#but for now .... even i am astounded still on how much work making content is sigh

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

-

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

-

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

-

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

-

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

-

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

-

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

-

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

-

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

-

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

-

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

-

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

-

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

-

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

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#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

[fallingdownhell]

I absolutely love your works!

Can you make hurt/comfort with kazuha, albedo, alhaitham, cyno?

Where we're on a heated arguments about them too focusing on their job and completely forgot about reader

In the middle of the argument, the reader said

"Was i really nothing to you? Was i just some kind of object that you can just forget that easily?"

Thank you

Thank you so much!<3

And of course I can! I am always down to write some pretty, delicious angst!

Characters Included: Albedo; Cyno; Alhaitham; Kazuha

Content: Gender neutral reader; pre sumeru archon quest for Cyno's part; hurt/comfort; arguments; shouting; slight cursing;

Word count: 6k words

Thanks so much for the request. Hope you enjoy the end result!<3

Albedo

It was rare for Albedo to come down from his lab all the way up in Dragonspine to the City of Mondstadt. You never really minded it, knowing that you could go there to see him at any time, while he also paid regular visits to your home.

Yet, for some time now.. those visits have stopped. He never came by anymore, far too consumed on some discovery he apparently made a few weeks ago.

Even when you travelled all the way to his laboratory on the mountain, in the icy colds of Dragonspine, Albedo had given you no attention whatsoever.

He had acknowledged your arrival, then went back to his work, while you were sitting in some corner by the fire, trying to warm up again. Even your attempts at conversation were flat out ignored, seeing as he never bothered to give an answer. You weren't even sure if he had noticed your departure a few hours after you had initially arrived.

You tried again two more times, but as you got the same result every time, you eventually stopped trying and didn't go back to Dragonspine.

Then, two weeks ago, you heard that Albedo was back in the city for a supply run.

Hoping that you would run into him to finally talk to him you spend your day in Mondstadt, but you never laid eyes upon him. When you asked Sucrose about it, she told you that he had already left again.

You went home to see if he made a trip there and you just so happened to miss him. But upon your return, you didn't find any note from him or any other indication that he had ever been here in the first place.

The same thing happened again a week after that, and by now you finally had enough. You went to the Acting Grand Master and she told you that Albedo would be back today again, to drop of some reports.

Which is why you were waiting for him outside of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, though still in some respectable distance.

When you finally saw him again after a few weeks, it felt like you haven't seen him for a lifetime.

So, without hesitation, you made your way over to him before he could enter the building. Yet, he seemed to be so deep into his own head that Albedo didn't even notice your approach.

Only when you were directly behind him and firmly said "Albedo.", did he stop and turn around, looking at you.

You could see the expression in his eyes once his gaze landed on you, like he had a sudden realization that you still existed and he had forgotten about that until that very moment. It honestly hurt.

"Hey. Where have you been all this time? I missed you..", you said, hoping to get some kind of positive reaction out of him.

"You know where I was, (name). I was busy.", he said and then turned around to leave again. You were honestly astounded that he simply wanted to let things stand as they are. Well, not today and most definitely not with you.

"You wanna leave? Just like that? Seriously?"

That seemed to have at least some kind of effect on him, as he stopped once again and turned in your direction. Except for this time, he wore an annoyed expression.

"What else do you want from me? I said that I'm busy."

After that, an argument broke out between the two of you in the middle of the street, but neither of you cared. No matter how much attention you drew upon you, it was too late now. You were both to heated and too caught up in it to stop now.

Things were said in the heat of the argument, you were sure both of you regretted ever saying out loud, yet neither of you could care less right now. Everything seemed to be fair game at this point.

Until Albedo said one specific thing.

"Archons, you're impossible sometimes, (name). Insufferable. I've better things to do right now, you know!"

Immediatly after he said that, Albedo knew he had crossed a line. The way you went silent, no comeback falling from your lips. You were just staring at him in shock, like you couldn't believe that he had just actually said that. He wanted to retract his statement, but his pride prevented him from doing so.

So, instead, you both just stood there for some time, silently staring at one another. When no reply came from you, Albedo dropped his head, then turned around once again. But before he could take a step, he heard your voice again, though this time, it sounded broken, silent sobs being held back.

"So, that's it? Was I nothing to you?", you whispered, your voice slowly starting to break from the tears forming within you, but Albedo was still able to hear you. "Just some kind of experiment or plaything that you can toss aside and simply forget about? Do I mean nothing to you?"

Upon hearing how broken you sounded, and what you actually said to him, he instantly turned around again, the sight of tears rolling down your face feeling like a knive had been thrust straight into his heart. And what's worst was that he was the cause for your tears.

You stood there, waiting for an answer from him. Yet, when nothing seemed to come out off his opening and closing mouth, you just nodded at him.

"I see..", you said, your voice now entirely void of any emotion whatsoever. That, and the fact that you were the one now turning around to leave him like that, was the twist of the imaginary knive in his chest.

Finally being able to break free of his frozen state, he rushed towards you, stopping you in your tracks as he pulled you into his chest, caging your arms around you, burying his face against your shoulder.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry..", he whispered over and over into your ear, which only made the tears fall from your eyes even harder. You were shaking against him, struggling to breath. You wanted to break free from him, but at the same time, you never wanted to leave his embrace again.

"I'm so sorry, (name). You're wrong. You mean everything to me. I'm sorry I made you feel like that wasn't the case. And I apologize for the horrible things I said to you."

You stood there for a few more seconds, basking in his arms, then decided to slip free. Albedo let you, almost certain that you would be walking away from him now.

But you didn't.

Instead, you turned around to look at him, allowing him to see your tear stained face that he was the cause of.

"I think... we have a lot to talk about..", you mumbled, not being able to look him in the eyes entirely. But Albedo still saw it as what it was supposed to be.

A chance. A second chance to talk things out with you, make it better between you two.

And he gladly took that chance.

From now on, he would do anything to put a smile on your face every day, never wanting to be the cause for your tears ever again.

Cyno

Two months.

That was how long it has been since you had your boyfriend to yourself for more than a few hours.

Every day, he came back from his work much more later than he usually would, sometimes even not coming home for days on end. He didn't even leave a note or something to inform you of his absence, making you even more worried about him.

And now, even when he was at home with you, he was so cold and distant towards you. Sometimes, he went straight to take a shower and then to bed, not even sparing you a second. Other times, he did spend time with you, but you could tell that his mind was somewhere else, giving only short answers to your questions and statements.

Seeing all this, you couldn't help the doubt starting to well up inside you.

Did he fall out of love with you?

Did you do something wrong? Was he mad at you?

Was he... cheating on you?

You didn't want to think any of these possibilities true, but it was hard to ignore them when Cyno was behaving like this.

You tried to talk to him about this, how you felt, a few times, but he never really listened to you, keeping the conversation short so you couldn't bring your point across.

And now, you began to not only doubt him and the relationship as a whole, you doubted everything.

Did he ever even love you?

Was he only doing this out of convenience?

Were you just.. something expandable to him?

All of these questions and doubts plagued your mind day in and day out, not being able to find any answers to them whatsoever. The only one being able to give you the answers you so desperately wanted and needed, refused to give them to you.

It was driving you insane.

And now, you hit your breaking point. You weren't able to take it anymore. The constant doubt had turned itself into a depressive episode. You wanted to break free from it, but you also wanted to give Cyno one final chance. One chance to explain himself to you, to tell you the truth.

If he refused again, you would not hesitate to leave. Your mind was made up, everything was arranged. You had a small bag prepared, filled with clothing and other stuff you needed.

Tighnari had offered you to stay for a few days at Gandharva Ville where you could sort yourself out if you were not able to talk things through with Cyno. You were so grateful to him, though a small part in you still hoped that it wouldn't come down to this.

That evening, you waited and waited for Cyno to return home from work, but with every passing hour that he didn't show up, you lost more and more hope that he would come home at all today.

You sighed and were about to get up from your spot in the living room to go to bed, when the sound of the front door opening caught your attention. After all, it could only be one person that has the other key to the apartement.

"Welcome back!", you greeted him as you went out to the hallway, seeing your boyfriend standing there. He looked at you with a tired expression but didn't say anything in return.

Instead, he walked right past you, not sparing you another glance. You were baffled, to say the least. That blatant ignorance from him was what gave you the last push you had needed.

"Seriously?", you just said, turning around to face him again, this time though, wearing a stone cold expression.

"(Name), please. Not right now. I'm tired in case you didn't notice."

"Oh, I did notice. But I don't care anymore, Cyno. We have to talk."

"Please, (name). We can talk tomorrow, okay? I just want to go to bed now, not argue about something trivial."

Oh, he really dealt the final blow with that one.

"So, that's it? Do I even mean nothing to you? Was I just some kind of object you can forget about? Does this relationship even mean anything to you anymore?", you threw all of that towards him, not caring that you got more and more worked up with every word you said.

When you were met with nothing but silence from him, you took that as his answer to your questions.

"Okay..", was all you said, turning around and grabbing your packed bag before you went out the door, not even sparing Cyno one last glance. You just wanted to get out of there.

Cyno just stood there for a few minutes, still looking at the spot were you were standing before. Only now did the events catch up to his tired mind, yet he still didn't move.

He saw the defeated look on your face, the way your shoulders slumped at his dismissiveness, but he shrugged it off. Instead of running after you and trying to mend this misunderstanding, he went to the bathroom, took a shower and then made himself comfortable in the bed.

He was sure you would have returned by tomorrow and then you could talk about it.

....

Two days.

Two days have gone by and you still hadn't returned home. By this point, Cyno was beyond worried about you. After all, it was dark when you went out and he hasn't heard from you since then and no one in the city seemed to have seen you, either.

Thinking back to your last words towards him made him want to beat his past self up for not sitting down and talking to you then and there. For not running after you and bringing you back. Back to him where you belonged to.

He knew that he was neglecting you these past two months. It's not like he wanted to do so. Work has been increasing for him, the sages at the Academiya were up to something, and not of the good kind.

It put a lot of pressure on him, yet at the same time, he had to try and keep a low profile, for his sake as well as yours. But in doing so, he didn't even notice how much he had distanced himself from you. He really wanted to punch himself in the face for that, but it's not like that would bring you back to him, so he refrained from it.

He had been searching for you almost the entire day when you hadn't returned yet again. But his search seemed to not be granted success today either.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to head over to Gandharva Ville. Maybe Tighnari would be willing to listen to him and maybe have a suggestion on how he could find you and apologize to you.

Once he arrived, he immediately made his way over to his friends hut, not caring for all the looks other people gave him. He was used to it at this point anyways.

As expected, he found Tighnari sitting at his table, scrunched over some research report. Upon his entry, his ear twitched and he looked at his friend. Cyno did find it odd however, that his friend looked at him with such a surprised expression. After all, it wasn't unusual for him to arrive unannounced.

"Cyno? What are you doing here?"

"What, can't visit a friend anymore?", he said jokingly, though it didn't sound convincing at all, judging by the look on Tighnari's face.

"You're right..", Cyno sighed instead, grabbing an empty chair and sitting beside his friend. "I need your help. It's about (name).."

"Oh, that situation? Yeah, I've heard about it from them already."

"You did? From who? And when?", Cyno asked, suddenly gaining new hope. If you were here, he might still have a chance at finding you.

"From them. I offered them a place to stay for a few days. Though after everything they told me, I didn't think you would actually search for them."

So you were here... and his best friend knew about the situation and was severly judging him. Cyno knew he deserved it, but he still wanted to try and make things right again.

"Tighnari, please tell me where they are. I need to talk to them. Please."

Tighnari looked at him long and hard, most likely trying to assess his intentions.

With a sigh, he then turned back around, focusing his attention back to his research. "I gave them the open cottage on the other side of the village. They should be in there, seeing as they haven't left it since they arrived here."

"Thanks.", Cyno mumbled, scrambling to get up from the chair to rush to where you are. He was almost out the door, when Tighnari's voice caught his attention again, calling his name.

Cyno turned around, facing his friend again. "Don't fuck it up again.", he advised, to which Cyno nodded his head. He wouldn't, he would make sure of that.

When he arrived at your temporary residence, he immediately went to knock on the door. He waited outside for a few seconds, but no reply.

So he knocked again, more urgent this time.

Still no reply.

"(Name)!", he exclaimed this time, knocking on your door again, but still to no avail.

Getting desperate, he decided to just try and see if the door was unlocked or not.

It was. The door slid open soundlessly, inviting him inside. Carefully, he walked inside, letting his eyes take in the interior. Since the door and most of the windows have been shut, it was almost dark in here, and to top it off, he didn't hear a sound.

He was almost panicing again, thinking that you might have actually left this place, until his eyes fell on the bed, and on it, he saw your sleeping figure.

Relief flooded over him, finally being able to see you again and to actually have the knowledge that you were safe and sound.

He then walked closer to you, only to take in your state. You may have looked peaceful sleeping like this, but your eyes were red and swollen, telling him that you had cried before falling asleep. And he knew that the reason for your sadness had been him.

The need to punch himself rose again, for making you feel this way when he had promised to do everything in his power to never do that.

Instead, he decided to crouch down on the floor, next to the bed, gently taking your hand into his, placing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

He would wait here until you woke up again, no matter how many hours from now that would be. He would wait for you and ask you to please consider talking to him.

He wanted to properly explain himself and apologize to you. Whatever you decided on doing afterwards, he would comply by it. If you wanted to break up with him, he would understand that. If you decided to give him a second chance, he would thank you on his hands and knees.

But that decision would be yours to make and he was prepared to accept whatever would be thrown his way. But for now, he was content with simply holding your hand, quietly enjoying your presence which he had missed so much...

Alhaitham

The Scribe of the Academiya has been getting more and more busy these days. Well, for now, it's best to say "former" Scribe, since he has been temporarely promoted to Acting Grand Sage.

You knew that your boyfriend had absolutely zero intention of keeping that position, even if he was more than befitting for it, seeing how knowledgeable he was.

But he much rather prefered a simple life, and you couldn't argue with that logic. Who wouldn't like that, especially when pay and work hours weren't really affected either way.

Still, for now, both you and him had to live with the changed circumstances, even though neither of you were happy with them.

Alhaitham was working even more now, trying to sort out certain matters until a new Grand Sage has been chosen. You haven't really seen or talked to him in days, yet you brushed it off, telling yourself that it would change again once he got his old position back again.

Sure, he may have cancelled a few dates and had to call off a get together with your parents, but that was perfectly understandable.

You continued to give yourself excuse after excuse, hoping that soon enough, things would get back to the way they were before all of this had happened.

Couldn't take too long...right?

...

Three hours..

You had waited for him, at Puspa Café, where you were supposed to meet for your first ever date in ages again.

And he didn't show up... Again.

You wanted to give Alhaitham the benefit of the doubt, but it was getting increasingly more difficult for you.

When you got to the home you shared with him, you were greeted by an eerie silence, telling you, that he wasn't even home to begin with.

Probably still at the Academiya, working.

You sigh, adding yet another dissapointment to the list, as you went into the bathroom to get changed into more comfortable clothes. To think that you dressed up for the occaison, only to experience heartbreak again.

It's really starting to get difficult for you to forgive him for all this stuff.

....

Yet another date cancelled by him, thanks to not showing up... Again..

But this time, he didn't even come home in the evening.

It had you worried about him beyond anything, not knowing what was going on since he always came back.

You didn't sleep that night at all, only for him to angrily walk through the front door at three in the morning, mumbling something about the incompetence of the people he was forced to work with.

He only spared a glance in your direction before he went straight into the bedroom. By the time you got in there as well, he was already fast asleep in the bed. And when you woke up in the morning, he was already gone, not even leaving you with a note or anything like he usually would.

Somehow, this was your last straw.

You endured the exact same scenario so many times before. Yet, somehow, this time was just one too many times.

Next time, you promised yourself, next time you see him, you would talk to him about it, no matter if he wanted or not. Because if you didn't then there was no reason in your eyes to continue this dying relationship.

....

Turns out, the next time you would see him would once again be in the dead of the night, thanks to Alhaitham not coming home again any earlier.

When he walked through the door, he was surprised to see you still awake. Normally, you would already be asleep and he would just silently slip under the covers next to you, enjoying what little he was able to get from being close to you again gave him, before he was also knocked out cold.

But with you standing there in front of him, expression cold and hard, he knew something was up with you. And yet, he just didn't have the energy to deal with that right now. He just wanted to sleep.

"We need to talk, Alhaitham."

No greeting, no nicknames, no nothing. You were definitely upset, yet he still tried to get out off talking right now.

"Can we do this tomorrow, (name)? I'm tired."

"You mean like all the other times you promised me something and then stood me up? No, I think not. We talk about this now."

Oh, so that's what got you so upset?

"Look, I told you I would be busy for some time until things at the Academiya get sorted out. You can't tell me you didn't know about this.", he tried to reason with you, but it only seemed to upset you even more.

"You did say that.. but it's been weeks since I've last actually talked to you. It feels more like I'm your housekeeper right now, not your partner."

"This is absurd. Now you're just thinking too much into things, (name)."

After that statement, an argument broke out between you two, right here in the hallway where you "greeted" Alhaitham. You weren't full on shouting at each other, but you were talking pretty loudly. If people were to walk by outside, they could probably hear every word you guys were throwing at each other.

But neither of you cared right now.

At some point, Alhaitham walked past you, into the living room, trying to escape the argument. But you insisted on continuing it, following him into the room and at this point, he was getting fed up with the situation.

"Archons, (name)! Can you just shut up and leave me be? I don't have time for trivial things right now!"

Immediately after he said that, you went silent and his words caught up with him as well.

He looked at you, saw how tears started to form in your eyes and instantly regretted ever letting those words fall out of his mouth. Nothing was more important than you in his eyes, and yet, he still said that to you. Like you didn't mean the world to him, which you did.

"(Name)-!"

"So, what? Was i really nothing to you? Was i just some kind of object that you can just forget about that easily? To toss aside when you don't want it anymore?"

You hated how your voice cracked halfway through, how tears started to escape your eyes. And despite how much his words had hurt you, you still didn't want to run from the situation. You had to see it through.

"If that is how you truly feel about me, maybe we should end-!"

Before you were able to end your sentence, you were suddenly pushed against a strong chest, warm arms keeping you in an embrace you had longed so much for, yet right now, it wasn't comforting at all.

"Let go off me..", you stated weakly, giving no indication that you planned to reciprocate his sign of affection.

"Never..", he whispered, and with the way he sounded right now, you could almost think that he was starting to cry as well. Almost..

"I'm so sorry, (name). I truly didn't mean to say that. Please, you have to believe me, I don't mean it. You are not trivial to me, nor is our relationship.

I.. I love you. I truly do. Though I don't openly say it that often, that doesn't mean my words hold any less truth in them. You have to believe me."

"I want to... I really want to believe you, Alhaitham. But with the way things are and have been for those weeks... I don't think I can.."

By now, the tears are streaming freely from your face and you weakly put your hands against his chest, needing some kind of stability.

"Then let me prove it to you. Let me prove to you that I still love you like the first day, that I never stopped loving you, even if my words and actions made you think otherwise."

You were silent after that for some time, thinking it over. You had no idea what the best course of action for you would be, but in the end, you decided to go with what your heart was telling you. Wether or not you would regret that decision, you had to find that out in the future.

"...One more chance. You better don't fuck up again or I'm leaving for good.", you mumbled against his chest, his shirt already stained with your tears, but neither you nor Alhaitham cared about that in the slightest.

All he could focus on, was you in his arms and the fact you granted him with another chance. And he intended to use it the best he could.

Kazuha

Between travelling around the different nations and helping out Beidou on board of the Alchor from time to time, Kazuha never really had much time.

You love Kazuha. You really do...

But sometimes, you just can't help but wonder if you even have a relationship with him at this point.

When he's gone again, for weeks or sometimes even months on end, and the only form of communication with him stems from a few letters sprinkled in between here and there, how could you not doubt?

In the beginning, you used to travel around with him. And while you enjoyed the time spent with your boyfriend, getting to see all those different places and creating wonderful memories with him, you eventually grew tired of it.

That's not to say that you didn't enjoy wandering around the nations with Kazuha by your side, but you just couldn't imagine spending your entire life like this. Never being provided with a place of your own, to call your home, constantly on the go.

It just wasn't your way of living.

Kazuha understood that and would never force you to accompany him, just like you would never force him to stay with you, even when sometimes the loneliness just got more to you than on other days.

He always came back to you, but he never stayed for more than a few days before he was out the door again, not to be seen for an unknown amount of time.

It was difficult, living like this. You tried to live off the memories and happy moments you had with him when he was here with you, but it wasn't enough anymore. You wanted him by your side again, but you also knew that he would suffer in the long run if you were to ask him to stay here with you.

However, in your mind, it also wasn't an option to just leave thing unmentioned.

Which is why you made the desicion, that the next time he would come home to you, you needed to talk to him about your thoughts and feelings, in hopes you could come to a solution together.

.....

Turns out, the next time he's home again would be three months later. And like always, only letters could have been exchanged throughout this entire time.

Kazuha already had a sneaking suspicion that something wasn't right with you. He couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but the way you were writing in these letters sounded off from your usual way, which is also why he tried to make it back to you as soon as he could. He felt bad that it still took him this long, but there was nothing he could have done about it.

The city he resided in when he got that particular letter from you underwent a strict lockdown only hours later, due to a prisoner escaping. The entire city had been shut down to find him as quickly as possible, all forms of communication had also been cut short.

It took them three weeks to apprehend the convict again, and as soon as the city doors opened again, Kazuha was out of them and on his way back to you.

...

When Kazuha arrived back at the little cottage the two of you shared, it was in the late afternoon.

Already, when he opened the door, he was absolutely certain now that something was wrong. Usually, you would come running to greet him at the first noise or hint that he had come back.

But now? Nothing.

"(Name)? I'm back!", he yelled, in hopes of getting your attention this way, but still, no reaction. Maybe you were out buying groceries or something?

Still, Kazuha decided to wander through the different rooms, just to make sure he wouldn't miss anything. And now, he's glad that he did as he saw you sitting on the patio, wrapped up in a comfortable blanket.

As he approached you, he noticed that you must be deep in your thoughts, just staring ahead of you. He gently opened the door and when that also didn't seem to catch your attention, he decided to speak up.

"Darling?", he asked, cautiously, not wanting to spook you.

You flinched a little at the unexpected sound coming from behind you, but just as quickly, you relaxed again, realizing who that voice belonged to.

"Kazuha. You're back.", you stated, grazing him with a small smile as you turned around to look at him, but nothing more. Normally, you would jump up into his arms, almost taking his breath away.

But Kazuha didn't say anything about it, instead, he grabbed one of the other chairs and sat right beside you. He gently took one of your hands into his, holding it like that. He missed this, missed this physical contact with you.

"Please.. Tell me what's been bothering you, darling."

"....was I that obvious?", you asked, causing a small smile to appear on Kazuha's lips. But he didn't answer, instead waited for you to continue on.

You sighed, fixing your gaze away from him and ahead of you again, thinking about how to best approach this. It was silent for a few minutes until you spoke up again.

"It's just... You're always gone for so long that I-!"

Before you could actually finish your sentence, Kazuha began to groan beside you, making you look at him in confusion.

"(Name).. you know that I don't like being bound to one place."

"I know that, but-!"

"No but's! You knew what you were involving yourself in by being with me. Why are we even having this conversation now?"

You were shocked, not expecting Kazuha to immediately get so defensive about this. All you wanted was to talk to him and maybe propose an idea you had got when he was away. But the way he was acting right now made you feel bitter.

"Can you just listen to me? I'm not trying to confine you, I just-!"

"Yes, you are, (name). What else could you possibly want to achieve by beginning the conversation like that?"

Fed up from being interrupted by him a third time now, you've had enough. An argument started to ensue, when you didn't even intend for this to happen.

You've never experienced something like this with Kazuha, he was always level-headed, calm and collected. So why was he suddenly getting so defensive over this topic. It really wasn't like you were trying to hold him here.

But, with each thing said, both you and him grew more and more heated, the shouting starting to get louder and louder, until Kazuha suddenly stood up.

"If I knew you would get like that, maybe I shouldn't have returned at all."

As you heard him say that, you instantly went silent, looking at him with your eyes wide open.

No.. he couldn't mean that, right?

It also now seemed to catch up to Kazuha what he just said, as he also turned to look at you, shock written all over his face.

"(Name), I...", he began to stay, but trailed off, not knowing what he even wanted to say in the first place. He knew he had fucked up with that statement.

"So, that's it? I wasn't anything to you? Just something you can toy with when you get bored, only to be thrown away when you don't want me anymore?"

A single tear escaped you, running down your cheek and Kazuha immediately had the instinct to wipe it away from your beautiful face, to pull you into his arms and tell you how sorry he was.

So he did just that, pulling you into him, holding your face against his chest as he held your head secure with his hand, your tears now starting to come out freely.

"I'm so sorry, darling. I didn't mean to say such horrible things. No words can express how much I regret ever letting them out of my mouth."

You weren't able to answer him, your breathing being erratic, trying to choke down your sobs and crys. It positively broke Kazuha's heart that he was the immediate cause for this.

He just let you cry in his arms until you calmed down again, all the while he kept apologizing to you over and over, telling you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him.

The two of you would have to continue this conversation, but not today. Not when both of you were this wound up from everything that had happened.

The talking could be done tomorrow. Now was the time for healing...

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin comfort #genshin impact comfort #albedo x reader #albedo x reader angst #albedo x reader comfort #albedo comfort #cyno x reader #cyno x reader comfort #cyno x reader angst #cyno comfort #albedo angst #cyno angst #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x reader angst #alhaitham angst #alhaitam x reader comfort #alhaitham comfort #kazuha x reader #kazuha comfort #kazuha angst #kazuha x reader comfort #kazuha x reader angst

[the-likesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

AKA Talented Mutuals Tuesday

Except I spent so long making this list that the timezones changed over BUT I wanted to show my mutuals some love and now that we are going into the hiatus I thought you might all like a list of quality fics to keep you occupied while there is no new Weewoo show. 

I don't know if anyone will actually want to join in on this but if you do the rules are simple:

SHOW YOUR MUTUALS SOME LOVE! Share your favourite fics, (or gifs, edits, literally anything that your very talented mutuals have made), as many or as few as you like but let's share the love around <3

Apologises in advance for the long post btw

@speaknowdiaz I would literally read anything that April writes and would probably sell a limb for the incredible WIPs I know she's still cooking up but here are a couple of my faves:

pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend)

Buck challenges Eddie to try to hit on him after teasing Eddie for not having any ‘game’. This fic is very funny and very soft.

believe in one thing (i won't go away)

This fic hit me straight in the feels. Buck and Eddie go to couples therapy even though they aren't a couple and they work through some stuff.

◊

@thosetwofirefighters Incredible amazing Nat ily xx

Say It All Out Loud

Eddie comes out to Aunt Pepa after his ‘date’ with Vanessa. I am a little bit biased towards this one because she did write it for me but it's honestly just so good!

How to Cure Boredom: Buckley Edition

The 118 are stuck at the firehouse during a slow shift and Buck entertains them all by mattress-surfing the loft stairs. It’s soft and silly and in the same universe as her other fic Safe in His Arms.

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@loveyourownsmiilee The wonderful amazing Juju not only writes incredible meta and keeps us all fed with Oliver content but Juju also writes wonderful buddie fic. 

When Were You Under Me?

Who doesn’t love a Friends AU. This is Buck and Eddie as Ross and Rachel and it is hilarious and so sweet. 

You should also check out her Buddie Language Meta if you have not read it before <3

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@elvensorceress Jenwyn’s work always astounds me so be sure to check these out:

Color Him Father, Color Him Love

I will scream from the rafters how much I adore this fic and yes it did make me cry (happy tears). It’s a look into Buck’s head after his sperm donor kid is born and he realizes what Christopher (and Eddie) truly mean to him. I know I have recced this before but it deserves all the love. 

Unless You Ask Me To

Eddie dates a man for the first time, and Buck is completely 'Fine'. This is a preemptive rec because it is one chapter away from completion and I have been saving it to binge in one sitting but knowing Jenwyn and her incredible talent I guarantee this will be worth the read. 

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@spotsandsocks If anyone’s work is guaranteed to make me sob like a baby (happy, sad, or tears of laughter) it’s Spotty. 

Everything But (temptation)

This is Spotty’s newest fic and it's just brilliant. Buck is practicing extreme self-control whilst Eddie is being an irresistible menace. 

Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

Buck finally tells Eddie he loves him right before Eddie’s new boyfriend is supposed to meet Christopher. Honestly, all I can say about this fic is that it’s a masterpiece and I screamed many times while reading it. 

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@shortsighted-owl Wonderful amazing Owly (Abbi). I appreciate you so and you make my dash so happy xx

Of foam-moustached kisses, and button combinations

For all your sweet domestic buddie needs this is the fic. Eddie is practicing a video game to get better than Chris and Buck makes fun of his ex-technophobe boyfriend. 

Also THIS EDIT SET to the lyrics of You’re All That I Have by Snow Patrol make me assdffgghjjklkll

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@lilbuddie Okay, this one is just a brag because Minja doesn’t actually have any fics published yet (side eye) but I wanna make sure she is on everyone’s radar for when she does because yall are not ready for the incredible amazing talent that is this girl’s writing!! So go check out the snippets on her Tumblr and badger her until she finishes something plssssss

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@wheelsupin-five Hi! <3

Almost Almost Almost

This adorable of Buck who is always cold and Eddie warms him up I– asfffghhjkklllll

Under Kitchen Light

SO SOFT! Buck wakes up and Eddie isn't there, Buck finds him in the kitchen. 

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@rogerzsteven Simi owns my heart and by that I mean my heart is locked in a cage in Simi’s basement where it is occasionally beaten to a pulp by the most incredibly angsty fics you've ever read.

Cleanse

Buck is extremely nauseous and Eddie takes care of him while I sob over them in a corner.

build me a home underground (free from light and sound)

This fic is so brutal in all the best ways, my heart was in my throat the entire read! Buck gets trapped in a sensory deprivation room while the 118 and Athena race to find him. 

◊

@ashavahishta another incredibly talented mutual of mine

out of ashes

Is it really a Meegs rec list if I don’t rec this fic honestly it's engraved on my soul. This is a criminal minds/greys inspired fic where Buck is kidnapped and tortured until the 118 can find him. This fic is so so well written and means a million things to me I could never explain but pleaseeeee read it!! 

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@jobairdxx hello lovely xx

Oh, We Pray to Make it Through the Night

Highly recommend this fic, I do love a near-death experience fic! Buck gets injured on a call and Eddie falls asleep holding vigil at his bedside. 

Jules also writes beautiful poetry on Tumblr so go read some of that too <3

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@monsterrae1 MISS RAE! YOU INCREDIBLE THING! <3

love is on its way

I know we’re all a little bit in mourning over the couch theory but it lives on in our hearts and in this fic which has six moments between Buck and Eddie on the Diaz couch (and she’s a wee bit spicy too).

Buck's café (take my heart, just not my order)

Coffee Shop AU. Buck runs the shop where the 118 order all their drinks on shift. I absolutely adore this fic! 

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@alyxmastershipper RYAN!! INCREDIBLY TALENTED MUTUAL THAT YOU ARE!! 

there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

If “aasdsdfghhjkl” was a person it was me reading this fic. Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.

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@bekkachaos Wonderful, amazing Bekka xxx

lose yourself in the feeling

I am a sucker for ‘accidental kisses’ and this was just wonderful. Buck is so excited about Maddie and Chim getting engaged that he kisses Eddie when he tells him. 

start me up, open my eyes

Okay, the mild sexual content tag is a lie, nothing has ever been closer to smut without actually being smut than this fic, I have never been so wound up reading a fic. Bekka builds the tension so so well. 

◊

@sibylsleaves honestly I'm still a little in shock that we're mutuals now so please excuse me while I fangirl over your incredible writing!

with a bird at your door

Eddie starts spending all his time with Buck. Which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that Buck is in love with him. This fic is the perfect mixture of pining, angst, and a happy ending. And yes I think about this fic frequently I love it okay. 

◊

@mysteriouslyyounggalaxy last but certainly not least (for now). hello lovely xx

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two

Missing scenes from while eddie is trapped in the well followed by the most perfect extended reunion scene. We all know I am a sucker for fics based on the well incident, it’s literally how i started writing for buddie but omg this fic!!!! 

◊

Remember to share the love around and happy hiatus to you all.

Love, Meegs xxxx

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic recs #buddie rec list #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan ‘buck’ buckley #christopher diaz #911 buddie #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 fic #911 fic recs #meegs says stuff #buddie ao3 #911 ao3 #buddie recs list 4 #talented mutuals tuesday #911 abc

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Pairing - Will Miller x female reader. Benny Miller, Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales x female reader.

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Brief allusion to sexual content. No cursing in this one!!

Word Count - 4.3k

Author's Note - hi lovelies. here's another triple frontier fic for you all!! i love writing these boys so much. we all know by now that i am a total will girly, so it's no surprise he takes the lead in this one. but all the boys are included - i can't leave them out <3. as always, if you have any specific requests or thoughts, send them over!! lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Time, and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Baby, we gotta go!”

“Coming!” you yell, running down the stairs with a duffel bag in your hand. “Almost forgot my toothbrush.”

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t on your neck,” Will winks, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Shut up, Miller,” you tease, no real malice in your voice. You lean up to peck his lips gently, before he takes a step back.

“We can’t be late again. I can’t make up another excuse – last time was bad enough.”

“That was literally your fault! You were the one that couldn’t keep your hands off me, like some sort of teenage boy,” you laugh.

“It was the green dress’ fault, not mine. I don’t regret it,” he chuckles.

Will winks at you again before picking up your bags and walking outside to pack up the car.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Four days by the lake with your boys sounded like complete and utter bliss. When Frankie had suggested it, initially, everyone had laughed it off. Realistically, it wouldn’t work. You all struggle to plan a day off at the same time, never mind multiple. It sounded like a sweet little idea. Nothing more.

Then, life got stressful. Work was tough on everyone, families causing issues, deadlines looming – the mundane routine of every day wearing the five of you down. Eventually, it was Santiago that snapped.

“We’re going to that damn lake house,” he exclaimed one evening in Benny’s backyard. “I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care if we all have to call in sick. We are going to the lake house.”

He looked around at his friends, expecting them to instantly shut him down. Instead, he was met with unanimous nods of agreement.

That was months ago. It was a logistical nightmare, working out your schedules to intertwine with each other, but you did it. You were ridiculously ready for four days of swimming, drinking, sunbathing and laughing with your favourite people in the entire world. It sounded like the well deserved break everyone needed.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will’s warm palm meets the bare skin of your thigh as he drives. The roads are long and monotonous, but you don’t care. Everything is an adventure with him.

“You still sure about not telling ‘em?” he asks, blue eyes flitting over to you briefly. He’s got a gentle smile on his face. He always does when he’s with you. It’s like his default setting.

“Yeah, I think I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. Think we should live in paradise a little longer.”

“Paradise, huh?” you tease, squeezing his hand.

“You know it is. I’m on cloud nine every moment I’m with you, baby.”

His words make your head spin, and you’re glad you’re sitting down already. You wonder everyday how you got so lucky. It’s rare, to know with full certainty that you are someone’s favourite person in the world. The centre of their universe. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. Mostly, it’s astounding. It warms up your bones, settles itself carefully into your ribcage, pumping your heart to the beat of Will’s love. What a gift.

Which is why you’ve decided to keep the two of you a secret from the boys. You know that it won’t change anything between the group, not really – but you’re a little worried nonetheless. It’s scary, altering a dynamic that works so well. The five of you, stuck like glue, know each other like the lyrics to your favourite songs. You know each others strengths, weaknesses, favourite ice cream flavours, middle names, star signs, families – everything. It’s the kind of friendship that binds you together for life. Changing that in any way would break your heart. Will’s too. You know, deep down, that they’ll be perfectly accepting. But the fear still lingers, ugly and unwavering.

Also - you and Will didn’t take the most conventional route into a relationship.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you met in Delta Force. Co-workers, first. Comrades in arms. He had your back, you had his. You saved each other’s lives countless times. You’d stitch up each other’s wounds, carry each other back to base, share your water even though you only had a drop left. You were a team.

Then, you became friends. It’s hard not to, when you’re thrown into a life-or-death situation. You spent 24 hours a day together, wherever you were sent – sometimes Asia, sometimes South America, sometimes Africa. You got to know each other, learnt one another’s quirks and habits and likes and dislikes. The five of you bonded quickly and effortlessly. It made you a slick team, your missions running like clockwork. You could all predict each other’s movements, finish each other’s sentences. It’s what made you so successful, so revered.

After Delta Force, you became friends outside of work. Forced proximity friendship is one thing, but actually making the time to see each other back on home soil is another. You were worried that you were going to drift, and all of the trust built would perish. That wasn’t the case. The five of you quickly adjusted to being home together. You’d all spend Saturdays in Frankie’s backyard, Friday nights on Santiago’s porch, Sundays in Will’s kitchen. You’d pop by and see Benny on a Wednesday night after work, ready to watch another episode of that reality show you both couldn’t get enough of. You’d see Will any chance you got. Sunday morning farmers market trips and early swims and pancakes for breakfast and why don’t you just stay over? It’ll save you driving home.

You’d been best friends with Will for years before you realised how you felt about him.

It’d hit you, all of a sudden, one Sunday morning. You drove over to Will’s to pick him up, ready to go to the flea market downtown. You were going to grab lunch after, maybe cook some dinner together later. Just an average day.

You let yourself in to his house using the key he’d had made for you years ago. You had keys to all the boy’s places – just in case. You found Will at the stove, shirtless, golden skin on display. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly, and you wondered for a minute how it was fair that he was talented at everything.

“Morning, Miller,” you sing, throwing your bag down and striding over to him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replies, turning around to face you. He opens his arms and you step into his space, wrapping yourself around him and resting your head on his bare chest. You inhale, breathing in his scent deliberately. He smells like warmth and sleep and sunshine and promises.

You take a step back, craning your neck to look at him. The morning sunlight is gleaming through the windows, casting a gold hue across the room. Will’s hair is glowing, illuminating him like some sort of halo. Angelic boy.

Those ocean blue eyes survey you carefully. He rests his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer.

“What’s on your mind? I can see it runnin’ a mile a minute,” he murmurs. You try to look down, but he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently guiding you back up.

How do you explain that you’ve just realised that you’re completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with Will Miller? That it’s just dawned on you like a sunrise, warm and promising? How do you tell someone that you’re quite convinced you’ll drop dead if you don’t kiss them immediately? Is it even possible to explain these feelings? Is it possible to put all of these emotions into words? Are there enough words in any language to explain the enormity of what you’re experiencing?

Instead, you simply say,

“I’m in love with you.”

Will’s pupils blow wide, and he sways slightly, as if the weight of your confession has knocked him off balance. You steady him by cradling his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you continue. “But I’ve kind of just put the pieces together, and it seems stupid not to tell you. You of all people know that life is short and fragile and can change in the blink of an eye, so I just thought –”

Will cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is passionate and tender and so full of love you’re convinced you could get drunk off it. He pulls back for air and looks at you earnestly.

“Don’t have to say it back? Sweetheart, do you know how often I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me?”

You can’t help but break out into a grin. You feel like you’re floating, levitating above ground, held up purely by the love William Miller has for you.

“You have?” you ask, disbelief written on your features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting for you,” he beams. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

You smile at him ear to ear before jumping into his arms. You kiss him again, legs wrapping around his waist to anchor yourself, closing the distance. He spins around the kitchen with you in his arms, the joy of being in love filling the room.

Suddenly, Will puts you down.

“Stay here,” he tells you, before sprinting upstairs.

Usually, you can predict Will’s every move. But not now. Now, you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.

He returns, placing a kiss to your forehead, before getting down on one knee in front of you.

“Marry me,” he says, complete certainty in his voice. You’ve never heard him this assured.

“Will… what?” you ask incredulously. You confessed your love for each other ten minutes ago, and you’ve skipped straight to marriage, apparently.

“Listen. I know it’s crazy. I know it seems fast. But we’ve loved each other for years, sweetheart. I realised when I met you that I was never, ever going to love anyone else again.”

He pulls out a box from the pocket of his pyjama pants and opens it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. It’s understated and it’s elegant and it’s just so you.

“I bought this two years ago. Maybe you think I’m insane, and maybe you’re going to run out of that door the minute I stop talking. But I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.”

You’ve been trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully for the past few minutes. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, and your brain is trying to keep up.

“Will, we aren’t even technically dating,” you tease playfully. You already know your answer. You just like hearing him bear his truth to you like this.

“We’ve been dating for years, technically,” he rallies. “Everyone always thinks we’re a couple. We’re together every weekend, we go on dates, you sleep over… we went grocery shopping last week!”

You grin, remembering how you’d jokingly argued over whether to get the red or the green grapes, and how you’d ended up getting both. It was all so domestic it made your heart ache.

The two of you sit in the silence for a minute, Will still on one knee. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. There’s no doubt in your mind what you’ll say.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Will. God, yes. The easiest yes of my entire life.”

He jumps up to grab you, spinning you in circles. You kiss him with so much force he stumbles backwards. Will takes your left hand, and carefully slides the ring onto your finger. It looks like it’s always belonged there.

You always knew it’d be Will Miller. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

That was months ago. The other boys know that you and Will spend a lot of time together one on one, so no one has suspected anything out of the ordinary. You have no doubt they’ll be happy for you both, but you’re content to keep everything a secret a little while longer. It’s easier, that way. It means you and Will get to keep living in your bubble of bliss, unphased by the outside world. You’ll tell them soon enough. You’re just trying to savour every last second.

“We’ll tell them soon,” you reassure Will, interlocking your fingers with his where they rest on your leg. “We’ll make it a whole thing, if you like. It feels like something that warrants a celebration.”

“Oh, definitely,” he grins, turning his eyes back to the road. “We’re almost there. So, you’re gonna have to act like you’re not totally head over heels in love with me for four days. You think you can manage?”

You scoff playfully, and squeeze his hand.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you tease. He chuckles, and the melody of it is music to your ears.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You arrive at the lake house only ten minutes late, which you and Will agree is not entirely unacceptable.

“Finally, they’re here!” Benny yells as he bounds over to the car. He envelopes you in a bear hug, picking you up off the ground accidentally.

“Frankie is inside,” Santiago reassures when he catches you looking over his shoulder. You turn to give him a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek. Old habit.

“Santi, did you pack bug spray? You know the mosquitoes love you,” you wink, running your hands through his hair affectionately. He has greys coming through, and they suit him beautifully.

“Yes, hermosa, I got your text reminding me,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You and Will grab your bags and make your way inside, where Frankie is making margaritas.

“Hola, mi amor,” he greets, wrapping his arms around you. “How was the journey?”

“All good, Francisco,” you reply. “I have a very reliable chauffeur.”

Will laughs from behind you, and it makes your knees weak.

“Bad news, you guys!” Benny interrupts, jumping to sit on the counter. “You two have to share a room, since you were the last ones here. Finders, keepers, and all that.”

That really isn’t the inconvenience that the boys think it is, but you and Will play along nonetheless.

“Damn it. He snores, you know!” you laugh, looking over to where Will is pretending to be offended, hand over his heart.

“That’s what you get for being late, losers!” Benny retorts, throwing his head back in amusement. Everyone laughs along with him, and all the tension melts from your body.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s day one, and you’re already struggling. You’re all relaxing on the dock, soaking up the sun’s rays. Will is wearing his forest green swim trunks with a ridiculously small inseam, his strong thighs on display. You so badly want to kiss them, lick them, bite down on them in the way you know he likes. Instead, you sip your margarita and settle for ogling him over the rim of your sunglasses.

He dives into the lake elegantly, and a bead of sweat drips down your neck. He breaks the surface, coming up for air, and pushes his hair back, water cascading down his golden skin. He’s glowing, beaming, gleaming in the sunlight like an ancient marble statue. You’re practically panting. Santiago notices.

“You okay, hermosa?” he asks, giving you a once over.

“Yeah, Santi, I’m good. Just super warm,” you lie. He seems to buy it, because he moves to grab his book, fanning you with it. Admittedly, the light breeze does cool you off, and distracts you from Will. Double win.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you joke, as he pretends to tip his hat towards you.

“You should join us!” Benny shouts from the lake. When did he even jump in?

“Yeah, come on, darlin’” Will chimes in, watching you with a slight smirk on his face. He’s not going to pass up the chance to see you sun soaked and dripping wet.

“Fine!” you huff jokingly, pulling your oversized t shirt (which you’re realising belongs to Frankie – when did you steal that?) over your head. You’re left in a bikini that leaves little to the imagination, the bright colour accentuating your skin beautifully. You look good. You feel good.

Will looks you up and down and takes a deep breath. You’re just friends, remember? He’s trying to convince himself, attempting to make the act somewhat believable. You break him out of his thoughts by running along the dock as fast as you can, and diving into the lake with a surprising amount of grace.

The five of you spend all afternoon in the water. Benny thinks it’s hilarious to pick you up, placing you on his shoulders before jumping backwards, sending you both flying through the air. You all play catch, laughing when Frankie misses the ball and accidentally punches Santi right in the stomach. You and Will easily fall back into your old habits of being friends, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger just a second too long every now and again. You’re sure nobody else clocks on, all of the boys too busy splashing each other like children.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When the evening comes, you all shower and dry off while Will and Frankie make dinner. You, Benny and Santi curl up on the couch, trying to warm each other up after hours of being in the water. You eat, you laugh, and you all swap stories about the things that you’ve missed since you last saw each other properly. It’s bliss. Perfect tranquility.

The sun sets, and you all move outside to the deck. Santi starts a campfire, and the five of you grab beers, settling into the warmth of the crackling wood. Everyone is relaxed, not a care in the world. You wish, for a moment, that life could always be like this. As if reading your thoughts, Will reaches out and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb in a fleeting moment, before retracting his hand as if nothing happened.

“I’m gonna make us some warm ciders,” Frankie decides, rising from his chair.

“I’ll come and help you. You always put way too much alcohol in - these idiots can’t handle it,” you signal towards where Benny, Will and Santiago are sat. They all scoff at you, laughing because they know it’s true.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sit atop the counter next to where Frankie begins gathering his ingredients. When a strand of hair falls into his eyes, you move it away gently.

“Will you let me cut your hair tomorrow? It’s getting in your way,” you ask him softly.

“Of course, mi amor. Wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

He smiles at you, and your heart swells. You love this man so much - some days you wonder how you got so lucky. All five of you are bonded for life, best friends until the end. But there’s no denying that you and Frankie have always understood each other on another level.

He stops making the drinks, moving to stand between your legs. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to solve something.

“I like seeing you happy like this,” he murmurs.

“How can I not be?” you whisper back. “I’m with my favourite people. I have everything I could ever want.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, and he chuckles. He begins to draw slow circles just above your bare knee. You can tell he’s thinking carefully.

“It’s Will, isn’t it?” he asks, gentle smile on his face.

In this moment, you could lie. You could feign innocence, deny it with your life, maintain that you and Will are just friends. But what’s the use? Why hide the best thing that’s ever happened to you from one of the people you love the most in the world?

“Yeah,” you grin. “It’s Will.”

He’s practically beaming at you now, equal parts proud of himself and you.

“Knew it,” he murmurs, careful to keep his voice down. “Did something happen?”

You realise now that there’s absolutely no point in lying to Frankie. You’ve come this far. Might as well tell him the truth.

“We’re engaged,” you whisper, grinning from ear to ear.

He pauses for a moment, processing the news. You can see the shock registering on his face. Then, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh my god, hermosa! You’re kidding!”

He’s squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You hear a shout from the boys outside and remember where you are.

“We haven’t told anyone yet. We’re just living in our little bubble of happiness for a while.”

“Hey, I get it,” he reassures. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. I knew it’d happen eventually. It was just a question of when.”

You hug him again, so overwhelmed with love. What a miracle, to be loved like this by so many brilliant people.

“We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise. We were thinking of making it a party, a whole celebration.”

“Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

He pinches your knee playfully, before making his way back to his drinks, smile still plastered across his face.

“Hey, Francisco?” you murmur, still aware of the volume of your voice.

“Yeah?” he turns, giving you his full attention.

“So, I know it’s not traditional, but, I mean, when have me and Will ever done traditional?” you both laugh, and you continue. “I was just thinking – and you don’t have to say yes… I’d love it if you did, but really, you don’t have to – “

“Spit it out, mi amor,” he teases gently.

“Will you be my best man?”

He stops in his tracks, suddenly serious, and you’re worried you’ve made a mistake. Then, he breaks out into a grin, practically running over to bear hug you again.

“Of course I will,” he confirms into your ear. “I’d love nothing more.”

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly.

“I love you too, hermosa. So much.”

Frankie kisses you on the forehead once, then again, and begins to pick up the drinks he’s made.

“They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long. You know how they get,” he winks, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sit in your happiness for a little while, just basking in the glow. You’ve never felt so at peace.

Will wanders into the kitchen, immediately coming over to stand in front of you. His warm palms find your hips, and he leans in to kiss you softly.

“Hi, sugar,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Hi, handsome,” you mutter back.

“You okay? You disappeared,” he asks, fingers moving in warm circles on the bare skin of your waist.

“I’m good. So good,” you smile, kissing him again.

It’s then you realise what you’ve done. You broke the rule – don’t tell the boys.

“Will?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I have something I need to confess.”

He pulls away so he can see your face, and smiles at you gently, before putting the pieces together in his head.

“You told Frankie, didn’t you?” he asks, still smiling.

There’s a pause before you bare your truth.

“Yes. I’m sorry! He kind of figured it out himself, and he asked, and I didn’t have the heart to lie to him. He’s my best friend, he can see right through me at any given moment. I know I was the one who said we shouldn’t tell them and I know this makes me a hypocrite and I’m sorry – “

Will cuts you off - just like that day in his kitchen - by smashing his lips to yours.

“It’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he reassures when you pull away.

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise.”

He rests his forehead against yours, and allows you to breathe him in. Then, he chuckles softly.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re idiots,” he replies.

“I mean, yes. But why?”

He chuckles again, clearly amused, before answering,

“I totally just told Benny and Santi while you were in here telling Frankie.”

You process the information, before bursting into a fit of giggles. He joins you, the both of you laughing like fools.

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was. Benny made a comment, said he’s kinda noticed that something has changed, and I just sort of confessed.”

You’re both laughing so hard your sides hurt. What are the chances? It all feels like fate. The two of you, together. The timing of the evening. It couldn’t have worked out any more perfect.

“We’re idiots,” you agree, throwing your arms around his neck. Will pulls you off the counter and spins you around, making you shriek. It’s the most beautiful déjà vu.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you make your way back out to the deck. As you walk over to the boys at the campfire, you’re suddenly caught off guard by two of them rugby tackling you, the three of you barrelling into the ground with a thud. Benny and Santiago are crushing you beneath them, shouting as they do it.

“Congratulations!”

“Hell yeah, sweetheart!”

“How did you even keep this a secret for so long?”

“Yeah, when were you planning to tell us, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re marrying my brother. Oh my god, we’re gonna be family!”

“The five of us are already family, Ben.”

“Yeah, but, like, legally. Brother and sister!”

Benny’s hair is in your mouth and Santiago’s knee is in your ribcage and your earring is caught in someone’s shirt and the grass is scratching your back and you can’t breathe. Will and Frankie are watching from a distance, chuckling. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tranquility.

#triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fluff #triple frontier x you #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x oc #triple frontier x reader fluff #reader insert #fanfic #fluff #will miller #will miller x reader #will ironhead miller #benny miller #benny miller x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #will miller fluff #will miller x you #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #will miller x reader fluff #santiago garcia fluff #triple frontier smut

[antimatterz]

I really love, love, love your self-aware posts 🙃 That one with Bladie, was perfect!!! (I don't know if sending an request again that soon is okay, but i got another idea!) [After looking at your rules again, i am unsure if this request is okay with u. So i understand, if u refuse]

Listen. What if, Blade and Dan Heng would have some kind of rivalry, while they are in the same team. Like, actually trying to show off who is cooler and stuff.

But after seeing their competition, u just tell them, they are both wonderful and strong boys. (I know their heart would melt at that, hehe)

- Anon K🤪

solve what seems unsolveable

dan heng + blade x gn!reader

summary: it's a well-known fact that blade and dan heng cannot stand each other, but as someone who loves them both, you try to create peace.

cw: humor, fluff, rivalry, self-aware au

enyo's note: it's never to soon to request again, don't worry ! this was super fun to write hehe so thanks for sending this in ^^.

content under the cut | masterlist

these two already have a history together, resulting in quite some tension between them. now, it would be easy to avoid conflict; just don't put them on the same team, bringing their interactions to a minimum.

the catch? they both happen to be your favorite characters and you refuse to have only one of them on your team.

of course you know about their rivalry. it's so obvious. it can't be missed. the glares, the way blade keeps trying to provoke dan heng (and the always so calm dan heng. genuinely looks like he's about to snap), the way they refuse to cooperate in battle.

they're both so strong, equipped with your best relics and all, so together with your healer and shielder your team should be pretty much invincible right?

well, sike, it isn't. far from, actually.

your team is completely out of harmony, as the continuous tension affects the others as well. the rivalry is getting on everyone's nerves, making them irritable and out-of-focus.

it gets to a point where they beg you to kick either one of them from your team, preferably blade because he's the detonater while dan heng just tries to avoid conflict.

but eventually even dan heng snaps, giving in to blade's near-bullying.

something new starts, something that leaves you astounded.

instead of continuously going for each other's throat, they're now trying to prove to you who's the best by showing off big-time.

huge numbers of damage fly across your screen as they each try to prove their worth. with each strike, they surpass each other's damage and you can't help but stare at your screen in awe.

even the rest of your team stands back, watching in utter amazement how blade and dan heng mercilessly assault and defeat boss after boss, hitting insane numbers you've never seen before.

they're getting reckless, though, and it's getting out of hand. their health bars are glowing red since they don't leave any gaps for your shielder and healer to step in.

you know you have to intervene now.

you finalize the battle using the pause button and both dan heng and blade look at you in a daze, confused by the sudden interruption of the intense battle that had them completely immersed.

you lead them away from their teammates because it's about time you have a good talk with them.

"guys, this isn't working," you sigh.

they feel a little ashamed as they see the disappointment on your face, but they still refuse to look at each other. especially dan heng looks so done, having his arms crossed and all. so petty, hehe.

"look, you're both my favorite characters and i love you both so much. there really is no need to prove yourself, nor is there any reason to fight. you're both wonderful and strong and i don't want to feel like i have to choose between you two."

your words surely have their impact on them, especially when you pout at them through the screen. in the heat of their rivalry, they totally forgot to take into consideration how you felt.

"i'm sorry, y/n, i was blinded," dan heng mutters.

"you're confessing to us both? spicy," blade smirks, but his slight blush is so obvious lol.

"please try to work together, okay? you'd be unstoppable."

"anything for you, babe," blade grins, and now it's your turn to blush. okay, he still sounds a little hesitant, but it's a start.

"for you, y/n," dan heng agrees with a small sigh.

an idea pops up in your mind, and you smile.

"okay, and now hug each other," you pipe up.

"what?!" blade and dan heng ask in unison.

"you heard me," you giggle. "everything for me, right?"

much to your surprise, they actually oblige, awkwardly inching closer to each other before hugging aversively. the dismay is so obvious, but they're hugging without chocking each other or beating each other to pulp!

smiling widely, you hug your screen, engaging in some sort of interdimensional group hug. you sincerely hope this is the beginning of a new era, one in which your faves could put their rivalry aside and work together, carrying you through the game with ease.

#dan heng #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #dan heng x reader #— enyo writes #blade #blade x reader #hsr blade #honkai blade #blade honkai #dan heng honkai #honkai dan heng #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x blade x reader #honkai: star rail #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade imagine #blade imagines #dan heng imagine #dan heng imagines

[gunmetal-ring]

anon again. i'm sorry that i keep coming to you with this depressing messages but you seem like one of the few sane ppl in this fandom and i appreciate your honesty.

truth is im feeling really disillusioned with hellcheer lately. we don't have a lot of "canon" content so after a while, it gets tiring going thru the same 2 scenes over and over again (especially when one of them involves chrissy's death). ive been relying on fandom but it seems like it's slowed down. fics arent updated as frequently, not a lot of new artwork.

heck, even joe and grace have moved on. joe's career is taking off. grace is leaving acting. it just feels like everything that happened last summer has come to an end :(

Aw anon thats okay. Ty for thinking of my feelings though 💓 (and also im flattered that you think im sane lmao)

Unfortunately its the way things go, especially with small ships, especially especially in a fandom as hostile as this one is. People come together and build community and share their love for characters and then g(r)o(w) their separate ways again.

But not everybody does! You and me, for example. And ive got plenty of hellcheer mutuals that seem perfectly content to draw, write, and rb their little hearts out.

I for one am absolutely astounded that theres even a fandom for hellcheer, let alone one with such talent and breadth and depth of love! Our characters had 2 scenes. Our girl was killed just as it all began. Our boy died with her name on his lips. In all likelihood we will never see them together on our screens again.

But somehow. Those ~10 minutes managed to foster an entire community of people and keep us engaged and in love w the characters for almost a year at this point! With no dangling promises or false hope or anything! Like we all know the score and we still go hard for hellcheer. Incredible.

Idk maybe it's just bc ive only had brainworms like this for 2 other ships and 1 of them is even smaller and the other one is a clusterfuck of unimaginable proportions, so im a little biased in terms of community/fandom, but im just like... idk. I think its really incredible thats all. And a testament to the very real power and truth of hellcheer 🥰

All i can say anon is that the best way to keep a fandom/ship going is engagement. Likes on tumblr and kudos on ao3 are great. But whats even better and more motivating (and i say this as a fic writer/meme shitposter so im speaking the total truth lol) is reblogs and comments. Tell people how much you love their work and how much it means to you, it goes a very long way. And on the flip side of that - stay out of the infighting. All it does is sap your mental energy and the fandom infighting bullshit is a major contributor to why people leave. The negativity and bitterness warp your perspective and make it really hard to remember what we're here for - it's not anti-st*ddie or anti-qu*nn stans or anti-anti-hellcheer or what the fuck ever. We're here for hellcheer!

Sorry my $0.02 is now $2.00 bc i ramble lol its a fatal flaw of mine. Anyway im sorry if this is annoyingly positive or dismissive but im in a strangely upbeat mood rn so there you have it

#im not getting into the whole joe/grace career stuff bc ive talked abt it a million times and i dont want to invite more bad faith anons #op #hellcheer #ask #anon

[dreamiesformula]

Dilemma pt. 1 - Charles Leclerc

{Slow burn & series}

Warnings: mentions of cheating, harassment, sexism, swearing and for those of you who don’t like imagines that involve non F1 related themes there is some K-pop written into this. (Y/n is adoptive sister to a K-pop idol nothing romantic related).

Disclaimer: I am hoping people like this enough to turn it into a progressive series, so please if you liked the content, writing or anything like that let me know. Sorry if it’s shit I’m still getting back into writing after 2 years away from actual stories.

Love always ❤️

———————————————————

Y/n spent a long time working for this pulled from the W series after just her first season, to be a driver for Haas who were down one driver before testing rounds for the new 22’ car they needed someone and Gunther was please with the pick his very own “breath of fresh air” as he put it. She worked so hard to prove him right and going into the first race all looked promising, she was determined to prove not just for Gunther but all fans that she could race just as well as any man on the grid it was now the day of the Bahrain Grand Prix and to say you were anxious was an understatement. You had grown close with a few drivers on the grid them wanting to protect you your big brother squad if you will which consisted of Daniel Riccardo, Sebastian Vettel, Valtteri bottas and George Russel. They never gave you any advantages on track as they knew you wanted to race fair plus they wanted their jobs, but they did all grow to love you like family, Daniel in particular he could tell when you were anxious, hyper, depressed, drained or on verge of breaking down. Unbeknownst to you so could a driver you barely interacted with Charles Leclerc, he had taken interest to you while an eligible bachelor it was funny how he wasn’t interested in anyone else until you came onto the grid he knew he wasn’t the only one but he was here to race and that’s what he’d do! Apparently so were you, P5 in your debut F1 race the garage erupted you swear you could hear them even as you crossed the chequered flag.

Y/n’s perspective

It was a high like no other while P1,2&3 were a dream coming P5 cemented what my point was, I was here to race and race my little heart out I would. The whole garage including my teammate group hugging revealing is what we both achieved P5 and P11 in a Haas, fucking mental. Mick came over and hugged me while I knew there was pictures I didn’t care “you killed it” I hear him whisper I shove him back pointing towards both of our bodies “no we killed it” laughing pulling him in for another victory hug.

It was a nice sight to see drivers happy however I noticed some weren’t so happy, I know how much racing means to them all so I make my rounds congratulating and trying to cheer up where possible. They seemed more astounded by me coming to hype or cheer them up than I expected it was just what I was used to doing, after all we are all humans and feeling down on yourself was the worst. I go back to the team shortly after for briefing and team meetings, then to media for interviews nothing but supportive questions so far which made me calm a lot and then finally a shower and change into my clothes I wore a baggy graffiti style tee that had the tag ICON and black ripped jeans with white airforces. On my way out I see the gang aka the brother squad talking in the paddock I go up to them putting my bravest face on “I can’t believe him of all people” I hear Daniel scoff “hiii” I surprise them all “oh shit” seb let’s out before they burst into laughter “whatca talking about” I ask only to be shut down but bottas “nothing important” he shrugs nice I’m being left out of gossip how rude “we were gonna go for a few drinks and dinner want to come?” Danny asks wide eyed and hopeful “yeah sure why not, I’ll go get changed” I smile and they scoff in sync “nothing fancy please keep as you are, we’re starving we want fast not fancy” George pats your back and you nod “we’ll hurry I’m hungry” I stomp my foot tryna fake anger only for them to laugh at me. Unbeknownst to y/n boys were all sharing a knowing look being that close with the girl that quickly they knew she was having a hard time, her boyfriend cheated on her, she moved to F1 and she was falling hopelessly in love with a driver who had some seriously pressing love life issues. They vowed to protect her from any hurt from anyone outside F1 or inside it, she was quite literally their happy virus she was too fragile and precious to them to be ruined, she was the type to fall hard a quick they learnt that quickly.

We arrived at a restaurant and I felt really under dressed so much for nothing fancy “bro I look homeless compared to these other girls” I look around at ball gown, formal and sequence dresses “you look fine, you just finished a race I bet half the girls here couldn’t do what you did today” Daniel pats my back my phone buzzed and I see the contact name ‘do NOT answer’ my best friend back home Chris did that so I wouldn’t pick up my exs calls real easy to remember when drinking “whose that” Daniel whispers “cheating ex” I choke out why wouldn’t he leave me alone I broke it off 2 months ago “block him?” He suggests “calls me off other phones and numbers” I sigh “dude that’s harassment” I laugh dryly “oh trust me I know” I roll my eyes my ex was back in South Korea now, it was confusing for many reasons one being I was adopted, my adoptive brother was a K-pop star in a popular group and I don’t know my real parents, I never wish to either. He got me into karting when I was 6 and from there I fell in love with speed and racing, he was my guardian angel he saved me, gave me a second chance at life. The boys were yet to know this yet, my first language was Korean, then English which I learnt with help from my friend Chris who was Australian and now here I am Daniel Ricardo’s mini me according to most the McLaren team already, same vibe different body I guess. Dinner was accompanied by drinks and quite a few of them more than needed considering we would be having to be up the next morning at 8 am for a flight at 10 am to Saudi Arabia I was on the same plane and Daniel, Seb and George to my knowledge, I was happy hanging out with my friends feeling like I fit in until I heard a certain shocked monegasque enter the establishment “oh hello” he stands in front of our table some Ferrari higher ups and Carlos with him great now I wanna die in a hole, “hello winners” I smile my phone rings again and Daniel checks it “Christoper🐺” is calling I answer quickly excusing myself “Channie!” I smile through the phone “you killed it out there, we had a schedule but I just watched your race, I am so proud of you” I was gonna cry “thank you Chan I love you” I missed home “when do we see our little star again?” He asks his accent seeping deep telling me he was tired “probably not for another 3 weeks” I sigh they were so busy preparing for their comebacks “we will be here okay” I smile at his reassuring words “I better go back before the guys think I’ve been kidnapped, I love you Channie. Take care of yourself please” I hear him sigh slightly “love you too y/n/n” and with that he hung up. I walk back inside “superstar there you are” bottas smiles laughing along side the boys.

Charles perspective

I shouldn’t be so hung up over another driver let alone one looking this strong early on sure she wasn’t gonna be in the championship running in a Haas but any driver is competition, Carlos must have noticed my far away gazes “you’re gonna make it obvious if you stare any longer” he whispers as he nudged me. “What do you mean?” I laugh away the burning as I watch her get closer to Daniel and whisper something in his ear “you’re little fascination with the Haas girl” Carlos was being dead serious he wasn’t letting this one go. “Dude it’s nothing don’t worry” he chuckles painfully it wasn’t nothing right now she was his everything in way he wanted to win to show off, partially for her partially for him. “Just talk to her, the sex eyes aren’t going to work on this one” he pats my back and I knew he was right she wasn’t gonna be easy to make mine but I was determined, I should maybe actually talk to her before falling stupidly in love. However he knew it was a bit too late for that you had him aware of it or not. After seeing you make friends, smile, laugh act silly and carefree during testing he was sold. Oh boy did you have him. They enjoyed dinner with the team mangers but Charles was in another world for half of it “thank you for meeting us again, congratulations let’s continue to do Ferrari proud” they shake us drivers hands and leave Carlos grabbing me by the shirt over to where the gang of drivers still sit chatting “mind if we join?” Carlos smirks at the group “come on sit down boys” Daniel laughs shoving over as we squish in I am somehow sat next to y/n thighs touching arms almost interlocked, fucking Carlos. “How’re you feeling after your win?” I hear the angelic like voice to my side ask while the table is entertained in their own conversations “pretty good, weirdly lonely but it feels good to be up their” I smile being uncharacteristically open with her, “well trust me I’ll always be here if you need” she smiles and I feel comfortable but she’s simply being friendly “what about you P5 is amazing” looking for excuses to hear her talk “honestly I can’t believe it still, I just wanna make everyone proud. I gotta fight extra hard to prove myself” she looks down to her chest and I think I know what she means, it must be tough “you’re setting an amazing example for race fans and future racers around the world” I put my hand in hers “thank you that means more than I can explain” I felt like the world stopped when I spoke to her gosh I was 24 acting like a kid in love.

The night ended shortly after a few more drinks, some laughs and we all headed back to the hotel. When I let go of her hand I realised I missed the close feeling of her skin on mine, as weird as that sounded. She wasn’t the most of that made sense, I’d dated models, famous content creators the lot but she was just so real for a racing driver she wasn’t the slimmest, not that had much to effect on how I felt but I could already imagine the articles. I went on my own tangent in my mind to didn’t realise I was sitting beside her in the car back to the hotel until I felt a head on my shoulder, upon looking down I noticed the girl asleep on my shoulder smiling to myself. “Don’t get too comfortable, you’ll be lucky if we let you near her again” seb warns a serious tone telling me he’s not joking “what?” I question confused “you’re not using the new driver and our friend as a rebound” Daniel quickly interjects it became clear what they meant after his break up he stupidly admitted to some the the driver he was looking for someone to fill the time until his ex realised he was the one and come running back. But he knew that not to be the case now, “I promise it’s more than that” but they just scoff are me clearly I had to work to gain the trust of her gate keepers.

Y/n’s perspective

I wake up in my hotel room alone and confused as my alarm sounds I don’t remember coming back, maybe I had one too many. My phone was on charge there was water and pain killers on my table, who put me to bed? Anyways I check the time and it’s 7:00 am I had to leave in less than an hour I showered and got changed into some green joggers, my white airforces, white oversized shirt and matching green bomber jacket. When I go to do my hair however there’s a knock on the door and I see Charles standing there “good morning” he smiles how is he so put together at this god forsaken time “hiya” I mumble letting him in “you look nice” he smiles and I feel my insides flip “thanks not too bad yourself, lord knows how you’re awake right now” I chuckle to myself “I brought you a toasted sandwich ham, cheese and tomato Daniel said it was your favourite and a iced mocha” he had the purest of looks on his face “you’re an angel Leclerc” this wasn’t helping how I felt though the act of friendship getting twisted in my stupid little head. “Only for you mon chéri” boom there goes my sanity “I appreciate it a lot, I know we aren’t close but it’s sweet of you to do this for me” I smile looking him in the eyes as my heart beat picks up what was he doing to me “ayo kiddo you awake” I freeze for a second as Daniel’s voice booms “ayo old fart what’s up” I chuckle opening the door to him near hugging me “we gotta head soon you have 20 minutes let’s move it, move it” he swats me away with his hands to tell me to pack my shit. Forgetting about the Ferrari driver currently in my bathroom I start cleaning like crazy “oh hey Daniel” I hear Charles awkwardly cough “h-hi” he stuttered like we was afraid “Charles is too sweet danny he brought my brekkie and checked up on me” blushing clifhtly as you say it out loud “how friendly of him” Daniel says as a pang hits your heart but your phone interrupts it ringing loudly with the cursed “do NOT answer” appearing on screen “not this prick again” Daniel groans “just another day in my life danny it’s fine” I dry chuckle he couldn’t just fuck off he was the one who cheated. “He’s getting out of hand” Daniel puts his hand on my shoulder to comfort me “you can only tell someone to stop so many times I can’t force him to do anything, just like he can’t force me to pick up. It’s been almost 3 months he’s seeing me thriving he wants money that’s all” I smile bitterly.

Charles felt out of place listening in on this, but he gained an amazing insight into who you were. You were clearly in a position of moving on you didn’t seem sad or hurt more angered and distressed, you confirmed to him you were single and that was a positive he took with great care.

You had forgot he was there again for a minute “Mon Ange, I’m gonna go I’ll see you later” he came closer to me and hugged me good “have a safe flight Charles I’ll see you later” the heat rising to my cheeks “okay what the fuck was that” Daniel says a little too loudly I just continue packing up “dude don’t ignore me” he whines “you and charles?” He questions “did nothing, I don’t think he’d take advantage of a drunk girl, plus he just came to check on me” I smile blissfully unaware of the nicknames he’d called me but thinking they sounded so cute coming from him his accent gosh I could listen forever. “Be careful of him kiddo. He’s not all he seems” with that he grabbed your full suitcase and put it with his in the hallway you have your wallet, passport, phone, keys and AirPods with you in you’re jacket pockets and grabbed the duffle bag having everything packed drinking the last of the mocha you’d sipped throughout the ordeal and devouring the sandwich both of which were surprisingly tasty. “Let’s hit the road riccy” you stroll past him collecting your suitcase from the hallways and striding toward the elevator, “do you like him” Daniel gave you once chance to be honest he knew the answer but wanted to confirm it “more than I should” I sigh hoping it’d go unnoticed.

Fast forward to Saudi Arabia pre race

“What’s your home Grand Prix?” The interviewer asked me as I sat in the hot seat for some video they were doing I had been here for a good 10 minutes answering weird questions “ah I don’t have one” I smiled the boys were all watching they’d assumed I was something I wasn’t I guess sure I was born Australian not that I knew until I was 20 but I raced under the South Korean flag cause when you’re adopted you have to become a citizen I had nothing that tied me to my actual life. “I was raised in South Korea, with my adoptive father, adoptive mother and older brother, I don’t race under my birth countries flag cause I’m not a citizen anymore I haven’t been since I was like 2.” I chuckle I look behind the camera to see the reactions of my fellow drivers most just look shocked as for the most part I did not appear Korean but that’s what happens when you’re adopted into a family of a different culture than your birth one, it didn’t hurt anyone and I loved my family. “Okay then moving on, what’s your birthday” what were these questions man “ah it’s y/bd” I was grow more uncomfortable by the second “wait you’re only 21?” The interviewer himself seemed shocked “ah yeah for you all I’m 20 however korean age I am 21, Daniel calls me kiddo for a reason” I laugh “a literal child” he calls from the back of the camera causing everyone to laugh “final question?” Before he can ask “hit me with it interviewer man” I say ready to get this over with “if you could date any driver on the grid who and why?” I looked dumbfounded “excuse me?” I had to clarify I heard what I did he goes to repeat it “I heard your question, I’m not answering it.” I look him dead in the eyes “bipolar much, you’re lucky you have tits or else everyone would be sick of your attitude” he mutters thinking I couldn’t hear and with that I stand up “you wouldn’t ask a male driver who they’d fuck on the grid so why should it be okay to ask me?” I raise my voice to get my point across taking my mic pack off and leaving the studio my press officer hot on my toes “y/n you can’t do that” he said I turned around seeing red “no. No you don’t get to stand there and say it I don’t care how it looked ask them to edit it, make them take it out but I will not be treated different in interviews just because I have tits” I set my ground down “I understand trust me I get it I have a daughter and if this was her I’d be just as upset, but we have to uphold and image of you, I’ll do my best to get it out. But please know I am not going to scold you I just want to protect you okay” he smiles and I feel bad for going off at him “I’m sorry and thank you Tony” I felt awful so I just disappeared for a while crying in my drivers room and listening to sad songs I had in my playlist probably way too loudly, it was bound to come eventually the sexist question just didn’t expect it this soon.

I had to stay at the track for free practice and so exhausted from sobbing for an hour I must’ve passed out, *knock knock* I wake up sometime later to a banging on my door “mon Ange, can you let me in we’re worried about you” I stood shell shocked “please y/n, let us in” I heard a aussie accent call it wasn’t just Charles I open the door to a decent chunk of the drivers on the grid I looked like shit. Tears stained my cheeks, my eyes were red and I looked pale, I could hear Gunther in the hallways yelling “they asked her what?” He was furious but it didn’t sound like he was gonna rip me a new one “come on y/n, let’s go to catering…” Charles lightly grabs my hand and I freeze the boys stare at what’s occurring as they all realise quite quickly this was more mutual than they thought but your phone buzzing interrupting everyone as massive letters “do NOT answer” appear on screen I decline the call quickly and grab my ID pass, secretly placing my hand back into Charles’ and let them lead the way “we are all gonna have lunch with you” George pats my back knowing if I was alone I wouldn’t eat the part at least 12 drivers strong and me pile in I notice Lewis is sitting down already a long empty table accompany him “hello Lewis” I bow out of instinct he was my senior after all everyone was actually he just laughs and pulls me in for a hug. I didn’t realise everyone could be this close without it being competitive, they quite literally were all here to stand by me, with me as a driver and a human being. We all actually had a good time laughing, chatting and just being friends it was a rare and beautiful moment, Yuki and I were talking Japanese for a bit since we hadn’t really ever spoken how ever I only knew a bit of Japanese English was hard enough.

Charles’ perspective

“You’re gonna make everyone suspicious you know” Mick taunts “what?” I snap my head around to face the boy “quit heart eyeing my team mate Ferrari boy” he laughs was it really that obvious “she’s intriguing to you” Lewis adds noting the man’s fascination towards the new driver from just a few seats beside him “I know Lewis I don’t need a lecture on grid etiquette, dating a rival driver isn’t good I know I know” Lewis stops for a second “mate, as long as you’re happy” he shrugs “as long as it doesn’t effect your driving I don’t think anyone can say anything” Mick adds I guess they were right but it’s embarrassing they all could tell. “For what it’s worth I’m sure it’s mutual” Lewis whispers while passing by to get water, “I wish” I mumble in French before I know it we had to go back to our teams.

The car with me in it is dragged into the garage I finish practice “Charles what’s going on out there” my engineer asks there was nothing wrong with the car I think I was just preoccupied in my thoughts, this girl was messing with my driving and I can’t allow it I had to focus “just a bad day won’t happen again” I smile leaving before I can cop an earful. I’ll go have a shower and get changed maybe that’ll clear my head… but all I could think about was her, if this didn’t change it was gonna be awful.

Y/n’s perspective

Daniel hadn’t left my side since he returned from practice “kiddo let’s go eat, you need food” he smiles gently putting his arm around me as we walk to catering “stop calling me kiddo I’ll take your knees” I snap back playfully as he ruffles my hair. We sit down for dinner and I notice two red Ferrari shorts walk to the counter “kiddo I’ve been thinking about what you said at the hotel room” I hush him quickly and the two drivers sit behind us “what about?” I whisper “number 16” I could tell he was scheming “that, was nothing okay” he chuckles I was panicking and he knew it “y/n you can’t hide from me, you like a guy it’s natural” he rubs my shoulder. “He’s my competition if I give into my feelings everything that interviewer and any hater could say comes true. I will have dated someone on the grid purely because I’m a female” I shake my head I simply couldn’t allow to be a cliché “if that’s what you’re worried about kid, you’ve got a lot of growing up to do. You’re feeling typically don’t pass. You’re not gaining anything by being with him, respectfully you compete for survival he competes for glory” he was sincere I could tell and right yeah, he was right. “I’m just scared” but I knew he knew that “if you’re serious about this, who gives a fuck what anyone says… y/n you’re allowed to like a guy” he ruffles my hair ruining the moment in true DR3 style “way to ruin it” and with that we burst into fits of laughter eating our food finally after a heart to heart.

Charles’ perspective

“Can I just say Charles, what’s stopping you?” Carlos breaks me out of a daydream state “reality” yet he just scoffs “if you were any of us 18 other drivers looking over you, you would realise there’s more to this than unrequited love.” But his face brightens up with an idea “what do you like about her?” He asks me typing on his phone to someone.

Charles was didn’t need a minute to make a list but took his time, unaware that his friend and teammate was texting Riccardo just in front of them who Charles hadn’t seen when they walked in.

Y/n’s perspective

“Carlos wants us to be quiet and listen to what they’re saying” Daniel whispers too me so we do Charles was speaking probably louder than he intended to “y/n, mate where do I begin. She’s beautiful but in a real way, she’s not fake, an amazing driver obviously it’s amazing how she’s not scared to push boundaries, she makes me feel like the only man in the world and I barely know her… that’s sounds creepy oh gosh. She has a style like no woman I’ve met before, she doesn’t try make herself like a princess and I find it so attractive, I don’t know Carlos I really just wanna hold her after a win or a loss, I wanna be in her life” I was shocked “you’re shitting me” I whisper to Danny “I told you kid, but if he hurts you I’ll kill him” with a worryingly happy smile “he actually likes me?” Still shell shocked before I can have time to think I’m lifted off my seat and stood in front of both the Ferrari boys “y/n” Carlos grins wider than the Cheshire Cat himself I look at Charles whose yer to break eye contact with the chair in front of him. “I uh, I have to go” and with that Charles pushes past me and out the door “well that didn’t go to plan” Daniel huffs I turn around running after him I see him run to his driver room at the last second follow knocking gently on the now closed door “go away” I hear snapped at the closed wood and a crash I wiggle the handle and it comes loose I pear in to see a huffing Charles Leclerc and a smashed plate laying on the ground. My feet move before I can think and I go to see if he’s alright “are you okay, are you hurt, cut?” I look at his hands no blood or cuts thankfully “this is so embarrassing” he mumbles and I take his hand “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about Charles” I smile trying to bring him out of this space “yes there is you heard all of that, all of it” he sulks preparing himself for rejection “yeah and, what about it?” I shrug “if you came here with reject me just get it over with, I’ve had a shit day already” he groans I laugh a bit to myself grabbing his face with my hands “just kiss me dummy” and he does just that fireworks go off I swear “I like it when you smile you’ve got cute little dimples” I huff placing my forehead on his “in case you didn’t get it from the blushing I like you too stupid” I can’t tell when it happened but it felt right “I’m sorry I’m all over the place” he frowns “hey it’s alright, everyone is a bit. We won’t do anything until you’re ready. Racing comes first okay charles, you’re gonna be a champion” I give him a peck on his cheek turning to clean the smashed plate with just some paper and a broom no dustpan in sight “hey hey careful you’ll hurt yourself” he tried to stop me “it’s okay I’ve done this a lot” I smile “just sit down and chill for a bit you’ve had a big day” and you didn’t know it but in that moment he knew you were it for him, no one had ever tried to take the load off his shoulders. “Mon Ange, what are we?” He asks quietly almost too quietly “whatever you want us to be Charles, you’re the one with the most at stake here. I’m not coming between you a glory” I smile and he doesn’t say anything “can I take you out to dinner after the race?” How could I say no “of course charles, oh and this is all cleaned up I’ll be on my way I’m expecting a call from my brother soon!” I go to leave but he gets up grabs my arms lightly and spins me into his chest for a hug “thank you for not leaving my love” he whispers I look at the closed door “I’ll always support you even from the shadows” I look up at him and he kisses me again it felt too good to be reality. “I’ll make you mine just wait” I nod leaving him alone and me slightly confused what the actual fuck just happened?

TBC…..

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

[reginarubie]

I discovered your fic yesterday and have already read it all. Aemond/Sansa was something I didn't know I need but I'm glad and now I need more content because I'm sold.

Not a fan of HotD because thanks to the Mad Queen I was against watching the keeping up with the targaryen's drama, specially the fucking Dance of the Dragons, because I knew how it ended and didn't want to suffer for the characters (not in the mood for now, maybe later) but I was reading another of your fics and explored your other works and discovered... this... amazing one?! I mean, I like Aemond and Sansa and the rare pairing has... logic?

Now, I'm curious if you plan to change the history of Westeros or you are going to struggle Sansa "Ned" on this mess, because I know there is a good theory around that House Whent had Targaryen's blood because of a bastard and would fit if you end with Sansa & Aemond's child and make it a circle of the family tree for Sansa? I mean, the Targs are practically adopting her, is she going to try to save them.

Aamzing story, I love how you portray them, I die in every Aemond/Sansa's scene and also when you put Daeron as a good brother, but I love every character loving Sansa.

I'm now fearing for Lord Vance's personality and how he will be with Sansa, specially when he learn about her relationship with Aemond. I live for romantic drama, but I would cry if Sansa's husband make her suffer. I would like him to be a friend of her.

And that kiss in the last scene.... ? 😍😍😍

Ciao nonny!,

Did you binge my entire story in a day? I am tbh astounded and so very happy about it too! Thank you!

Well it is a keep up with the Targs type of story BUT it holds some merits with characters as Alicent, her kids and yep even Rhaenyra because they created interesting dynamics and it is interesting if you ever wanna try at it. But mostly, I too was scared it would be a dragon-queen-exaltation, when it's actually the opposite.

And look... I even commented on it when I watched the first episode (x) I mean you just need to look at this:

And be heartened. The show-runners, GRRM himself and the writers decided to tell everyone from episode 1 that all of Daenerys entitlement was for nothing, and the whole hype about her was misplaced, as she has styled herself as QUEEN OF THE 7K since the end of season 1 (and since the end of AGOT) and yet they consider Aerys as king (as he actually was KING) and Daenerys only as PRINCESS — almost to tell us her whole quest and claim was for naught.

And to top of that they also address the fact that the idea that they control the dragons is nothing but an illusion — said exactly after Rhaenyra, the Daenerys-look-alike, comments on how the dragons make them special and closer to gods than men — and proceeds to show us having Lucerys and Aemond both loose control of their dragons which plummets the Realm into the Dance head-first.

Well I have in mind quite the tortuous path ahead, because it's still a time travel fic and some issues are to be addressed.

Sansa wants to keep those who are her ancestors alive

Sansa would like to know more about Jon's mother so that she could ensure his ancestors, those which differ from hers, are kept safe thus resulting in his survival — girl is unaware he is a Targaryen and descends from Viserys, son of Rhaenyra and Daemon

Sansa is set to change the path of the Realm to ensure the North is stronger and has the means to survive against winter

what will happen to her original timeline?

will she stay in this timeline?

will the Old Gods and Bran make another appearance?

How will she cope with the rest of her life, will her mission ever end.

how will the changes she make change the future?

It ain't a walk in the park, that much is clear.

Happy you love the Aemond/Sansa scenes and the other characters as well, also well the romantic drama is part of the whole deal I am afraid but who knows in which way it will develop?

Thank you for dropping by to show your love for the story! As always sending all my love ~G.

#firesteel #ask the hag #anon asks #kissed by fire ~ kissed by steel #aemond targaryen #aemondxsansa #aemond/sansa #sansaemond #aemondsa #firesteel for the win #firesteel brainrot

[whentheresmoonlight]

I'm taking a (very painful) break from bkdk to finish a fanfic that I primarily wrote from 2015-2017 and then proceeded to suffer through for six years after. Sometimes I feel like, as a writer, my style hasn't changed a lot or that I haven't experienced a lot of growth. Sometimes I go back and read stuff I wrote as a teenager and am surprised that it's not that bad, and that makes me wonder if I've grown at all.

But I've just gone through a part from the first draft (2017) of this fic that I've decided to put back into the fic and edited for cohesion to work along with the changes that I've made as I've been working on rewriting and finishing it. And by golly, my writing has changed a LOT.

The ways that it has changed are still kind of hard to describe, and that's probably why I'd thought that not much had happened. I'm definitely a person for whom things don't really exist unless they can be explained verbally. But seeing the "track changes" in the document, and how much I'd changed for the (subjective) better was really astounding. Yes, some of it was content changes for continuity, but a lot of it was just strengthening the writing.

I've become a lot better at describing environments and showing instead of telling (which I'd thought I'd been good at back then, haha, whoops!) and having more variegated descriptions and more natural dialogue (which I thought I'd been GREAT at back then) and oh god the semi colons. Why use semi colons in dialogue, 2017, why??

This is all just me luxuriating in talking about me, but really, it's to say that if you don't think your writing has evolved, you'd be surprised. It might even be worth taking a chunk of text and seeing how you'd rewrite it now, what choices would feel stronger to you, based on things you've learned and observed over time.

It's been really exciting to learn. I'm still never totally pleased with what I put out, but I have a different little corner of confidence that I'm rocking right now.

Even though I still hate this story and can't wait for it to be done 😂

#anjum talks #writing

[house-improvment]

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Option 1 – OPPYO Premium Membership Monthly Deal ($77/M)

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What I Like & What I Don’t Like :

What I Enjoy:

Simple and easy-to-use design: MailerGPT has a simple and easy-to-use interface, making it suitable for users of all ability levels.

Unlimited Everything: MailerGPT Pro gives you unrestricted access to groups, file storage, emails, and users, making it simple to handle your email marketing campaigns.

Appealing web forms: MailerGPT Pro includes 25 extra appealing web forms that have been custom-designed to maximize lead creation.

Advanced automation: MailerGPT Automation enables you to instantly send an infinite number of emails when someone subscribes to any campaign, optimizing ROI from your prospects.

What I dislike:

Limited Templates: Although MailerGPT Pro includes 50 extra email templates, the number of accessible templates is limited in comparison to other email marketing tools.

No Free Plan: MailerGPT does not provide a free plan, which may be an issue for those who want to test the product before buying it.

Overall, I think MailerGPT is a strong email marketing tool with numerous helpful features and advantages. While it has some limitations, its low cost, simplicity of use, and unlimited access make it an excellent choice for anyone seeking to better their email marketing efforts.

A Completely ChatGPT AI-Powered Cloud Platform: This software serves as a cutting-edge technological tool. It uses artificial intelligence to create email replies in natural English.

With Just One Keyword, You Can Create High-Quality Emails & Messages: MailerGPT AI generates an engaging, high-quality, and customized email and subject line based on the term you specify for your campaign.

Send an unlimited number of emails immediately or schedule them for a later date/time: Yes, the ceiling is the limit when it comes to sending with MailerGPT. It enables you to deliver an infinite number of emails or newsletters while eliminating the numerous difficulties associated with email marketing. You have the option of sending letters immediately or scheduling them for a later date and time.

AI-Enabled Smart Tagging for Lead Personalization and Traffic: This is their crowning achievement. You can give tags to your subscribers and segment them in a very easy way using this NEW & VERY POWERFUL tool. You can now send emails only to users associated with any clever Tag or group.

Increase Email Delivery, Clicks, and Opens with Engaging Emails: Opens and views provide an exact picture of how your campaign is working. Today, all advertisers want their emails to be delivered to their inboxes, clicked, and read on time, and MailerGPT is designed to help them do just that. It improves delivery, click, and response rates while giving you complete authority over your ads.

Create eye-catching newsletters and autoresponders. AI Application: With extremely spectacular email themes, you can create HUNDREDS of stellar combos. You have access to premium designs for the hottest categories. They are fully done for you; all you need to do is align them with your finest offers and begin funneling valuable prospects.

The Conclusion :

To summarize, MailerGPT is a powerful email marketing tool with a variety of features to help you develop your company. Its simple user UI, limitless subscriber lists, and sophisticated automation capabilities make it a valuable addition to any marketer's toolkit.

Despite a few disadvantages, such as the limited number of email layouts in the basic version and the fact that some of the more complex features are only available in the enhanced versions, MailerGPT is a reliable option for anyone looking to better their email marketing game.

You can save time and effort when generating and delivering emails with MailerGPT, while also increasing your ROI with comprehensive reports and sophisticated subscriber administration. You can also access even more features by upgrading to more advanced editions, taking your email marketing to the next level.

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[valleynix]

Hi! It's lukesbestmistake from ao3. Ive finally found you, little one! Your reply on my comment made me think so hard i got zoomies, no kidding. I was like HhHM so THATS whats BEEN going on, jeez! But wait! YES? No! I think with all of that running and jumping i did id certainly give Dani a run for her money. And so its been a lots of thinking and here i am!

So, to summarize, im too blind to see the obvious. And you said that some things are clear as day, they were even written and i still can't think properly. Im sowwy im so dumb, im trying to put this all together:( i guess i have to reread everything, and imma do just that soon enough! About this other mysterious person who calls us a kid, its probably one of our family members? The one we dont remember? But i dont want you to give me more clues as its obvious I can't function properly to understand them:D Nothing will help me unless you grab my head and point my nose into the right sentences so i can finally see the light:')

Talking about our lovely duo there, i came to realization that i might finally know whats going on! I think...I think after Vios "death" Mara might have "disappeared" to work with Vio on a plan to bring down Miri. Did they make a pact? So they're kinda here, close to us, watching over us and guiding us to kill her. And they definitely have a plan about it. That's what i thought when you said plan is coming. So what if its their plan, not ours or Dimitrescus? But then again, why would they be around us and the girls and Lady D and just watch us fall in love with people Mara was kind of into..? Is it okay with her then? Was it okay with Vio to watch us fall in love with Donna too? I dunno, honestly. If they are alive it would be a mess. An epic mess where all of Miris servants turn against her.

I feel like its me who needs to say thank you over and over and over again. I dont think you understand what you're doing for me, for all of the readers. Your work is everything. It brings me so much joy, so much happiness. Nothing makes me feel as alive as your words, your sentences, beautifully put together. And i know how hard it is to write something, i truly know, been there done that, you know) I've been a content creator for about 2 years in one fandom. And writing was the best thing, but the most tiring one in my entire life. So i cant even describe how greatful i am to hear you want to continue that one thing that makes my messy life easier. Brighter. Happier. I do really appreciate the time and love you put into your work and i appreciate you so much as a person. Because you're so lovely and cute and your replies are the highlights of my day too. Thank you so much, you amazing human being, im proud to call myself a fan of yours c':

AAA OMG HIII! this was such a lovely message to wake up to, omg.

okay, so to start off, i wanna say it wasn't my intention to imply you were in any way dumb in my comment on ao3. I've kinda realized that in my writing, a lot of the time, i don't quite write things the way they should be because they make sense to me, even if they won't make sense to others. but! everything is confusing and (intentionally) misleading right now, since we're only seeing this story from one person's POV when there was SO MUCH going on. but you're definitely not dumb; the fact that you're analyzing everything and actually coming pretty close (i won't say to what ;) ) to what's going on is astounding and just makes me so happy.

the one thing i wanna say about Mara and Vio that you mentioned: in the story, it is fact that Mara got the fruit flies to attack Vio, though what the reader saw (at the beginning of chapter eight? i think?) was not actually what happened. that part hasn't been revealed yet, but it will be soon enough. i will say that anything the reader sees through a character's eyes (like through Vio or Mara's eyes) is not 100% accurate, but anything they see as though they were a bystander IS accurate. so, the Vio/Donna scene, accurate. the scene where Miranda finds a dying Vio in the snow, accurate. the scene where Mara and Vio are arguing in the chapel... not so accurate. does that make sense? i hope it does. anything they see through a character's eyes is usually corrupted by what THEY would do in that situation rather than what actually happened.

i'm hoping to clear up a few things in the next chapter, as someone from the MC's past is going to be revealed and become an important person in the plan of taking Miranda down. she'll shed some light on a few things, but until then, I'll leave the rest up to you >:) i won't give you any spoilers, but i will help nudge you in the right direction. i do hope that when everything IS revealed, it'll be a big, "OHHHHH" moment bahaha.

it definitely can be difficult to write something, and I've had a lot of hard moments trying to write these recent chapters. i lost motivation for a while, which i knew was going to happen when i was updating it like once a week (10k words per chapter every week was not a smart move). but, honestly, as tiring as it can get, what keeps me going is knowing at least one person out there is enjoying the story and what I'm creating. so, really, your comments and messages mean the absolute world to me. i go back and read them when I'm having a rough day. thank you so much for everything you've written and continue to do, i hope you have the loveliest day and week <3333

#long post #ask #love's perfect ache #i just keep rereading this and my heart swells each time #it made me so happy #it's well into the afternoon as i'm finally finishing this but i hope you get to read it and know how much i appreciate you

[gyeheoni]

I've been wanting to this but I've been too shy for too long hahahaha

I've been making verivery content for a while but I really want to improve my gif sets, and your gifs are mighty beautiful TT_TT may I ask for advice? Like do you use your laptop or your phone? Do you use photoshop??

oh feel free to ask me anything ! :D and yes of course ! gifmaking is actually fairly complex on tumblr ;-; so i'll try my best to include the basics and all the important stuff ! 

for gifmaking i use photoshop 2018 and so i use a laptop >.< i’ve seen a lot of asks where people ask about what apps gifmakers use... and to put it nicely ... there is no easy way to get nice gifs T-T the reason gifmakers on tumblr have such nice gifs, is bc there’s a lot of patience, learning, and practice involved in creating gifs for this platform... you can’t just plug in a video clip to a gif converter and expect it to spit out an hd gif for you ... unfortunately ... 

before beginning i’ll recommend this tutorial ! it’s the tutorial i used when i was first learning... and my best advice is to have lots of patience ;;;; tumblr is a hard platform to make gifs for and learning how to make nice gifs will not happen overnight 

Photoshop and other resources 

i personally downloaded ps 2018 and that works fine for me but i’ve noticed that ps cs5 or earlier tends to have a broken ‘import frames to layers’ action so i’d suggest newer versions for gifmaking ! to download i basically looked up youtube videos and checked comments to make sure the tutorials actually worked,,, but if you want you can try these posts ! (1, 2) i’m not sure if they work but usually there’s a lot of posts made on tumblr + other sites for downloading it for free ! 

About video processing programs

i also use avisynth to process my frames... this might be a really complex bit to learn and it’s not 100% necessary so i’d say you can skip over it when you’re first learning photoshop and everything but if you are interested ! basically programs like avisynth and vapoursynth reduce the video file size down to tumblr’s preferred image size without reducing the quality as much as resizing in photoshop does :o ! additionally it helps process torrents (these are the ts and tp files for live performance stages that are super hd !) but again it’s somewhat complicated i’d recommend this tutorial for download and use if you ever want to ! (vapoursynth additionally has sharpening and denoising options, but since i’ve never used vs it’d be easier to look up a vs tutorial than to ask me >.<) 

Where to get videos 

this part is CRITICAL !! for gifmaking,,, you could be the best gifmaker on this whole site but if you have a video with poor quality... no matter what,,, your gifs will not come out nicely T-T so when downloading any vlives or youtube videos, they should be at least 1080p in quality ! or as high quality as possible ! this is bc you need to reduce the file size down by a lot for tumblr’s dimensions and this means you need the best quality :o ! i typically just screenrecord videos these days bc downloading whole hour long vlives / long youtube videos is a strain on my laptop hhh ;;; for live perfo stages you should always download torrents to use but this means you need video processing programs like i said above >.< there’s a resource here to help find them ! 

these are the basic tools you’ll need hhhh there’s a lot more including sizing, sharpening, coloring, frame rate delay, exporting, saving, etc... and i don’t want to make this too long but ! 

essentially tumblr has size dimension restrictions for image files, a pixel too big or too small will cause tumblr to stretch or compress your gifs making them blurry... the dimensions are optimally:  a.) 540pixels (width) for one gif in a row b.) 268pixels (width) for two gifs in a row c.) 177pixels / 178pixels / 177pixels for three gifs in a row 

for sharpening many people use topaz etc. and i’ll point you to other tutorials if you want to use it but tbh ! i use photoshop’s smart sharpen options and those work just fine for me... (plus topaz takes forever to render and i h8 its guts so) 

coloring - okay so this is probably THE MOST time consuming part for gifs for me.... idk if you’ve noticed but lots of times, gifmakers’ gifs have pretty colors and nice lighting when you compare to the original video ! that’s bc we add layer adjustments in photoshop to make them look nice ! these include brightness, saturation, exposure, vibrancy, etc. but knowing how to use adjustments is a whole post on its own >.< there’s lots of coloring tutorials out there as well if you want me to direct you to them ! 

for frame rate delay, i use 0.05 seconds for 30fps (so your normal videos) and 0.03 for 60fps (if none of that made sense that’s okie ! it’s just basically how fast you set frames to play in your gif !)

when exporting - tumblr has a 10mb gif limit but honestly anything above 8mb starts making me anxious or takes too long to load .... so most my gifs are like ... 3-7mb only 

but yea these are just some basic tips and stuff ?? i’m sorry it took me so long to respond and it wasn’t as nicely organized as it could be... there are a lot of really good gif tutorials out there ! you just have to look a little ! if you have any additional questions tho feel free to let me know ! i just didn’t have the heart to type out the literal process i have to go through everyday when making just one gif :p i’m sure a lot of gifmakers can relate haha,,,, happy gifmaking !~ 

#one day when i'm about to d*e i will release a comprehensive gif tutorial #but for now .... even i am astounded still on how much work making content is sigh #me and my cc moots should be getting paid .... ngl T_T #bonknanab #asks #🌱.text #resources #the way this doesn't even go over sharpening all that well sigh .... #there's just so much #and sorry if this sounds?? like salty in any way LMAO #idk how many times i've seen asks where people are like ??? what app do you use on your phone #and bro .... there is no app it is all my blood sweat tears and avisynth #like the frustration i feel #when people repost and are like ? what's up it's just a video anyone could make gifs #and i'm like ??? then make your own and stop reposting mine ??? #sigh #anyway i hope this was helpful ;;;; #i've been gifmaking for a while and even now i'm like ... but do my gifs actually look ok #or am i making it up in my head and they're ugly ;(( #fjhdgkfjghdkf #do people even want to hear gif things from me LOL

[sukirichi]

sweet angel

With a heart of gold, sweet lips, and white lace all over your body — he’s pretty sure you’re his sweet angel.

REQUEST. lingerie under his white button up shirt for gojo + somnophilia + established relationship + oblivious reader

CONTENT/WARNINGS. smut, somnophilia, mentions of insecurity, very slight angst, creampie, cockwarming, body marking, UNEDITED

NOTES. I haven’t written Gojo for a while but I sure do missed it! We’re gonna have more Gojo content this week too! if i finish my wips anyway lmao

next

The clock blinks back a painful three am to you, the time way past what Gojo’s promised. You don’t stop the sigh leaving your cherry red lips as you stare at the mirror, jaw clenching at the sight. Today’s supposed to be your second anniversary with Gojo, and instead of spending it on a skyscraper dinner like last year’s, you both insisted on staying at home for a more romantic date instead.

Him being the strongest sorcerer, it’s only a given that he’ll be busy, even to this day. He’s unable to take a day off, but he promised to come home on time.

The dinner’s gone cold, the candles melted and aroma of roses sticking hard to the walls. You’re wearing his favourite black dress paired with ankle boots, wrists clinking from the bangles and makeup done to perfection. Today’s supposed to be simple, quiet, and romantic – especially with your surprise for him – but he’s still not home.

Washing your face in the sink and covering the dishes, you blow out the candles, heading back to your shared room to call it a day. You swipe your dress with Gojo’s white button, wanting to feel that he’s still with you even with just his scent.

A blaring red that reads three forty-five is the last thing you see as you burrow deep into the covers, trying your best to ignore the panging in your heart.

He promised he’d be home soon.

“Honey! I’m ho—” Gojo blinks at the darkness of your penthouse, hands patting the walls before flicking on the lights. He’s not surprised to see that it’s neat as usual, but then his gaze lands on the dining table, and that’s when he realizes he’s fucked up.

The candles are already melted halfway, one wine glass still and the other already washed in the sink. You must’ve taken a few sips as you waited for him; an image he can imagine already. He’s admired you long before dating you that Gojo’s used to your habits, like how you’d rotate the drink in your glass three times before you drink, tongue darting out to taste the wine mixing in with your lips.

He knows all this, mostly because it always drives him crazy when you do that, and he’s lost count of the times he’s pushed you up against the counter, shoving his tongue between your lips to find out what it is about wine and flavoured lipsticks you liked so much.

It’s a little hellish to him the more he thinks about it, even more so because you’re completely unaware of your effect on him.

But he’s not the only one, since no matter how perceptive Gojo could be, he’s scatterbrained more often than he likes to admit. And of fucking course he forgot tonight was your anniversary. He never set dates on his calendars, waving his hand and confidently stating he had an ultra memory and didn’t need reminders.

Well, now that ultra memory is reminding him of the last time he’s forgot to attend your work event, a time you needed him more than anything else, and you didn’t talk to him for a week straight.

He wishes you would shout at him, push or shove him even, call him names and tell him he’s horrible, but you’ve always been a sweet, little thing – you’re timid even in your frustration. You never glared at him, never scolded him, and it’s even more terrifying because you’re still so sweet to him – preparing him meals, giving him a kiss before he leaves for work – but Gojo isn’t entirely dumb. He notices how you turn away from him in your sleep, your arms that would usually be wrapped around his torso now hugging yourself in an attempt to make yourself small and invisible.

That’s how you felt every time Gojo doesn’t keep to his word.

Unseen. Unloved. Unheard. Unimportant. He’s no mind reader, but it’d be pushing it if he can’t even turn to your thoughts like that.

And even in your slumber, it’s written all over your face, evident in the way tears are staining your cheeks under the sheets. Gojo sighs upon seeing your crumpled form on the bed, your dress hanging neatly from the closet and your heels placed beneath it. He crouches down in front of the shoe, his hands crumpled into fists. This wasn’t just any shoe – it’s the one he made you get during that time you were debating whether you could pull it off, but he encouraged you that you looked gorgeous in anything. Despite having bought it a long time ago, you never wore it, only on this day because you trust your comfort and safety around him; one he’s so effortlessly crushed.

Gojo quickly changes into his pyjamas not long afterwards, sliding himself next to your body in slow, careful movements to not wake you up. Aside from a slight stir, you remain deep asleep, the frown permanent and deep on your face.

It breaks his heart to see you like this, especially because he knows he’s the one who caused it.

Gojo runs his hand across the apple of your cheeks, caressing your precious face on his palm before leaning forward to kiss your head. You smell amazing too, and yet, you’re uncomfortable with whatever’s playing in your head. He could take a good guess and assume it’s him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your skin, sliding his arm over your body to pull you close to him. “I didn’t mean to forget, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

He knows he should apologize when you’re awake, but he wants to say it now before his guilt eats up at him. Gojo’s eyes flutter close when his hands come into contact with something...lacey, and he pauses, lifting the sheets to inspect the material. He doesn’t really know what he’s expecting, but his breath stutters anyway, his aquamarine eyes zeroed in on his shirt draped over your form, the top three buttons left open and you’re not wearing shorts.

Gojo curses under his breath. His reaction is immediate; blood rushing to his groin and legs nudging yours apart. He doesn’t bother hiding under the sheets not anymore as he runs his hand over your body, his touch suddenly so cold in contrast to your warmth.

He’s fucked you a lot of times in different places and angles, so he shouldn’t be so nervous, yet he is, and his hands are fucking shaking.

His head snaps to your one more time, revelling in the way you open your legs just as he pries them apart. Even in your sleep, you’re still so trusting, so wanting – so perfect for him. Gojo situates himself between your thighs as he unbuttons your shirt one by one, his teeth clenched so hard it wouldn’t be anything surprising if he actually cracked his jaw.

You’re nothing short of looking like an angel; the thigh straps squeezing the flesh of your thighs and exuding such heavenly beauty he’s stunned.

You let out a sigh at his erection rubbing you through his boxers, completely unaware that Gojo’s fallen back on his thighs, eyes wide at the white lingerie set clad in your body. He licks at his lips, debating which land he should trudge on first.

The thigh straps he wants to rip with his fingers, the white lace panty that’s already nearly transparent with your arousal, or the frilly cups holding your breasts in place?

This is the first time Gojo’s gotten close to losing his mind, and lose his mind he did. Thoughts of making it up to you flies out the window, his emotions running turbulent with anger and regret in place. If he’d just gotten home, if he’d just killed the curses faster, he could’ve kissed you and heard you beg for him in your awakened state; he’d have the pleasure of seeing you squirm under him while he rips this pretty set apart.

His dick throbs harder at the fact you wore this for him, but you must’ve been so tired and sad to wear proper pyjamas. Should he be thankful? Angry at himself for making you feel this way?

He doesn’t fucking now, his mind is nothing but a mess as he sucks a wet spot into the juncture of your neck, large hands groping your breast. You mewl a little at the contact, neck arching to the side while you sigh, that slight dip in your brow a telltale you must be still in a sleepy daze.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters through pants as he cups your mound, only to be met with such astounding wetness. You look so innocent right now in comparison to your soft moans that it ruins him. You’re a good girl, such a sweet lover for him that you’re always letting him take in charge under the trust he’ll make you feel good. This trust is extended even in your wildest dreams, but you don’t need to worry about that. He’ll soon make it a reality.

Gojo is too needy that he doesn’t bother pulling your thong off anymore, pulling it to the side with two fingers before his thumb flicks at your clit. He’s rewarded with a sharp inhale, cheeks planted to the pillows and you look so pretty, so hauntingly oblivious that the only thing able to pull the strongest sorcerer limb by limb apart is through your needy wet cunt.

He aligns himself with your entrance, groaning when his tip is coated with your slick, the warmth of your pussy radiating off of him. It’s fucking stupid that Gojo shivers, and he knows it’s pathetic because he chuckles, lifting both your legs up before he hugs them to his chest.

You’re so wet that Gojo no longer finds the need to prepare you, his eyes falling down to where your bodies connect, breath taken away at how your lips eagerly spread apart to take him in. He’s a little too big for your tiny, sweet pussy that your lips pinch into a flat line, chest rasping up and down.

He wants to apologize, wants to caress your face and look you in the eyes as usual to tell you that you’re doing good, just breathe and the pain will be gone soon.

The situation deprives him of that privilege, so he’s left with no choice but to kiss your ankles affectionately before thrusting all the way in. A loud moan echoes around the room the moment he’s seated in, dick throbbing inside your heated pussy that’s so tight it’s nearly suffocating.

“Oh, my baby,” he thrusts in slowly, not wanting to completely wake you up despite the fact you’re unconsciously grabbing the sheets already. “My sweet, pretty angel – I’m so sorry daddy couldn’t fuck you tonight but look at you, you’re so wet,” he bites your calf at the last word to muffle his groans, the tight sucking in of your pussy to his length making his cock throb. “Did you touch yourself when I was gone, hm? You must be so unsatisfied, but I’m here now, I’ll take care of you.”

Gojo’s unable to keep his promise to you before, but he’ll definitely keep this promise now. He leaves little love marks at your skin, reaching forward to tug the cups of your bra down. He’s rewarded with the intoxicating luxury of watching your breasts bounce at his pace, your nipples the only thing stopping the material from completely falling.

You mewl at the pleasure he’s giving you, the constant friction of your hardened buds against the cups must be so heavenly by now, and you’re tightening around him, walls clamped down over his dick that Gojo never wants to let go.

He thrusts harder this time in response to your greedy sucking, his tip kissing your cervix. You throw your head back deeper into the pillows, hands patting every spot beside you. He knows that look all too well – mouth falling open, eyes shut tight, brows pinched together and that angelic little pant – it’s the face you always wear when you’re about to cum and Gojo wants to make it up to you, pushing your legs to the side before heaving his weight forward.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “Coming already?”

The sudden stretch in your body only has your walls sucking him harder, his hips stuttering in its pace. Gojo kisses you flat on the lips as his hands thread to yours, squeezing it momentarily just as pleasure washes over him too. You come first, the spasms of your cunt similar to that one time you’ve accidentally gripped him too hard in your hand that Gojo’s cum suddenly landed on your eye. It’s tight, too fucking tight, that Gojo actually loses the ability to breathe.

His hips snap harder, dick driving deeper into your hole that’s already leaking out with cum. Your precious lingerie set is ruined, guaranteed to get him another pout that Gojo shakes his head, gripping hard at your hips while he chases his own high.

“I’ll get you another one, angel, I’ll buy you – fuck! – all the sets you need if it means dressing pretty for me like this,” he stutters in one breath, mouth latching around your nipple. He tugs at it in his need to reach his breaking point, no longer caring that you’ll wake up anytime soon, not when he’s so close and the squelching of your pussy sounds like heavenly music to his ears. Gojo thrusts in one last time hard enough that his balls make a loud slapping sound against your ass, but he doesn’t slide out, keeping himself right deep into your cunt in his orgasm.

Breathing heavily, Gojo falls on top of you, thankfully still strong enough to not crush you with his weight. He’s leaving fluttering kisses all over your face, your sweat slicking his skin.

He wants to pull out from the sensitivity, but you feel so warm and comfortable that Gojo plops down to the side, hugging your back and kissing your shoulder with panted breaths. You’re still recovering from the tremors of your orgasm that’s most likely still a dream to you, body trembling in his arms. Gojo does you a favour by throwing your bra to the side, his hands acting as a replacement for the missing piece.

He sighs onto your neck, barely managing to properly cover the both of your bodies in his exhaustion after a long day. He holds you close and tight in his arms, an I love you merely audible from his lips, followed by a regretful I’m sorry.

Gojo dreads tomorrow morning, in all honesty. There’s no easy way to explain that he “simply forgot” after all your efforts, his heart already darkening with the fear of seeing you pull away like you did the last time. His eyes droop down as he makes a mental note to just do whatever he can, but you’re stirring in his arms, lips puckered at the edge of his jaw.

“Satoru,” you whisper, hands tracing patterns on his chest. “You’re home. I’m glad.”

Soft snores follow after that, but Satoru is wide awake just as you’ve fallen asleep once more. He’s left speechless, and he doesn’t hold back in hugging you closer to his chest as a silent promise of never leaving you alone again. Even now, you’re still such a sweet angel, and how lucky is he to find someone like that?

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo-satoru-x-reader-smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru imagines #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #im not a gojo simp but...mans is fine... #suki: 500 milestone event

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Close | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)

Word count: 22k

Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 

##

Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 

You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 

Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.

The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 

He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 

“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.

Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 

Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 

“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.

“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”

Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 

“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“

“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.

“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.

You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.

“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.

“Jimin. Times two.”

“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 

Jungkook laughs in agreement. 

“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”

“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”

“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.

You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?

“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.

**

You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.

You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”

Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 

You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”

He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 

He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.

You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 

“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 

You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.

You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 

She checks the clipboard then on Jimin. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 

After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”

“So I’m not staying?” He asks.

“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 

“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”

You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.

“But, something else feels broken.”

“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.

“My heart.”

“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.

The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.

Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 

“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 

While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 

The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 

Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.

“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.

“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.

“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 

Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.

“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.

“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.

“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”

“I’m not that bad,” he defends.

“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”

“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.

**

You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 

Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 

“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”

Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.

“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”

“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.

You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  

“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 

“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”

“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”

“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 

But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him. 

“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.

“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”

“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” 

“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”

You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”

“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 

A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 

There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though. 

There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.

When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 

And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 

Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 

You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 

He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.

“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”

Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. 

“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”

This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.

“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”

It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 

Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm. 

Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 

Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 

He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 

Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 

But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt. 

If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

**

The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 

With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.

It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes. 

You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”

You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”

Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.

“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.

“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.

You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 

“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”

“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 

“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 

“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”

Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 

Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 

“Thanks, ___. You—”

“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.

“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.

You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.

“Everything okay, ___?” 

You heave out a sigh.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 

Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 

You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 

Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 

Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 

Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 

You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.

“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”

True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”

You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 

Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”

“Goes both ways, I guess.”

“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”

**

Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 

Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.

In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.

It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers. 

Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.

Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 

This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 

Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 

He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.

It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 

“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”

“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so. 

“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 

“And you let him?”

At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.

“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.

You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”

Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 

You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 

Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.

You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 

“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”

He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.

He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 

“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 

He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 

You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 

“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.

“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.

“So you just switched to apple juice?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”

“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.

“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 

“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”

“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”

“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”

“His choices were always so boring!”

“Or that time when…”  You throw him another pillow. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 

“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 

He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted. 

“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”

“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.

“I drank, remember?”

“Not much though.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”

You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 

“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”

“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 

You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 

“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 

You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.

“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”

Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.

“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”

And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.

“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”

You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.

“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”

“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.

“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 

It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 

“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”

You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.

He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.

**

Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life. 

At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 

He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.

Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 

It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 

On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.

“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”

“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”

“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”

You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 

“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.

“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.

“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”

“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”

“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.

“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.

“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.

“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?

He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.

“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.

But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?

“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 

Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 

You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.

He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 

Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 

He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 

You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 

The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.

**

The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.

It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”

It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future. 

You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 

“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 

Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 

You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 

“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”

“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 

“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks. 

“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”

“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.

“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 

He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 

He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 

There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.

Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 

The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 

Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 

“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 

You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 

“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 

“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”

This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”

He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 

And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 

“I - I actually don’t know.”

**

Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.

Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 

Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.

Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.

**

It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.

Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 

It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 

Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.

The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 

Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 

For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 

You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 

He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 

“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.

You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 

“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 

You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit. 

“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”

He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 

“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.

His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.

“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”

**

You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 

You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.

He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.

“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”

Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 

“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.

“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.

“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 

He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.

“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”

“You’ll be okay?” 

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 

Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 

**

Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 

Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.

You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.

“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 

You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.

“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 

You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”

“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 

He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.

“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”

**

You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 

But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 

You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 

“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.

“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.

He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.

“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.

“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”

“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”

You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 

“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.

“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.” 

He nods again.

“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 

Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.

“And?” He asks.

“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.

This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 

“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.

“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.

“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain. 

“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”

“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

“Flirt with him?”

Jungkook nods.

“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”

“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.

“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”

Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”

You let this sink in.

“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.

You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.

You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.

The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 

He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 

“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.

You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 

“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.” 

Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.

“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”

“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him. 

“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”

You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?

“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“

“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”

You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“ 

“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.

This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.

“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.

You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.

You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up. 

All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 

You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 

“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 

“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him? 

You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 

You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 

Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.

He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod. 

“Sleep well, ___.”

**

You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 

The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.

He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 

**

You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 

You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.

“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts. 

It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.

“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.

He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.

Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.

“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 

Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 

“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”

“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.

For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.

You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 

Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”

“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.

Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 

You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.

There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 

This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 

He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.

You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 

He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 

You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.

You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.

After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 

Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 

It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.

His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his…

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 

Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 

His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 

“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 

“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”

He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt. 

He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.

You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.

“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.

He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time. 

You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 

They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.

You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 

You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.

“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.

**

Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 

“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.

Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”

Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.

Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door. 

**

It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing. 

He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say. 

Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 

You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?

On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 

The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?

With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.

You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.

Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.

He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.

“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 

“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 

You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.

“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.

Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.

“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”

His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.

“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 

“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 

Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.

This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 

You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.

The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.

“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.

Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.

“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”

Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.

He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 

**

Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school. 

His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.

Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 

You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.

You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 

The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.

His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 

You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 

You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.

“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 

“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”

Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 

“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.

This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.

He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 

It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.

**

You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.

Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 

He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 

Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 

Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.

Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 

Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?

**

It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.

“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.

“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 

“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.

“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?” 

You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 

“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”

“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.

“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 

“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.

“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”

“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.

Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”

“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away. 

“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.

“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. 

“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.

“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.

“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”

It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.

**

A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room. 

Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.

It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.

You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.

He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.

“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 

“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. 

“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 

You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.

He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“

“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.

“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.

“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 

And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.

“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.

“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”

“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”

And you hate that he’s right.

“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.

You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 

“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“

Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.

“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 

“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“

His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this. 

“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 

“And I avoided you because—“ 

You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.

“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“ 

He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 

“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 

At this, he stops. 

He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 

“How exactly do you want me?”

You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.

You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 

Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this. 

“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”

Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.

“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”

Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.

Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.

It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 

Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.

His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 

He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 

Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.

You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 

Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 

You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine. 

And then.

“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.

Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 

You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.

“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”

You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

“WHAT?” You ask.

“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”

Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.

“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”

“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.

“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”

God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.

“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.

“No.”

“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.

“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.

Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.

“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 

“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.

And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.

“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.

“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 

“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 

He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”

By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.

And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.

And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 

“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 

“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”

And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.

“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 

“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”

**

You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.

He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.

His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 

You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.

“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”

“What the fuck Jungkook!”

“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 

You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”

“Jungkook,” you stop him. 

“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 

You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”

“Okay.”

And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.

“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.

Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.

You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation. 

All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.

At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 

“My turn,” he says smugly.

You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.

“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good. 

He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.

“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 

He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.

“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 

He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.

But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.

He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.

He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.

He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.

“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.

**

You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 

You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.

“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 

“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 

Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 

He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.

“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.

“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 

Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”

You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.

“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”

“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.

“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“But…” You start.

“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”

And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there. 

The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.

“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.

**

You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.

“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”

Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.

“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”

“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 

Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.

You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 

You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 

“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 

Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 

“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”

##

masterlist

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #brother's best friend #hold me close #oneshot #mine

[phantom-of-the-keurig]

Since y’all children don’t know how to fucking behave I guess I’m getting involved now 💀

This list thing is ridiculous. Whoever made it (and whoever helped) has wayyyyy too much fucking time on their hands and I honest to god hope you find a hobby, job, or relationship- just something productive to occupy your time because this isn’t something people who are healthy do. I am begging you to take a step back from tumblr because I truly think it would do you some good.

I get it, you don’t like certain ships. Me either, trust me! I see Obikin or QuiObi and I literally experience a full body cringe. Maulsoka? Gross! Clonecest? Weird, uncomfortable! But I either ignore it, or I block and move on. I have been on the internet for a long, long time and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s you will never be able to stop people from getting off to weird shit. There are neckbeards jerking off to my little pony right now as we speak, and guess what? Ain’t nothing you or I do ever gonna stop them. It’s not healthy to hyper focus on these people who ship things, because believe me they do not give a single fuck and are going to continue getting off to it 💀 stop masquerading as the Catholic Church and move on. Learn to block, be an adult and use your brain cells. But I have a feeling most of you are either children or extremely sheltered adults who have yet to experience anything outside of your home. Yikes, so sad 😞 get some bills to pay and responsibilities to handle besties then see if someone shipping some weird shit is still really the end of the world. Spoil alert, it’s not.

If there is something truly illegal happening, like at the level the FBI needs to be informed of the content being produced then of course report that shit, but believe me the fucking FBI doesn’t give a fuck someone wants to see Waxer and Boil touch butts. Like I promise they don’t. Grow the fuck up, the internet is full of gross weird shit.

This list also includes people who have been deemed racist. A very, very serious accusation. I’m mixed and my first name is very very very clearly not white. In fact it’s a whole ass Spanish word. I’ve dealt with some awful fucking racism before my dudes. In fact, there was a god damn Nazi rally the next town over. When I was 18 I literally couldn’t get a job because my name weirded white people out so much so I had to go by my middle name, and once I did I was able to get a job.

What I’m saying is, I understand how serious, real, and hurtful racism is. But I’ve also seen y’alls criteria for racism and it’s a fucking joke. Stop taking an issue that is serious and has real life consequences and applying it to literally everyone you dislike. When you deem everyone or everything racist, you’re taking away how serious it is and therefore trivializing real, serious issues. Not to pull a boomer moment here but y’all know the story of the boy who cried wolf right? That’s y’all. You’re the boy and it’s so embarrassing yikes 😭

I have some very close friends that have made that god forsaken list and I can assure you, they are far from racist. Or ableist. Or transphobic. Like people made that list for defending Ao3, that’s what shows me y’alls bar was set so fucking low an infant could waddle over it and be deemed problematic.

Let me give you an example, a friend who shall not be named to protect their privacy has dealt with real life PTSD and has actual experience in the military. They also work with disabled vets in real life. This reflects in their writing, and it’s some of the most well done and realistic stuff I’ve ever read around here. They were deemed ableist. And racist. Make it make sense. They took something they have actual experience in (serving in the military, the trauma that comes with it, trying to find ones footing after serving) and y’all children who don’t know anything outside your front door deemed them ableist and racist. Oh, bonus points, this person is also mixed!! So like?? 😩 y’all I can’t even the lack of brain cells it takes to do this is just astounding I’m convinced y’all are huffing spray paint.

As with any fandom, there are always going to be members who are actually dangerous, who spread legit hurtful or problematic content. Those people should be called out and avoided. But sis when your list has over a hundred people 😳 and there are people on there for the most trivial of shit how is anyone supposed to take that seriously??

Anyway, long story short y’all are so embarrassing and I hope you find something to occupy your time or your parents shut off the WiFi because it would do you some good. Learn to ignore things, or block. Report things that are actually legit illegal or serious. Go drink some water. And maybe take a nap.

#y’all I can’t #so embarrassing yikes! #this whole thing is one big fat Yikes #sw salt #oh the dreaded list #I’m sad I didn’t make the list 😞 #clone wars #the bad batch #list gate 2021

[emile-hides]

H*lding H*nds Imagines

I am once again making content for me and me alone because I have an unhealthy obsession for BNHA blond boys

BNHA Blond Boys X GN!Reader h*nd h*lding moments

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Twice, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

Knuckle brush

You handed him things before

Stacks of papers to grade, coffee after a long day, a napkin when he goes into a coughing fit

But something about this time turns his face a deep red

He withdrew quickly, in a jerking manner that dragged more attention than you’re sure he meant it to

He cleared this throat and thanked you quietly before shuffling off

It took a few moments to really set on you

You’d made contact

Such little contact you’d barely even felt it

He was cold, his skin rough and calloused, wrinkled and dry

How you managed to notice so much with such brief contact is astounding

And also incomparable to how much he noticed

He’s thinking about it all day, glancing at where the contact was made, shuffling, flushing to himself, holding his knuckles to his lips

Do it on purpose next time you hand him a stack of papers and he’ll drop them

Present Mic

In a crowd

It’s LOUD

You and Hizashi are trying to get home after a live show

The crowd is huge and still hyped from the concert

The quarters are tight, the space is limited, and without his towering hair spike it’s hard to keep track of your loud blond

Eventually a strong clasp from a hand horribly decorated in rings, fingerless gloves, and black nail polish claps on your wrist as your continued to be pulled though a crowd

When the world finally starts to calm and you have room to breath his hand slides to connect to your palm

Fingers intertwine with yours as a series of “Y’all good?”s start, followed quickly by an excited narration of the chaos that just ensued

He’d taken your hand so causally you barely even noticed

The two of you walked in a much calmer crowd, hand in hand, as Hizashi randomly picked bystanders out of his vocal range and made up their life stories to tell you

Fatgum

Big hands

You laid idly on the couch in Fatgum’s office, the interns long sense gone home

A pile of paperwork blocked your view of your hard working hero as he sat at his desk

You slumped and slid off the couch, boredom rising as you phone lie dead on the table nearby

A loud groan drives a “Just a bit longer, gumdrop” from behind the piles of unfinished work, a bit longer could be years for all you cared

Sliding across the hardwood floor on your back, you found yourself beside Taishiro’s desk, looking up at him from an angle you were rather use to

He was focused, with a smile still on his face as he worked, writing with one hand, the other causually turning Takoyaki in the grill built into his desk

You sat up, watching quietly. He was typically pretty observant, but he may not yet have noticed your approach

When his hand stopped turning and released, you took your chance

Both your hands snatched his wrist, sitting up a bit to rest yourself on his lap, you examined his large palm

He chuckled, “What’cha doin’, cupcake?”

His hand was massive in your own, enough to make anyone feel like a child. It could engulf you, hold half your torso and still have a pinkie to spare

You pressed on his palm, he hummed and returned to work, leaving you to admire as you pleased

His knuckles were scarred, several gashes and scrapes from punching at materials harder than even his fat could handle

Old burns from cooking, white spots on his finger tips from a time before he learned patients

You leaned back on him, holding his hand in your own, and watched him work

He seemed much more blissed from your company

Twice

Not enough hands

Jin’s a very physical person

He hangs off you every chance he can get, coddling and loving on you

He finds it annoying

So it’s not surprise as you two settled down for a movie night he was instantly on your lap like a cat

He lays over you like a blanket, limbs tangled every which way, head on your chest, looking at you more than the movie

One of your hands lay idly by your head, that one he has his own over, fingers tangled messily, almost uncomfortably

His other arm trapped under you, a hug from below, resting also uncomfortably against your spine

Leaving your free hand to tangle in his hair, a rare sight to have his mask off, though it probably wouldn’t last the whole movie, it should be cherished until then

When you notice his staring at you more than the screen, you choose to join him

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, he leans into it with the most lovestruck puppydog look a man his age could muster

He then starts to fidget around, moving like he’s stuck

It doesn’t take long from there for him to start getting frustrated with himself, splitting an argument for two between just him

You gently lift his head to regain eye contact and ask what’s wrong

He nearly starts crying

“I want to hold your cheek too but I don’t have enough hands!!”

He’s not willing to remove your hand from his hold or pull his other arm out from under you to compromise his own needs

He does eventually start crying over his lack of extra limbs to love you with

Aoyama

Standing ovation

Roaring applause rippled thought the auditorium

It wasn’t a big show, or a big stage, but it was your first written play, and seeing it go over so well was enough to bring a tear to your eyes

You joined the audience in standing to applause as the actors took the stage for the final bow

Only the lead, your star, wasn’t there with them

You blinked once, twice, three times before panic set in

There’s no way Yuga Aoyama would miss the chance to stand center stage in a spotlight. If he wasn’t on stage something must have happened

You tried your best not to look around too fervently, not wanting to startle anyone else

When a hand clasped yours

“And let’s not forget the playwright~✨”

Before you could question how he said that with his mouth, you were dragged onto the stage by your previously mentioned star, with his own mic in hand you don’t remember giving him

He held your arm up above his head as he runway walked his way along the stage, you closely in toe

You were going to go on stage eventually but you’d planned to be a lot more quiet about it, when more people had left early not wanting to sit though the applause

But instead, here you were, center stage, hand held high like you’d just won a boxing match by your own and only Aoyama

How he could stand being this bright all the time way beyond you

For now though, it was rather nice 

Ojiro

Lost and found

You stepped out of your class stretching, ready for a well deserved lunch break when you heard your classmates muttering

“Isn’t he from the hero course?”

“What’s he doing?”

Being nosy wasn’t usually your strong suit, but the mutterings has peaked your interest

You followed the eyes of those speaking to find a blond boy sitting in the floor of the hall, knees pulled to his chest to keep his legs from disrupting the flow of traffic, with his tail resting over his feet to protect them from being stepped on

He smiled and gave a light wave to your class as the dispersed

You alone approached him, curiosity peaking. Why was he sitting out here in the hall?

When question he very sheepishly answered, “I, uh.. I got lost on my way to class”

There was several things wrong with that

Number one being, he’d been at this school half a year now. He has one classroom, a big classroom, in the hero course. It’s not easy to miss??

Number two, it was noon. Lunchtime. He has one classroom. How long had he been lost???

These questions had answers and he was, while slightly embarrassed, happy to share he had, in fact, been lost all morning. Not just in finding his class, but also in finding the exit to the building, any teachers he knew, or his phone to call for help

You began to feel sorry for the guy, as this seemed to be a common occurrence in his daily life

With a sigh, you offered your hand to help him up

It was lunch, for all courses, so surely he’d see his hero course classmates in the cafeteria. No one turns up Lunchrush’s food after all

He smiled and took your hand, lifting himself from the floor with a thankyou

“I’m Ojiro, by the way. You are...?”

He was rather polite to talk to the entire walk, his grip on your hand was soft, gentle, and his smile never seemed to waver

Kaminari

Swing yer partner round and round

“Oh this is my JAM!”

Mina excitedly turned up your shitty little radio before kicking herself up off the floor, grabbing Sero all in one quick motion

The two danced horribly off beat, you quickly guess Mina had never heard this song before in her life, just wanted to get moving

“Come on you two, it’s dance break time!”

You found yourself enraptured with her energy, already forgetting the homework you all were doing

Kaminari took your hand much like how Mina took Sero’s and began to dance just as off beat and spuratic as queen pinkie had

You laughed, stumbling with every step, same as the others, the giggling energy filling a previously silent room

Denki’s fingers dug into your knuckles as he smirked, suddenly spinning on his heel and dragging you with him

The two of you became a tornado in your tiny dorm room, barely keeping from knocking into your tea table as you spun like a couple of children

You could hear Mina cheer and laugh, a brief glanced told you Sero was recording this silly moment

You looked across the way at your dance partner

Spinning, laughing his head off like this was the most fun he’d ever had, eyes closed, caring not for his surroundings

You decided to let go

The momentum sent you both toppling, you safely into Mina, who was more then ready to catch you

Denki got the much less desirable aforementioned tea table, which sent him toppling backwards over the also aforementioned homework

If you all could have laughed any louder, you would

Bakugo

Sweaty hands

You always knew when Bakugo was going to hold your hand

He may think he’s smooth, wiping his hand on the pocket of his pants before reaching behind himself to grab at you

But you’d always notice

It was a good indicator you were walking too slow for his liking, or the area up ahead was crowed, or that he simply felt you were too far away

You couldn’t initiate holding hands, when he didn’t actively want to be in contact he’d keep his hands shoved deep in his pockets

So you just had to wait for him to wipe himself off and reach for you

You were free to wrap yourself around his arm whenever, though

He’ll look pissed, but won’t say a word

And if you move away, he’ll wipe his hand on his pants, and offer it to you, a silent plea for you to come back

Honenuki

Magic hands

You stretched out over the couch of the 1-B common room with a whine, the rest of your class in a similar state

Training was hell today, sparing with class 1-A was never a joke, and with Monoma egging the whole game up to be more than it should have been, it all just escalated to a point you all wish it hadn’t

“Alright, next.”

Honenuki, a godsend, your blessed angel, helped Tsuburaba off the second common room couch, his typically wide eyes closed and relaxed as he wobbled his way across the room

You happily took his place, stretching out on your stomach before your classmate with the magic powers of massage

His hands pressed into your back and you instantly relaxed, letting out a low hum as you snuggled the pillow under your chin

Honenuki returned your hum, his hands pressing into all your tenses spots, almost instantly releasing them from their knots

You’d probably have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t over so fast

He had the entire class to get though after all, though he hated to rush an art form

You took his hand as he helped you stand, the actual minute of his touch enough to wobble your legs

Kissing his knuckle and thanking him for sharing his magic, you found yourself plopped peacefully on the couch beside Tsuburaba

Honenuki chuckled at you as he called next, happy to be of service

Monoma

He’s showing off

You’d known for a while now Monoma didn’t know how to shut the fuck up

He’d brag about anything, over anyone, to everyone

He’d always loudly bragged about how much better his class was, how much stronger his friendships were, how absolutely amazing his partner was

You being said partner didn’t make said bragging less annoying

The two of you had been together less than an hour and he was already boasting about your perfection to all who would hear

Some genuine, loving, almost gaggingly sweet comments

Others just to rub it in the face of class 1-A as much as possible

A week into this relationship and people were starting to think you must be come kind of god with how Monoma spoke about you

You’d been on two dates with the guy

Now here you were, holding his hand on the walk to class, and regretting every step

As every single person who passed must take note of the fact you were holding his hand

And also must be aware how blessed he is to be holding your hand in return

And really you started to understand the concerned look Kendo gave you when you told her you’d agreed to date Neito Monoma

Still his words were genuine, no matter how they came across, and he truly had a million and one things to say about you

So you could hold though the embarrassment his overexcited bragging may cause

He just wants to show you off

Mirio

Quietly

You sat by his bed side, holding gently to his limp hand

Moments ago he was inconsolable, crying and screaming his lungs out

His quirk gone

His teacher gone

Everything he worked so hard for seemed to vanish in an instant

His grip, still so strong, had left your hand bruised, circulation cut off

It wasn’t a concern you really had

Sleeping, his pain was still so obvious

Bags under his eyes, dried streaks of tears still down his keeps

And your hand still tightly gripped in his

What would happen next, where he would go, who you all would become

They were all problems for the future

Tomorrow you could work on a solution

Tonight, you could hold his hand

#Emile's Arts #MHA X Reader #BNHA X Reader #Oh boy here comes name tags #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #Present Mic #Hizashi Yamada #Fatgum #Taishiro Toyomitsu #Twice #Jin Bubaigawara #Yuga Aoyama #Mashirao Ojiro #Denki Kaminari #Katsuki Bakugo #Juzo Honenuki #Neito Monoma #Mirio Togata #I completely forgot Twice was blond which is why he wasn't in my last of these posts #I openly apologize for Mirio in this one I simply needed at least one angst #Holding HANDS!!! My BELOVED #I've been thinking about Ojiro for days now #I stand very strongly by my Ojiro has no sense of direction headcanon #and someone must walk him to class or he will get lost #Return of my beloved General Studies reader!!! #Ojiro only this time but like #Assumed in Bakugo's #And implied in Aoyama's but not directly #Monoma's is my favorite behind Ojiro