name right in his heart. Moments later, he was joined by the rest of the puppy eyes.

"Fine!" he groaned. "But there are a few conditions! You don't get in the car with anyone other than me or Eddie, no alcohol, cigarettes or drugs-"

"Oh come on man, who are you trying to fool?" interjected Eddie. "All we can do is believe that these crackheads will be responsible with what they drink and do."

"Just- be safe okay? And Timmy, write me your address on a piece of paper so I know where to pick them up from, and you." he pointed to Max knowing that she would be the most reasonable of them all. "Call me when the party is over."

As the excited teenagers disappeared from sight Argyle suggested that since the younger part of the group was celebrating today, you should follow their example. Thinking of a place where you could feel the magic of your new friend's purple palm tree in peace, Eddie suggested a building that had been abandoned long before the "earthquake."

The building where Hawkins radio used to be headquartered and the place where you used to hide from Wayne, whenever one of you or together got into some trouble. The old tenement welcomed you with the smell of dust, because there was no electricity you had to rely on portable flashlights to light your way, and then a room with an old couch, chairs and equipment needed for broadcasting.

When everyone had taken a seat, Agryle fired up a joint and all of you except Steve and Eddie began passing it around. You were discussing the course of the day's events when suddenly your black-haired Rapunzel moved over to the big console and microphone.

"Goooood eveeening Hawkins! This is Argyle and you are listening to Upside Down Radio!" he said causing you to laugh. "Today's guest is none other than a world-famous star of the heavy metal scene…" he began, slapping his hands on the table pretending to drum. "Chrissy Cunningham!"

Robin nearly choked on a laugh seeing Eddie's surprised face when he didn't hear his name.

"Oh thank you so much!" Chrissy played along. "I am so happy to be here and represent my band Corroded Coffin!"

"Ha, ha, you both are sooo funny. " Eddie rolled his eyes. "If you didn't get your guests' names wrong you'd even have a good career on the radio." he bit back.

"Hey! I would be a perfect match to your band!" Chrissy tried to look offended.

"Sure thing, candy girl."

"This place is so cool, dude." Argyle said looking around. "Maybe we should actually think about bringing it back to life?"

"We?" asked Eddie raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, all of us! Instead of looking for a job, let's create one for ourselves!" he replied excitedly.

"We could get the government to rebuild this place, each of us could have their own program!" Robin quickly picked up on the idea.

"People could call us, or leave messages, ask for advice or order songs!" The excitement quickly spread to Chrissy as well.

"Wait, are you guys really serious about this? How high are you?" asked Steve.

"Actually, it sounds like a really good idea." interjected Eddie, who was completely sober. "We even already have a name." he chuckled.

The conversation got really heated, ideas came to your heads at the speed of light, even Steve, after a moment's hesitation, got involved, saying it was a much better option than going to work for his father's company.

"So what do you say my dudes? Ready to create the dopest radio in America?"

"Yeah, but let's talk about this tomorrow when y'all not higher than a bat's ass, 'kay?" laughed Eddie.

"And who's to say!" you shouted.

"Hey, shut up! I'm totally clean today!"

"Uniquely." you stuck out your tongue in his direction.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @mizzfizz

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rarastmblr · 1 month

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The Night Sky Reminds Me Of You (When You Cry, The Night Sky Cries With You)

#Pairing ? Nine-Tailed Fox Sage Garam x FEM!Reader

#Sypnosis. Dallae’s personality reminded Garam of a certain someone. Unfortunately, that someone doesn't act like that around him anymore, atleast not to him.

#Notes. Well hello hello my fellow guardian tales players 🥰 anyone simp for Garam here too? No? Just me? okay.. 😢😢😢 anyway, this was actually meant to be a Garam x OC but I decided to change it into a reader insert instead. The OC version can still be read in ao3 though, was too lazy to change it there

(1) (2) (3) (4)

You wonder how Dallae got into this situation? Well..

“This town will be a perfect target, I've already raided them before. They definitely have some new pair of golds 'n jewelries hiding in their home.” A man said, his dark brown eyes glancing at the said town. He was already making up a plan in his head.

He planned to just barge in and threat everyone living there. Some of colleagues knows thinks it’s a stupid idea, while some who followed every single thing the leader says without question didn't bother to say anything.

“You're tough and all—” The new rookie said but then gave out an opinion that contradicted his plan. “But aren't those so-called ‘‘Sage's’’ built somewhere near this place? I wouldn't want to mess with those two..”

The rookie who he had high expectations on, now deduced into a little minion in his head, was basically saying that he'd rather die than to be cursed by the Sage's. Not like the result of his life would be any different.

“Seriously?” The man, lets call him Mr. Tough Guy for now, scoffed at the little minion's statement. For believing in those silly folktales about Sage's and for saying discreetly that his plan is stupid.

Mr. Tough Guy was more annoyed at the latter reason.

While the ‘little minion’ gave out more of his passive aggressive and condenscending opinions about everything and anything that came out of Mr. Tough Guy's mouth, they didn't notice another person listening in on their conversation.

Dallae had been listening to them ever since their conversation started. Now that she knew that she was going after the village she lived in, she planned to warn the people in her said village, especially the chief.

Why does a twig have to ruin everything?

“Stop right there!” Mr. tough Guy and and another colleague of his shout out in unison, making Dallae trip and fall on the ground because of fright.

Her knee is hurt, it aches when she tries to stand up, so the child crawls towards the statues. She thought it was a good hiding spot, at least until the men go away.

Before the two men could get close, Dallae quickly crawls towards the statue of one of the Sages and hides behind it. Specifically the taller one. No offense to the other..

“Where's the darn kid?!” One of the two men exclaim as they reach the area of the two statues. “Come out right now!” The other man ordered, he felt like the child was playing hide and seek with them. So childish!

“Those bad bad men..” The child mutters out from behind the statue as she looks at the two men, silently bad-mouthing them inside of her head.

“I know you're hiding behind that rock, you rascal!” One of the men says as they both turn to look towards the statue of one of the Sage's.

Knowing that the two men already knew where she was and she had nowhere else to run to, the small child walked out of her hiding spot and shouted the only thing that came to her mind.

“T-The Sages will teach you bad men a lesson!”

“Hahaha! A Sage? don't make me laugh!” The man lets out a laugh, obviously not believing the words that were said by the small child.

“A Sage will protect me if I have a good heart!” The child protested against the man's words.

“Then why don't you tell the Sage to help you now?” Mr. tough Guy taunted, thinking that the child might as well be stupid for thinking that the Sage's are actually real. Like he said, those were just fables made by the old grannies — they believed in it so much to the point they made statues? Ridiculous.

The Sages were nothing but mere statues.

Unexpectedly, the ground begins to shake.

“An earthquake?” One of the man spoke, questioning himself if the sudden shake was actually real or if it was just him hallucinating.

The two men and the child turn to look at the figure of the statue the child used as a hiding spot earlier as it begins to glow a bright light, the two men staring in shock as the child does the same — before quickly shutting her eyes.

“I told you Sage's were real! Curse you—!” Dallae could hear Mr. Tough Guy's words. “What the hell are you talking about?!” That was the last sentence the child heard, accompanies by more mean words she’d rather not remember. As the world around her turned quiet, she saw it as the chance to open her eyes.

The child slowly blinks her eyes open again to see that the two previous men from earlier no longer able to be seen. Instead, standing there, a Nine-Tailed Fox man that resembles the statue from earlier was staring at her. Recovering from her shock, Dallae introduces herself to the mister infront of her.

“Thank you for saving me, mister! I'm Dallae.” She introduces herself, with a bright smile on her face as she walks closer towards the nine-tailed fox, walking around him as if she was admiring him. She didn't get to admire his statue earlier because of the bad guys.

“Mister.. Are you really a Sage?” Dallae asked as she tilted her head to the side.

“Yes. I am a Sage. I'm Garam.” The nine-tailed fox, who Dallae now knows as Garam, says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Wow! You're a Sage!” Dallae exclaims as her eyes shine brightly in admiration and she begins to jump up in excitement.

"Mister Sage! You're so cool!" She continues as she does some fighting stances.

Because of the protective and strong aura the fox? man? was giving off, Dallae didn't show any sign of hostility whatsoever. Garam doesn't know what to feel about that, maybe he should teach her how to be more hostile to strangers.

“Why were they chasing you?” Garam asks as he looks at Dallae with a concerned expression on his face but the edges of his lips are curved slightly upward. He thought that the human child's behavior was endearing, she acted a bit like a certain little fox he knew. Unfortunately, that someone has grown and doesn't act like this anymore not to him atleast.

“Those bad men keep harassing our town!” Dallae grumbles out as she furrowed her eyebrows in anger. "So I watch them everyday! I was going to town to alert people but they caught me.."

"But it's okay! You saved me!" Dallae cheers as a cheerful expression returns to her face.

"I'm off to town! Thank you!" Dallae says as she waves goodbye and cheerfully skips towards the path to her town. Leaving the Sage alone, the said sage gazes at the statues of his eight-tailed friend, wondering when she will also wake up from her hibernation.

Garam feels one of his fox ears twitch, as if sensing that there was still trouble going on nearby.

Without any hesitation, Garam quickly follows the path Dallae went, defeating some of the bad men Dallae was talking about along the way.

Nearing the town Dallae was talking about, Garam notices an unconscious body of a woman and a man together with a crying child mourning for them.

Were they the poor child's parents? How unfortunate.. Garam prays that the family will meet again and live a happily in another life, as an exchange for their loss today.

Finally arriving at the town square, Garam sees Dallae standing beside an older man, most likely the village chief, with an almost unconscious woman on the ground below him. There are also many townspeople standing behind the senior.

Garam furrows his eyebrows as he sees three men that looked the same as the other bad men from before. Just how many of them are there?

"Take everything! Treasures, food, anything worth money!" The bad man in the middle exclaims, full of greed and want.

"P-Please.. We'll starve.." The village chief beside Dallae pleads, clasping his hands together for mercy.

"Stop bothering!" The bad man says as he punches the senior to the ground. "That's none of my business."

"Stop!" Dallae exclaims before walking towards the chief as he started to groan in pain. "Wake up, chief.." Dallae says in a worried tone.

Dallae then walks towards the woman who was laying on the ground beside the chief. "Ma'am.." Dallae calls out to her before she bursts out in tears.

"Listen, you fools! If you don't want to end up like him, give me everything you've got!" The bad man in the middle starts to speak out as he pointed at the chief kneeling on the ground in pain.

"You ugly bad man! Stop harassing our town!" Dallae shouts as she throws a rock at the bad man in the middle, she turns to see if she has any other solid to throw at them, only to be disappointed and facing the men again, trying to give off an intimidating font.

"This girl has gone crazy.." The bad man in the middle says before continuing, "I'll knock some senses into you."

Before the man could land a hit on Dallae, Garam quickly jumps out and lands in front of the child, protecting her and knocking back the three men a few distances away.

"Huh? Who're you?" The bad man questions as he recovers from being knocked back. "Everyone! Attack!" The bad man shouts out as all three of them lunge forward to attack Garam.

Before they could even land a hit on Garam, the sage shoots out a powerful attack from his Sage bead, quickly defeating two of the three men in a quick and swift motion.

The one man left undefeated hurriedly runs away, realizing how powerless he is now. "We..We'll be back!" he shouts out before he is no longer able to be seen.

The town's chief recovers from the attack he received from the bad man from earlier, standing up slowly as he gives Garam a grateful smile.

"T-Thank you! But.. who're you?" The chief asks, wanting to know the identity of the man, who weirdly has two animal ears on his head and very visible tails on his back, but none-the-less, the said men was still the man who saved the town.

"He's a sage!!" Before Garam could introduce himself formally, Dallae beat him to it and introduced him in an delighted tone.

Many voices of shock and amazement erupt from the crowd as they start to walk closely towards Garam. All of the townspeople happily cheer, a series of “Hip Hip Hooray”’s spread through the crowds, they were all happy as they had gotten help from a Sage.

The rest of the day, the townspeople had gone out of their way to introduce themselves to Garam and get to know their saviour. The moon was close to setting — Dallae decided to have Garam live with her, at least for the time being until the sage decides that he will go and explore what had happened to the world while he was stuck in hibernation.

Some days later, Garam had made up his mind and decided that he was going to explore the place; and by that he means the other surrounding villages that the townspeople were talking about.

With Dallae constantly persuading him to let her join him, the white-haired sage decided to bring the child with him. This will be the first adventure they will be going on, together.

While Garam was busy saying taking care of something else, Dallae decided to chase some butterflies around to keep herself entertained as she waited for him. Seriously? How could butterflies be so pretty yet so hard to catch? When she thought more about it, she thought these butterflies were similar to the two pretty women in the village — They were both pretty, but they did not seem to want a man with them.

Dallae chased the butterflies around, jumping up heigher above them when she was close enough to catch them, only to end up stumbling on the ground. But Dallae was a stubborn child, she kept going and chasing the beautiful butterflies, even though she had already fell two times before.

“Uggh—!” Dallae made a noise as she fell to the ground again, not giving up, she then rose to sit up. She then searched around for the butterflies, but this time they were quicker and made an escape.

“Didn't I tell you not to run around?” Hearing the familiar voice, Dallae shut down the thought of standing up. She instead waited for the Sage to walk closer to her, because she knew he was planning to heal her.

“Hehehe..” Thanks to the Sage, Dallae felt that any of the pain or bruises that she got from the falls earlier had instantly disappeared. Dallae planned to apologize, but Garam spoke first, immediately making the apology letter Dallae made in her head crumble into pieces.

“We've got a long way to go. Let's get going.” Garam told her, if Dallae was close enough to the man (If she was taller) she could swear it seemed like he was excited to go and travel to the first village they decided to go to.

When the two had finally arrived to the first designated village, they were met with many people half-unconcious and laying on the ground.

“Everyone has collapsed..” Garam said the obvious of what he saw infront of him. “Let's ask what's going on.” Garam said as he signaled Dallae to go to who seemed to like like the chief of the village, while Garam decided to ask another person instead.

Dallae walked close to the chief to ask him a question, but the chief was fast. “Stay away! There is a plague in our town..!” Is this a habit people obtain when they grow older? Cutting people off? Okay. At least he told her the information she needed from him.

“You should leave before it affects you!” The chief said, worried that the child would also be sick — Dallae, as a child, still had many years in her life.

“Mr. Sage! Mr. Sage!” Dallae called out to Garam, just in time as he also finished speaking to the person he was talking to about the situation that happened here.

“The people here have fallen sick! Can you help?” Dallae urged, worried for the people. What a heroic trait for a child that doesn't even know any person here instead of the man infront of her.

“How should I do this..?” Garam asked to himself and the child, as if asking her for any advise. Dallae gave him time to think.

“!” Eyeing the well infront of them, Garam seemed to have gotten an idea and stood infront of the well. He then pulled out his Sage bead and did, what Dallae would call, a dance of some sort..? Garam kept swinging the bead up and down four times.

After Garam was done, he turned to Dallae and said; “Drinking the well water and it'll make any sickness go away!” Garam commanded. Dallae, as if getting the memo, obeyed enthusiastically. The little child was like a sidekick.

She then used the bucket to get water from the well and went to each and every person that were laying half-unconcious, while Garam was busy most likely healing the women he was conversing to earlier.

After she was done helping people, Dallae went to go to Garam to check on how he was doing. Garam had just finished healing the woman infront of him and faced Dallae, as he noticed that she was observing him.

“They all recovered!” Dallae said and jumped up as celebration for the healed people. Garam smiled at her, affected by how brightly she smiled due to pride and happiness.

“Haha. A river won't flow for a reason!” Garam said with a big smile. Dallae, not understanding the idiom that Garam said, gave him a face that a confused child would make when they couldn't understand their math homework.

“..” Garam, who wanted to have someone laugh at his joke, decided to just explain it. “Just meant that I did what I had to do. That's all.”

“Well.. I do know you're very cool! I wanna be like you when I grow up!” Dallae said, and the awkward atmosphere from when she could get what Garam meant instantly disappeared, or maybe Garam just decided to forget it.

“Yes, yes Dallae.” Garam said as he pat the child's head. “Let's move on to the next village.” Garam, without wasting any time, immediately went to go to the next village in mind, and Dallae followed.

While Garam and Dallae's walk to the next village was nothing short of dissatisfying, the moment they finally arrived to Tiger Village made Dallae cover her ears with her hands, not liking the amount of noise caused by the many screams.

“Tiger! Tiger!” A man shouted, and another series of screams “Run!” A woman said as she ran as fast as she could, with a child holding her hand tightly to not separate from her. Garam and Dallae, worried for the strangers’ lives and warning them to run away for safety.

“I'll find out what's going on.” Dallae, hearing that, also prepared to go. But before Dallae, could even take one step forward, Garam had already made up his mind and told her; “It could be dangerous. Wait here.”

Dallae nodded, knowing that Garam didn't want her to come is only because he wanted to keep her safe. She turned around and waited, even closing her eyes and counting inside of her head, as if she was playing a game of hide and seek.

‘Six..’ “Somebody help!!” Dallae, frightened by the shout, turned around only to find no one. She had long forgotten Garam's words. When someone needed help, it's as if every little common sense in her body left — All she wants is to protect those in danger.

As she was planning to go and run to where she thinks the shout came from, she was met by the figure of a tiger walking back and forth. She didn't know what to do, but thankfully, there were some objects that could help Dallae hide from the carnivore. Dallae's small child-like structure only helped her more.

“Please.. Somebody help..” Walking pass the tiger like a pro, Dallae was able to reach where the voice came from. She saw a man, crawling out of fright and a tiger looking at the said man as if it was looking at it's prey.

Dallae shrieked as the tiger let out a loud roar, as if he knew that she had been watching.

“No! Don't hurt him!” Dallae said, throwing out her life and shielding the man by standing infront of him. The Tiger acted fast and pounced. Unfortunately for the carnivore, his action did not succeed as the ivory-haired sage showed up infront of Dallae.

“Are you alright, Dallae? Are you hurt?” Garam asked without looking at the child behind him, being cautious of every move of the animal infront of them. Garam's question was left unanswered as with a roar from the tiger, a battle started.

“Tigers are usually gentle and don't hurt people..” Garam said, and pulled out his sage bead. He wanted to communicate with the animal to ask about it's reasons for attacking the village. The tiger had turned into a boy, the only tiger-like features left of him being his hair color and animal ears and tail.

“You! Why are you hurting people?” Garam asked the tiger-now-turned-boy laying on the ground.

“I'm.. so sorry.” The tiger-boy apologized, full of guilt in his tone. “There was nothing to eat because of a big fire.”

“But hurting humans?!” Garam questioned, finding the tigers’ reason ridiculous. Before anyone could speak, two cubs came and surrounded the tiger-boy, as if protecting him from the danger that is Garam, at least, in the cubs eyes. Yet it also seemed like the two were apologizing in their own way.

“I'm sorry.. My cubs were starving to death and I..” The tiger-boy spoke again, almost with tears in his eyes. Tiger-boy didn't finish his sentence, he already told the sage what the reason was anyway.

“Mr. Sage!” Dallae, with her kind heart, called out to Garam for his attention, and she got it. Garam turned to her with a brow raised, waiting for what she was going to say.

“I feel bad for them. Can't you help?” It's true. The tigers were in a bad situation and being a natural carnivore, their only thought of another source of food would be any living thing that had meat. They were made to be predators right from the moment they were brought into this world: Made to sink their sharp teeth into their prey — be it another animal or human. Dallae doesn't know if Garam felt bad too.

“I should be punishing you. But I'll forgive you this once.” Garam decided to give them a chance, and the tiger-boy wiped the tears off his eyes. “Take this magic sack.” Garam threw it to the tiger-boy.

The tiger had natural skills so it was able to swiftly catch the sack. The tiger and cubs stared at the sack, confused about what it would be able to do to help their situation.

“Food will come out from it.” Garam explained the sack's purpose. “So don't ever make this mistake again!” Garam said, talking about the events that had happened in this village.

“Thank you! Thank you sir!”

“..So many people are suffering.” Garam said, turning to face Dallae who is behind him. “Let's go to the next village.” Said Garam, and if you were close enough to him, you'd hear the small sigh he let out. It was almost as if he already knew that there was just going to be another chaos going on in the next village.

“Mister Sage.. Didn’t the people say this village was full of prosperity and nature..?” Dallae questioned, only for Garam to sigh.

“I've gotten used to the differences between what the locals told us and what the state villages are now.. Don't worry, this is the last village.” He said, patting the little girl's hair as a way to comfort her from the many bad instances that had just happened all in one day.

Arriving at this village, Dallae got Deja Vu and flashbacks from the first village they visited. A large sum of people are laying on the ground. Without a word, Garam seemed to have already have connected the dots on what was happening here.

“It seems everything has dried up..” Garam guessed. If the dehydrated faces of the villagers laying on the ground wasn't already an obvious hint.

“Sir! Please help us!” One of the dehydrated women pleaded, crawling closer to Garam desperately. “We haven't had a drops of water since two days ago!”

“Let's look for some water for them.” Garam advised Dallae, then quickly walked away to find water, or at least some safe, healthy, drinkable liquid to satisfy their thirst.

Dallae followed along, but she wasn't quite able to catch up to Garam because she had tiny legs. The people crawled — following behind the brown-haired child as she passed by them.

They arrived infront of a well only to be left disappointed. It was dried to crisp!

“Let's look at other places..” Garam said, turning around and walking towards what seemed to be a pond — but it also had no water.

“This..” Dallae looked at the pond that was also dried to crisp.

“The small pond has dried out from months of drought. ” One of the two ladies said, followed by a man “They'll all die unless..”

Garam pulled out what seemed to be a gem that has the shape of a drop of water. He then used his sage bead to do the ‘dancing thing’ or so Dallae called it.

After that — not one, not two, but three beautiful women dressed in beautiful matching dresses appeared out of nowhere and descended to the ground gracefully.

“Sir! Sisters at arms!” Two of the girls; one left and one of the right, said as the three of them saluted the Sage infront of them. “Under Sage Garam's orders, reporting to duty as of today!” The sister in the middle said, ending the three sisters’ introduction.

“Create a lake using the water stone. Now!” Garam commanded them. ‘So that gem is called a water stone..’ Dallae thought it was a good name — could've been better though, like, maybe Lapis?

“Yes Sir!” The three sisters obeyed, turning around and flying close to the gem — by using their magic, they made a beautiful lake with many beautiful Lily pads. Dallae would like to protest that the lake wasn't as beautiful as the fairies though.

“Wow!” Dallae, along with the people, erupted into a fit of cheers. “A lake just appeared! The fairy sisters are really awesome” Dallae said, and turned to look at them once again to take in their beauty, she made eye contact with the sister in the middle — and Dallae swore she saw her smile at her, but it slowly disappeared as soon as Garam had said something.

“Fairies! protect the water stone and this village!” Garam spoke aloud, the sisters nodded. “This lake will make all creatures thrive!” Garam continued, saying his words like he was making a promise.

“Hooray to the Sage! Hooray!” Many people from many different villages celebrated, for themselves and for their new saviour.

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“Whoahh, it feels nice breathing the fresh air! Especially when we're so close to the water!” Danyi said with a big smile on her face as she plopped down on the mat she set up.

It was night time, and Sage Garam was generous enough to give the three sisters some items so they can be comfortable while they protect the water gem.

They searched for an area to put the said items, and perhaps, maybe get some sleep. And they ended up here. Fortunately, the water gem was close to this place, making the whole “protect the water gem” job easier.

“Are you saying that the boot camp was a bad place?” Yunju, the one with wispy bangs, asked her younger sister. Yunju's tone made it seem like she had thought of Danyi's sentence as slander towards the Sage's.

“?!” Danyi immediately sat up, “That isn't what I meant, Sister!” Danyi tried explaining herself, but seeing that her words weren't going through Yunju in any way, she looked at the eldest sister — (Y/N) who could only chuckled in amusement at the misunderstanding between the two.

There was never a boring time when the three of them were together.

(Y/N) walked towards Yunju. Danyi was ecstatic! Her sister is helping her get out of a lecture from Yunju—!

“Yunju, I'm going out for a bit.” (Y/N) said, and then walked off to go outside. Yunju looked at her older sister as she walked away, feeling a bit worried since it's already late at night. “Cut her some slack..” Bambi whispered.

“Sister..!” Danyi, not hearing the words (Y/N) whispered to Yunju, felt betrayed as her eldest sister's figure left and went outside. The individuals inside this little dorm of theirs are just her and Yunju now. Danyi, slowly but surely, turns to Yunju — only to see her already looking at her and opening her mouth to speak.

Nothing happened, Yunju just told Danyi to help her make some tea while they wait for (Y/N) to come back.

The night had already set. By now, it would be the perfect time to get sleep — to ensure that she would be refreshed for tomorrow. But (Y/N) couldn't help but be drawn to how the stars and moon looked in this particular night.

Boot camp gave the three sisters a specific schedule to follow and they'd already be in their dorms in the evening. They three had never been able to look at the night sky this way, in the open world.

(Y/N) knows that the her sisters in the dorm could also see the night sky too, but she felt that her view was much more mystical in comparison to theirs. Many animals were still awake at this time, taking in the moon's beauty before they go to sleep.

The calm white soothing ball shows it's face when the night falls, guiding those in the darkness, promising to send the light. (Y/N) saw three butterflies flying around, then another one following shortly behind them. She guessed it must be a newly hatched butterfly, flying around with its new friends.

Opting to not be distracted by the sight of the beautiful insects, (Y/N) walked off and went back to their dorm. She was greeted by the sight of Danyi sleeping on Yunju's shoulder, who looked like she was fighting her urge to sleep.

Yunju, upon seeing her older sister, immediately straightened up and positioned Danyi into a more comfortable sleeping position on the mat the both of them were sitting on. Bambi walked up to Yunju, asking why she hasn't already fallen to sleep yet.

“I..” Yes, Yunju could have slept any time now as she didn't have any reason not to. Danyi herself even fell asleep on her own. “I wanted to wait for you, but Danyi was already starting to get sleepy in the evening.”

Ah, The boot camp's schedule had already affected Danyi and her brain seemed to automatically think of the evening as time to sleep. Danyi must've really been trying to stay awake huh?

“Danyi wanted to stay awake too, she asked me to splash water on her face if her eyes dared to close.” (Y/N) smiled at that, Yunju let out a chuckle. “What were you doing outside anyway?” Yunju questioned, finding it weird since (Y/N) was never really the adventurous type. Well, compared to Yunju, (Y/N) is much more outgoing than her, but..

“I wanted to observe the place better. The night sky is beautiful.” (Y/N) said as she sat on her own mat, in the middle of Danyi and Yunju's.

“But our little ‘dorm’ is open to the night sky? you didn't really need to go outside to see it.” (Y/N) chuckled, Yunju had a point. That was also what (Y/N) thought as she was looking at the animals in the forest, who were also admiring the moon.

“I thought the view in the forest would be much more mystical to look at. After all, many animals out there often come out at night.” (Y/N) said, mentioning the butterflies she also saw.

“You both should join me next time.” (Y/N) suggested. Yunju nodded at her, thinking that it would be a good idea; a great opportunity for the three sisters to bond while they also get used to the new environment.

“Maybe tomorrow..” Yunju said. She then laid down on her mat, ready to go to sleep. “Goodnight.”

(Y/N) laid down too, but didn't go to sleep immediately. She took her time to observe the night sky until she herself succumbed into a deep sleep.

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