#I don’t know how to pitch it but it’s very fun

[biteyoubiteme]

Eeeeekkkkkk i get so excited when i see that you posted a fic >< also i love love love when you write crack for beomgyu like you know how to make me giggle lmao like even the little things like this i love Prince beomgyu kicks a pebble rather aggressively into the pond in his frustration. A tiny fairy emerges out of the water, angrily screaming, hovering and pointing, coming very close to his face high pitched in a language he cannot understand, then vanishes in a puff of glitter. Beomgyu stares blankly, then merely shrugs.

The way you write beomgyu i eat it up every time A quiet groan breaks the silence and your staring. The prince stirs, lashes fluttering before his pretty eyes slowly blink open, dazed. He takes in his surroundings, strangely without much alarm, gaze sweeping across the decrepit interior of your cottage before landing blankly on your black cat perched menacingly on the window sill. They have a tense, silent stare off before his eyes make their way to you, looking you up and down since he hadn’t seen your face properly before, eyes raking over your figure with a brow raised. He looked almost…amused? Also how silly for him to look at the cat and have a stare off like its so cute and silly 

“Ooh Peasant tea. I like this. It’s very different to how all of my many chefs have made it for me.” i love him sm 

“I swear to every god in existence.” Beomgyu had said, with all the endearing dramatic flair of someone telling ghost stories with a candle, “Prince Yeonjun was caught HALF NAKED, sneaking out of the royal astrologer’s tower.” “No way.” You gaped, sipping on your tea. He grins, victorious, revelling in your shocked expression. “Swear on my crown. I don’t even know why I’m the one they call troublesome.” the little gossip sessions stop i love them- 

“Ughh.” Beomgyu groans dramatically, wiggling his tied hands pathetically. “I’m suffering.” He says with such an exaggerated pout it was almost impressive. You turn around to look at him, wondering what it was now. “My bangs are all in my eyes. I can’t see anything and I can’t move them away.” He blinks at you. Then, very deliberately, batts his lashes, those ridiculously long, doll-like lashes. “You kidnapped me.” Beomgyu says pointedly, deadpan. “The least you could do is brush my hair out of my eyes. Basic courtesy.” i love the way you write him, the drama and everything just fits the image of a prince and i just love it i dont know what to say like this is so fun 

Even your cat had gotten used to him by now, seemingly liking him, curling up often in his lap, purring contently and napping. And worst of all, You were getting used to him too. I love cats in fics i love it more when they love the members like its so wholesome 

“Are you flirting with me?” “Perhaps. You’re easy on the eyes.” “I’ve quite literally kidnapped you.” You fold your arms. Im obsessed with them- 

“You like me.” Beomgyu simply grins impossibly wider. With deliberate slowness, you trace the dagger across his jawline, advancing down his neck, pressing the sharp edge down a little hard, his skin prickling up and chest heaving. You scoff at his words. “Are you sure you don’t like me?” You point at the now growing tent in his pants that was too hard to ignore. A flush creeps over his cheeks as you cast a deliberate, judging glance downwards with an arched brow. How incredibly absurd. You’re pointing a knife at him and he’s getting turned on. Jumping for joy spinning around my room loving them and getting giddy over this 

“Fine then. If I’m so sick, I’ll stop.” You still your movements on his dick, pulling your hand away. He loudly cries at that, trying so hard to move, pulling uselessly at the ropes to chase your hand but he can’t. “No! Please. I’ll die.” There he goes being so dramatic again, tears brimming in his panicked doe brown eyes, hyperventilating. The fact that this is the most distressed he’s gotten being kidnapped is honestly concerning. “Please,” He rasps, wrecked, “fuck me.” You cruelly laugh at the sight, tutting. “Such crude words coming from a prince.” He just whines frustratedly in response, exasperatedly frowning like he’s having a tantrum. >< i love how dramatic he is omfg- 

“You’re torturing me!” Beomgyu pouts. “I thought you said I wasn’t torturing you at all.” “Well now you are. You’re killing me. I’m going to die.” “This is what you call torturing?” You chuckle incredulously. I love him i love this i love love love it 

“Choke me.” Beomgyu licks his swollen lips, looking at you sexily, eyes half lidded. Ive died 

You smirk. “I’m taking something far more valuable.” Beomgyu’s eyes widen, and then stars. His eyes practically lighting up, sparkling, you could practically see his tail wagging if he had one. You both start giggling like idiots. By the time the army reaches your cottage that evening, it is already abandoned. And somewhere, gods only knows where, you’re running hand in hand through the forest, longe gone, cat tucked under one arm, and just enough tea packed to last the journey. What if i sobbed i love them sm stop this was so cute and silly i loved it a lot but i love everything you write, like the way you write beomgyu is so fun and i just gush over it ;-;-; <333

☆ Captive Royalty !

genre: crack, royalty au, fantasy au, smut, fluff

pairing: sub prince ! beomgyu x dom afab poor reader ?

synopsis: desperate times call for desperate measures…so you kidnap the prince of the kingdom and he turns out to be more of a handful than you expected.

warnings: kidnapping !! sub beomgyu, dom reader, beomgyu gets drugged, slight knife play, bondage, ropes, degrading, choking, riding, creampie, hand job, kinda dollification, overstimulation, hair pulling, orgasm denial, finger sucking ? (this sounds really dark from the warnings but it’s kinda unserious and silly and consensual)

word count: 4.3k

Prince beomgyu lets out a long, theatrical sigh, wandering aimlessly and weaving through the bushes and trees of the mystic forest a few metres away from the castle, needing a break from his duties even for just a second of reprieve. The air smelled of damp earth and fragrant wildflowers. Butterflies flitted their pretty wings lazily around him as he stepped over a cluster of bluebell flowers on the mossy floor, where mushrooms were also scattered of all different shapes and colours.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, vines and ivy curled around the tall tree trunks, practically moving and alive, shaking loose pink petals off the branches and falling atop beomgyu’s long hair instead.

He stops when he comes across a small, crystalline pond tucked away, watching as purple dragonflies hover over the surface, lily pads and petals floating on top and, beneath the clear water, koi fishes whose colourful scales practically glowed, swimming and flicking their tails elegantly. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, captivated by the tranquility of the scene. For a small second, it was as if he could finally forget everything.

But then, he mutters to himself, scowling. “I swear to the gods, hate the court, hate those stupid advisors. I hate them all.” Prince beomgyu kicks a pebble rather aggressively into the pond in his frustration.

A tiny fairy emerges out of the water, angrily screaming, hovering and pointing, coming very close to his face high pitched in a language he cannot understand, then vanishes in a puff of glitter.

Beomgyu stares blankly, then merely shrugs.

Instead, he takes a look back at the ethereal scenery, the forest nothing short of enchanted. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back, basking in the golden sunrays peeking through the canopy, inhaling deeply.

But his moment of peace is abruptly interrupted when he feels a cold, sharp blade pressing against his throat.

Beomgyu’s breath catches, eyes snapping open to meet a much less aesthetic view: A dagger, pressed very intimately underneath his jaw and already practically digging into his adam’s apple, “What the fu-”

“Don’t move.” Came the voice behind him.

Oh my god. He’s going to die. This is where prince beomgyu begins to panic, immediately stripping himself of his jewellery and any valuables, tossing them onto the grass, hastily. “Here! Take it! Take all of it! Please! Just not my face! I’m too handsome to die!”

You stare at him, baffled beneath the mask you were wearing, almost forgetting to keep the dagger steadily pointed at him.

“I’m not robbing you.” You say flatly. “I’m taking taking something far more valuable...”

There was a moment of silence as he looks at you cluelessly.

Then he gasps. “You’re taking my hair?”

“I’m kidnapping you.” Tightening your grip on the dagger, you roll your eyes, grabbing the cloth from your bag, shoving it over his nose and mouth, drugging him.

“Mmfph!” The prince protests, flailing but then his eyes roll back and his limbs go limp, simply falling unconscious.

You warily eyed up the prince who now sat unconsciously tied to a chair in your cottage, head lolling to one side.

Surprisingly, it was much easier kidnapping the prince of the kingdom than you had imagined. He didn’t put up much of a fight, nor were there any guards around him, or any witnesses at all. Quite underwhelming really.

But at least everything was going even smoother than planned, you’d even written the ransom letter and had already sent it off to the king. Now you just had to wait and soon it would all be yours.

You study the prince’s face. You’d never seen him before, too preoccupied and shut away in your cottage in solitude. You didn’t care for them. Besides, what have the royals done for you other than tax you and steal all your money? Why were they even praised anyway? They just sat around doing nothing really. It was practically their fault for your situation right now.

Other than that, the prince was almost achingly pretty. He had quite handsome features, long, thick eyelashes that practically kissed his naturally flushed cheeks, perfectly round, plump lips, messy bangs falling effortlessly over his brows. His regal attire, though a little dirtied from the abduction, still extravagant, embroidered with gold thread and intricate patterns. He looked dainty and fragile all tied up. The prince reminded you of a doll.

A quiet groan breaks the silence and your staring. The prince stirs, lashes fluttering before his pretty eyes slowly blink open, dazed. He takes in his surroundings, strangely without much alarm, gaze sweeping across the decrepit interior of your cottage before landing blankly on your black cat perched menacingly on the window sill. They have a tense, silent stare off before his eyes make their way to you, looking you up and down since he hadn’t seen your face properly before, eyes raking over your figure with a brow raised. He looked almost…amused?

You supposed you didn’t cut the most terrifying figure. No scary scars, no missing eye or other limbs. Just plain clothes, a dagger at your hip, and an unimpressed expression.

The prince speaks up. “Are you part of a rebellion? Do you want to overthrow the monarchy?”

“No.”

He lazily grins, eyes trailing down to the ropes binding him. “Hmm. Then this is… a little provocative, don’t you think?”

“The hell.” You furrow your brows at a loss of words. “No! Ransom. This is for ransom! ”

“Ah.”

“You’re the prince. Your face is probably worth more than my entire life. When your daddy finds out his beloved son has been captured, I’m sure he’ll give me all the money I ask and you’ll go back to your fancy castle.” You lean back, sighing, just imagining how much gold you’ll accumulate soon, “Don’t worry, your kingdom will pay good money to have you back.”

The prince snorts. “Will they?”

You frown. “…Yes?”

He gives you a pitiful look, “I hate to say it but I think they’ll be more relieved than horrified I’m gone, to be completely honest.”

You cross your arms in confusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He says, shifting in his restraints, “that my father finds me to be an insufferable disappointment. If you think he’s going to shell out a fortune to get me back, you’re sorely mistaken. No one in that castle can stand me, too much of a ‘troublemaker’ or something apparently.”

You stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” The prince replies cheerfully. “You should have kidnapped my brother Prince Huening Kai instead. They would have had a heart attack. If you’d taken him, they’d probably have sent an entire army after you by now.”

“I wasn’t even aware there were two of you.”

“Five actually.” He adds, “Maybe you should have done some research before kidnapping royalty.”

You roll your eyes, “Well, which one are you then?”

“Prince Beomgyu!” He beams, grinning widely, looking proud and smug, his expression entirely too relaxed for someone tied to a chair in a stranger’s cottage.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you were beginning to think.

It had been days.

And absolutely nothing.

No guards barging down your door, no royal army marching through the forest, no frantic messenger bird clawing at your window with a desperate letter from the king, promising to give you all the money in the land for his poor son back.

Just pure silence.

You were starting to think either something happened to your messenger bird on the way or gods forbid, they really, truly didn’t want him back.

“I told you.” Beomgyu’s voice was maddeningly smug from where he was still bound to the chair. “Face it. They don’t want me back.”

You put a hand to your hip. “You’re lucky I haven’t gagged you.”

“Oh?” The prince raises a brow, smirking.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Gods. You’re disturbed.” You turn away to check the kettle heating by the fire. You were going to need tea. Lots of it.

You take a tea cup in your hand, pouring the earthy, floral brew that you had foraged from the forest, steam rising in swirls and you bring it to your mouth to drink. The warmth seeping through your fingers and into your chest, making you slightly more calmed about this whole maddening situation. Beomgyu’s eyes are on you the entire time. You supposed you could give him some too. “Here. Have some tea.”

“Can’t exactly help myself, can I?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, walking over to him, bringing a cup to his soft lips for him to sip and he looks up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes almost like he’s heavily enjoying that you’re doing this for him.

He swallows, furrowing his brows and smacking his lips together, savouring the taste. “Ooh Peasant tea. I like this. It’s very different to how all of my many chefs have made it for me.”

You cross your arms, nodding in approval, “It’s the best. Practically survive on it.”

He seems amused by your love for tea, nodding, sipping some more until he’s finished and you place the cup back on your counter.

You study him intently, intrigued. “So, why were you sulking around so much by the pond, kicking rocks at fairies before I—well, pointed a dagger at your throat.” There’s no easy way to describe the situation.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to! How was I supposed to know there was a fairy there?” Beomgyu protests, finding it humorous. “But, they’re forcing me to marry some princess from some other kingdom. I don’t even know her. I don’t want to get married at all.” He grimaces, staring at the ground with furrowed brows. “I hate being a prince. I have no freedom or say in anything. It’s so suffocating. I must act in a certain way, all these duties, now marriage. I don’t want any of it.” Beomgyu looks uncharacteristically and genuinely upset about it, the most sad you’ve seen him, and that’s you holding him captive.

You blink, then almost laugh. “Wow. Poor you. You really have the worst life. Must be so hard having all your meals cooked and servants at your beck and call, sleeping in a massive bed with silk sheets. In a castle. Truly.”

The prince furrows his brows at your mocking tone. “You don’t get it. It’s not all that great, you know.”

Your scoff, crossing your arms. “No, I get it. you’re incredibly privileged for those to be your only problems.”

He sulks at you, shrugging. “I guess so. I’d still rather have your life though, a peaceful, mundane, peasant life.”

You give him a flat look, nearly amused at his comical, out of touch words. “It’s far from peaceful. I’m incredibly in debt at the moment and owe money to lots of people, scary people I can’t even begin to repay. I’m doing this because I need the ransom money. You wouldn’t last a day in the real world.”

“I would!” He heavily pouts at you, taking offence. It’s almost endearing. “Anyway honestly, being held hostage has been much better than any day at the castle.”

You shake your head at the prince, sighing.

Beomgyu talked. A lot. About the castle gossip, about the ridiculous scandals of the court, all their carefully polished lies sold to the commoners, about all his other brothers, Prince Yeonjun’s scandalous new affair.

You were very entertained, the tea you make, since it seems to be one of the only things he likes, and these conversations weirdly happening regularly.

“I swear to every god in existence.” Beomgyu had said, with all the endearing dramatic flair of someone telling ghost stories with a candle, “Prince Yeonjun was caught HALF NAKED, sneaking out of the royal astrologer’s tower.”

“No way.” You gaped, sipping on your tea.

He grins, victorious, revelling in your shocked expression. “Swear on my crown. I don’t even know why I’m the one they call troublesome.”

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to like having beomgyu around, in a way that both irritated and intrigued you.

He was for sure a bratty prince, complaining endlessly about almost everything, the chair, food, the ropes digging into his skin (you had tied them more gently), dramatically whining about a small splinter he got because of the chair (you actually took it out for him and gave him a bandage).

But…for all his whining, very strange comments, and being a royal pain in the ass, (and though you wouldn’t admit it aloud), the strange companionship he offered, despite the messed up predicament, was starting to feel…maybe comforting? when you’d had nothing in the past but your cat, living alone in your cottage.

He’d become company. Real company. It had been so long since you’d had that.

You had one thing in common, you both hated your realities and wanted to get away. And you could, if this damn king would send you the ransom money and come collect his son. You’re honestly astonished. Would they even come for him? What were you supposed to do with him if they never come?

“Ughh.” Beomgyu groans dramatically, wiggling his tied hands pathetically. “I’m suffering.” He says with such an exaggerated pout it was almost impressive.

You turn around to look at him, wondering what it was now.

“My bangs are all in my eyes. I can’t see anything and I can’t move them away.” He blinks at you. Then, very deliberately, batts his lashes, those ridiculously long, doll-like lashes. “You kidnapped me.” Beomgyu says pointedly, deadpan. “The least you could do is brush my hair out of my eyes. Basic courtesy.”

You raise a brow. The audacity. But with a long sigh and contemplation, you wandered over, standing before him. He blinks up at you, the brown strands of his hair over his eye, genuinely a little pathetic and silly looking.

You brush your fingers through his messy strands gently, absentmindedly. His hair was so soft. His pretty brown eyes locked with yours, eyes following your face, unblinking, unusually quiet for once. Close.

And gods, was he pretty.

Your touch lingered longer than probably necessary, tucking the last of his bangs behind his ear, fingertips brushing against his warm skin. You swear the tips of his ears were pinker than usual too.

You finally step back, heart doing something inconvenient in your chest, you could only scowl at him.

Your kidnapping had been, by all accounts, a complete and utter failure. It had not been the most fearsome hostage situation either, your intimidation tactics quite lacklustre, no violence, no torturing, and no damn money.

Even your cat had gotten used to him by now, seemingly liking him, curling up often in his lap, purring contently and napping. And worst of all, You were getting used to him too.

“Well,” Beomgyu drawls one evening from his usual spot, watching as you made dinner, slicing some carrots for a stew, “you know. You’re not exactly what I expected.”

“Why, disappointed?”

His lips quirk into a lazy grin. “Hardly.”

That makes you pause, stopping your chopping of the vegetables, turning around with an incredulous look, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Perhaps. You’re easy on the eyes.”

“I’ve quite literally kidnapped you.” You fold your arms.

He shrugs in his restraints, “I know you won’t hurt me. You haven’t tortured me once. Not even a little.”

“Oh?” You grab your dagger, making your way towards him, flicking some of his hair out his face with the tip of it and then tracing the blade slowly along his cheek, the prince shivers at the feeling of the steel on his skin. “How are you so sure?” His breath hitches almost looking scared for a second, but then he smirks. He was thrilled, eyes never leaving yours and yours never leaving his, the eye contact, intense.

“You like me.” Beomgyu simply grins impossibly wider.

With deliberate slowness, you trace the dagger across his jawline, advancing down his neck, pressing the sharp edge down a little hard, his skin prickling up and chest heaving. You scoff at his words. “Are you sure you don’t like me?” You point at the now growing tent in his pants that was too hard to ignore. A flush creeps over his cheeks as you cast a deliberate, judging glance downwards with an arched brow. How incredibly absurd. You’re pointing a knife at him and he’s getting turned on.

He purses his lips together for a second, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows but then he runs his mouth again, voice a little breathless, “What are you going to do about it?” Where on earth does he gain this confidence from?

“Leave you. That’s disgusting.” You say, pulling your dagger away in theatrical repulse and moving away from him.

Beomgyu splutters in panic, pathetically pleading. “B-but! Wait! Please. It hurts.” You smile, satisfied, stepping closer to him once again. That’s more like it.

“Why should I?”

He just looks up at you so severely desperate, so pitiful. And as if drawn by some invisible force, definitely not of your own doing, you grab and tug at one of the ropes, impulsively leaning down to kiss him, he kisses back instantly, fervently, leaning into the kiss as much as his bindings would allow, lips crashing together, all heated and messy, beomgyu whines softly into your mouth and gods help you, it does things to you. You bite down on his plump lower lip until he gasps, shoving your tongue down his.

You trace your lips down his neck, ghosting over, warm breath sending him shivering before you bite and suck harshly.

“Please.” He pants, delirious, so worked up already, eyes squeezed shut. “Touch me. Please.”

How could you refute? He squirms in his chair when you begin to palm him through his pants, already embarrassingly hard, gasping so loudly, jaw going slack just from that. Beomgyu bucks helplessly into your touch as you continue to teasingly grind your palm, kissing and sucking on his neck again, he’s all just needy whines and whimpers, pleas falling from his lips for a little more.

You love his reactions and the pathetic noises he makes, so worked up from a litt no le palming. You want more of it, you want to break the pretty little prince. You sit in his lap, unzipping his pants before him, cock just as pretty as every other part of him, leaky, wet and red, you brush your thumb over his cute tip, spreading the precum teasingly slow, watching his face.

“Oh…” Beomgyu looks down himself, brows knitting together, shuddering and groaning softly.

The sound when you wrap your hand around his cock and glide your hand up and down is impossibly loud over the crackling of the fire in your cottage, sticky and squelchy and the prince already seems far gone from the slow pumping, unraveling at the first stroke, pupils blown wide, glossy lips parted. How dirty.

“Did you seriously get hard from your captor threatening you with a dagger? You’re fucking sick, beomgyu.” You ridicule him in a faux saccharine tone, hand pumping his dick faster, twisting around the tip that he’s panting now. You can tell he’s close, moaning out prettily.

He still manages to bite back though like the brat he is so clearly he’s not that much of a mess you like you want him to be. “You’re the one who kidnapped me. You’re sick.”

“Fine then. If I’m so sick, I’ll stop.” You still your movements on his dick, pulling your hand away.

He loudly cries at that, trying so hard to move, pulling uselessly at the ropes to chase your hand but he can’t. “No! Please. I’ll die.” There he goes being so dramatic again, tears brimming in his panicked doe brown eyes, hyperventilating. The fact that this is the most distressed he’s gotten being kidnapped is honestly concerning. “Please,” He rasps, wrecked, “fuck me.”

You cruelly laugh at the sight, tutting. “Such crude words coming from a prince.”

He just whines frustratedly in response, exasperatedly frowning like he’s having a tantrum.

“Aw. What a poor little prince.” You mockingly coo at him, stroking his cheek but he leans into it anyway, wanting any sort of touch from you now, you drag your teeth against the lobe of his cute pink ear licking, goading him. He shivers at that, sucking in his breath.

“You’re torturing me!” Beomgyu pouts.

“I thought you said I wasn’t torturing you at all.”

“Well now you are. You’re killing me. I’m going to die.”

“This is what you call torturing?” You chuckle incredulously.

“Yeah. Fuck me now.” Beomgyu looks like he might combust if you so much as deny him another second, his cock twitching in the open air, painfully red and glistening. You haven’t touched him in what? Seconds? But it feels like an eternity to him. “Just…please—”

You don’t even wait to hear more of his insufferable begging, you lift your skirt and hips up, pushing your panties to the side and sinking down on his dick unceremoniously, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, gasping sharply.

“Holy shit.” He groans. “You’re, oh my gods—”

Beomgyu throws his head back, practically going cross eyed at the feeling of your warm tight pussy around him. You start to bounce on his cock continuously, riding him and holding onto his shoulders roughly to stabilise yourself., beomgyu moaning shamelessly loud, high pitched and strangled like a girl, dumb and dazed, drooling onto you at the feeling of your pussy.

You bring your hand to his cheek, kissing beomgyu hard, hands tangling in his long hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he sinfully and filthily moans into your mouth. Then he pulls away.

“Choke me.” Beomgyu licks his swollen lips, looking at you sexily, eyes half lidded.

“You’re disgusting.” But you hands wrap around his pretty, now marked and mauled neck anyway. Beomgyu gulps.

“Harder.”

You squeeze harder around his neck and he hisses, furrowing his brows, face scrunching up gorgeously, a pretty vein in his neck popping out. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gasping for air, letting out breathy noises, face and neck flushed, you press down just a little more, still bouncing on his cock, deliberately clenching around him. You feel him twitching inside you and then he cums, whole body convulsing, spilling his load inside your pussy.

But you don’t stop, bringing your hand to his shoulders roughly again, digging your nails into him, fucking him through it. He whimpers painfully, straining against the ropes, could only take whatever you give him.

“stop!—ah! too much, too sensitive…” Beomgyu sniffles and sobs, gasping at the overstimulation, babbling incoherently.

“No it’s not. You were begging to be fucked, now it’s too much for you?” You tighten your grip on his shoulders.

He’s about to whine and complain but you take two of your fingers, stuffing them in his mouth to shut him up, he sorrowfully sucks on them like a slut instead, gazing up at you with teary eyes and his pretty wet swollen lips. Gods. Just looking at the state of him, pretty, writhing, helplessly tied up, it’s making you go insane. He still looks like a doll, face red and rosy, dolly lashes thick fluttering and clumped together with tears, soft hair now all messy. A wrecked, cracked porcelain doll, your doll, yours to ruin and play with. What a whore of a prince.

You bounce on his dick mercilessly, riding him faster and faster and faster to get yourself to reach your high too, bringing your finger to your clit, rubbing. One final look at beomgyu’s face, pitiful doe eyes and sucking on your fingers and that does it, Cumming around his twitching dick. With a muffled scream and sob, beomgyu’s cumming again, looking like he’s going to pass out, spurting and shooting more of his warm and sticky white ropes of cum into you, cumming so much, it’s all creamy, completely milking him dry, his whole body shaking beneath you.

Only then do you reach for your dagger again, slicing the rope, slithering to the ground. Beomgyu falls forwards instantly, collapsing into your arms, gripping and clinging to you, trembling like a leaf, hands roaming all over you and hugging you tight, the first time he could actually touch you. And beomgyu kisses you so desperately over and over, like he’s starved, hands shaking, clutching your clothes, you keeping his cheeks feeling equally starved.

But your kissing is interrupted by a messenger bird throwing a scroll with an unmistakable royal crest through your window. You get up to read it:

An armed procession will arrive by nightfall to collect our Prince Beomgyu in exchange for the agreed ransom.

— His Majesty, the King.

“Are you…going to return me back then?” Beomgyu says quietly, like he already knows the answer and is fearing it, his shoulders are slumped, already looking miserable and like a devastated puppy, thinking about having to return back to living in the castle.

You think for a moment. You fold the scroll neatly, setting in on the table. “No.”

Beomgyu blinks, “No?”

You smirk. “I’m taking something far more valuable.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, and then stars. His eyes practically lighting up, sparkling, you could practically see his tail wagging if he had one.

You both start giggling like idiots.

By the time the army reaches your cottage that evening, it is already abandoned.

And somewhere, gods only knows where, you’re running hand in hand through the forest, longe gone, cat tucked under one arm, and just enough tea packed to last the journey.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: do not ask what this is 😭 I know it makes zero sense but thats kinda the point it was just supposed to be unhinged unserious crack smut 😍🫶

[kkochigomi]

the ultimate guide to f***ing nomin

part one | part two

PAIRING: reader x jeno + jaemin

GENRE: smut, angst

SERIES WC: 35k

PART ONE WC: 15k

SYNOPSIS: DJ Juliette is over just being a DJ. She misses being a producer and working with artists but no one is biting anymore. She's living from paycheck to paycheck, so when MC receives a pink business card from that company, she should take it. But her fellow SHAWOLs are screaming at her and she knows better. So they send in the heavy arsenal wrapped in head-to-toe Chanel. This woman, named Lindsay Liu, knows she can talk her into it.

WARNINGS: dom!Jeno, switch!Jaemin & mc, PIV, DVP, cunnilingus, thigh humping, pussyjob, lots of sloppy kissing, deepthroating, rough sex, large... sizes, bisex, very strong language, threesomes, one reference to slight racism/xenophobia (very small inclusion, that character sucks, doesn't go into detail), CONVOLUTED AND CONFUSING AS SHIT, slight language barriers, hella campy/maybe even bad, mc is described as American and having a midsized body, explicit language and descriptions of sex, working at SM Entertainment, mc has a "stage name", Juliette isn't her actual name, let me know what I missed! (had to split this into two parts or Tumblr wouldn't let me post it)

+ dialogue and text messages italicized in their entirety means MC is translating them from Korean!

PROLOGUEˋ°•*⁀➷

Since you discovered your first iPhone had garageband on it, you’ve been drawn to production. Combining your passion with your– at the time– niche interest of k-pop, you garnered a little following on Tumblr making demos for your favorite groups. But as you got older and grew out of k-pop, you associated producing with that childlike naivety. So you switched to what your parents wanted.

Thankfully, you decided to ditch computer science in 2019 and do what you truly wanted, sending you deep into the underground. You weren’t the best or the most well known producer, but you could produce and you weren’t super expensive. As you worked your way through your bachelor’s degree, you got better and better. You became a little more sought after. Unfortunately, the underground was highly competitive. And you were sick of feeling like you slapped someone’s mother for asking artists to sign a contract. But luckily for you, you were being classically trained unlike most of the other producers you’ve met who are self taught. Some of them play instruments and know a bit of music theory, but your degree gives you a slight leg up outside of the underground music industry. 

So you ditched the underground in 2022. With your knowledge, jumping into the overside of the music industry wasn’t impossible. But it wasn’t easy. At all. You barely got any bites. Unfortunately, in this day and age people have stopped chasing after being pop stars and realized how lucrative the production scene was. Most labels weren’t desperate for producers. In the states, that is. 

DJing is fun. It’s cool… but you’ve always thought of it as a side gig. Good to break up any sameness. But lately it’s been your only source of income. And there’s nothing fun about living paycheck to paycheck. Or admitting your parents were right. 

You default to an easy crowd pleaser as your mind drifts. A rapper you used to work with often hits you up every once and a while. His latest text being:

if you’re worried about Drex threatening to slash your tires, don’t even sweat it! you’re always welcome back

You couldn’t afford slashed tires then and you definitely can’t now. Plus, you’re hungry enough without competition. You just want to make art.

“Excuse me, Juliette?”

Right as you step off stage, someone calls out your alias. You’re thinking it’s management, so you turn around excitedly and await payment. Before you is a middle aged Asian man with thick-rimmed glasses. You don’t recognize him, but the smirk on his face reeks of upper management. A smile that can only come from someone about to pitch you something they’re confident you won’t refuse. More like cocky. 

“...Yes?”

The man immediately launches into his spiel.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you worked with Flowra for a song on his new album, right? I’m Lee Sung-Soo, by the way. You can call me Chris.” He presents his hand to you. You did work with them, but they scrapped the songs you did together. Oh god, is this guy here on behalf of someone else?

“I’m not underground anymore.” You explain curtly, walking away. Chris awkwardly retracts his hand before jogging after you.

“Good! I’m actually an A&R director for a music label in South Korea.”

You freeze involuntarily. You hate to admit your younger self is squealing deep inside you. The you at the forefront, however, knows better.

“Which company?” You pose with severity. There is a wrong answer.

He does that annoying smirk again, feeling like he struck something. He speaks in Korean, but it’s simple enough for you to understand. When you started college, you were still heavy into K-pop and thought learning Korean would make engaging in Korean media much easier. So you took Korean 101, 102, and 103 before you realized how useless these skills were and slowly faded from the fandom. You still kick yourself for not studying Spanish instead. 

“Are you familiar with Korean music?” He says, his eyes brightening upon noticing your lack of confusion. However, you note how he doesn’t say the company name.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Take this!” He presents you with a card that he must’ve had ready since he approached you. You notice the card is pink. You look up, plastering a big smile on your face as rage boils in your gut. 

“Absolutely not.”

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

The week following your meeting with Chris, SM is all you could think about. You were having a battle with your inner naive fangirl and your reasonability. 

Think about how many times they’ve been sued for mistreatment! I mean come on! This is SM we’re talking about!

You could meet Key.

You slam your pillow over your face and scream. It is simply preposterous how much weight that one possibility has. It’s not even certain! You turn to what you always do when you need to shut your brain off and let it rot, social media. You opt for Instagram. Though you rarely post, you need to keep track of your DMs in case artists reach out. It’s also your favorite place to keep up with celebrities. You opt to check your DMs first. Immediately you’re stumped by a name. Not because you don’t recognize it, but because it sounds so damn familiar.

Lindsey Liu.

Your knee-jerk reaction is to assume you’re thinking of Lucy Liu, but when you look at her profile picture, she even looks familiar. 

lindsayliu Hey doll~ I’m looking for someone to produce a project I’m working on. I have my own professional studio, so you can just come to my place to work on it. I know it’s sudden, but how does tomorrow sound?

‘Hey doll?’ you think, scam detectors blaring. You click on her account, her number of followers dumbfounding you. Twenty-one MILLION? You don’t personally know of bot accounts that are that ballsy with their follower counts but you know exactly what to do to fact check. You scroll throughout her posts, checking all of them for their engagement. By the looks of it, her followers aren’t fake. You even spot celebrities like Jackson Wang and Bae Suzy in her comments. On that same train of thought you check which celebrities you follow are following her. You’re shocked to see you have to click on them to see them all. You check each of their accounts, too. Just in case. And also because you’re in disbelief. You realize then where you recognized her from. Pictures with East Asian celebrities you follow.

You don’t even want to get excited and share the news to your friends and family because they’ll just ask you who Jackson Wang is. You haven’t been in touch with a real life k-media fan since high school. No one in your contacts understands how cool this is.

You clasp your hand over your mouth, unsure what to do with this information. From your research, she’s the only daughter of a Chinese billionaire. As for what she does? You’re not entirely sure. Just a vague rich influencer. Half of her pictures are her dressed to the nines in some sort of low lit venue. She’s either accompanied by her girlfriends or a drink or both. This backs up what you googled about her being a party girl. A controversial aspect as it seems. As if most of the people criticizing her wouldn’t do the same with that amount of money. Scrolling through her pictures, you could tell you would be susceptible to a parasocial relationship. You find yourself trusting her, but you know better than to be a victim to another Anna Delvey.

Hey! I don’t mean any disrespect when I say this, but I want to be upfront about a few safety measures. A friend of mine will know my location at all times and who I’m meeting with. I also have a producer’s agreement for you to sign to protect both of us. If you need to arrange for a lawyer to look over the contract, we can push the session back. Or you can have the contract signing and studio session on different days.

As you typed out the message, your excitement dwindled. The possibility of this being a scam and her being scared away now seems more plausible after letting everything simmer. Of course you’re happy you’re not going to get scammed, but you’re also pondering the possibility she’s legit and is offended by the message. Still, you don’t leave the message thread.

She doesn’t respond for several minutes and you need to relieve a little of your stress. You turn the tv on and put on anything. You throw on a show people have been begging for you to watch but you’re positive won’t be your style. Twenty-three minutes pass, no response. You’re not exactly sure what you’re expecting, her being legit means she’s definitely not glued to her phone all day. She has the money to actually experience things you only view through social media.

Three episodes pass and you’re apologetic to everyone online and in your life you ignored about watching this show. You’re completely, utterly engrossed. So engrossed that you forget the name Lindsay Liu. 

An entire season later, you sniffle and set your box of tissues back on the nightstand beside you. You’ve ignored your growling stomach in favor of being glued to the tv for long enough. You reach for your phone to order what you’ve been craving this entire time when you see the message thread. Lindsey had sent a message three hours ago.

“Holy shit,” You laugh, nose still clogged with snot.

lindseyliu Sounds good! I have a few more ideas to make you feel safer. We can do a video call beforehand and I can even show you my surroundings in case you think this is some weird new version of pig butchering lol. I’m sure you’ve already looked me up, but I can show you my ID to confirm my identity. I think signing the contract beforehand is great! In fact, you can pick a cafe or something where we can meet up. I usually arrange for my driver to pick up the people I’m meeting with, but I understand the implications of someone from my camp transporting you. Instead, I can send you some money and you can order your own uber.

lindseyliu Pleeease let me know if there’s anything else I can do~

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

Lindsey is quite the character. When you’re texting her and in real life.

“I knew a lawyer wasn’t necessary, this is a standard producer’s agreement.” Lindsay lowers the packet from in front of her face and smooths it onto the table. She glances up with a small smile as she slips a rectangular clamshell case from her purse. She cracks it open to retrieve what you assume is an exorbitantly expensive pen. She taps it to the first dotted line, freezing with her brows knit together. She takes a quick inhale before asking a question.

“How much do you make?” She twirls her pen as her posture shifts completely into focusing on you. Your mouth snaps shut, puzzled as to what she could be asking. You look around as if the bustling cafe will serve you any clues.

“Are you asking what my rates are?” You slowly move your finger to one of the many paragraphs on the contract. “$100 for every six hours. It’s outlined in the agreement.” You laugh nervously. She did read it, didn’t she? She laughs as well, but hers is incredulous.

“And that is criminally low, but that’s not what I’m asking. Is there a reason you charge that low? Do you get so many clients that how low this rate is doesn’t matter?” She’s starting to look worried… or maybe that’s judgement. You shift in your seat, hand rubbing your upper arm.

“N-no… it’s actually the opposite. I can’t afford to charge any higher. Then I wouldn’t get any bites.” You sink a little, unable to look at her after admitting something so pitiful. Lindsay looks to be fighting a fierce inner battle. She looks over the mezzanine the two of you are sitting atop of, stroking her chin. Why your nervousness manifests into a dry laugh, you’ll never know. One slips before you can get the words out.

“Is there something wrong? I mean, you can pay more if you’d like.” You offer half-jokingly. Lindsey’s eyes return to you after that, looking austere. You clench your mouth shut.

“You know, Juliette, I didn’t reach out to you because I heard you were cheap. I reached out to you because I heard you were good– no, great. After hearing it for myself, I was flabbergasted that I didn’t recognize your name. Forget about money, talent like this deserves fame!” She gathers both your hands with pure elation in her eyes. You’ll admit, it’s rubbing off on you. For a split second, the most vivid image of you with a Grammy in your hands flashes in your mind. But then you came to your senses. You carefully ease your hands away and she looks at you curiously. 

“I um… I’m sorry again if I sound rude but, I’m not entirely sure why you care so much?”

Her face softens in understanding.

“Right, and I’ll be totally honest with you. I’m very familiar with the music industry, but not exactly the western side.” She peeks to see if you’re following and you nod. She was born and raised in China, so it makes sense. 

“I’m a little close with some of the music executives in the East and I often pick up on tidbits of information. I’m sure you’re familiar with Chris Lee?”

Your expression hardens.

Oh. 

Oh.

You push yourself up from the table and take a deep breath. Of course. It’s so obvious now. You don’t know how you ever thought SM would take no for an answer.

“What’s the matter–”

“I am not working for SM. D– Are you a k-pop fan? Hell, you have to be aware of how bad SM’s relationship is with China, for good reason.” The anger squeezes the words out of you until there’s barely air left to supply them. You were worried about getting Anna Delvey’d and got Lee Sooman’d instead.

“Hey listen, I don’t work for SM. Like I said, I only heard about this through the grapevine.” Lindsay is cool as a cucumber as she attempts to talk you down. She gives you a look as if to say ‘I know you know you’re being unreasonable’. It only angers you further, but when she gestures for you to sit back down, you do so. Not only because you were causing a bit of a scene, but because you do have some things to say. 

“So, what, I was never getting paid? Was there no song?” You grill her but she stays calm, relaxing back into her chair even. 

“I never said that. I heard them lamenting over losing you and I had to check you out. I’m sure you know that I’m a no good party girl if you did your research. I’ve been dabbling in music. You wanna hear it?”

“No thanks. I believe you.” You reply sarcastically and roll your eyes. You’re more angry at yourself. How many times are you going to be almost coerced into literally selling your soul to satan. She starts speaking again but you don't even look at her in favor of mourning.

“You asked why I care so much?”

That catches your attention and you side eye her. 

“You’re absolutely right about SM. I hate them too. It’s the talent I’m focused on. You deserve to be paid better and the idols deserve better in general. Are you familiar with dearALICE?*” She takes a sip from her latte as she waits for your answer.

“... No?”

“Exactly. One of the members is a friend of mine. K-pop audiences don’t know they have a pre-release single out. People who don’t listen to K-pop don’t care. Focus groups are reacting negatively to every song DJ Rouge produces. They ended up rejecting Rouge altogether. James is worried sick about how the higher ups are talking about them. If they don’t find a producer who can give them a fresh sound that impresses the focus groups… James and his members might be put in the dungeon. They’re too talented for that.”

With that, Lindsay finishes her latte and stands from the table. You find yourself looking down at the lower floor now, immersed in thought. Lindsay tells you to think about it and message her before she leaves the cafe. SM putting an artist in the dungeon? Now that’s opening up old wounds. 

You felt so helpless when it happened back then.

( *Nothing stated about dearALICE or any real life artist or company reflects my opinions of them or what state they're in in real life. It is just made up for the narrative. )

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

“I dunno… she seems strange. You can be an heiress and be sketchy.” Bloops and beeps sound as your best friend plays on her switch, laying like a corpse on your bed. What she says just blends in with her gaming commentary for you. You’re just thinking out loud. 

“The song is bad though*…” You mumble through nibbling your thumb nail. It commits the grave sin of having an instrumental be the chorus and a bad instrumental at that. You’ve never heard of a DJ Rouge, but he oughta be ashamed of himself. The poor souls are even drowned out by the backtrack and compressed all to hell.

“I can do better…” You say a little quieter, unsure of where it came from or if it made you sound arrogant. You really, really could though. You got a feel for them as much as you could. Listening to any snippet you could find of them singing or performing. Getting a feel for their natural aura and the vibe SM had in mind. You were waist deep into research when the question hit you.

Why you?

Why is Chris Lee in your DMs, checking if you changed your mind? Furthermore, are you the only producer they approached? That’s impossible. A company of their size probably has so many producers at their disposal. This feeling reminds you of being in the underground again. You hate this feeling, but you glance over at your document, feeling pricks of excitement.

( *Nothing stated about any real life artist or entity reflects my actual opinions, and is done solely for narrative purposes. )

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

You blindly reach for your drink and brush against something. Multiple of something. Cans of soda and energy drinks topple off your desk. You look guiltily at your ipad propped up next to your monitor. The 3D man staring back at you smiles, oblivious to your chaos.

“Caleb, what am I doing?”

Just then, your ‘quality time’ session expires, the app prompting you to add more time or quit. There’s no need for more time. You glance at your finished project hesitantly. 

Lindsay messaged you five days ago and you told her you were still considering it. Truthfully your inner fangirl broke free from her chains and took the reins. Any breaks you had from producing the demo you spent rewatching your favorite SHINee moments from when you were younger. It was like the emotions never left. Taemin, the love of your life after Caleb, isn’t under SM anymore unfortunately (more like fortunately). But your bias and favorite person in the world still is. There’s a chance you’ll never meet him, but the odds are increased compared to before.

You close ProTools and Love and Deepspace before rolling away from your desk, thinking about how to celebrate finally completing this project. Your heart thumps against your ribcage at the thought of busting open tumblr and reading some Caleb smut. It takes you a moment, but you soon realize how sad that sounds. Your reward is imagining yourself having sex. You sigh, planning to text Lindsay after you commiserate with your bestie. 

I NEED to get laid

like… yesterday

You laugh to yourself, thinking of how she’ll respond. Either by agreeing or getting angry at you for reminding her of little play she gets.

Hey, sorry for the delay, how does Tuesday sound?

Lindsay’s phone buzzes and her acrylics clack against the screen as she opens the notification. She gasps lightly before the corner of her mouth curls into a smirk. She snorts, shoulder bouncing as they are kneaded into by her masseuse. Lindsay relaxes, sweeping her legs onto the living chair. If you’re having trouble with that, Lindsay has an offer that’s going to be hard to refuse.

She dials Chris’ number and he answers quickly. 

“They’re busting my balls over here.” He rushes out, already prepared to scold her. 

“Relax! I told you I would handle it.” She laughs softly into the receiver. 

“You better, because if you screw this up for us, Mr. Jang won’t want to see your face anywhere near here. Your gambling? It’s a bad look.”

She tongues her cheek as she thinks about your message again. 

“Hmmm, I’m feeling like raising my bet for dearALICE to 300k.” His silence on the other end makes her cover her mouth and laugh harder. “Oh, and tell James we’re best friends now, I’ll explain when I get there.”

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

TUESDAY

“It’s fine. I already told you! A girl’s gotta get laid.” Lindsay shrugs, struggling to suppress her smile.

This only makes you crumble further with a wail of despair. 

“No, no, no!” It’s not being slutshamed that you’re worried about. It’s the soul crushing, utterly debilitating cringe. Your brain is distorting the message to be way more aggressive and debauched than it was and you wish you could turn it off. The moment your friend asked what you both had planned for Tuesday, your stomach dropped. You were hoping– praying to anyone that the message didn’t send. You weren’t so lucky.

“But girl! You live in Los Angeles! You can’t find a man?” Lindsay throws her leg over the other from the other side of her dining table.

“I don’t want a boyfriend, I just– NOPE!” This is the opposite of turning your brain off. This was the satisfying conversation you were supposed to be having with your friend when you sent that text. Not this embarrassing, confusing mess. You haven’t even told her about your demo yet.

“Look, do you want ice cream?” You don’t get to answer before Lindsay smiles at the woman… accompanying (?) you both by the table. She comes back with two tubs of ice cream with labels that can only be described as a graphic designer’s wet dream. You don’t even try to pronounce the name of the brand. You hesitantly grab the spoon like a child parsing if they’re doing something naughty. You glance at Lindsay who is already bringing a spoonful to her mouth. She rolls her eyes back with a moan of pure ecstacy. She points at the ice cream approvingly, nodding at you.

Well, if the ice cream is poisoned, at least you won’t have to feel the cringe any more. You peel the lid away and dip your spoon. Plain vanilla can only be so good. At least, that’s what you thought before the succulent ice cream smoothed over your tongue. In seconds you become an ice cream snob, because the cheap ice “cream” you bought at the store isn’t cream at all. This is what cream is truly like. You suddenly feel like falling to your knees and apologizing for the ice cream you made in middle school from shaking a bag.

After giving you some time to mingle with euphoria, Lindsay speaks again. 

“I get you, though, about not wanting a man. I hate men.” She digs up a heaping spoonful as she speaks and you forgive her for lingering on this topic. It’s the least you could do. 

“Love dick, though.” She says casually before popping the spoonful into her mouth. You blame the loud laugh that bursts through your lips on how loose and joyous the ice cream was making you. 

“Huh?”

“Dick?” Lindsay cocks her head to the side, a much too innocent gesture for the body part she just repeated. “Love it! Can’t live without it. I just wish it wasn’t attached to a man. Or if it was, it was attached to Qi Yu and he became real for some reason.”

Lindsay looks like a goddess even now while pigging out on ice cream, so it stuns you that she has fictional crushes too. With how she looks, she could easily bag a guy that looks like the fictional characters you fawn over.

“Is that an anime character or…” Your curiosity takes over. You’ll eventually get to the demo. 

“Oh! I mean… Rafayel. If it was attached to Rafayel.” She corrects before licking the back of her spoon. Your ears perk up but you don’t accept it at first. You jokingly say hot girls play Love and Deepspace, but is this hot girl actually playing Love and Deepspace?

“Rafayel?? Like, fishy?!”

Lindsay just grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh my– what level are you?” You don’t usually ask your fellow Love and Deepspace girlies this, but you need to parse how deep she is into the game before you get delusional.

“I’ve been playing since the game was released, so I’m at level 80. I’ve nearly gotten all the boys to level 100. I need to work on the two newbies, I’m a little behind.” She laughs and you almost bow to her when you remember she’s filthy rich. Of course her affinity is that high. Still, you can’t slow the fondness growing in your heart. This has to be a ruse, right?

“It’s so unfortunate most men pale in comparison. Everyone talks about k-pop idols who look like them but it’s usually not even close.” She sets down her spoon and covers her mouth with her hand, looking at you like she’s deliberating whether she should say something.

“K-pop guys aren’t really my type, but I met these two? I kid you not. It’s like being with real life Rafayel and Caleb. My two favs!” She squeals giddily and you involuntarily squeal with her. The thought of you with Rafayel and Caleb flanked by your side? Rafayel isn’t even your second favorite but you have a soft spot for him. The thought is enough to melt you into a puddle on her white, porcelain marble floors. You don’t know how she brought the whore out of you so easily.

You want to ask who so very bad, but she’s back to eating her ice cream. Dancing to indicate she’s just as blissed out as you are.

As the meeting progresses, you’re less eager to reveal your hand. Lindsay suggests you at least try it out, a trial period. You want to at least show dearALICE the demo and a vacation to Korea doesn’t sound horrible. But you know better, and she already lied and blindsided you once. What, one tub of ice cream and conversation about your favorite game and you’re just going to bend over and take it? They call it selling your soul for a reason. You didn’t ditch the underground to become chained to a soulless company. 

One you know the troubled history of.

“I would miss my bestie too much. I’m sorry…”

“I’m not fluent in Korean.”

“I don’t have the money to uproot my life right now!”

These are the excuses you offer up in favor of cursing SM’s name for however long she’ll allow it. For some reason, you’re getting the vibe that she sees right through your excuses. She crosses her arms and sighs. The two of you had moved to her chic office, and you think that’s partially responsible for why this all feels so real now. 

“I don’t believe those are why you don't want to move.” Her stare is intense, like she’s waiting to see you cave. You were right, she did see right through you. “Do you want to know why they’re so enthusiastic about you?” 

Not exactly what you were hiding, but now that she mentions it…

“Yeah. It’s a little confusing.”

“They’ve been following you for longer than you think. I have, too. It was only after I heard SM wanted to hire you that I knew you were kibumberry.”

You recoil at the mention of your old Tumblr blog. She saw those horrible demos? Her and… people at SM?

“Yeah, I was a huge fan. Now that I look back on it, a lot of those demos weren’t great, but there was one from 2018. Your most popular one before you disappeared. Key saw this one and loved it.” Your vision of Lindsay smiling before you gets a little hazy. You don’t know if you’re getting light-headed or what, but that information just refuses to settle in your brain. Key? Kim Kibum?

“No…” You try to stay calm, stay reasonable, but your heart is beating a mile a minute.

“The fact that you were only eighteen when you made it threw everyone for a loop. Unfortunately, and you know how execs are, they thought you were too inexperienced and it was too risky. But it’s been seven years. I think it’s time you realize that potential.”

You look up at Lindsay with a twinkle in your eyes. Just then you see something in her’s, something that constricts your heart with fear. She smirks, a knowing look on her face. She sighs peacefully before driving the nail in further.

“Well, when I spoke to Kibum about this recently, he was a little worried about SHINee’s next comeback. Don’t get me wrong, he’s excited to finally work with you and maybe even release that song. He just doesn’t want to get your hopes up about anything soon.”

“Are you sure you have that right? He heard my work? From back then? And liked it? I-I don’t know, this is all too much!” You look to the ground, trying to make sense of any of this. Lindsay smirks again, obscuring her face with her hand as she lets out a small laugh.

“Oh, doll. You haven’t even asked about the pay yet.”

CHAPTER ONEˋ°•*⁀➷

“I never thought I’d have a salary, but it’s just too much money to pass up on, mom.” You have your phone pinched between your shoulder and ear as you fold clothes and set them into your suitcase.

“Oh I’m not worried about you having a salary. In fact, that’s ideal. I’m worried about you going to a different country. I told you this when you were younger. Baby, those men don’t care about you. All that fake shit they do to the camera is to get money out of you–”

“Mom, do you really think I’m uprooting my life to date boys?” She didn’t need to know that in that moment, you thought back to the two idols Lindsay was talking about. But who cares? You can’t even explain to her that the one plastered all over your walls? The one you stole her lipstick to litter kiss marks all over his posters? He’s not even where you’re going. “I’m going to fulfill my dreams. Focus on the money and salary part if you have to.”

“Oh I am! I just hope you’re not living in a fantasy, babe. Why did I hear from one of my colleagues that you named yourself after one of Shine’s songs?”

“Okay, bye mom!” You hang up, throwing your phone on the bed as embarrassment and anger fight for dominance in your chest. 

It didn’t matter that everyone in your life was telling you not to do this. The tickets were already paid for by SM and you already have your apartment set up for you. It would be disrespectful. But also…  and this is the part you left out when sharing the news… violating the contract you signed without a lawyer present.

You hurriedly defend your actions as dread starts to set in. Yes, as outlined in your contract, you’re officially starting a 9-5. And you’ll probably have no free time. And all of this is going to be hard to adjust to, but Lindsay is going to be in Korea a week after you get there. She’ll have your back.

Lindsay, who is on a private jet as you speak, is popping a bottle of champagne as everyone around her cheers. They're celebrating finally meeting the quota.

You’re flying economy eight days later, stuck in between a bickering couple who insisted you were okay sitting between them. You don’t know what you expected. You’re not Marshmallow, they’re not forking up anything higher than maybe premium economy for the likes of you. You’re not proud to admit that you’re already slightly regretting at least some of this. You pinch your nose bridge, cursing yourself for not having a lawyer look over that contract.

Your apartment is smaller than the one from home, and you barely take your shoes off before your phone buzzes. It’s your work schedule. You start in two days. 

What have you done?

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

A week in, you’re sending a hysterical, long message to Lindsay. They have you waking up at five a.m. almost every day. Even on days where you just have to sit in a meeting that is only translated by one of the execs when he feels like it. You’re not allowed to be seen on your phone if you’re not on break. Not even to check your email or a text. If they catch you, they scold you like a child.

And worst of all? Your creative freedom is a forgotten dream. Your moodboards are laughed out of the room. Your bulleted lists are shot down. No, they have their own bulleted lists. You garnered the courage from your pure annoyance with all this crap to suggest that hey, maybe we shouldn’t drown out dearALICE’s vocals. You know, the core part of the song? What happened? You guessed it.

You were fucking scolded.

The money isn’t worth this. This is something you knew already. You told yourself this as soon as you decided to pursue your dreams. No price is worth forfeiting your vision. 

You listen to your dearALICE demo again and again, mourning the loss of all your hard work. Your mind wanders to your last saving grace in all this turmoil. You switch to your seven-year-old SHINee demo. Would Key fight for your creative freedom? Or is that wishful thinking too.

Lindsey and who the hell are you?

You gawk at the message before groaning and throwing your phone away. She needs to figure out she texted the wrong number quickly so you can talk about this with someone who won’t say ‘I told you so’. Your phone buzzes again and you forlornly retrieve it.

Lindsey oooh em geee girl. lol i totally sent this to the wrong person. noooo don’t be discouraged.

I’m sorry, I’m genuinely wondering if I should cut my losses and just lawyer up to break my contract early.

Lindsey texts back at the speed of light this time.

Lindsey What?? OMG! If you need anything, let me know and I’ll help you out. Because you know how little of the lawsuits against SM were won! It’s scary…

I know… 

This is just everything I stand against and I let my excitement cloud my better judgement. 

Lindsey Yeah :((( you do what’s best for you!

Lindsey I almost forgot, I was just talking with Yizhuo (she’s a member of a newer SM girl group) and she’s a Love and Deepspace girlie just like us! I’ll send you her number

Ah, Love and Deepspace. You lost your streak for the first time since you downloaded. Every time you’ve opened it, you get scolded by Caleb for being gone for multiple days so you dread visiting him. Maybe playing it for a little will fix you. 

Lindsay sends you her number, but you’re hesitant. You hate meeting new people. It would be nice to have someone to talk about the game with since your friend doesn’t play it, but it’s going to be so awkward.

You’re immediately sucked into the game as soon as you open it. Lucky for you, Sylus’ birthday event just started. You have a lot of grinding to do. You have to find the willpower to open the app when you get home and not just rot in your bed watching tv. Your dinky Korean phone sends a notification and you check it quickly, traumatized from the last time you missed a text from Chris.

+010 XXXX XXXX Heeeey! PLEASE tell me your favorite LaDS guy, I need to know.

This must be Yizhuo. Did Lindsay give her your number as well?

Hey, this must be Yizhuo? And my favorite is Caleb… haha

Maybe: Yizhuo AAAAAH WHAT?! Girl he’s mine! Lol, just kidding. But I think I can’t live without him :*) We even have similar names lololol

LMAO really? Me too tbh… can’t get through paperwork without him

Yizhuo Yes!! I prop him up when I’m practicing so we can exercise together

Halfway through the conversation, you call each other so you can talk while playing the game. You suppose it is easy to get along when there’s a strong common interest. You’ll admit she was a welcome distraction. You even successfully started playing the game regularly again. She says you helped her with her streak as well. 

It’s not long before you guys start saying what’s really on your mind.

“If Yizhou would give me a chance I would wear him out good.” NingNing (as she told you to call her) hums like she just ate something delicious. You sigh loudly. Your vagina agrees. You’re a little scared to have a one night stand after the talk your boss gave at a meeting one day. He warned against inappropriate behavior and making SM look bad. It felt a little pointed at you, as you were one of two Americans, and the other one had been living in Korea since they were ten. You’ll admit you let an innuendo slip in the break room. Never had you experienced embarrassment than when the two other people there looked at you like you had two heads.

What if the person you sleep with finds out you work at SM? You have pictures from work on your Instagram, and you were told to follow the official SM accounts on all socials. If it got back to your boss, he would probably slut shame you. Or worse, you’d get fired and your mom would rip you a new one.

“Do you know where a girl can get a good dildo?” You grunt, selecting the ‘palm’ interaction with Caleb for the eightieth time today.

“The SM halloween party.” NingNing practically honks at her own joke before snorting into oblivion. You just sit there with your mouth agape. You never really pry into her idol life or what other idols are like. After producing for not only dearALICE but RIIZE and Mytro too, you get the sense their day to day is just as mundane as yours. They’re just as terrified of the higher ups as you are. Every time one of you gets scolded, you all just look at each other. You’re not going to lie to yourself and say you’re not intrigued about other things. Especially since you can’t get what Lindsay said out of your mind.

“I’m just kidding… or am I? Sungchan, where you at?”

You and NingNing immediately start screaming and laughing like you’re both up later than you should be at a sleepover. 

“NingNing!”

“I’m just kidding! I’m just kidding…”

You anticipate what she’s going to say and say it at the same time. 

“Or am I.”

You’re sent back into hysterics like school girls. 

“You should come this year! The staff aren’t not allowed to do much, but it’s still fun!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her since she seems so excited to have someone to talk about LaDS with, but you probably won’t be here that long. The longer you stay, the more your only passion becomes a chore. You didn’t used to hate the mundane parts of production, but they’re like a slog now.

I looked it up, and maybe I can get a settlement with them and maybe have my contract altered?

You’ve been working with Lindsay on what to do. You feel like she’s the only person you can be truly honest with. However, you notice her texts are getting shorter.

Lindsay hmm yeah that sounds rght

Sorry if I’m asking for too much, but could you ask your lawyer if that’s even possible? I’m grasping at straws here haha.

Lindsay yeah my lawyer is here with me, we happened to be meeting each other when you txtd. he says he’s surprised you’re trying to leave. he said so many people would kill to have this job, and that you should consider yourself lucky to have an easy job.

Lindsay i persnkly dont agree, but he’s saying waking up at 5am isn’t tht ba,d

You can’t help how your chest gets hot at that insinuation. Did he seriously think that’s all you were complaining about? It was a large factor, but that’s minimizing your complaints. You don’t even know what to say. You’re not going to argue with him through Lindsay.

His words linger long after you read them. Every time a group’s manager makes a rude remark or scolds you, you wonder if your frustration is unwarranted. If you should just be taking it because the pay is good.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t stomach it. So when the overpaid babysitter tries to tell you how to do your job, you snap a little bit.

He shouted at you for over ten minutes while the group watched in horror. You balled your fists and avoided his eyes at all costs, lest he see the fury in your eyes. You get home and slam your door shut, chucking your phone at the wall with a frustrated grunt. Are you a child? And what does he know about production? If it were up to him, the finished product would be filled with dispassionate performances. And you’re sick of the little jabs at your instrumentals.

You furiously type up a text to Lindsay.

Lindsay, I’m sorry. I want to help James and everyone else, and I’d hate to let Key down—

You stop as you type that. Would future you hate you or love you for this decision? Probably both. The unknown is scary, but what you might do to one of these group’s managers scares you even more. You don’t need to be in jail and all over the news.

— but I can’t do this anymore. I’m going through with terminating my contract early

It was only there for a split second, but you swore you saw a message from Lindsay only for it to disappear.

Lindsay Come see me on your next off day.

The true power of a billionaire’s daughter is having mansions in multiple countries. This one is nicer than the one in America, though. It’s clear she stays in Korea a lot more.

“Please, sit. I’ll have Misook bring in some tea.” Lindsay gestures at the woman standing by the wall patiently as you sit opposite her on the other couch.

“Misook, can you please bring some chamomile tea for me and my friend? Add a teaspoon of honey and ensure it isn’t too hot when you bring it over.”

Misook agrees with a warm smile and bows before doing just that. Then Lindsay turns to you and you get this feeling in your gut. A similar feeling to how you felt on the plane ride here. Something about her patient smile unsettles you.

“SM sucks, huh?” She squints and wrinkles her nose at you. You clench your teeth and smile, hesitantly agreeing.

“It’s just not for me.”

“Every time I get home from a meeting I feel like a ball of stress. Work stress is worse than regular stress, it’s harder to get rid of.” She lets out a lighthearted chuckle and you’re starting to understand your unsettled feeling. This casual air to the way she speaks to you doesn’t feel natural. And you hate that the thought comes to mind, but what does she know about work?

“Yeah, the tea is very thoughtful actually.” You both laugh insincerely. The laughter prolongs awkwardly, like one person is waiting for the other to stop.

“Tea won’t do it, girl! I'm telling you, I’ve tried so many things. The only thing that truly gets rid of the stiffness is good dick.” 

Misook is back and you’re glad you’re both speaking English. She sets the delicate china in front of each of you.

“How have the men here been treating you? Same shit, huh?” She lifts the small saucer and teacup, nodding at you before taking a sip. You follow suit, delaying your response. You actually don’t like tea, but you’re hoping the calming effect everyone talks about is real.

“Actually, I haven’t had sex since I got here. Well, longer than that but you know what I mean.”

Lindsay slams her saucer to the table and gawks at you. “You what?!”

Before you could deescalate her energy, she is standing up and making her way to you. She sits next to you and gathers your hands in her lap. With a passionate look, she says,

“No wonder you’re so stressed out! Doll, you have to let it out! You literally work around hot men all the time!” She shakes your hands for emphasis and you slowly slip them away to lessen the sudden overstimulation.

“Ahem, no. None of them are my type, and—”

“And nothing! If you’re about to tell me you’re too scared to have sex with an idol because you could get in trouble, then you’re crazy! If anyone knows how to not get caught doing something they aren’t supposed to, it’s k-pop idols.” She stands in front of you like a hero who just rescued a civilian.

“And not only that, they are itching for it. When you have to sneaky link for sex every time, you start to have less of it. It’s exhausting! But it only makes you crave it more. Who is your type.”

“Well Taemin is my ultimate—”

“No. Someone still in the company.”

“Um… I don’t know. I—”

“Someone like Caleb? Strong, nice smile, dog-like energy? Unfortunately who I'm thinking of is a bit of a… package deal.” The look in Lindsay’s eyes when she glances up at you makes you wonder if she knows exactly what you’re thinking. Your mind goes straight to what’s been plaguing your mind since you got here.

‘... but I met these two? I kid you not. It’s like being with real life Rafayel and Caleb. My two favs!’

“Those two you said remind you of Raf and Caleb…” You start and she perks up. “They’re under SM?” 

They very well could be. Before you slipped out of the fandom, so many groups had debuted. You just weren’t interested in anyone other than the groups who got you into k-pop in the first place. Still… wouldn’t you have at least heard it from the LaDS fandom? You hear about that one twenty-year old from that survival show group who looks like a baby Sylus, never a duo that resembles Caleb and Rafayel.

“Yeah. D’you want their numbers?” Lindsay’s phone seems to teleport into her hand as she points it to you. 

“N-no! Do you know how weird that is?”

How weird this all is. Is she telling you to use the musicians you work with? If someone did this to you, you’d slap them across the face. 

“Weird? They’re practically begging for it. I bet you’ve noticed how feral Yizhuo is.”

“No, Lindsay. That’s not why I’m here. I don’t use my access to celebrities to sleep with them, it sounds predatory.”

Lindsay's face pinches then, plainly expressing her disfavor. She straightens it out shortly after, tapping on her phone. You have no clue what she’s up to until your phone buzzes. You slip it out to see a link to download an app. SCR is the name of it, and it looks sketchy as all get out. You look at her questioningly. 

“Don’t believe me,” she gestures at your phone, encouraging you to download it, “see for yourself.”

CHAPTER TWOˋ°•*⁀➷

To be clear, any group of people when using an app where evidence of what they say can’t be traced would say pretty racy things. Regardless of fame level or profession. These idols just have more resources with more restrictions to boot. Still, you’re not going to pretend these messages didn’t catch you off guard. Once you finally downloaded it, you were faced with UI that can only hint to some sort of malware on your phone. You couldn’t look at the app for long at first because it gave you a headache. The first message to you was from Lindsay. You couldn’t help but notice you never signed up, yet your full name is your display name. Lindsay’s being the same makes you feel at least a little more at ease. 

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Once you see this message, lmk.

You text her back, awaiting this evidence she seemed so confident about. Instead you get… instructions?

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Welcome to SCR! Wondering what that stands for? It’s pretty cut and dry! It stands for Secret Chat Room! It was created by someone just like you who was constantly surveilled and needed an escape. We apologize in advance for what the background of the app might do to your eyes, but you have to understand it’s needed! You see, this specific pattern causes a glitch in most phone cameras that warps any pictures taken of it. As for screenshots, if you have ever used snapchat you know you get notified if anyone takes a screenshot. The same goes for SCR. They are also strictly prohibited. Any screenshots taken will notify not only the users in that chat, but me, Kim Heechul, as well. We will work together to ensure the photos no longer exist. That will be a hassle for both of us, so let’s not take it there ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Anyway, enjoy your time with SCR!

You drop your phone onto your bed and rub away your chill bumps. Why is this message so… threatening? He’ll ensure the photo no longer exists? You shudder as you lift your phone again. This is the closest you’ve ever felt to the deep or dark web or whatever it’s called. This feeling only intensifies when you see one of the groups Lindsay invites you to. 

Cheesily named “Gossip Girls”, this is the only chat you’re in with zero idols in it. It’s full of all of the non-idols that managed to get an invite. This is a very deliberate decision, because all they do is gossip about idols. This is how you find out Yuri is currently… We'll say deciding between a few men. None of them have any clue according to this stylist. You learned about an orgy, some 4th gen idol getting herpes and then taking a sick leave, fights that broke out, and groups/members that have beef. Your heart races as you look over these career ruining pictures sent to the group chat. Drugs, sex, and just all around delinquent behavior. In just thirty minutes of being glued to your phone, you had so many public images ruined for you. 

What they say is true, these idols are not who you think they are. You knew this, but seeing so much being confirmed in such a short amount of time winded you. You had to take a break. How do these girls do this all day? Then you felt it… that hint of exhilaration. You are (slightly) ashamed of yourself for opening that group chat back up to feel that rush of utter shock. It was then that you saw a picture of a once princely L from Infinite being very unprincely that you decided it was enough for the day. Your bingo card for the next one million years would have never included L snorting crack from someone’s asshole and you seeing it with your own two eyes.

“Wow…” You exhale shakily. Just like post-nut clarity, you feel extremely disgusted the longer you sit on what you saw. Not in them, in yourself and everyone spreading these photos and rumors. Isn’t the whole point of the app to escape prying eyes? That gossip girl group chat feels like reading gross tabloids or rubbing elbows with sasaengs. 

You let days pass by without opening that god forsaken app. Thankfully there are no notifications for the app, so it was a peaceful separation. 

This weekend is the first in a while where you and NingNing are both free. You flip a coin and decide the two of you are playing Animal Crossing today. You go from having a cute date to being stuck in a loop of whacking each other on the head with your nets. 

“Ooooh if there was a fart option so help me!” NingNing growls. You cease your whacking as the most visceral image is triggered into your mind of L snorting that crack from a crack and since NingNing unfortunately mention farting–

You shout loudly in an attempt to force the image from your brain, tossing your switch like a frisbee to the other side of your bed. “Oh my GOD!” You screech like you just witnessed an unimaginable eldritch horror. 

“What?! What?!” She sounds worried, but you can still hear the cartoonish swish and womp of her net upside your poor villager’s head. 

“Why L??! Why?!” You wail in agony before falling forward onto the bed. 

“Oh, right. Lindsay told me she invited you to SCR. I feel like it’s a… what’s it called… canon event for everyone to fall out of love with their favorite idol after downloading it.” She laughs crassly before stuffing her mouth with chips. She knows? She knows about this and she’s this casual? Your mind is permanently altered!

“You–! Did you see the picture too? Doing crack is one thing. Snorting it out of someone else’s ass is–”

“He did what?!” Only then does the whacking finally cease. You sit there, feeling like the physical manifestation of a question mark. 

“You didn’t know?”

“How did you know that?”

Upon learning about gossip girls, NingNing demanded to be added. There was no way in hell you were making that decision so you redirected her to Lindsay. She immediately hangs up on you, only to call you back about five minutes later. 

“So?”

“Check the group chat! Everyone is freaking out!” She laughs mischievously. You take a deep breath as you eye the group chat moving quickly. You shut your eyes as you press the group. When you crack your eye open, you see all hell breaking loose. The group chat is not happy about an idol being there, panicking about the messages they sent and the lack of an option to delete them. 

“Is this what they’re saying about me?” NingNing laughs, presumably doing the same thing that you and everyone else is doing and searching her name to see how heinous the rumors about her are. 

Ning Yizhuo`⎚⩊⎚´ -✧ oh… is that all you guys said about me? I’ll have you know, Sungchan and I did not date. We did fuck though ;))

The group chat explodes again, seemingly accepting another degenerate into their little club. Speaking of degeneracy…

You hadn’t checked the other group chats you were invited to. The first one you check is named “Scheduling”. A little vague and scary, but it turned out to be one of the guesses you had. An idol sends a message of when they’re free and, well, looking to score. They ask anyone interested and that meets the criteria they outline to message them privately, so the chat is full of requests and no responses. You see requests from lots of idols, but what you’re starting to gather from this and the next group chat is that some idols aren’t on this app, for obvious reasons. More importantly, SHINee is nowhere to be found. You can’t believe the disappointment that nips at you. 

The next one seems like a general group chat with what must be everyone on the app in it. It’s pretty similar to gossip girls, with the exception that you see the degeneracy of the idols from the source. You catch yourself laughing at some of the messages. 

“Oh! I almost forgot. If you’re on the app, you should join this one.” Says NingNing with her mouth full as another group chat pops up on your screen. “00-04z”.

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

Lindsey Liu꒰੭ believe me yet?

You suppose you don’t have a frame of reference, but this is a bit what you expected all celebrities to be like. But you haven’t seen, say, Emma Watson taking a selfie mid-coitus. But if you said you didn’t feel like you were introduced to an entirely new world, you would be lying. You’d also be lying if you said you didn’t look up interviews with every idol you find something out about to compare. That kept you up far past your bedtime.

It was 3am when you decided to open the chat NingNing invited you to. You felt like you were stranded in unfamiliar territory. It was filled with idols you didn’t recognize. You’re positioned back to when you were first added. The conversation continues without anyone mentioning you. Only for a bit.

Han Jisung⓪⓪ hey

Baek Jiheon⓪③ rock paper scissors?

Yoon Sanha⓪⓪ are you in preschool? lol no. 

Han Jisung⓪⓪ kids.

Baek Jiheon⓪③ come ooonnnn!!! T__T

Kim Chaehyun⓪② There’s only one spot left. We have to decide.

Han Jisung⓪⓪ fresh meat

Yoon Keeho⓪① ?

Park Sohyun⓪② huh?

Zhong Chenle⓪① where?

Yang Jungwon⓪④ Why would you say it like that…

Kim Suyeon⓪③ new member? Where?

Han Jisung⓪⓪ … the only member with their name in english

Your head is already spinning from the amount of unfamiliar names, reading these messages about you only makes things worse. You find yourself holding your breath despite knowing this conversation happened hours ago.

Choi Jongho⓪⓪ Can they even understand us? haha

Yoon Keeho⓪① AYE. You there?

Ning Yizhuo⓪② Guys omg lol. That’s my girl friend. She’s ‘00.

Park Sohyun⓪② A girl????

Yoon Sanha⓪⓪ yessss. another point for zero-zeros.

Jang Eunseong⓪⓪ Another point for GIRL zero-zeros. We were drowning :*)

Yoon Sanha⓪⓪ maybe she could come lolololololol

Baek Jiheon⓪③ WHAT?! 

Yu Jimin⓪⓪ She hasn’t even spoken yet lol. NingNing?

Ning Yizhuo⓪② She’ll come eventually. She’s a little shy.

Zhou Xinyu⓪② awwwwww

Na Jaemin⓪⓪ Shy? ;3

Oh god, what was NingNing doing? She could have lied and said you were asleep. She’s not lying, but there’s something about being introduced as shy. Some people see it as a challenge. Those are the vibes you’re getting from this Jaemin character. Just from one text.

Na Jaemin⓪⓪ Someone spell out the pronunciation of her name in Hangul

That ‘Keeho’ person does it, and you watch in horror as they speculate about your attributes. If you’re tall or short, what your ethnicity is, and as Jaemin put it,

Na Jaemin⓪⓪ Is she as cute as you’re making her seem, NingNing?

Ning Yizhuo⓪② Ha Ha. Yeaaahh, stay away from her you junkie.

As you scroll down, you notice that he seems to be very curious about you. Everyone is, as you’re the first non-idol to be added to the chat. You can’t help feeling like a carcass with several vultures circling overhead. 

Your blinks get heavier and heavier until you drift into a different room. You’re tangled in red, satin sheets like the last tv show you watched. It feels nice, far nicer and more vivid than it should. You want to sink deeper when you feel a pair of hands on you. The hands sizzle against your cool skin, wasting no time getting under your flimsy slip and fondling you. You would be shocked if it didn’t feel so good. With two hands on your breasts, you feel another cup your heat. A strangled moan breaks free from your lips as you close your thighs around the hand. The first pair pries them back open. The omniscient sense that only exists in your dreams tells you that you know these two men. You can hear a dog tag jingling as the second one slips your panties to the side. If that’s Caleb, and this is your dream, the second has to be Sylus. But no, there is purple hair in your peripheral. Rafayel and Caleb… you feel lust skitter up your legs to your lower stomach. You bite your lip as a finger slips into your heat. You peer over at Rafayel as his finger slips into your mouth. 

“Is she as cute as you’re making her seem, NingNing?” He turns to someone in the doorway. As soon as you follow his eyeline, Lindsay slams the door shut. You jolt from the noise back into consciousness. You peer at your front door as if Lindsay would be there, your skin still feeling seared where those hands were.

Your lustful bliss wasn’t able to ease you through your work day unfortunately. As your bosses and the group’s managers pried any tranquility from you, you focus more on the strange part of the dream. Lindsay’s eyes become more haunting. Your last visit to her house is all you can think about. Then you start to pick apart all the other times you spoke with her–

“Are you listening? Hey! This is fucking garbage. What the hell were you thinking?!” One of the A&R managers, Mr. Myeong snaps in front of your face before banging his fist into the keyboard. You can’t stop your hands before they lurch toward the keyboard to stop him. He screws something up with your project, so you just apologize, dodge his eyes, and reach for your mouse. He smacks it away, cursing at you. You grasp your hand, looking up at him in disbelief. Bad idea. He chuts and almost shoves you straight out of the chair. You stumble away, barely catching yourself.

He mutters under his breath, clacking at the keyboard and clicking the mouse like it personally affronted him. 

“How many times do we have to correct you before you get it right?”

You hazard a glance toward the monitor. You gasp, covering your mouth as you watch him delete the entire project. He moves to your other pro tools files, highlighting all of them. You lunge toward him, grabbing his hand on the mouse before shouting for him to stop.

 He rips his hand away, standing from the chair and giving you the most disgusted look you’ve ever been given. He swiftly raises his hand and you flinch, guarding yourself. 

“Piece of trash…” He says under his breath before storming out of the room. Your heart thunders against your chest with each of his footsteps away from the media room. You don’t realize that you’re still guarding your face and lower your arms. You stand there, staring at your feet but really at nothing at all. You raise your shaky hands before balling them into fists.

The next two weeks feel like torture. You don’t dread work like normal people do. You prepare yourself for the emptying of your will and passion every time you clock in. Your bosses keep criticizing your messily tucked in shirt or mismatched socks but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. 

You can feel yourself starting to hate producing.

You’ve made up your mind.

You’re going to quit.

Lindsay keeps texting you, but even deciding whether or not to answer is another layer of stress you can’t afford. You catch a glimpse of her celebrating her card pulls and you feel guilt tug at you. It’s just too much. Admitting your mom was right isn’t half as bad as suffering through this job.

I’m going to miss you, NingNing :((((

NingNing Ughhhh, I guess we can still talk about LaDS but that’s already what I was doing before! I want to talk about LaDS with someone I already know IN REAL LIFE!!

You pout for her, sitting on the edge of your bed with the horrendous posture you’ve adopted. As you type your response, something hits you and you backspace it all.

Why don’t you talk about it with Lindsay?

NingNing Oh PLEASE. She would just tell me to shut up.

Why would she do that, you think. But you suppose those two do have a sibling-esque dynamic. You exhale deeply before lying back on your bed. Your legs draw together like they do every time you get home nowadays. Especially after that dream, you can’t help touching yourself as soon as you get home. You bite your lip as you slip your work pants off and your underwear. Lately everything has been arousing you. You can’t watch any movie or show with a sex scene or else you’ll end up rewinding over and over until you get off and feel disgusted with yourself. Men at work with tight pants, women at work with tight blouses. Everything sets you off. It’s excruciating since masturbating or humping your bed like you’re doing now isn’t cutting it.

Forget someone finding out you work at SM, you don’t even have time for sex. That, and there was something so sweet about rotting your mind to porn. Love and Deepspace smut was great, but you had to use too much brain power. With porn, you could just turn it off. 

By month four of working at SM, you were a husk. The only thing that made something break through were the worried looks on the idol’s faces when they worked with you and the hurt texts from Lindsay. 

“I appreciate that you’re finally listening to instruction, but can you please speak louder?” dearALICE’s manager pats you on the back before humming encouragingly. He was less upfront about his disrespect, and you can’t decide if that was better or worse. He didn’t understand personal space and his only mode of speaking was sarcasm and backhanded compliments.

Despite feeling like the puppet they always wanted you to be, you still received “notes” at the next meeting. The next A&R staff assembly included a portion about enthusiasm and the cons of having a resting bitch face. Basically they want you to be a puppet and be happy about it. That’s a step too far for you. They’re getting what they want anyway. They keep bringing it up until you’re being pulled to the side by Chris himself about your strange behavior. It’s not that you’re being a smartass, you just don’t have it in you to emote while speaking to him. 

“Can you at least try to smile? D’you know how disrespectful it is to reply like an annoyed teen to your higher ups? Cut it out!” He shouts, through with trying to hide the fact that he’s scolding you on the side of the hall. Your coworkers walk past, looking confused and scared by the outburst.

You can’t catch a break from your coworkers either. To them, you’re an unenthusiastic trouble maker. Pretty much everyone in the building hates you. It doesn’t matter, you won’t be bothering them for much longer. 

Lindsay seems more erratic this particular day, blowing up your phone to the point you have to put it on do not disturb.

You get home and the cycle repeats. You strip down, hump your hand until you cum, turn on porn to do it again, turn on one of the more salacious sex scenes you can’t stop thinking about to do it again. And right as sleep is cradling you, the dream is vivid in your mind. You think of the soft satin against your legs, the fingers in your mouth and in your cunt and you jut into your hand one last time. Then you drift to sleep, the exhaustion at its peak. 

CHAPTER THREEˋ°•*⁀➷

No matter how many times your alarm goes off at five a.m., you always find yourself in a battle with your nineteen year old self. Because it still doesn’t seem real that you have a real job. With a schedule. And a fucking evaluation each quarter.

NingNing are you not seeing the gc? Lindsay just sent something CRAZY

You choose to ignore her text for one simple reason. It’s much too early to translate. You’re already grouchy from the impending evaluation, you’d rather just hurry and get ready for your first scheduled session. 

And throughout all three hours of said session, your phone is buzzing into oblivion. You have to wonder if a cartoonish vein is popping out of your forehead when one of the members stops singing in the booth. You look up to see not only him, but everyone else in the studio staring at you. 

“Juliette, if you need to excuse yourself for a moment to answer your phone, please do so.” Says the boys’ manager, looking unimpressed with your attitude. Embarrassed, you immediately stand up, bowing at everyone in the room and softly apologizing in Korean. 

You rush out in the hall, half of you just excited to be relieved of the tension you caused and the other half is eager to mute NingNing and Lindsay. Both of them are urging you to check the gossip girls group chat. You search for the app, forgetting what it’s called since you rarely use it. The less familiar logo is grouped with the other messaging apps. SCR… right, you think, and what does that mean again?

You’re tempted to delete it since it’s collecting dust, but deep down you know exactly why you won’t. You pretty much pass out as soon as you get home, so you haven’t checked it. But you haven’t forgotten the new world that has opened up to you.

The group chat has over 999+ unread messages. You’re not sure just how much that plus is hinting at since you rarely open it, but you remember there being significantly less the last time you glanced at the home page. And that wasn’t that long ago. That’s when you see the previews of the messages flying by. 

their shoulders are so broad, it gets me… this is so strange Lindsay, do you know their type? I wa… kinda horny now lololol I bet they only like really skinny girls… So what’s their size? Don’t leave us… i’d pay just to see it lol god they would KILL on onlyfans

… What in the world is going on? You tap the group chat at the speed of light. Frustratingly you’re positioned where you left off two months ago. When you finally get to what you assume NingNing is freaking out about, you see that it’s already translated for you.

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Hello dolls, As some of you may know, I am moving back to Shanghai for the time being :*(. I know, I’m so sad! I’ll miss seeing your gorgeous, gorgeous faces in real life. Anyway, I’ve decided to leave you guys with a parting gift. Me being the only person to experience this feels like a waste. One of you has got to have sex with Nomin.

You gasp, hugging your phone against your chest. Your thighs clench on their own, feeling that lust creep through your bloodstream. God, not right now. The door creaks open and you feel your soul threatening to leave your body. 

“Are you okay?” The manager peeks his head out, looking just as annoyed as he always is.

“I-I’m sorry, there’s an emergency!” Your face is sizzling hot as you lock your phone. His face gradually softens. 

“You don’t look too good, you can take a short break–”

“Okay, thanks!” You rush toward a bathroom, any bathroom. Only when you’re locked in a stall do you feel yourself calm down. Your face is still hot to the touch as you unlock your phone. You have to admit, Lindsay really caught you off guard. God… if someone had glanced over your shoulder, you would’ve had your ass handed to you. Despite what their artists sing about and how they dance, SM is a very sexless place. Any innuendos or allusions to sex are strictly prohibited. A part of you felt like that was only targeted at you because you were American (not that you would blame them). But after being here for four months, you’ve gotten very used to the sterile environment. 

You’re already so sensitive to anything suggestive. Is she joking? If she is, it is a little funny. You think to message her that before you continue. 

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Don’t worry, I won’t be jealous or anything. If you know me, then you know I refuse to be attached to any man lol. But you should know that they don’t just fuck anybody. From what they’ve told me, they don’t look at most girls. They’re very particular about the girls they seek out. If you ask me, that’s exactly why they barely have threesomes lol.

The first of many thoughts to surface is that Lindsay is clearly not joking. The next is a glaring question.

Who is Nomin?

You know better than to assume the k-pop industry debuted a nonbinary idol, so you’re not surprised when your google search returns two men. You’re also not surprised that you don’t recognize them since they debuted around the time you stopped caring about new groups. You recognize one of the names, you figure it must be from one of the group chats. They’re handsome, though. Very much so. They’re both charming in their own way, and you can see why they’re paired up. The vibes are reminiscent of the classic cat/dog dynamic you’ve seen. You tap your index finger against your lips as you sift through the images. They have nice physiques. They’re okay, I’ll always be a Taemin girl, though. You spin your ring mindlessly, unable to tear your eyes away from Jeno’s bare torso.

Right, the message.

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Here, I’ve compiled for you the steps to attempt to get Nomin’s attention. Just to get it out of the way because it's obvious, you have to be up for a threesome. Even I couldn’t get one of them alone. Also, no idols. Upsetting one fandom is already horrifying, upsetting two is just reckless. Anyway, Tip One: - Don’t try so hard. If you look as good as they do, you get suitors constantly. And having to constantly deal with loud and unsubtle people is annoying. Besides, no one likes desperation. Tip Two: - If you’re going to change up your style and approach, don’t lay it on thick in either direction. Don’t become a BDSM dungeon master with your breasts practically falling out of your shirt. I bet you would look great, but you’d be ignoring tip one. But don’t put on that weird demure act either. If you’re covered head to toe and pretend to be sex averse, how are they supposed to know you want to fuck them? - (extra hint: dress casually, but give them something to… you know. A shirt just tight enough or a skirt just short enough they think their dirty thoughts were their own fault. Just off the top of my head, something like a graphic tee that’s slightly cropped with high waisted jeans that cover your midriff. Make sure the shirt hugs you just right 😉)

You laugh to yourself. Graphic tee she says. She could’ve just said t-shirt, but she’s making it very obvious. Perhaps on purpose. You pinch your jacket closed as if someone can see you right now. You’re wearing the same shirt you had on when you met her, now that you think about it. 

Tip Three: - A quick Do & Don’t for you: DON’T pretend to be their biggest fan. Name a single idol who has dated a fan. Exactly. DO become the best fan fiction character you can be. And I mean best. Don’t go to their concert and read a book, that’s ignoring tip one again. Don’t say you hate their music or hate boy groups. Subtler. Say you love boy groups. Hell, say you love SM groups… but you’re not very familiar with new ones. Throw an older group out there like I don’t know… SHINee. I think that’s why they reached out to me, being a 2PM fan and all. I wouldn’t have even looked their way on my own and I think that excited them.

That tip is the final straw for you. That one message was correct, this is strange. If she wanted to recommend you… have sex with those two, why wouldn’t she just message you? And are they even aware of all this? It all rubs you the wrong way and you start to text her exactly that. Lindsay beats you to it, though.

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Have you read the group chat at all?

Yes, what the hell.

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ What did you think of the tips ;)

Lindsay. Don’t you think this is a little inappropriate?

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Hey, I said they don’t like the innocent act.

I’m not participating in this! It feels icky. Am I crazy?

You exit out of her chat to message NingNing the same thing. You can’t be going crazy. This is weird. You fan yourself and exhale.

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ A little!! :D 

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ They’re already texting me that they’re going to be so lonely and horny when I leave… they may even have to play with each other to cope…

My GOD Lindsay.

You swipe the messenger away entirely, only noticing then how hard your heart is beating. You close your eyes and your mind immediately betrays you and paints the images you saw of Jeno and Jaemin together vividly. You ease onto the toilet, hands pressing against the stall on either side of you. The images refuse to cease and you let your thighs squeeze just a little. 

Your phone buzzes and you send a ball of saliva back to roll down your parched throat before opening the app again. 

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Last time I checked on you, you told me you haven’t been getting any play recently. They’re going to be in the same boat soon.

Lindsay Liu꒰੭ Remember what I told you? Idols have to be picky about who they sleep with and how often they do it. I know you’re thinking about quitting because this job isn’t what you saw yourself doing, but you aren’t utilizing the perks, doll </3 !

The perks? Your perks are a discount at the SM cafe, 15 days of paid time off per year, a free bus pass, and making your passion your job. Getting closer to celebrities so you can fuck them sounds like something scumbag villains in Kdramas do.

No, this is wrong. There’s something about Lindsay that just feels off. You think back to that picture she sent you. You scroll through all her unanswered texts to you until you see it. She sent two pics, one of the five star card she pulled and the other of all ten cards. Why does NingNing feel she has no one to talk about Love and Deepspace with?

You reverse image search her pictures and it pulls up a reddit post. It’s the exact same freeze frame from the video that plays when you pull that card. And the ten pulls are identical.

NingNing Oh it’s absoLUTELY weird. But I wouldn’t put it past those two to be that freaked out.

NingNing Whatever you do, don’t tell 00-04z about this. It’ll be our little secret.

NingNing It’s going to be funny to see everyone try and fail to seduce them lol

Each of NingNing’s messages slide down at the top of your screen, replacing the previous. You completely forgot about that group chat. Jaemin…

Is she as cute as you’re making her seem, NingNing?

You hurry back to the recording room, apologizing and bowing 90 degrees to everyone in the room.

“Get over there already. How long are you going to make everyone wait?”

“I’m so sorry.” You say as you skitter over to the mixing desk. As soon as your thighs press against the seat and push against your vulva, you clench your thigh tighter, unable to stop yourself.

The minute you get home, you fumble with your keys trying to get in as fast as you can. You burst through the door and throw your purse off before practically ripping your clothes off. You don’t have to wait until you’re close to sleeping for that dream to appear behind your eyelids today. It’s all you could think about once you put a face to those words you’ve been replaying in your brain. You have another face now, too. You whimper as you stroke your aching clit. You replace Rafayel and Caleb with these new faces. It’s so wrong, but you can’t help yourself. It feels like the dream finally progressed. You have something to put in you other than fingers. Two things you want to shove anywhere they’ll fit.

You shove your face into the covers as a despaired moan is pulled from your body. Cum oozes over your fingers as you continue to hammer them into your throbbing hole. You cum five times until you have nothing else left and your poor nub starts to hurt. Only then does the guilt truly set in. Are these two meant to be the Caleb and Rafayel duo? They look nothing like them. And which is which? You laugh to yourself, mental and physical exhaustion dragging you to hysterics.

She got you.

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

Every time NingNing tries to talk to you, you get distracted by the people with huge, hulking cameras following you.

“The guys are– ignore them. They follow me everywhere.” NingNing seems completely unbothered when she mentions that, but it sure bothers you. Even with her bodyguard following close behind. It takes her a few more tries to get your attention.

“Hey!! Everyone in the 00-04 group chat is confused. I invited someone and they don’t even speak in the group chat. You’re making both of us look weird!” She nudges you, her Americano jostling in her hand. You don’t know how to tell her that you’re terrified to open it after you came to the thought of Jaemin and Jeno on three separate occasions now. You don’t even know them from a can of paint but you’ve imagined them in every possible position. 

“I dunno, it feels awkward.” You speak low and lean a little closer, unnerved by the amount of people looking at the two of you. 

“They’ll love you! They’re already excited to meet you! Especially Jaemin, idiot won’t stop bringing you up.” She mutters the last part, clearly not the biggest fan. You hurriedly sip your latte to hide any suspicious facial expressions. 

“J-Jaemin?” You sputter after swallowing your drink haphazardly. Great going, genius.

“Yeah, ugh. Anyway, if you were in the group chat, you’d know we were planning to go to Switzerland in December. We have a huge chalet booked because we intended for twenty people to come, and we even got twenty multi-day passes for skiing. Long story short, too many people dropped out for comfort so we’re kinda scrambling. Are you interested?” NingNing looks over just in time to catch the twinkle in your eyes. She laughs mischievously as you try to fix your face. You’re not the biggest fan of going somewhere colder for vacation, but any vacation sounds good right now.

“How long are we gonna be there? Did you already buy plane tickets? What day in December should we–”

“My GOD girl! I’m guessing that’s a yes. Since we’re leaving the country we’re thinking two weeks. Is that good?”

You peer over at NingNing, a smile slowly fading in for both of you.

“Tell me more.”

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

Michelle link

Michelle Happy to see you’re doing well. Would’ve loved to hear this directly from you but you barely speak to me anymore.

Of all the consequences of you going all in on work, losing your best friend was the hardest one. You didn’t realize you favored texting or calling NingNing about one of your many shared interests over reaching out to your friend until she sent you that. You cautiously click on the chat, knowing that your read receipts are on and you’ll have to answer as a consequence of wanting to know what that link is.

Underground Producer Juliette spotted with aespa’s NingNing Coming From a Coffee Shop. Fans Speculate Over a Possible Solo Project For The Idol

Will that always be your title? How long has it been since you left the underground?

Those were your initial thoughts until this article kept coming back to haunt you. It was shared in three out of four of the group chats you were in. You’re getting more DMs from artists than you ever have (long after you needed them). You, of course, were scolded at work. And you have your first direct message on SCR that isn’t from NingNing or Lindsay.

Na Jaemin Is that you with NingNing in that picture 👀

You immediately ignore the message. Your excitement is simply too great to handle right now. You can’t have him sensing your sins. 

Instead, you finally hazard a glance of the 00-04z group chat.

Zhou Xinyu⓪② Ooouuuu she’s cute :3

Jung Sungchan⓪① how do we even know that’s her

Jung Sungchan⓪① the article says juliette

Choi Beomgyu⓪① tha’ts her stge name dumbass

Huh Yunjin⓪① Learn how to spell b4 calling someone else a dumbass lmaooo

Bae Jinsol⓪④ idk if this is inappropriate to say, y’all will let me know anyway lol but her clothes fit her just right

Park Sohyun⓪② JUST right

Park Sunghoon⓪② oh here cum the lesbians

Park Sohyun⓪② Sunghoon’s just mad Xinyu rejected him for me lolololol

Yoon Sangah⓪② lolololol

Oh Haewon⓪③ lolololol

Shen Quanrui⓪④ lolololol

Kim Sunoo⓪③ lolololol

Park Sunghoon⓪② Sunoo whose side are you on??

Kim Sunoo⓪③ … the gays? tf

Jake Sim⓪② Just saw the pic y’all are talking about… that’s my type haha

Baek Jiheon⓪③ And what is that (,,◕.◕,,)

Jake Sim⓪② Not stick thin😏 I like some meat on the bone

Baek Jiheon⓪③ (ಠ⌣ಠ)

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Now y’all are speaking my language lol who are we talking about

Zhong Chenle⓪① you never come in here and when you do you refuse to scroll up smh

Everyone reacts in shock to his message, including you. This is your first time seeing his name outside of a search bar. Every time you tell yourself to stop picturing these poor men in indecent situations you feel it more vividly. Jeno’s sweaty chest as he ruts into from behind and Jaemin’s sweaty shoulders under your palms while you take it. I mean… both of them seem somewhat interested… so you can't be that bad, right.

Kim Dayeon⓪③ talking about how you like girls with meat on their bones as if it’s OUR FAULT WE’RE SKINNY. JELLYFISH STRIPPED ME OF MY MEAT.

Jake Sim⓪② Calm down pls T__T I promise I wasn’t dissing skinny girls, I love all women. You’re all beautiful

Jay Park⓪② Damn straight

Kim Dayeon⓪③ Alright then >:(

Baek Jiheon⓪③ I forgive you (♡°▽°♡)

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Wait, so who’s Juliette 

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Is she here?

Lee Donghyuck⓪⓪ scroll up farther for god sake

He could scroll up… or you could just…

Hello. Um, you guys are right, my name isn’t Juliette.

… get things started. You properly introduce yourself for the first time in this group chat. Everyone properly introduces themselves, and you find Sohyun, Xinyu, Jinsol, and Jake in your DMs. It’s far too much attention to handle. You feel a little dizzy from all the emotions demanding your attention.

Na Jaemin⓪⓪ Look at my messages;3

“Oh right.” You panic and switch to his DMs, not expecting new messages. 

Na Jaemin So you are as cute

You chew on your lip, feeling as though releasing it would release a whine as well. The heat brewing in your core is intense. You can feel the base of your thighs dampening. It’s like he knows just what to say to drive you crazy.

Na Jaemin I wanna see you

Your breath catches, rereading the word as if it would help you decode it. He couldn’t be asking to meet up so he must mean– Oh…

He’s asking for it.

Na Jaemin Nonononoo lololol I’m sorry, I’m just used to being forward on this app. That was disrespectful. Idk why this app brings it out of me.

No, you’re okay. 

If I’m honest… It does that to me too.

Right about now you would be throwing your phone away, too scared to see his response, but you’re glued to the screen. The typing indicator appears before disappearing. It never comes back. You decide to check the group chat while you wait when you see it.

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Ah…

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ I know that name. Are you friends with Lindsay?

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Whatever weird shit she said to you, don't spread it here

Shit. Shit. You were right. God, you should have immediately warned them about the messages she sent to gossip girls. Instead you’re sitting here drooling and implicating yourself. The chat goes from fawning over you to wondering what you and Lindsay did to piss Jeno off. 

You knew it. You knew this was weird and you knew you shouldn’t have gone into that stupid group chat. You already took off those two weeks in December, and you were really looking forward to a getaway where you didn’t have to pay for plane tickets or a place to stay. Did you just blow it? 

Ning Yizhuo⓪② Noooo she’s not close to Lindsay, Lindsay just helped her get this job and helps her out from time to time.

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Oh yeah, I forgot you were friends with Lindsay too. Keep your mouth shut, too.

Ning Yizhuo⓪② Why are you acting like you don’t know how Lindsay is? She’s eccentric and out of touch. What else do you expect from a billionaire’s daughter?

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Can she be eccentric to herself?

Ning Yizhuo⓪② You KNOW she can’t do that.

Han Chowon⓪② This is the most I’ve ever seen Jeno active in this gc lol

You want to say something or apologize, but truthfully you don’t know what he’s actually referring to. What if you just implicate yourself further.

Zhou Xinyu⓪② Ugh fuck off Jeno you scared the new girl off

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ And Lindsay scares ME.

Ning Yizhuo⓪② Not enough to stay out of her pants lololol

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Hey

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ How did you know that?

Nakamura Kazuha⓪③ Omg? So it’s true?

Kim Jiwon⓪④ Oh my god…

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ You see what I mean? Lindsay can’t keep her mouth shut, and neither can her little friends

Oh Haewon⓪③ can you chill tf out

Watanabe Haruto⓪④ …

Watanabe Haruto⓪④ so was she good

Yoon Sanha⓪⓪ I was wondering the same lolol she’s so hot

Na Jaemin⓪⓪ Tooootally dude

You think to yourself if the threesome stuff was actually real but you catch yourself and toss that idea. You think of a way to clear your name without hinting at anything more. 

She does say a lot of weird things but I usually tune her out lol

Or just tell her she’s being weird.

Ning Yizhuo⓪② Yeah Lindsay said something totally weird recently and she messaged me privately to see if I thought it was weird too lol

And we’re not really cool like that, promise

Zhou Xinyu⓪② Oh don’t worry about Jeno, he’s just being a diva

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Am I though, because they both just said she says weird things too

Oh Haewon⓪③ SHE’S AN ECCENTRIC BILLLIONAIRE!!!

Zhou Xinyu⓪② Eccentric 👏🏻 Billionaire 👏🏻

Yeah, but still. She does give weird vibes, ngl.

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ And she’s a fucking pathological liar

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ Maybe I should start spilling secrets about her, see how she likes it

Huh Yunjin⓪① YES PLEASE GAWD SOME DRAMA

Yoon Keeho⓪① LMAOOOO

Ning Yizhuo⓪② jiFWLBFIEB

You thought maybe Lindsay was just a nuisance to him in a similar way she is to you. But this hints at something maybe a little deeper. 

Maybe for you as well.

The group chat goes dormant after realizing Jeno was bluffing. He tells everyone in the chat they have a gossip problem and disappears. You refresh the homepage mindlessly, frustration prodding at you. You switch over to your DMs. You notice Jaemin finally texted back. 

Na Jaemin Wait so you know Lindsay?

Na Jaemin Oh you guys aren’t close. Well let me know when she’s coming back if she told you. Or if she’s ever coming back. 

Na Jaemin Idk.

Nothing about his texts indicate that he harbors the same feelings for Lindsay. Maybe he and Jeno aren’t as much of a unit as Lindsay made you believe. You stay with these messages, rereading them and feeling a tinge of pity. 

Well, I definitely know she’s coming back because she has a mansion here.

Na Jaemin What?!

Na Jaemin Well I guess she is rich, but I didn’t know that.

Na Jaemin Are you sure you guys aren’t friends?

One thing you know for absolute certain in these trying times is that you don’t want to be confused to be on Lindsay’s side.

Absolutely not, I haven’t spoken to her in around two months or something lol.

Na Jaemin I seeeee

Na Jaemin Anyway, make sure to text me again sooner than that ;3

The only way you can quell the fluttering in your chest is through a girlish squeal paired with you kicking your feet. Should you be guilty about all this if they reached out to you first?

CHAPTER FOURˋ°•*⁀➷

You cross your foot in front of the other to see the outfit in a different pose. You are unfortunately not allowed to wear a costume to SM’s Halloween party, but you can come. And you can dress up a little bit. Not too flashy, they said. You opted for a blouse with a high neckline with short butterfly sleeves that just cut it off from being a tank top. You thought that was too much already, so you paired it with black slacks. A high bun with two pieces to frame your face shouldn’t be flashy.

Whatever, if you get scolded, you’ll drink. If you get scolded for getting drunk, hopefully they’ll fire you. You smooth your hands over the pants slowly, letting that thought simmer.

Yeah, you haven’t considered that. If they fire you, there won’t need to be a lawsuit. You definitely wouldn’t fight it. But is it too soon to go home? You think about your mother and how she’ll nag you. You think about how you have no friends at home anymore. How NingNing would miss you. 

Are you seriously considering this? You can’t. Not after they killed your passion.

No, you need to go forward with this plan. You made a new friend here, you can do it again back home. And your mom will be alright.

Your uber notifies you that it’s outside and you snatch your purse with renewed vigor. 

You’re going to get fired from SM Entertainment.

The dimly lit venue is enough to get you in the partying spirit. Luckily there are enough people here that you shouldn’t be scolded the entire night. You want to be seen on your worst behavior but you don’t want your buzz killed.

You find NingNing who is dressed as Jobu Tupaki. Specifically her goth outfit. You compliment her and give her a hug. You greet Winter who is dressed in Barbie’s cowgirl outfit, Giselle who is Lola Bunny from Space Jam, and lastly Karina who is Disgust.

“Did you guys do a movie theme?” You ask, a little sad looking at their costumes. The FOMO just set in.

“Nah, we’re just that in sync.” Giselle says with a smirk, wrapping her arms around Winter and Karina. Karina brushes her arms away.

“Yes. We did a movie theme.” Karina explains, shaking her head at Giselle and making an expression that fits her character.

There wasn’t much to do but walk around, talk, eat, and drink alcohol. You made sure to get your grief’s worth in alcohol. You drank for all your forgotten projects, for your crushed dreams, and as a fuck you to your manager who threatened to hit you. That memory had the jello shots flying. NingNing found it amusing but her members were a bit worried. Especially after NingNing starts joining “for the bit”.

‘Can you guys stop’ turns into ‘are you guys gonna stop’ before the other three decide to leave before it gets embarrassing. Thankfully you and NingNing were both giggly drunks so you mostly stood by the wall and laughed at everything and nothing. 

“Look. Omg, look, LOOK!” NingNing shouts as she points across the room very overtly. Thankfully who she’s pointing at doesn’t see her do it. There are two men in similar military-esque costumes. Who they’re specifically dressed as, you can’t tell from this distance, but there’s a girl with her back arched and her ass poked out speaking to them. You would say she looks hot but she’s in a slutty schoolgirl outfit. 

“That outfit?” You nudge NingNing before pointing at your mouth and pretending to gag.

“Yeah, and that violates rule number one AND two.”

In your defense, you were drunk, so your brain was a bit laggy. “Rules? Rules to what?” You slur out, slightly stumbling and bumping into her. 

“My bad. Tips, I mean tips. Tip number one and two. Don’t try too hard and don’t dress extra slutty to get their attention.”

Then it clicks. You didn’t even realize who the two men were. Jaemin takes off his sunglasses, revealing the annoyance in his eyes as he folds them into the collar of his jumpsuit. Jeno has his mask pushed up so his bangs are peeking out, looking everywhere but at the nuisance.

Whoever they're supposed to be, they look damn good. Jeno has a vest on and a black shirt rolled up to his elbows. You can see his forearms flex every time he clenches his fist. Jaemin has his jumpsuit rolled up, too. All you can think about is them putting you in a headlock. You roll your eyes back as you giggle blissfully to yourself. 

“Ooh? Was that reaction for them? Are you gonna throw your hat in the ring?” NingNing gets far too excited, leaning forward to get a better glimpse of your face. You push her back against the wall by her head, shaking yours.

“I’m not playing Lindsay’s little game.” The smile slowly fades from your lips, a bitter taste left in its wake. Suddenly, the girl in the schoolgirl costume is getting escorted out of the building. She doesn’t go out without a fight, shouting back at Jeno and Jaemin for ‘a little help’ just to add more embarrassment. 

Just as the situation escalates and she starts screaming like a banshee, something red obscures your vision. You try to maneuver around it but it keeps moving into your vision. You look up in annoyance to see Mr. Myeong. You feel the warmth drain from your body as your annoyance turns to fear. 

“Who said you can look in my eyes, hm?” He says and you immediately look downward. He cuts his eyes at NingNing and tells her to beat it. She does, but not before looking at you like a sad puppy. He starts to scold you about how much you’ve drank and how you’re two seconds from getting kicked out but you can’t focus on that. The rule was a lie, he’s a staff member and he’s wearing a costume. And not just any costume. In perfect comedic fashion, he’s wearing a devil costume.

Maybe it’s because you really wanted to wear a costume and now you’re re-pissed, but you laugh openly at the situation. You sold your soul to the devil, this evil manager is like the devil, and now he’s standing here scolding you in a devil costume. You laugh even harder. 

“Are you– Are you laughing? Have you lost your mind?” He snaps at you before prodding at your forehead with his finger. You immediately stop laughing. He does it a few more times, asking who you think you are and where you learned your manner from. He asks why Americans are so incompetent and why they even hire ‘the likes of you’. 

At that, you grab his finger before he could make a permanent mark on your forehead. 

“You crazy bitch! Let go of me.” He tries to rip it free but you tighten your grip. By now, a few people are watching. This is it. Your chance. You chuckle a little before leaning closer.

“Forgive me for laughing, it’s just…” You lean next to his ear, digging your fingernails into his finger. “How the fuck am I supposed to take you seriously with that ridiculous costume on?”

He finally breaks free, immediately cocking his hand back. That same hand. But this time you just smile and close your eyes. Everyone is looking now. You’ll be free after this. You take the moment to consider your next move. Maybe you’ll stay here and produce freelance. Whatever you do, you’ll surely be kicked out of SM because the minute he slaps you? He’s getting all the pent up frustration from these four months.

“Hey, hey!” You expected someone to notice, but this unfamiliar voice sounded light, conversational. Like he just found his buddy after looking for him at a party. You snap your eyes open after noticing you haven’t been hit.

Jeno is smiling at the manager, his wrist firmly in Jeno’s grip.

“Let me go– What is wrong with you?!”

“Oh my!” Jeno lets go of the man’s hand to cover his mouth and the manager loses his balance. He falls flat on his ass. “I saw the red and thought you were Xiaojun. I’m so sorry, sir!”

“I– You–! Help me up this instant!” His voice booms, but only you flinch. You look up at Jeno who is approaching you. Realize now that he’s Ghost from Call of Duty. And that this is your first time seeing him up close in real life. His friendly smile flickers away to reveal a grimace. For a second you think it’s aimed at you until he speaks. He leans in to speak next to your ear. 

“Are you okay, that asshole didn’t hit you, did he?” His breath hits your ear and gives you goosebumps. All you can do is shake your head. He doesn’t get to lean back before he’s ripped away from you. 

“Hey! You piece of shit! Mind your own business.” 

Jeno doesn’t hide his glare this time, and Jaemin steps in between. 

“I’ll apologize for him, sir.” Jaemin bows ninety degrees, apologizing heartily to the shorter male. As his torso lowers, you catch a glimpse of Jeno grasping his hand tightly. Mr. Myeong bristles at all three of you now. 

“You sons of bitches! I’ll ruin you all!” He turns to you, wagging his finger. The parts of his skin that aren’t covered by the splotchy red paint are rivaling makeup in color. “I’ll ruin you!”

His words curdle the minute they’re introduced to your system. Ruin? 

Will you have a choice in working in Korea?

“Mr. Myeong, that is unnecessary. I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.” Jaemin outstretches his arms in an attempt to placate but it’s no use. Mr. Myeong just keeps feverishly pointing at you and screaming. 

“You don’t know what she said to me! You weren’t raised to value respect,” Mr. Myeong rolls up his sleeves and a few onlookers gasp, “but I’ll teach you.” He charges forward and swings his hand with more force than last time, closing his fists. You snarl, ready to end all of this. If getting punched by a middle aged man is what it takes to continue producing in Korea, it’s not worth it. You see red, readying your foot and eyeing his crotch.

Unfortunately for him, Jaemin is more focused on blocking the path toward you than stopping Jeno. Jeno presses his two hands to Mr. Myeong’s chest before using all the force his muscular frame can muster to shove the small man to the ground. His body bounces, head knocking against the floor as he slides back far. He's momentarily stunned. Only then does Jaemin switch to stopping Jeno before he pummels Mr. Myeong. His shaking fists are clenched tightly as he tries to shake Jaemin off of him. Jaemin keeps firm on his shoulders and tries to get Jeno to focus on him. It isn’t working.

“Are you going to keep doing this shit? Huh? How long are you gonna keep this shit up?!” Jeno lunges especially hard and nearly slips from Jaemin’s grasp. His words strike you, but you cut your introspection short. This is a mistake you’re only willing to let yourself make. Then suddenly you’re walking over to help Jaemin restrain him.

The security finally intervenes when Mr. Myeong tries to stand back up and stupidly confront Jeno once more. The two of you are having a hard time restraining him right now, if Mr. Myeong had run up? You probably would’ve relented just to get out of the way in time. 

Jeno finally calms as a roaring Mr. Myeong is escorted off the premises, and you finally breathe. You step back from the two men only to be ambushed by four women. 

NingNing stays flanked to your side as everyone recovers from the debacle. Her and her members continually ask if you’re okay, but all you can notice is everyone staring at you. You’re not certain, but you swear you overhear someone’s whisper.

“He said she said something to set him off. I wouldn’t put it past her. She keeps causing trouble.”

There’s a chance you misheard or mistranslated, but your mind already convinced you it made too much sense.

Soon NingNing and her members are carted off by their manager. You watch them make their way to the exit, NingNing saying something to Jeno and pointing at you before Karina urges her to hurry up. You haven’t moved from the wall. Your eyes sink to your legs, knowing whatever is paralyzing you is all in your head.

“Someone made a call or something because there are cameras everywhere out front.”

You hear a male voice closing in followed by another one. 

“That’s okay, we can go out through the back.”

“Do you really think they haven’t thought of that?”

“No one should be leaving through there, they cut it off as a security measure. They might be waiting there now but if we give it a little bit…”

The second voice trailing off made you realize how close they were. You look up to see Jaemin and Jeno for the first time since that mishap. This is when you finally recognize Jaemin’s costume. It’s some bootleg version of a Top Gun jumpsuit. However… you can’t stop yourself from thinking about how he resembles Caleb if you squint. Was this what Lindsey was seeing when decided on that ploy? Was he even meant to be Caleb? You breathe a quick laugh, unable to help yourself.

They’re giving each other a look before Jaemin peers over at you. He gives you a wolfish smile. 

“There’s the smile I remember from the photo.” Jaemin steps to the side, shifting his attention to you. “You had me worried.” He steps forward and leans in and for a second you expect him to ruffle your hair like they do in Love and Deepspace. Man, you’re drunk. You shrug, pursing your lips as you peek over at Jeno. His face is a little more somber, eyeing you intensely like he’s trying to read you. Your smile drops when you meet eyes. 

Lee Jeno⓪⓪ And she’s a fucking pathological liar

Just what else has Lindsay lied about?

“We’re going to head out in maybe,” Jaemin draws out the word as he checks his watch, “thirty minutes? You shouldn’t ride the bus while you’re drunk. We have room since we’re driving ourselves.” Jaemin tilts his head at you. 

“Call?” He asks.

You nod sheepishly, knowing this must have been what NingNing had requested before she left. Jaemin smiles before dropping his head and exhaling through his nose. As he picks his head up you hear him whisper something. 

“Cute.”

You take a quick breath, unable to stop your thighs from clenching together. You widen your eyes as you stiffen up, checking to see if he noticed. You peer over at Jeno as well, your face feeling like it was lit on fire when you catch him staring at your legs.

“I need water.” You say, maneuvering around Jaemin and rushing past Jeno. You walk around looking for something that will stop your head from spinning every time you make a turn. There are no water bottles at the refreshment table and no water fountains in sight. As you go to turn down a dark, empty hallway, something firm and cool taps your shoulder.

You turn to see Jeno holding out a water bottle to you. 

“Where are you going?” He asks you in that same annoyed tone idol managers do. You would get upset if your vision wasn't spinning at the moment. You miss the bottle the first time but manage to grab it the second. All of your brain power goes into getting as much water in your system as possible. The giggly drunkenness is gone. The alcohol is just amplifying what you drank to forget.

When you finish, Jeno reveals the second water bottle, asking wordlessly. You accept it.

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

Your sobriety is creeping on too fast to justify the question plaguing your mind. Jeno is driving while Jaemin is in the passenger seat reading Jeno’s texts for him.

“It’s from Dugwan hyung. He wants to see you,” Jaemin looks over, fretful, “like, now.”

Jeno tightens his jaw. 

“‘m not goin’.”

Jaemin sighs. “If you aren’t going, I’m not either.”

Silence drapes uncomfortably over the car and Jaemin throws some music on. Unlike where you work, this venue is pretty far from your home. Thankfully, the car ride carefully takes the knotted thoughts in your head and unweaves them. You stare serenely out the window as soothing R&B plays through the speakers.

“Is this it?” Jeno’s voice jolts you from the edge of sleep. You hum before squinting at the building you’re parked outside of.

“Mm, yeah.” You say, unbuckling your seatbelt. You take a moment to rub your face before thanking the two of them. 

“I’ll walk you up.” Jaemin says, already halfway out the door when Jeno protests. “Stay here then!” Jaemin clicks his tongue before looking Jeno up and down with faux incredulity. He slams the door then, leaving Jeno to groan and glare at you through the rearview mirror. You slowly slip out of your seat, carefully eyeing the annoyed Jeno.

“Which floor?” Jaemin asks after you join him in your building’s elevator. You’re not sure which 'three' applies to this scenario so you guess. Judging by Jaemin’s snort as he presses the button, it was wrong. Today marks the first day anyone has outright laughed at your Korean. You scoff, trying sino this time. He nods approvingly, giving you a thumbs up.

Before the doors can close, a hand slams against one of them and they ease back open. Jeno’s heaving frame is slowly revealed.

He steps on, showing Jaemin his phone. They exchange panicked looks.

“We’re passed that. They told us in 2021–” Jaemin halts when Jeno flicks his hand against his chest and looks toward you. You panic and look away, realizing you’d been staring this whole time.

That suffocating silence is back as the elevator takes three centuries to get to floor three. The walk to your unit is when they can’t seem to hold it in anymore and start whispering to each other. They’re close enough behind that you happen to hear.

“Are they really bringing curfew back?” Jaemin asks.

“No, this is clearly a warning, not a reminder.” 

“And you’re still not going?”

Jeno doesn’t answer. The tone of the unanswered question takes the tension to new heights.

“Then where are we gonna go? Most hotels will either report us to SM or Dispatch.” Despite the frantic nature of Jaemin’s voice, Jeno doesn’t answer yet again. You get to your door and thank the both of them.

“I’ll text you later.” Jaemin tries to channel his wolfish smile again, but it’s strained. It sounds like they can’t even escape being scolded by their boss at their own home.

That’s no home.

“Wait.” The word feels like it’s pulled from you. This is a bad idea. When they turn around, you know it’s too late. At the cost of revealing you were eavesdropping, you give them the option.

“If you guys have nowhere to go, I have a futon. That is, if you guys are willing to squeeze together.”

Jaemin looks touched but ready to decline, while Jeno just outright says it.

“No thanks.” His verbiage is polite, but his tone is derisive. It sounds like they don’t have many options and it’s pretty late. You would kick yourself if you saw something in the tabloids tomorrow.

“If you’re worried I have ulterior motives, I do.” You breathe a sardonic laugh at your own expense. The state of your future at SM is shaky at the moment, so your chances of being uprooted yet again are large. Especially if Mr. Myeong has anything to do with it. You need so many things from so many people, but there’s only one thing you can get from these two.

“Let’s make an exchange. I give you a less stressful place to sleep… and you tell me what Lindsay wants from me.”

Their energies switch at that moment. Jeno’s face softens and though he looks at the floor to hide it, Jaemin’s hardens.

CHAPTER FIVEˋ°•*⁀➷

You sigh wistfully as you retrieve the last two butter waffles from the box. Opening your lunchbox to one of these is the only thing you look forward to at work, but you just had to ask if they wanted a snack.

You don’t invite NingNing to yours for a reason. Your studio is a feng shui nightmare. Now you have your first guests ever sleeping parallel to you because it’s the only way the futon would fit. You’re conflicted as you deliver the snacks, it seemed like a good idea when the futon was folded up. Seeing it now, you know not to ever call yourself an interior designer.

You squeeze between the futon and the wall to sit them on your Pororo side table you got on sale.

“It's not you.” Jeno says, sipping the water you also asked if they wanted. You initially think he’s telling you not to blame yourself. Jaemin pats the space next to him with a small smile. You sigh as you sit down, preemptively taking Jeno’s advice.

“It’s not any of us. I don’t think there’s a single person on the face of the planet Lindsay cares about other than herself.” He reaches over Jaemin and sets his glass on the table. “Every little thing she does serves a bigger goal that serves an ever bigger goal.”

“What the hell is it, then? What does me working with SM have to do with her goals?” You ask incredulously.

“The question you should be asking is why they were so adamant to hire you.”

Yeah, you know that. That’s one of the questions you want answered but know they can’t—

Or can they?

“They were adamant to hire me?”

“… I’m not sure why you’re asking me like you don’t know.” Jeno creates friction again when you're simply trying to get answers. Jaemin gently takes over.

“We all know, if that’s what you’re wondering. All the idols under SM, I mean.” Jaemin laughs after explaining this, but you know that it’s at this insane situation. “I don’t know when they made the decision, but I know Lindsay and her gambling had something to do with it. You guys are one of us now.”

Jeno chuts at the situation. “How is that slave contract treating you?”

“D-did Rouge… Was he the problem? Lindsay said he couldn’t get dearALICE a song that audiences liked.”

“DJ Rouge…?” Jeno asks in disbelief. “DJ Rouge is one of the best producers in the country.”

The corner of Jaemin’s mouth twitches, his look of concern growing stronger. 

“He composed and produced Juliette.” Jeno continues.

The silence overtaking the room strengthens the fuzziness in your brain. You jump to rationalize something, anything.

“Then why was he kicked off dearALICE’s mini album? They scrapped everything he worked on.”

“I don’t know anything about dearALICE, but SM would never kick Rouge out. Not in a million years.”

You grit your teeth, failing to find any other conclusions than the one so painfully obvious.

“He left on his own…” You whisper pitifully.

“I overheard that he wanted more money and demanded they respect his worth. SM denied and now we’re here.” Jeno explains.

“Okay, so I took his place? I don’t understand why they didn’t say that. Is it because they were embarrassed?”

“You have to understand. You didn’t replace Rouge because no one could replace Rouge. You guys have schedules and salaries and staff meetings. Rouge showed up when he wanted and got a percentage of the song’s royalties on top of the up front payment.” Jeno just keeps showering you in painful discoveries with little to no sugarcoating. Jaemin steps in again.

“Don't take this the wrong way but… I was honestly surprised you didn’t live in a dorm. Well, at least starting out like we did.”

You exhale deeply and place your face into your hands.

“I get paid pretty well. It’s not like I’m getting shafted. And yeah, I don’t live in a dorm. So, what? Why are we talking about this when I asked about Lindsay.”

The somber looks on their faces tell you you're about to get exactly what you're asking for.

“When we first met Lindsay, she was super curious about idol life. It wasn’t weird because everyone was. But then she started asking questions like if we were penalized less and had more freedom, would we work as hard. I was honest because I was still in denial. I said no.” Jeno adds, sounding careful for the first time that evening.

Your mouth moves as soon as the information shocks your system.

“Okay? So they lit a fire under our asses—”

“Lindsay doesn’t really see people as people.” Jeno explains slowly as his mouth contorts into a forced smile. “You’re either a tool or a plaything.”

🥀 𐮙 🐻ˋ°•*⁀➷

The glasses of water wobble dangerously as you and Jaemin jostle around on the bed. Your laughing crescendos until the sound runs out and you’re both curling over with your jaws dropped open. Jaemin’s laugh taps back in as he rockets backwards, his beer sloshing and spilling a little on Jeno. 

“Hey!” Jeno shouts, not as aggressively drunk, but turning pinkish on his cheeks and the tips of his ears anyway. Inebriation tugs at your eyelids as fatigue rolls through you. You whine in protest, but your blood alcohol content persists.

“How can she–” You curl your chin in as you hiccup before continuing. “She knew you guys since you were all teens and she still did that shit?” You present the beer to them in a vain quest to make sense of all this. 

“You weren’t listening.” The slurring of Jeno’s words is strengthening as he pushes against the bed to sit up straight. He just ends up curving back over, stretching his spine like his head is too heavy. The two men speak at the same time, probably expecting they were thinking the same thing. 

“She doesn’t view us as human.”

“She has a gambling addiction.”

They both look at each other in betrayal. Jaemin upset at Jeno’s perceived lack of context and Jeno at Jaemin’s leniency with Lindsay. Jeno musters up all the coherence he can to drive home this point. 

“Lindsay didn’t care about us long before the gambling.”

“Yeah, but before the gambling we had fun with each other.”

“She spread rumors about you before she even met you.”

“Yeah, exactly. She didn’t know me, so she had the wrong idea.”

“Did she have the wrong idea about Seulgi, too? The first person to introduce her to all the idols she used?”

Jaemin lets out a loud, fake laugh, avoiding Jeno’s questions. 

“O-or what about Victoria? Sejeong? And what’s your excuse for her posting–”

“Okay! I get it!” Jaemin’s voice booms louder than it seems he intended. He giggles to himself as you and Jeno both gawk at him, drunkenness outshined by confusion. Jaemin shakes his head before waving his free hand. 

“Put something on the TV.”

You scramble to do exactly that, eager to escape this tension. You throw on a random movie you had in your watch list. You turn off the light, full of remorse as you watch them strain their necks to the left to watch it. Jeno peers at you and you smile lazily. Your current state disables the humiliation that should come after Jeno’s confused look. 

“You forgot the subtitles.”

You gasp quietly, a drawn out ‘oh’ seeping from your lips as you hurriedly grab the remote and put on the Korean subtitles. Jaemin pats the bed again, but this time he’s patting the space that suddenly appeared between him and Jeno. That’s when you notice Jaemin is pressed firmly against the arm rest, distancing himself as much as he can.

You shake your head, ceasing the expecting looks from the both of them. Jaemin puts on exaggerated puppy eyes instead, poking out his lip as he pats the space.

“I don’t want to make you guys uncomfortable.” You peer at Jeno, the only one you actually presume will be uncomfortable. “We’re still strangers, after all.” You say as your eyes return to Jaemin. Under the minimal shifting light of the TV, Jaemin’s impish smile has a stronger effect. You hurry to your previous position, sitting at the edge of the bed closest to the wall. You make a mental note to somehow turn the futon toward the TV after they leave in the morning.

You feel someone on the bed shifting until Jaemin’s knees swing off the bed so he’s seated right next to you. You initially think this is his compromise until he hooks one arm under your knees and the other around your waist. You ground yourself, half expecting him to carry you bridal style. Instead, he pulls your legs up onto the bed. His hand sears against your leg just like in your dream. You look up at him, your drunken stupor convincing you that he can read your mind. He stares back intensely, making heat bubble behind your cheeks and in your crotch. Your eyes drop down to his costume, the collar dipping just low enough that it turns your mouth dry. His teeth nip at his bottom lip as he hoists you against the back of the futon. His eyes linger on you, expression solemn besides the intensity in his eyes. As he slips his hands from under and behind you, he takes his time, grazing your skin. His middle digit slips under your t-shirt, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Once he is fully retracted from you, his face softens, that recognizable smile warming his features. 

“See? Totally comfortable.” And just like that, Jaemin eases the (admittedly delicious) tension with random English. Your attempt to hide your laugh fails as it bursts through your tightly closed lips. Jaemin laughs as well, shoulder bumping against yours as you both keel over. You slip your legs under the blanket and that’s when reality hits you again. You’re unsure why you flinch, but in doing so, you brush against Jeno’s leg under the blanket. Your head whips to look at him, a little fear in your soul when you see he’s looking back. 

Your heart is distracting, thumping against your ribcage with reckless abandon. With sudden ruckus from the TV, you’re momentarily spared. Everything is still and quiet, Jeno and Jaemin stiff on either side of you. It would almost be peaceful if it weren’t for the loud moans and bed squeaking coming from the TV.

A few weeks ago with one hand in your pants, you looked up movies on Netflix with good sex scenes. You flooded your already bloated watch list with them and well? One of them was playing on your TV while you’re sandwiched in between two men. Two men who you habitually fantasize about. And that listicle was right. This is a damn good sex scene.

Your problem is still a problem. Nothing’s changed and you still haven’t been laid. You swallow the saliva building in your mouth as pleasure churns prominently in your abdomen. It churns and churns until it spills into your core. You bite your lip, trying to discreetly lessen the ache. As your thighs push together, you feel eyes burning into the back of your head. Your stomach drops. 

You slowly peek at Jeno who is looking straight at your crotch, just like earlier this evening. He looks at you through his lashes with something akin to disappointment in his eyes. You swear you see him slightly shake his head, but you chalk it up to the bad lighting. 

“Did you see that?” Jaemin’s hand landing on your thigh nearly sends you to the moon. He forces your eyes away from Jeno to stare at him like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. But when you look at him, he’s watching the TV as he rewinds the movie, extending this torture. He presses play and keeps his hand pointed to it as he waits for the portion in question. You’re watching now as the actors simulate the increase in pace, the man gaining a steady rhythm. That’s when he reaches back, gliding his hand up her thigh to her knee before licking his tongue into her open mouth. You gasp in tandem with the actress, feeling like you can feel it all. You fist the blanket over your thighs.

“I saw an interview with the actress and she said that wasn’t what they practiced. Her reaction was authentic.” Jaemin sets the remote down on the table before looking at you. “They’re dating now.”

“No way.” You reply breathlessly. You were partially shocked by the information, but you’re still distracted by the seemingly never ending sex scene. “B-because of that? He just grabbed her leg.”

“You don’t think that could do it?”

“I mean, it worked for the scene, but that doesn’t automatically mean he’s good–”

Jaemin tosses the blanket aside to straddle you. You try to squeeze your legs together to keep them from touching his, but it’s an impossible task. You hear Jeno groan dramatically beside you. Jaemin leans forward and rests his hands on each side of your head. In doing so, a dog tag swings out from under his jumpsuit and sways over your face. Your eyes cross as they follow it like you’re about to get hypnotized.

“Wanna see?”

You uncross your eyes and look up at him, mouth hung open dumbly. Your hips answer for you, buck up against his. He hums approvingly before lifting one knee to nudge your leg over before doing the same on the other side. His hand is already as your hip, gripping roughly before moving it up your leg. His hand snags on your pajama shorts before they snap away and his hand burns into your skin. Your mouth parts open with a silent inhale and he takes the opportunity.

“He didn’t just grab her leg.” He whispers as he dips his head until your noses are touching. His hand completes its journey, cupping your knee.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” Jeno grits to your right. You’re too entranced to react, but Jaemin peers over at him. He looks back at you before licking into your mouth. Your hips lurch forward as you taste him. Beer with a hint of mint. You want so desperately to get drunk off it. You shove forward, messily closing the distance to initiate what can barely be called a kiss. Your tongues wrestle and swirl around each other only to result in a lip-smacking smooch sometimes that makes you buck every time. He starts bucking back, too. His bulge becoming more prominent. He whimpers into your mouth, lips parting with only a thick string of saliva connecting you two. He hand moves back down to cup your ass before squeezing it like he never plans to let go. He peers over at Jeno whose jaw is clenched.

You moan pitifully, only barely getting your request in between sloppy kisses. 

“F-fuck me!” You beg emphatically, your body igniting at the possibility. He squeezes your ass again, pulling away to bite his lip and look down at you.

“Fuck yeah.” He grinds his hips down into you, his bulge pressing deliciously against your mound. Your loud moan is shameful but you are completely shameless. This is it. It’s finally happening, in the most dangerous way possible. Now this is a scandal that would turn the company upside down. It’s exciting.

“You two are fucking embarrassing.” Jeno grunts as pushes up and off the bed, climbing over the two of you to do it. He stomps into the bathroom before slamming the door. Jaemin’s attention is ripped from you as he stares toward the bathroom door. You bite his bottom lip, drawing it back in a vain attempt to get him to continue. The second you let go, he’s also pushing off the bed and going into the bathroom. 

There is muffled arguing behind the door, but all you can think about is the uncomfortable puddle in your underwear. You collapse back onto the bed, giving up on waiting for Jaemin to come back and continue. Lindsay lied about a lot, but you’re ashamed of the observation you’re making that proves her right. 

Jeno and Jaemin might just be a package deal.

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

◉ proofread cycle 1 ⃝ proofread cycle 2

taglist: @nanajaemsblog @taestrwbrry @oonyourmmark @jaehyunsmilitarywivesclub @neogotmysam @bluedbliss @cutiepatootiejungwon @emalvar1404 @fancypeacepersona

[beatrice-babe]

been watching The Apothecary Diaries (big shoutout to @howlsmovinglibrary this absolutely does have an Ouran vibe) and having a grand old time with this delightful and delightfully wild show but I will never stop taking psychic damage about the bodyguard is a grandfather?? Gaoshun is a grandfather and Jinshi is baby? tiny young baby?? They look basically the same?!?!?!?!

[screampied]

‘ I JUST WANNA HEAR YOU (S)CREAMMM ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. what’s your favorite scary movie? is it carrie? psycho? or maybe nightmare on elm street? perhaps picking up the phone was a bad idea, but you don’t scare easily! or do you?

wc. 6.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface geto & ghostface nanami, college au, threesōmes, unprotected, brief phone sēx, roleplay, dirty talk, praise, overstim, implied multiple ōrgasms, spit, manhandling, brēeding, hair pulling, oral (f & m receiving), cowgirl dp.

an. from this ask!

“hello.”

“hello?”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you deadpan, almost as if you’ve seen this movie before. it was around close to midnight. you were the only one sober at some random frat party you got dragged to. everyone besides you were probably wasted or shoving tongues into mouths. sitting up on a cushioned bed, you hold the landline up to your ear. “mean girls two. bye.”

“….girl what? that’s not a—”

you hang up, averting your eyes back towards the tv screen that displayed some cheesy soap opera. about precisely thirteen seconds pass before the landline screeches a loud deafening ring again.

sighing, you answer it. “stop calling this number. prank calls aren’t funny.”

“no.” the voice replies, and it’s very deep—you swear you’ve heard something like it before. a best way to describe it was that it had a gruff pitch to it, baritone running all underneath it. his voice was also a bit sly too. “i just wanna talk to you.”

“bother some other girl. bye.”

“don’t hang up on me.”

for whatever reason, you don’t hang up. his voice sounded a bit stern—you sit up before growing quiet. you’re fully alert now.

“good girl. now, i’ll ask again. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

pressing your back against the comforter, your thighs squeeze together. with another vexed sigh, you say the most random movie that comes immediately to mind. “halloween.”

“pft. basic.”

“wha— you’re the one who asked.”

“oh, doll i’m just joking. but anyway, you like slasher movies, yeah?”

for whatever reason, the more you talked to this total stranger, you start to feel a sudden uncanny stir delve around your stomach. you weren’t scared, yet at least, but it was oddly peculiar. his voice sounds a bit familiar the more you listen to it. with how teasing the caller on the other line appeared, it was strangely intriguing. you kind of didn’t wanna hang up anymore, besides this party you were at was quite … not the best.

“not really. i am a jamie lee curtis fan though, i only watched because i make fun of the deaths.” you mumble.

“hmmm,” the voice hums through the other end. it’s as if he’s pondering what his next choice of words will be to you. “so…you got a boyfriend?”

you were taken aback by how abrupt the change of subject was. the man on the other end laughs at your awkward silence before you finally speak.

“no, and it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“easy, girl. i’m just curious. besides, what if i wanna ask ya out?”

you grow quiet again before rubbing your neck, you were growing a bit hot.

“whatever. no, i don’t have a … boyfriend.”

“ooh. you hesitated there.”

you grumble. “shut up. i’m hanging up.”

the man immediately replies with a chortle.

“wait, wait. heh, serious though. you never told me your name, doll face.”

with an eye roll, you utter, “why do you wanna know my name?”

“because i wanna know who i’m looking at.”

“what?”

“what?”

each word he spoke breaks through the phone due the deep mess of his voice. a few rough sparks from his dialogue punctures through the soundbox of the device. again, he did sound oddly familiar. you just couldn’t put your foot on it.

the man chuckles before responding in a more sly tone—changing the subject again.

“you know doll, you sound kind of out of breath. call me crazy, but before i called you, were you playing with yourself?”

your legs suddenly squeeze shut, you were wearing one of your borrowed hoodies and shorts underneath. any sane person would have hung up eons ago, but for whatever reason—you felt your heartbeat start to race. the more you listened to the deep voice on the other end, the more you started to grow more curious. what’s wrong with playing around for a little bit? besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen—you dying?

you scoff, thinking this was nothing more than a dumb prank call—you decided that playing along wouldn’t hurt. you had nothing else to do anyway.

“so what if i was playing with myself?”

“i bet you didn’t even make yourself finish, doll.”

his voice, the more it spoke in that rough pitched tone—you couldn’t help but press the landline up to your ear just a bit further. you furrow your curled up brows, lowering your guard a bit. probably foolish, maybe you’d regret this later, but alas, reality wasn’t on your mind at the moment.

“are you saying you can make me finish?” you mutter, growing amused now.

“oh i know i can. i can make you get off from just from my voice alone.”

he was toying with you, but it was too late to back down. you intake a honed breath before humming.

“okay, prove it then.”

he chuckles.

“mhm. take those panties off first. actually no, slide them to the side for me.”

you really felt like you were in a movie, shamelessly at this random guy’s beck and call. as the show played in the background, you press the middle part of your thumb against the volume button to turn it down four notches. the room was practically silent now, the only noises heard were from the blaring beat drops of edm music downstairs. sprawling your legs out, you creep a shaking hand between your thighs.

the voice grows quiet, you finally move your panties toward the side before slouching back against the pillow.

“you must be really bored. talking to a random girl at the m-midnight.” you exhale.

“heh, m-maybe,” he mocks your falter. “but i’m sure you’ll keep me entertained with that cute voice of yours.”

he was so smooth. smooth as if he was prepared for every word that flew out of your mouth. as your fingers glide against your now exposed entrance, you let off a shaky breath.

he was right, out of boredom you tried to play with yourself— yet, that didn’t work out because you could never make yourself finish. your attempt was basically useless. with a frowning pout, you reply. “now what?”

“finger yourself, silly. and i wanna hear, put the phone up against that pussy for me, doll.”

he was filthy.

you felt yourself start to throb before removing the landline from against your ear and placing it right against your doused entrance.

with heavy jagged breaths becoming more irregular, the person on the other line hears the wet sloshes of your cunt up against the phone. again, he grows quiet—it’s almost like you can make out his deep attractive breaths and it makes you pulse even more.

“bet you’re so nice ‘n soaked. sounds so sloppy.”

gnawing on the softness of your bottom lip, your thumb briefly skims past the nub of your clit and you whine. you were already a bit sensitive from before, starting to stroke your fingers against it. bringing the phone back up to your ear, you ease a single finger inside. it feels warm—you were slick, coating your own finger with a nice amount of your obscene arousal. it doesn’t take long for you to start to pant, slithering another finger inside of your cunt before moaning. it fits nicely, nice and snug.

“you sound so pretty. i want you to imagine those are my fingers, pretty girl. can ya do that?”

“y-yeah,” you start to stammer, feeling a sudden spongey texture inside of you—you gasp, not expecting to reach your sweetened g-spot so soon. it was a mere bumpy texture, gloopy gummy walls involuntarily accepting your two slender fingers with an open gesture. “fuck, ‘m still a bit sensitive.”

he guffaws lowly.

“yeah, i bet you are. poor baby can’t even make herself cum.”

you swallow, the playfulness in his voice making your thighs start to tremble a bit. with relaxed fingers stretching throughout your walls, you focus on your breathing. each pant that came out of your hot breaths seemed like it was gonna be your last. after a while, your toes start to curl up in pure pleasure—you moan, feeling a sudden rush of weightlessness nirvana overtake you.

“find your g-spot for me. tell me when you do.”

“i- i already found it,” you whine, a sheaf of nerves that store inside of your pussy pulsating at a rapid speed. your head throws itself back as you’re just moaning melodically. “fuck, why don’t you just come over ‘n finish for me already.”

the voice laughs again.

“yeah? you want me to come over instead? maybe i should use my tongue since your fingers are so useless, dollface.”

at this point, you didn’t really care. maybe making simple rational decisions today just wasn’t in your favor. the eerie voice, each second you spent listening to it the more aroused you became. maybe getting off to a pure stranger’s voice was embarrassing but you were feening. the air felt suddenly thick. so thick you could cut it with a knife. with your bottom lip being chewed on like gum, you briskly shiver. cold, wintry air wafts against your skin and you moan for the nth time. an unforeseen chill runs down your spine before you hold back yet another whine.

“f-fuck, just come ‘n finish for me. i can’t do it. please.”

he grows quiet for a solid good four seconds before replying in a cheeky tone.

“okay. turn around.”

your panting stops and instantly, you turn your head the other way—of course, no one was there. figures, the only things your eyes were met with was the wooden headboard. with a disappointed grimace, pulling your occupied fingers out of your cunt, you turn back around. as you’re about to speak into the phone again, you open your mouth before pausing.

there, you’re met face first with what appears to be some guy in an infamous ghostface costume. he was tall, staggering inches on him before you don’t see one but two. they both had the same getup, ghoulish ghost mask, a long black robe, and the same spectral, tilting head-stance.

one of them takes off a mask and it’s suguru geto, your roommate.

your eyes concisely widen. once he yanks off the mask, his silky well-kept black strands fly loose. no wonder the voice sounded a tad bit familiar. the other removes his mask and it was nanami, two of them—now you really felt like you were in a movie. “you always did say how much you liked scream,” and then you glance at nanami who had a sheepish expression. “don’t be shy now, someone’s gotta help ya finish.”

“o-oh,” you remember, sitting up against the bed. now you were embarrassed. just a few seconds ago, you were getting off to your roommate’s voice. suddenly, you felt even more hot. you did end up talking their ear off about your adoration for the beloved franchise, ranting about your cute little ghostface obsession.

truth be told though, you didn’t know they’d make it a sheer reality for you. the two of them get on the bed towards you before nanami brings a gloved hand to your chin. he strokes your chin softly, and geto moves underneath.

“sorry princess,” he whispers. “suguru wanted to scare you but i told him we should just show ourselves,” and as he’s speaking, you get lost in his soft, honeydew eyes. such gentle compared to geto who was a bit more—crazed. “he didn’t scare you too bad, did he?”

you moan once you feel geto run a thumb against your already exposed cunt. with a firm head shake, you huff. “no, n-not really.”

“aw what. i thought i was pretty scary,” and you whimper out once he blows against your folds. for a concise moment, geto stares up at you—dark eyes keeping a strong gaze on you. “tell us what you want, pretty girl. you want us to help you finish?”

you nod, feeling geto spread your legs apart further.

nanami, with a gloved hand purses your lips together, forming them into a tight squeeze before humming. “words, princess. use them, okay?”

the more you feel geto’s breath fan against your clit, teasing you—you were about to go feral. you stare up at nanami before letting off a sweet whine. “i- i want you both to help me finish,” you stutter out, stumbling over your pathetic words like you’d stumble with an untied shoe. “make me cum, please kento.”

he leans in to kiss your forehead and you hear geto scoff underneath. “i’m the one between your legs but whatever,” and you feel his soft lips kiss against your pussy. “kento, keep her distracted for me, will ya?”

“you’re so pretty,” he mutters, lightly lifting up your chin. as he wore black gloves—the fabric gently brushes against your lip, popping a thumb into your mouth. he doesn’t expect for you to happily take it in his mouth, sucking on it. “oh,” he breathes, a bit speechless. you stare into nanami’s eyes, swirling your tongue around his thumb in such an erotic way. lowly hooded eyes stare at him the entire time, you moan once you feel the flatness of geto’s tongue run against your sweet clitoral hood. his tongue—the texture of it was so cold, the moment he digs in he makes you know the pure definition of sloppy. all with his tongue, he slowly flicks it against your nub before delving his tongue deeper between your soddened folds. nanami pulls your chin to face him again before softly purring, “don’t look at him, look at me pretty girl.”

as your eyes focus back towards nanami, you could already feel your legs quavering. you felt hot, the lewd way geto drags his tongue against your pussy makes you gasp out three strained second puffs of air.

“k-kento,” you moan, pawing your hands at the low part of his robe. he watches, lowering his head at you before you reach there. nanami’s bulge, he has an abashed expression as he realizes what you were fondling at. “take it off.”

“ah, ask nicely,” he coos. your lips were now glossed with your own spit he smears against you as he pulls his gloved thumb out of your mouth. even though nanami was more tame than geto, his voice had a bit more dominance in it. he grabs your chin gently, cocking his head toward the side. “tell me what you want ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

your legs felt like they were standing on its last few hinges—geto’s tongue runs down your slit, taking a moment to depart his lips and spit on it, only to then lap it up again. a few annoyed grunts escape out of him partially due to his long strands of hair getting in the way. “so sweet,” he mutters, you whimper once he prods two fingers against your outer entrance. every few seconds he’d kiss near your thighs, leaving a few bite bite marks before focusing back towards your folds. “mhm.”

barely even able to keep focus, you gaze back up at nanami who’s standing near the edge of the bed—you’re laid back against the pillows with geto between your thighs. finally, a sweet mewl of words leave your glazed lips. “i- i wanna taste, ‘ken. wanna suck you off,” and he gives you a playful eyebrow raise, prying his pink lips open a few inches apart before you correct yourself. “pretty please.”

“better,” he murmurs, a hand of his reaching towards your head to give it a good pat. “good girl. go ahead, lift it up ‘n enjoy the meal.”

with a soft slackened sigh, you lift up the obsidian black robe. you’re met with ripped jeans, for some reason you just figured he’d already be sprung out for you. as geto’s still lapping up every drop of your taste, you unzip his fly before yanking down his pants. you were so impatient— and with geto’s demented pace, you were getting close. he chuckles, watching you struggle with the zipper for a bit before finally reaching near his boxers. they were a cerulean blueish color, his bulge was just appetizing. the entire shape of it, you felt yourself starting to drool the longer your eyes made direct contact against it. so rounded and full. with clammy hands, you tug them down before his thick cock springs out.

“it’s okay,” he whispers with a nod, watching you glance up him—a silent gesture as a way of asking if you could go further. nanami brings a hand towards the crown of your head, gingerly massaging his fingers through the crevices of your scalp. “you can be a little messy for me.”

a wretched whine that was raw rips from your throat once you feel geto’s tongue latch against your cunt. by now, he was sucking against your folds. the squelches were so sloppy, a hand of yours grab onto his hair for leverage and he shoots you a sly smile.

“don’t be shy girl, yank on it.”

dark pooled irises linger into yours for a long time before you get a good grip of geto’s hair, dragging him closer towards your entrance. over and over and over.

he giggles, hot breath ghosting against your folds and you throb even more. with dilated irises staring back towards nanami, you wrap your free hand around his length—he was so thick, such full balls that you just wanted to run your tongue all across it. he had a few veins skim down his beige, weighty cock. you could make out a few drops of lustrous pre-cum that decorates near his very tip. “u-ugh,” he shakes, the warmth that your tongue provides has him smothering his lips together. nanami watches, you’re slow but deadly.

pursing your lips together, you gradually start to sink him into your mouth.

geto’s still between your thighs, shoving two fingers in and out of you now—he surrounds your clit with his mouth, the suction he creates with just his lips was brutal. you’re moaning, even whilst your noises were pretty much muffled due to nanami’s fat cock. “easy,” he whispers, tapping a thumb against your cheek. “no teeth, okay? you’re doing s-so good.”

nanami groans, goading the same thumb against your cheek before you inch yourself further and further down. he has a shy smile at the way your hair forms in musses due to his tight grip. within no time, your throat’s already stuffed and few droplets of your own saliva trickles down the sides of your mouth. geto’s still making sure to thrust his gloved digits in and out of your soaked cunt and you don’t know which roommate to focus on.

“m-mphm,” was all you could manage out, your legs in a swift spread-eagle position. as you’re outstretched, you feel yourself about to cum. you’d recognize that feeling anywhere—the feeling when a swelling pool of heat residing inside your stomach tickles throughout your entire abdomen. that same feeling of nirvana courses through your veins as you’re now leisurely bobbing your head. every time you pull on geto’s long hair, he grunts—spanking your clit in response and that only causes you to whine for more. nanami strokes your face as he starts to feel his dick prod against the roof of your mouth. for a split second as you’re breathing through each nostril—you gag, long lashes fluttering in sync together.

your legs couldn’t hold still, geto’s continuously pushing you towards your limit before you whimper out. your tongue lathers over the splotches of pre-cum that paints nanami’s tip a pretty shade of snowy white.

he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, especially not with a face like that.

low eyes, sheepish smile, furrowed eyebrows. you’re convulsing profusely all in geto’s mouth, the sides of your thighs occasionally hitting against his face and he titters. “such a sloppy m-mouth,” nanami inhales deeply, and he starts to gently drag your head against his cock. he’s got your mouth filled with so many inches—your cheeks were all puffed up from his immense length, sheeny slobber emanating all down the sides of your mouth before he pants. “gonna make such a mess ‘n your mouth, princess. ‘s that what you want?”

you nod, feeling the vein that runs down his girthy cock twitch in your mouth. you moan, he’s feeling weightless—you’ve got his knees trembling, a hand’s still attached to your head like velcro before gyrating your tongue all over the crownhead of his shaft. “such a pretty face,” he gruffs lowly, swiftly pulling your hair side to side to take every inch. “s-shame i gotta ruin it a little.”

even nanami’s dirty talk was tame— it was cute to witness, the way his blond brows would tug into a furrow. he’s so pent up, and out of nowhere—you feel a sudden rush erupt within your cunt. before you could even react, you end up cumming hard. it shoots out of you like a rough wave, it’s such pure bliss that it takes you a few seconds to realize. geto’s making out with your pussy, slowly sliding his two protected fingers in and out of your sopping wet entrance and you shudder. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he hums, taking sight at how saturated you were. as geto laps his tongue against your folds once more, he stares back up at you and nanami. “aw. look at you two,” and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “slobbin’ everywhere, messy girl you are.”

your eyes go back up towards nanami, he’s sweating.

he felt as if the fabric of his robe stuck against his skin. while he’s holding it up with one hand, you sneak a stare at his abs, perfect washboard abs that looked quintessentially sculpted against his body. “g-gonna cum,” and he stares at geto, growing a bit flustered once all attention’s on him. “suguru, don’t just stand there. p…praise her.”

geto scoffs, kneeling beside you on the bed before moving a few strands from your face. “so bossy,” he grits before giving you your second head pat. he leans up close to your ear, grabbing the voice changer again and brings it up to his lips. “c’mon, doll. make ‘ken cum, yeah. doin’ so good for us. you’re gonna make him whine for you, heh.”

nanami’s legs felt like mush, he throws his head back, his long black robe syncing with his movements before he’s gently pulling your head against his thick cock. he shudders, welts of twinges close in on the undersides of his thighs before he finally finishes. it builds up gradually before you find him pouring into your mouth with a nice amount of parching hot cum. it’s hot, a good mass of satiny ropes coat the flat middle part of your tongue and you moan. “f-fuuuck,” he heaves through heavy lungs, it’s still trickling, you savor the taste. it’s bitterly sweet. he pulls out of your mouth before letting off a tremulous sigh. “good girl, f-fuck.”

“aw. don’t hog her, give me attention too,” geto sneers, softly grabbing you by the neck, making you face him. with his right hand, he squeezes your lips together with a rigid grip. “ah, don’t swallow yet. c’mere.”

with half-lidded eyes, you do—leaning into his touch before geto plants his warm lips onto yours. you’re caught by surprise for the umpteenth time today, prying your mouth open for him and he lolls his tongue down your throat. you let off a whine, feeling his gloved hands rub against every inch of your body. immediately, he tastes the candied flavor of nanami’s cum and it makes him groan. he didn’t even bat an eye—you return the kiss, feeling geto’s hand slither further down towards your ass. he caresses it, giving it a mean spank to make you moan out in ecstasy.

after a while, he pulls away, humming at nanami. “ken ken, don’t be so shy. you want a taste too?”

“yeah,” he mutters, needy eyes staring at your lips that were lubricated with your own sheeny spit. “can i?”

you nod, and he’s so gentle with you. a hand nimbly wraps around your throat before he brings you into a deeper kiss. geto’s still for his hands on you, strumming his fingers near your pulled to the side panties. you let off a soft pant, feeling the spiral of nanami’s tongue go against yours. he tastes sweet — savory even, his flavor was purely mouthwatering. a thumb drags down the passageway of your throat before he pulls away. it’s slow, a polished concoction of saliva departs from each mouth and you whimper. you were throbbing, desperate for more and they both knew that. if this— whatever this was was some sort of movie, you never wanted it to end. you never wanted the credits to roll because you felt like you were floating on cloud nine.

with the two of them, you were stretched in every way possible. if you could compare who was bigger, actually you couldn’t. throughout multiple positions, you felt as if you were gonna snap in half. they had you so stupid. pink tongue rolled out, full lungs of oxygen departing out such hot breaths of air, you were the definition of stupid.

cockdrunk at its finest. each orgasm that got ruthlessly snatched out of you had your head spinning, heart racing entirely.

you felt like something was creeping up behind your shoulder, chills. whenever you’d coax out yet another teeth-shattering orgasm, all you felt was stone cold chills. time after time, it felt like pure bliss—you thought you were in a whole new world, barely even able to move your thighs an inch. being sandwiched between the two of them, perhaps you were a little greedy but you just couldn’t get enough. geto’s degrading you whilst nanami’s whispering sweet pleasures into your ear, you’ve never felt more soaked.

you didn’t wanna stop—

currently, you’re straddling nanami. he’s got two rough hands gripping your waist, intaking every inch of your pretty physique. his stare sends you butterflies, his shaft was underneath you and only then pulls out. with a cute, “phew,” he swipes a sheet of sweat that expands across his forehead. you rode him so good that he couldn’t even figure out what to say. he was so flustered, tips of his ears a reddish hot before he watches geto creep behind you. “think she wants more, suguru.”

“bet she does,” he whispers, bringing a few sweet kisses near the inner corners of your neck.

you’re promptly sat up straight. the brief sounds of booming speakers roar from downstairs as you wrap your arms around nanami. geto licks near your collarbone before purring seductively. “say, doll. how ‘bout you try to take us both? would ya like that?” and with a gloved hand he gives your ass a squeeze. “wanna be the final girl ‘n prove your worth? our final girl?”

without an inkling of hesitation—you nod, mewling out a sweet, “yes, yes jus’ hurry up, sugu. ‘m still c…close.”

“so wet, so impatient,” he whispers once more, and with two hands he makes you sit up from nanami. you gulp—swallowing whatever sanity you had left, preparing to be quite literally double stuffed with your roommates. you aren’t so sure why, but the fact that they both still had on their ghoulish costumes made you pulsate a bit more. geto’s helping you slide back down onto nanami’s length before slowly making his way into you also. “god, you’re so hot in here. gonna fuckin’ swallow me whole.”

you moan, everything goes so slow—your cunt was a ticking time bomb. you clamp down on each before slumping into nanami’s chest. you’re met with kind eyes, he strokes your forehead before kissing the bridge of your nose, panting in a hushed voice. “eyes on me, princess. just relax.”

you wriggle a bit at the positioning—being on nanami’s lap, geto directly behind you, you’re quite literally being filled in every orifice by thick inches of cock. nanami’s words were soothing, filling up your tummy with a pool of fluttering butterflies. you keep your eyes on him, clenching down on geto a bit before you hear him hiss in response. “ugh. doll open up for me a little m-more, yeah.”

his voice was deepened heavily—you let off a cute gasp once they’re both finally in and a few shaky breaths exit past your lips. “hold my hand, i got you,” nanami coos, and that’s when geto starts to rock. he had more control between the two of you, the grip on your hips was firm and you let off a sweet babble. each individual entrance was stuffed, you swallow the invisible lump in your throat as you start to feel the sweltering friction of your thighs slap against nanami. “you’re so pretty like this,” and he kisses the temple of your cheek.

every kiss presented from nanami makes your heart race—being sandwiched between nanami and geto, you really did feel like the main character.

your lip tremors, grinding back and forth between each of them, you feel geto wrap his thick fingers around your neck.

whilst you’re still straddling nanami—you moan again and again, feeling a free hand of geto’s spank your ass. the stretch that you continuously felt had your mouth watering. you heard the harmonic pap pap pap’s until it rang throughout your ears. “fuck, ya like being stuffed don’t you, pretty girl? feel full enough?” geto rasps, pressing his body right up against you. you felt his hot temperature go against your skin. making you feel every amount of his heat. your brain’s swelling up with fog. giving him an inert nod, you hear him click his tongue. “didn’t say to nod your head, doll. i wanna hear that sweet voice.”

whenever geto lowers his voice a bit, you feel the abrupt tension arise between your legs. leaning against nanami, you whine out a, “hngh y-yesss, ‘m so full, sugu. want more, stuff me more.”

“let me stuff your mouth too then.”

and before you could come up with a reply, geto removes his glove—shoving your mouth with two fat digits. he grunts, watching as you’re so compliant with your throat being filled with his fingers. nanami stares at the entire scene in front of him, his dick idly twitching inside of you. your tongue runs down his fingers before your own spit starts to seep down the corners of your lips. it was messy—you were messy. your hips jitter and judder and you knew with having both holes stuffed you weren’t gonna last that much longer. it was probably the dozenth orgasm your pussy’s been introduced with and you could feel the creeping pleasure brew up inside your abdomen.

“suguru, ‘m gonna cum.” nanami groans, bringing his own hands to wrap around your waist. you lessen your tense from his touch before gagging a bit from the prodding of geto’s fingers way back into your throat. “she’s s-squeezing me so good.”

geto snickers, making eye contact with nanami. “are you? ‘ken, you’re more whinier than usual today.”

“shut up.” he grumbles, slapping a hand over his face in embarrassment — nanami wasn’t so known to be all flustered and abashed, but whenever he was, it was so cute.

you’ve still got a mouthful of geto’s fingers before he pulls them out only to shove them into his own mouth. he hums, sharp hips snapping into you repeatedly as his other free hand tightens its secured grasp around your hip. “mhm,” he groans, feeling himself reaching his peak also. “you taste like a final girl. so sweet like candy.”

with the piston of geto’s vigorous hips, you’re so loose that you feel the fleeting sensation of your cunt gaping.

its cavernous, you jerk forward against nanami before seconds later — geto groans, abruptly finishing two seconds early. even his moans were pretty, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your neck. strands of black hair glue to his forehead and he puffs out a single breath. licking a stripe near your neck, he feels thick volumes of his cum ooze into your hole. it’s so sticky, you bring your hips to a slowing halt before nanami shoots inside you too.

“f-fuck, sugu,” nanami grunts, feeling his thighs stick underneath you. he was panting heavily, each breath that ran from his lips sounding more and more wearied. “damn, so m-much.”

everything spurts into you at once. they mirror each other inside of you perfectly. callused stubby fingertips of geto’s squeeze your neck softly, watching as you’re just being filled with bulky strings of cum, it floods your cunt until it drizzles further into your womb. you’re drooling, it feels so hot, sweltering hot. it sticks against your entrance before your arms wrap around nanami. “so f-full,” you whimper, and he returns the gesture by brushing his thumb against your waist. droopy eyes hang low before nanami pulls you into another deep kiss. you decided—this was far better than some dumb party. the cottony fabric of the ghostface robe pricks against your skin as you lean into his heinous touch.

you shift your weight against nanami’s lap, feeling geto pull out before he leans down between your legs. “spread your legs,” he mutters, and in the midst of your tongue roaming down nanami’s throat, you part your thighs—gasping once you feel geto’s own tongue lap against the freshly created mess. he makes little tiny licks, tasting the ropes of crisp cum that’s sloppily easing out of every entrance—you pulsate before he chortles, warm breath ventilating against your sobbing pussy. “so messy. don’t want any spillin’ out. gotta push it back in.”

you’re moaning, after a while you break away from nanami’s lips before he strokes your cheek lovingly, a cute drowsy look before he huffs, “did you hear me, pretty?” and he gently pokes your cheek. “you always do this..”

confusion hits you before your eyes suddenly open—you jolt up, both of your roommates beside you, gawking at you with a look of deadpan. you’re leaning against geto, the third movie of scream playing in the background—it was near the ending where the killer was being revealed. you sit up, staring down at your legs and you were fully clothed—there was no geto eating between your legs, no being stuffed with nanami, nothing.

“hellooo, earth to roomie,” geto waves his hand in your face, you stare at him before furrowing your brows. “you okay? you fell asleep on me again. what’s got ya so spooked? looks like ya seen a ghost.”

so it was a dream?

a mere glimpse of your lewd imagination—?

you have a sudden sheepish look, running your fingers near the nape of your neck. “huh. oh, i’m fine. i thought the movie would be over by now.”

nanami rubs your back. “we still have like twenty minutes left,” and then he looks at you with a concerned look. so gentle—so tender. “are you sure you’re okay? we can watch a rom-com if you want.”

“i’m okay,” you insist, slumping your head back against geto.

that was weird, out of all the dreams you’ve had throughout your life—none of them ever felt as surreal as that one. for some reason, you were still aroused though. you were a bit out of breath and felt chills run all over your body.

abruptly, your phone rings,

“sugu, can you pass me my phone?” you sigh, trying to relax. you were pretty bummed you weren’t at that party getting stuffed with your two roommates but instead—in your generic dorm watching a scary movie.

he hands you the phone, grabbing the remote to turn it down a few notches.

once you take it, succinctly, your eyes scan across the screen—it reads that it’s from an unknown number. not really thinking much, you decide to answer, swiping the green button to answer. “um, hello?”

“hello.”

“hi,” you rub your eyes. “can i help y-”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

rolling your eyes, you peer at your two roommates beside you, nudging them and peeling the phone away from your ear for a moment. “very funny, suguru.”

geto gives you a look of confusion and nanami mimics the same. he shrugs, averting his eyes back toward the movie. “very funny what.”

and suddenly you’re laid back, an unbelieving expression was expressed on your face as you were left with a weird feeling. if it wasn’t them then who—

that same chill eerily creeps up your spine before you put the phone back near your ear. it’s that same low voice you heard from before, each word it speaks pitches deeper before you grow quiet at its final haunting response,

“oh baby, i’m not suguru or nanami..”

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I BITE MY TONGUE, IT'S A BAD HABIT

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai doesn't care about stupid holidays, but when he sees everyone but him being gifted chocolates from you, he starts to find himself severely bothered. it's the principle, he tells himself—nothing more, nothing less, just the principle.... right?

(wordcount: 6.9k; fem!reader, sfw, dazai is jealous and silly. unedited.)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: HAPPY LATE VALENTINE'S DAY, take pmreader and dazai being silly teens in love who refuse to tell each other how they feel in words. i had this posted on valentine's day but then turned into a big baby and deleted </3 i am still a big baby but i am a big baby who is going to leave the post up this time HAHAAH

Dazai doesn’t care about stupid holidays. 

In fact, Dazai can count the things he cares about on one hand—he cares about Odasaku and Ango because they’re his friends, he cares about crab because he likes eating crab and he can recite every known fun fact about them off the top of his head, he cares about the arcade a few streets over because his favorite video game is there and he beats Chuuya every time and it’s funny watching him get mad, and he cares about you because you’re also his friend and you gave him a room in your apartment even though he could have his own but is just stubborn about not wanting to be in Mori’s building.

So, he’s not sure why his feet are rooted to the ground in Mori’s office as he stares down at the small round box of chocolates sitting on top of his desk. There’s a note on top of it that’s partially blocked from his line of view, but he can very much see your signature at the bottom of it. 

You complain about Mori all the time, so it doesn’t take him long to put together that there must be a reason why you went out of your way to get him chocolates even though he knows you’ve been busy with some conflict happening in Russia. It’s not Mori’s birthday, and Dazai’s mind quickly tracks back to the stands of chocolate he saw set up on the same corner that the arcade is on.

Valentine’s Day, he realizes, eyes narrowing down on the chocolate.

“Such a dear she is. She dropped it off for me this morning,” Mori sighs when he realizes what Dazai is looking at. “Elise-chan hasn’t gotten me chocolates yet.”

“That’s because you don’t deserve chocolates, stupid Rintarou,” Elise’s familiar pitched voice comes from Dazai’s left—he hadn’t even noticed her sitting on the ground coloring because his gaze was pinned to the chocolate the moment he stepped into the room. Elise looks up at Dazai with a smile that’s just a bit too sweet, “Aw, she didn’t get you any? That’s too bad, Dazai-kun.”

Dazai’s jaw twitches at the snide comment, and he looks away from Elise back to Mori, who looks oddly intrigued by Dazai’s reaction, which is enough to let him know that he’s over-reacting, so he’s quick to smooth out his expression, even if the irritation in his chest continues to swell. He doesn’t even know why he’s so bothered—he doesn’t care about stupid holidays, and he doesn’t care about chocolate. It’s really not a big deal, but he can’t seem to snuff out the growing annoyance.

“I’m sure she’ll give you one later, Dazai-kun,” Mori says with a placating smile that almost sends Dazai over the edge. “No need to fret.”

“I’m not-” he starts to say, but is cut off quickly by Elise.

“Or, maybe she just doesn’t like him enough to give him any,” Elise says with gleeful giggle. “How did she word it again? Oh, yeah, you forced your way into her life, didn’t you?”

Dazai doesn’t take anything anyone says to him or about him to heart, but he especially knows not to take anything Elise says to heart, considering the girl’s ardent distaste for him. He’s never been sure why she hates him so much, but he figures that it’s because he can make her disappear with his ability, and he’s half-tempted to grab her arm and do just that, but he knows it’ll only make Mori even more interested in why he’s so emotional over this. That’s the last thing he wants considering he doesn’t even know why he’s getting so worked up about it.

But what did Elise even mean? Why would you tell them that he forced his way into your life? If anything, you’re the one who forced yourself into his life when you showed up at his shipping compartment during that winter storm a few months ago. He just… capitalized on it, that’s all. You would’ve kicked him out if you didn't want him hanging around, but you didn’t. And Elise is known for twisting the truth, but then… Why didn’t you give him chocolates? That’s the whole point of the holiday, right? To show appreciation for the people in your life?

It’s not the holiday that’s bothering him, it’s the principle. 

Dazai is suddenly ten times more antsy than he was when he first noticed the chocolates. There must be a logical explanation for this—maybe you really are giving him them later, or maybe you’re only giving them to Mori because you have to. Snidely, he notes that the chocolates you gave him looked like they could be bought at a convenience store, so it’s not like you put much effort into it. 

“Elise-chan,” Mori chides, although he still sounds terribly amused, violet eyes glittering as he scrutinizes Dazai. “Don’t say such cruel things. I taught our hime to have good manners, Dazai-kun will get chocolates from her, even if they’re just obligatory.”

Obligatory, Dazai has to force himself not to physically blanch at the word. He thinks he would almost prefer not to get chocolates from you. How are you just going to give obligatory chocolates to someone you live with? You guys are friends, aren’t you? He doesn’t know much at all about Valentine’s Day, but he does know that there’s different types of chocolate depending on your relationship with the person, and he thinks he’ll jump off the roof if you give Chuuya nicer chocolates than him.

Chuuya.

“I have to go,” Dazai says abruptly, turning to leave.

“Goodbye, Dazai-kun,” Mori sings, much to Dazai’s surprise. He was half-expecting Mori to tell him to sit back down so they could go over whatever he was called to his office for. He still doesn’t even know why the man called him up here—maybe it was just to flaunt the chocolates he received, Dazai thinks bitterly. “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“I would!” Elise calls after him as he lets the door slam shut behind him, but Dazai doesn’t pay her any mind.

Surely Chuuya wouldn’t have gotten chocolates if he didn’t, right?

———

“Give me those right now.”

Chuuya pauses from where he’s about to pop a round chocolate into his mouth, eyes cutting to the side in irritation when he realizes that Dazai is standing in the doorframe of his office. Dazai is tense and jittery all at the same time—he’s not even looking at Chuuya, he’s staring at the set of chocolates sitting open on his desk and the familiar handwriting on the note next to it. Chuuya’s set is much nicer than Mori’s; they’re his favorite truffles, imported in from Belgium, and there’s a red wine on his desk to go along with it.

It makes Dazai sick. 

“The fuck?” Chuuya asks, sitting up a bit straighter and giving Dazai a weird look before pointedly eating the chocolate in his hand. Dazai’s eye twitches. “What’s your problem this time, you freak?”

“I said give me those right now,” Dazai repeats, inhaling deeply as he takes a few steps closer. “Give me them.”

Chuuya looks a bit concerned now, grabbing the chocolates you gave him and dragging them closer to him. Dazai is undeterred, stalking forward and reaching quickly for them. Chuuya reacts faster, snatching them off the table and holding them close to his chest.

“Fuck off,” Chuuya spits, sounding confused and irritated all at the same time. “What the hell is your problem?”

Dazai could think of an excuse—they’ve been tampered with, poisoned, you accidentally gave him the wrong ones and you sent him here to grab them before Chuuya ate them all—but the only thing that escapes his lips is the same demand.

“Give me the chocolates.”

“What?” Chuuya demands. “No, you fucking psycho, get out of my office.”

Dazai’s hand instinctively twitches in the direction of his gun, and Chuuya catches it from the way his eyes shoot open.

“Yo,” Chuuya says loudly, rising to his feet. “What the fuck, Dazai?”

Logically, Dazai knows that whether he gets the chocolates from Chuuya or not, it won’t change anything. It’s the principle of it that’s the issue. Even if he manages to get his hands on the chocolates, you gave them to Chuuya and you didn’t give them to Dazai, but still, the sight of Chuuya with them is setting Dazai off in ways that he just can’t seem to get under wraps. 

“Give me-”

Chuuya’s face twists in irritation and he slams the chocolates down on his desk before walking around it in Dazai’s direction. Instead of making a smart decision and running out of his office before he can get a faceful of Chuuya’s fist, he takes the opportunity to dart forward and grab the chocolates he put down, throwing them onto the ground and driving his heel right into the box. 

“You bastard,” Chuuya shouts, grabbing Dazai by the collar of his jacket hard and throwing him hard into the side of his desk. Dazai barely withholds a wince as the corner of Chuuya’s desk drives deep into his side, crumpling to the ground hard. Chuuya kneels down to see if there’s anything left to salvage of the chocolates you gave him, but finds himself sorely disappointed. “What’s your fucking issue, Dazai?”

Stubbornly, Dazai doesn’t respond, raising his chin and meeting Chuuya’s gaze, trying to pretend that there is no issue and like he isn’t acting deranged over chocolates. 

Not chocolates, he reminds himself, the principle.

“I knew you were weird about her but jeez,” Chuuya scoffs, picking up the mess of chocolates on his floor, brows furrowed in irritation. “You can’t even handle her giving someone else chocolates on Valentine’s Day. You need some serious fucking help, man. It’s the whole point of the goddamn day. You gonna go around and take everyone’s chocolates, you possessive freak?”

Dazai cringes and can’t stop himself as he asks quietly, “How many people has she given them too?”

Instantly, he knows he’s made a mistake—his voice came out all wrong and Chuuya notices it from the way he squints and frowns. He forces his expression to clear of any possible emotions and rises back to his feet, tilting his head to the side as he dares Chuuya to point out that his voice wavered when he asked the question.

“I don’t fucking know,” Chuuya shrugs, side-eyeing him suspiciously but choosing not to point out the weird tone he asked the question in. “She came in with a ton this morning, figured I was the last since she didn’t have any left with her when she came up here before.”

Oh, Dazai thinks, staring at Chuuya absently. Dazai didn’t anticipate that. At once, both of his theories to explain why you didn’t give him chocolates are disproven, and Dazai falters. If you came in with all of them at once and had none left by the time you got to Chuuya, then all signs pointed to that you’re just not giving Dazai chocolate for Valentine’s Day.

But why? Dazai doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong lately—in fact, he’s barely even had time to talk to you lately because you’ve been busy talking with your informants in Eastern Russia. You spent most days in Tokyo, and by the time you got back to your apartment, Dazai was out on his own missions. He hasn’t had the chance to do anything wrong, unless him just being around you is wrong.

How did she word it again? Oh, yeah, you forced your way into her life, didn’t you?

Elise is known for twisting the truth, she doesn’t usually lie about things—why did you tell them that he forced himself into your life? Do you not want him staying at your apartment? Mori did mention that he taught you to have good manners and he never says anything without there being an ulterior motive behind it. Was he trying to imply that you’re just being polite in letting him stay? Dazai doesn’t know; he’s always struggled to read you, but you’ve always made him feel welcome and wanted more than anyone else. It disconcerted him for a while, but he’s grown used to it in a way that he probably shouldn’t have. 

Now, he’s doubting it all.

Chuuya’s eyes suddenly widen, his small brain clearly realizing something it wasn’t meant to. Dazai’s gaze hardens as he waits for Chuuya to say whatever it is he wants to say, but instead of speaking, the slug snorts. His hand flies to his mouth to smother the noise, but he just can’t stop himself from bursting into laughter. Dazai bristles.

“What?” he demands.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Chuuya howls, eyes tearing up as he laughs so hard that he wheezes. Dazai stiffens but otherwise doesn’t say anything, and that’s evidently an answer enough for him. “God, shitty Dazai, you’d think you of all people would know better. Get the fuck out of my office.”

Dazai doesn’t want to admit he has no idea what Chuuya’s talking about, but he also isn’t going to let Chuuya order him around, so he stands there stubbornly until Chuuya rises to his feet to grab Dazai by the back of his jacket again. Dazai instinctively drives his elbow hard into Chuuya’s chest, but he’s unbothered by it, shoving Dazai forward through the door of his office.

Chuuya gives him a mocking smile and goads, “How about you go ask her why she didn’t give you chocolates?” 

Before Dazai has the chance to shoot back a snide comment, Chuuya slams the door right in his face. It’s not the principle that’s bothering him, Dazai realizes glumly, it’s the implication that maybe he’s been wrong about his friendship with you this whole time.

———

Dazai doesn’t even get out of the main building before he runs into someone else who has chocolates that are definitely gifted by you considering it’s your new partner. Itou Asahi is lounging in the lobby of headquarters with Hirotsu and a few members of the Black Lizards that Dazai doesn’t recognize. Dazai has never particularly liked the man—in fact, Dazai despises him and he despises how you seem to think the world of him—but now, his jaw is tight as he glares at the man from across the lobby.

Itou seems to be able to feel the daggers being shot in his direction. He looks up as he pops a chocolate into his mouth, eyes narrow as he tries to pinpoint who exactly is staring at him so intensely and pauses when he notices Dazai. He nudges Hirotsu, and to Dazai’s horror, he realizes that Hirotsu also has a set of chocolates that he hasn’t opened on the couch next to where he’s sitting with a note that Dazai can’t read from the distance but is the same pale pink parchment that Mori’s and Chuuya’s were written on.

Mori. Chuuya. Itou. Hirotsu. Why not him? What did he do?

Dazai sneers in Itou’s direction when the man lifts his hand and awkwardly waves, turning on his feet to leave the building. He had been planning on going to your apartment to sulk to see if you notice that he’s wildly irritated over the fact that he’s not received chocolates from you, but instead, he’s going to go grab a cheap bottle of whiskey from the nearest liquor store and drown himself in his misery back at his shipping container.

He doesn’t know what he did to you, and he thought if he did something wrong, you would’ve said something to him instead of icing him out. Isn’t that what you preach to him? Communication? Yes, Dazai sucks at it and has made no attempts to be better about it, but since you’re the one preaching it, you should at least have the decency to act as you preach. 

You’re such a hypocrite, Dazai thinks bitterly, his throat feels clogged and his chest feels tight and his side hurts a shit ton—he doesn’t like any of this, and with each passing second, he’s becoming increasingly more bothered by this situation. 

He’s not irritated anymore, he’s just hurt.

———

Dazai doesn’t end up going right to the shipping container. It’s late afternoon on a Friday, so when he’s halfway to the convenience store, he decides to make a pitstop at Bar Lupin to see if Odasaku and Ango are already hanging there. Luckily, one thing can go right for him today, because the two of them are in fact already sitting in their designated stools drinking their alcohol of choice.

Neither of them have said much of anything to him since he’s arrived besides greeting him. He wonders if he interrupted them—very extremely sour, he thinks that he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case considering he seems to be a burden on just about every single person he thinks is his friend. 

“I didn’t think you’d be free today,” Odasaku finally says. “We would’ve texted you.”

“I didn’t have a mission scheduled for today,” Dazai replies flatly, unable to muster the energy to put on an energetic front for the two of them. Usually, he doesn’t need to fake it around them because he does genuinely have a good time with them, but he’s just in such a bad mood because of everything with you and all of the newfound doubts plaguing him that it’s impossible for him to take his mind off of it. “Why would I be busy?”

Odasaku and Ango share a look with one another, Dazai catches the way Ango subtly shakes his head and is instantly suspicious. Odasaku either doesn’t pick up on it or doesn’t care, because he says, “It’s Valentine’s Day. I thought you’d be spending it with…”

Odasaku trails off when Ango’s headshakes become more frequent, but Dazai already knows what he was about to say. Stiffly, he asks, “Why would I spend Valentine’s Day with her?”

Ango’s smile is unsure as he shares another look with Odasaku before turning his attention toward Dazai and prodding, “Did something happen?”

“No.” Neither of them respond to his sharp answer, and after a few moments, Dazai blurts out, “She doesn’t want me living at her apartment anymore.”

“What-” Ango begins before seemingly rethinking his question, letting out a sigh. “Did she tell you that?”

“No,” Dazai says after a second, “but I know.”

“How do you know?” Ango presses. “Did you overhear her talking to someone?”

“Well, no,” Dazai responds awkwardly, “but I know.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she didn’t get me chocolates,” Dazai finally explodes, voicing the words that have been bothering him all day. “She got Mori chocolates. She got the slug chocolates. She got her moron of a partner chocolates. She even got Hirotsu chocolates, but she didn’t get me chocolates. And Elise said that she told her and Mori that I forced my way into her life. Isn’t that rich? She’s the one that forced her way into my life. I don’t need her, I never did. I just liked her stupid apartment. I could get my own if I wanted to, I just didn’t want to put in the work.”

Dazai thought maybe getting all of his complaints out would make him feel better, but he only feels worse, because half of that isn’t even true. He likes being able to bother you at night instead of rotting alone in his shitty shipping container, and he likes when you make him coffee in the morning before heading out to a meeting. He likes Friday night movies and he likes forcing you to play video games just so he could beat you and brag about it. You told him that you were his friend, so shouldn’t you like doing all of that with him too instead of it being a burden?

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Odasaku asks bluntly, never one to mince his words. Dazai slowly turns his head to look at the older man, barely catching the way Ango briefly shuts his eyes in exasperation. “I mean, you don’t even know if she’s not getting you any yet. You’re just assuming. The day isn’t over.”

Odasaku is usually logical, and he’s one of the few people who Dazai will take the advice of without question, but this time, Dazai shakes his head. He knows that’s not the case, you brought all of your chocolates to headquarters, and you handed them all out and didn’t give any to him. You knew he didn’t have a mission today so it’s not like he was busy, and even if he was, you could’ve given them to him this morning before he left. And either way, it’s not like that explains what Elise said.

“You should head back to her apartment,” Odasaku continues. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“You know what, you’re right,” Dazai says, becoming increasingly more incensed with each passing second. He knew befriending you was a bad idea—nobody actually wants to be Dazai’s friend once they get to know him, it’s been true his whole life, he’s still half-convinced that Odasaku and Ango only humor him because they think he’ll just kill himself. Once people start to see how odd and fucked in the head he really is, they start to distance themselves from him; you can’t distance yourself from him since he’s living with you, so this is just your way of silently telling him you’ve had enough. He knew things would turn out this way, and he hates the way it still makes his chest hurt. He rises to his feet abruptly, “I am going to head back to her apartment—so I can pack my stuff and leave.”

“Dazai,” Ango calls after him, but Dazai doesn’t respond, storming out of Bar Lupin without another word.

He doesn’t need you, he tells himself again, willing the pain in his chest to turn into something more manageable—anger, resentment, but preferably, he just wants to be indifferent. He doesn’t need you and he knew this was going to happen, so it’s time for him to just take the hint and go on his way, back to how things were before you forced yourself into his life.

———

You’re not there when he gets back to your apartment and you’re not there by the time he gets his things together and leaves. He was especially frustrated when he found himself disappointed by that, because he realized he was unintentionally wasting time packing his things because he was hoping you would show up and stop him. 

But you didn’t, so Dazai is now back at his shipping container huddled under a blanket because it’s cold. He’s almost done with his first bottle of whiskey, trying to numb the pain in his side and all of the shitty emotions he just can’t seem to rid himself of. It’s been three hours since he moved his stuff back into his shipping container; you should be back at the apartment by now—it’s thirty minutes off when the two of you watch your Friday night movies, and you’re usually back at your apartment getting snacks together with him by now.

You’ve realized he’s gone by now. Dazai hasn’t checked his phone, mostly because he doesn’t want to know if you cared enough to reach out. If he’s right about all of this, you’ll just take it as a blessing and move on, not wanting to risk an opportunity arising where you’d have to be polite and ask him to come back. As if he would. If Odasaku is right though… No, Dazai isn’t even going to go down that route, the last thing he needs is-

He’s startled when he hears three loud bangs on the metal wall of his shipping container. Instantly, his gaze focuses on the door. He knows it can only be one of two people, because you and Chuuya are the only ones shameless enough to come by without warning. Odasaku and Ango would text first and everyone else is too wary of him to come anywhere near the shipping yard, much less bang right on his door.

“Dazai, open up! What the hell?” He hears you shout from the other side of the thin wall. “It’s cold, come on! What are you even doing out here?”

You came looking for him, Dazai realizes, swallowing thickly. Dazai isn’t often wrong about things, so he doesn’t dare get his hopes up and he doesn’t respond to you. The roll up door rattles as you try to pull it up, but Dazai doesn’t budge to help you. It’s locked, so you won’t be able to open it and Dazai just waits for you to leave so he can go back to sulking in peace. 

“Dazai, come on,” you complain. “What’s wrong? I was waiting for you back at the apartment, why didn’t you come home?”

Though Dazai intended on just ignoring you until you went away, he can’t help the snide comment that escapes his lips, “Home? You mean your apartment?” 

He immediately takes another swig of whiskey, but the burn of the alcohol does nothing to take away from the bitter taste the words leave on his tongue. From the way you pause, you seem to realize something is wrong—extra snidely, he wonders when you became as slow as Chuuya.

“Yeah, my apartment, the place you’ve been living at for three months?” you say incredulously and Dazai winces. “What’s your problem?” 

“My problem?” Dazai asks coolly. “Maybe you should be answering that instead. You’re a hypocrite.”

He knows that will set you off—he’s always been good at getting under people’s skin—and he’s noticed how you bristle whenever Mori hits you with “Now, dear, let’s not be hypocritical.” He can almost imagine the way you go stiff and the way your face goes cold, but it doesn’t bring him the malicious satisfaction he expects.

 Instead, he only feels heavier.

Unfair, he thinks tightly. You’re always so unfair.

“Can you let me in?” you ask after a few moments of silence. Dazai is even more bothered now that he didn’t get the reaction he expected, gaze lowering to the ground. “I’d prefer not to freeze to death out here.”

This time when you ask, Dazai finds himself rising to his feet. He hasn’t drank enough yet to be unsteady, but he can certainly feel the blood rush to his head as soon as he stands up.

He makes his way over to the door, only fumbling once with the lock. He doesn’t slide it open for you just to be petty, but he doesn’t need to anyway—as soon as you hear the lock click open, you’re pulling open the door and Dazai pointedly turns his back to you before you can step in.

“Seriously?” you ask. Much to Dazai’s pleasure, you do sound a bit irritated now. “Dazai, what the hell? Why are you acting so weird?”

“Me?” Dazai demands, voice shrill at the sheer audacity you have coming to his shipping container and insulting him after what you did. Didn’t do. Same thing. He whips around to face you, a barrage of snide comments about to fall from his lips only to hesitate when he sees a fancy box in your hands. “... What is that?”

Your gaze sharpens and your brows furrow. You move the box out of sight behind your back, but Dazai dances around you to try to get a better look at it. The two of you play a game of swivels and twists for a few moments, but Dazai has to call it quits when the pain in his side gets worse and the alcohol goes right to his head. 

You give him a concerned look, but don’t press about the way he winces. Instead, you say, “Tell me what your problem is first. Why are you drinking here alone in the dark?”

“... No,” Dazai says after a second. “What’s in the box?”

Dazai really doesn’t want to get his hopes up, so he chews the inside of his cheek and rocks back and forth from his toes to heels, hands clasped behind his back as he tries to distract himself. You roll your eyes, but your lips curl up into a fond smile that almost eases all of the stress Dazai has felt all day. Almost.

After what feels like an eternity, you pass the box over to him and Dazai immediately darts forward to grab it before you can change your mind. Though he knows what it is before he opens it, he can’t control the relief that floods him when he sees the expensive chocolates sitting inside the box—most of them are shaped in the typical Valentine’s Day heart, but some of them are-

“They’re crabs,” Dazai says gleefully, a genuine smile spreading widely across his lips as he reaches down to pluck one out of the box and pop it into his mouth. The chocolate is soft and creamy, it melts in his mouth the moment it touches his tongue and he lets out a delighted hum. He eats another, and then another after that. “How did you get them crab shaped?”

You don’t answer the question; you stare at the chocolates, conflicted, and Dazai isn’t sure why. You seem to be trying to decide whether or not you want to say something, but you let out a sigh, seemingly deciding against it. 

Instead of whatever you were debating on saying, you rest your hand on your hip and ask him, “Why did you take all of your stuff out of your room?” 

Your room, Dazai swallows the chocolate in his mouth as he tries to figure out how to respond to your question. He doesn’t really want to admit that he had a meltdown triggered by the chocolate that you just handed him, and you do seem genuinely put off by the fact that he left. Maybe he was wrong, he thinks, pressing his lips together as he considers the possibility. He’s hardly ever wrong, but he supposes it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve managed to surprise him; since the day he met you, he feels like his mind is dulled when you’re around. He hates it.

So, he throws Elise under the bus.

“Elise said that you told her I forced myself into your life,” he says, voice coming out far more bitter than he intended for it to. He raises his chin stubbornly. “I wouldn’t want to keep imposing.”

Your expression flickers momentarily and you look a bit hurt, Dazai immediately swallows another chocolate, hopeful that he’ll swallow the sudden guilt he feels along with it. He doesn’t.

“Mori was trying to get me to convince you to live in the apartment he has set up for you in the main building,” you explain quietly after a few moments, crossing your arms over your chest. “I told him that he was better off trying to convince you himself because it was your decision to stay at mine. I didn’t have much of a say in it.”

Dazai lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and because he has no self control, he starts to ask, “But if you did have a say in it…”

Your expression softens in a way that makes Dazai’s stomach turn in on itself and your eyes flicker down to the box he’s holding before you quickly look back up at him. The box of chocolates in his hands suddenly feels a lot heavier, and his grip instinctively tightens around it.

“I… my apartment is a bit too big to live in alone,” you answer, and then add, “I would prefer you stayed.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, but his gaze does dart down to the three bags of clothes he brought back to the shipping container with him, all still packed. It wasn’t all of his stuff, just enough for it to be noticeable to you when you went to his room looking for him. Maybe he had been hoping you would come bring him back.

“I don’t have a movie picked out for tonight, if you want to pick,” you offer when the silence stretches on.

Dazai glances down at the chocolates you gave him again and then he says, “The Discovery channel has a new documentary on -”

“No.”

“What?” Dazai demands. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I am not watching another crab documentary, Dazai.”

“The last one was good.”

“The last one bored me to tears.”

Dazai rolls his eyes, leaning down to pick up one of his bags and you grab the other two after sending a narrowed look to his left side, slinging them over your shoulder as you step outside of the shipping container. Dazai follows you, rolling the door back down before giving you a mocking look.

“So you just want to watch one of those stupid superhero movies again? The only one actually entertained by them is bird-brained Chuuya, anyone with two brain cells knows how it ends just from the first scene,” he says snidely, enjoying the way you immediately scowl at him.

“Just because you know how it’s going to end doesn’t mean it’s not entertaining,” you argue. “You can be entertained by something predictable.”

“Not me,” Dazai sings as he follows you out of the shipping container yard and to the road. Much to Dazai’s displeasure, he realizes that you did not come here alone—your new partner is sitting in the front seat of the car waiting on the side of the road, scrolling through his phone. Distastefully, he demands, “Why is he here?”

“He drove me,” you say like it’s obvious. “What’s your problem with him anyway?”

“Nothing,” Dazai mutters, making sure to give the older boy a dark look as he slides into the back seat. 

He expects you to get into the passenger seat, but instead you move to sit in the back with him. Before you do, he stiffens as he remembers his clothes were not the only thing he stole from your apartment. Your eyes narrow in suspicion and you place your hand on your hip.

“What else did you take before leaving?”

Dazai sulks at how easily you figured out what the issue is and lies when he repeats, “Nothing.”

“If we get back home and immediately have to come back out here, I’m going to waterboard you, Dazai,” you say flatly.

“I’ve been waterboarded before,” he says stubbornly.

“Not by me,” you threaten.

 Dazai sighs dramatically, letting his head fall back against the headrest.

“I stole all of the remotes in the apartment,” he admits, shifting to push himself up to walk back over to the shipping container, wincing again when he shifts the wrong way. He pauses when you roll your eyes and hold your hand up to stop him.

“I’ll get them,” you say. “Stay here.”

“Don’t leave me with him,” Dazai complains, but you slam the door in his face.

Instantly, the light and playful expression drops from his face as he turns his attention to the rear view mirror, eyes locking with Itou Asahi. The blonde raises his eyebrows tauntingly, as if he’s daring Dazai to say something to him, and Dazai has half a mind to reach for the gun stuffed in the pocket of his black jacket. He refrains if only because he doesn’t want to piss you off even more.

After a moment, Itou twists in his seat to look at Dazai. Dazai’s eye twitches in irritation, realizing that he’s about to speak to him.

He nods to the box of chocolates. “She spent a month at my place trying to get it right.”

Though Dazai planned on ignoring him, he can’t stop the quiet, “What?” that slips from his mouth.

“The chocolates,” Itou says like Dazai is stupid, which irritates him but he’s still confused so he’s forced to wait for him to explain. “She tried custom ordering the crab shaped ones but had a tantrum because they looked ugly. So she spent a month learning how to make them so she could mold them on her own. She only just finished this batch today—still isn’t satisfied with how they came out, but ran out of time.”

Dazai’s throat swells up as he stares down at the chocolates, an odd warmth spreading through his chest that he can’t snuff out. Scrutinizing them more carefully now, he sees all of the tiny imperfections that wouldn’t be there if you’d store bought them—the hearts aren’t all perfectly even, some of the legs on the crabs are longer than others, there’s an indent on the back of the heart shaped chocolate he’s holding like you’d touched it while it was too soft.

His fingers close around it carefully, lips parting to speak but he can’t find any words. When did you have the time though? You’ve had so many missions lately-

Oh.

“All the missions in Tokyo…”

“Her missions were learning how to fucking make chocolate and they were in my apartment, not Tokyo,” Itou scoffs. “I’m never going to be able to eat chocolate again in my life the amount she’s force fed me. I can hardly stand the smell of it now. I had to send her to Nakahara for him to taste test the last few batches.”

Dazai’s gaze sharpens, obscenely bothered at the thought of Itou Ashi and Nakahara Chuuya being your taste testers and Itou is complaining about it. “You should be grateful you got to try her chocolate,” he snaps immediately.

Itou’s jaw drops and he immediately shakes his head. “You two are so fucking-” he starts to say but cuts himself off when he sees you approaching the car again. 

Dazai squints at him, almost wanting to dare him to continue, but his expression lightens when you open the door, remotes in hand and an irritated expression still painted on your face.

He only moves over enough to give you room to sit instead of moving to sit behind the driver’s seat. You squint at him, but Dazai gives you a small smile and says quietly, “My chocolates are much nicer than Chuuya’s.”

Your expression immediately softens and your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze—the telltale sign of you being flustered. Dazai’s lips part to say something else, but no words come out, gaze pinned on the pretty glow the moonlight casts over your face. You look like you want to say something as you look down at the chocolates again, but again, you seem to decide against it.

“How do you even know what Chuuya got?” you ask suddenly, clearing your throat. Dazai freezes. “And what happened to your side? Every time you move you’re wincing.”

“I… stopped by his office and saw them?” he offers, his next smile is too sweet, and you catch it from the way your eyes narrow. Defensively, he says, “The slug didn’t deserve chocolates from you.”

“Oh my god, Dazai,” you complain, burying your face in your hands. 

Dazai’s face flames up, and he shoots a dirty look in Itou’s direction when the older boy bursts into laughter. 

“Slugs can’t eat chocolate,” Dazai insists. “I was helping him, really.” 

“I can’t stand you,” you sigh, but when you shift in your seat, you shift so that you’re sitting a little closer to Dazai, shoulder pressed against his and thighs knocking together.

He glances down at the box of chocolates in his lap again, and the chocolate heart resting in his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, he passes it over to you. You give him a questioning look, but Dazai pointedly looks away as he wills his cheeks not to reflect his flustered thoughts, waiting for you to take it. His breath catches when your fingers brush his hand as you take it from him.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

Instead of directly responding, Dazai prods, “So, about the crab documentary…”

You let out a heavy sigh as you side eye him. “Fine,” you agree, “but you’re doing the garbage this week.”

“What?!” he demands. “It’s not my turn.”

“The price you pay for forcing me to watch nature documentaries for movie night.”

“It’s not just nature, it’s crabs.”

“Deal or no deal?”

“Fine. Deal.”

“Good,” you say with a saccharine smile that Dazai doesn’t like because he knows you’re thinking something bad. “Deal.”

After a few moments, you add, “I would’ve put it on even if you didn’t agree.”

“I’m going back to my shipping container.”

You laugh loudly, and Dazai’s heart skips a beat at the sound of it. He very much ignores the way Itou shoots an amused look back at them, focusing instead on the way your eyes glitter as your laughs fizzle into soft giggles.

“As if,” you say, knocking your shoulder into his. “I’ll just drag you back again. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

His lips curl up into a small smile in response to your words, gaze dropping back down to the chocolates sitting in his lap, and then back to you.

“Will you?” he asks quietly, a bit too seriously.

Your smile softens, and Dazai’s heart lodges right in his throat. “Count on it.”

[melminli]

I LOVEDDDDDDD your Thanos “bang bang bang” post and it made me very curious abt how they know eo and stuff and like I’d love to read more about it in general if you don’t mind. It’s so great and I love your writing <333 have a fun day / night 🫶🏻

BANG BANG BANG ll

summary - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, angst, death, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: ty so much! this turned out kinda freaky but that is because thanos is a freak so, i didn't really have a choice.

prev. | next. | masterlist

There was an eerie silence among all the participants for the first few seconds after the first death happened. The realization of what this meant for everyone present slowly sank in, and you thought that maybe the crazy man with all his screaming, wasn't quite as crazy as you originally thought. The real madman was probably the person somewhere upstairs or - you didn't know exactly where, but you knew that they were watching you.

“Don't move!” His voice shouted again, but this time with a completely different force. It may be that this was the most logical conclusion one could draw from what had just happened, but some seemed to throw all logic out of the window as soon as the fear of death hit. It only took one person to panic to set off a domino effect and from one second to the next loud gunshots could be heard, following the fearful screams of one person after another. The participants were being slaughtered like frightened animals in a cage, what kind of sick game was really going on here?

You too began to tremble as you looked down at the floor, dissociating and trying to ignore your surroundings as best you could. You had to stop yourself from flinching when the person right next to you was killed, even as you felt his still warm blood covering your cheek, even as a small river of it started pooling around your foot. You were most likely going to leave a trace of him all over the ground as soon as you started walking again - whoever he was. It didn't take very long for everyone who had moved to be shot, maybe half a minute - and yet it must have been the worst half minute of your life so far.

“Don't you dare move,” Thanos said in a voice you weren't used to hearing from him. “I'm serious, don't make me mad.”

You just looked at his back from behind, with a tense posture while you tried to regain control of your breathing again. Finally, there was complete silence on the pitch again. Even if it wasn't an entirely welcome silence.

The voice from the loudspeakers began to speak again and you already knew that this would be a voice that would haunt you in your nightmares. “Let me repeat: You can move forward while the tagger shouts, Green light, red light. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

Ah, so that's what you meant with eliminated. A bit literal but no biggie! The game continued, but no one really dared to move a muscle even when the puppet looked away. You then saw Thanos shift slightly out of the corner of your eye and noticed that he was pulling his cross necklace out of his t-shirt. Safe to say, that you could barely believe what you were seeing right before your very eyes. You've got to be kidding me, they took everything we had from us, but he was allowed to keep that old thing? “Are you seriously going to take that stuff now?” you whispered in disbelief but didn't really judge him for it. You were this close to just laughing out loud at the absurdity of the scene, but you didn't.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweetheart,” he replied with slightly shaky hands as he stopped his movement abruptly when the doll finished talking. He just stared longingly at the colorful pills in front of him. “I don't mind sharing with you, you know that.”

You sighed inwardly at the thing you were about to do. You had been clean for maybe about three years by now and quitting drugs of any kind overnight was fucking hard - definitely one of the hardest things you had to do in your life. On the other hand, your life was still as shitty as before, the only difference being that you were now consciously depressed and unhappy, so who cares? You could die every second anyway. “Thanks.” you just said after taking the pill out of his hand and threw the thing as quickly as possible in your mouth as soon as the doll looked away. Yeah, you were the biggest hypocrite on earth, old news.

It only took maybe a few seconds after that for you to feel the effects of the pill and then finally, all the stress started to dissipate. Your muscles relaxed, all the shouting about whatever felt like a soft pillow hugging you and the weird laying positions of the dead around you suddenly seemed incredibly funny. These were really strong pills, you could practically feel your whole body tingling. “Why are they all suddenly forming a line?” you asked with a grin and Thanos just hummed, not knowing the answer himself. “No idea, but watch this,” he said and waited until the puppet had turned towards you to push the person next to him, causing everyone in front of them to fall over too. “Ding! You lost,” he told them while wiggling his eyebrows and smirking after he watched them get shot.

You didn't even try to stifle your laughter at the scene. “You really are such an asshole.” you replied, shoving him aside this time after the doll averted its gaze. You then ran away as fast and as far away as you could so that he couldn't take revenge on you for what you had just done. However, you quickly stopped moving with both hands in the air as soon as the girlish voice emitted red light as if you were surrendering to her. You stifled your grin and pretty much failed when you noticed a slightly older woman standing relatively close to you. “Hey, are you trying to hide behind me to use me as a shield?” you spoke out without moving your mouth much and watched as she began to sweat more after you realized what she was doing. Still, she didn't pay you any further attention. “And now you're ignoring me too?” you spat out annoyed and grabbed her by the arm when you were free to move and pulled her in front of you against her will.

She tried to fight you off but you forced her further forward while she tried to defend herself. “You're older than me, aren't you ashamed of yourself?” You asked her and stopped walking before the robot's face turned towards you.

Number 57, who was still resisting your grip, stumbled a little to the side when you suddenly let go of her. She was about to howl in delight when she noticed how everyone else stood still. “No…” she mumbled out fearfully. “It's because of that bitch! I didn't -” she tried to defend herself to someone as she looked around the room, but her head caught the bullet before she could even finish her sentence.

“I may be a bitch, but at least I'm still alive.” you sang to her dead body on the floor before running past her. You didn't know how much time was left, but you had almost made it to the finish line anyway. You stopped with your back to the robot girl this time and it didn't take you long to spot the purple hair in the crowd. “Su-bong!” you shouted his name, since you had somehow gotten separated while running. You waited until he yelled back with a what?! “Last one there, gets fucked in the ass!” you yelled out without any shame or filter and saw his facial expression turn serious at the challenge. “Let's Go!”

The whole game went by relatively quickly once you took the pill from Thanos. It was actually quite fun, you thought to yourself as you both jumped around like two crazy people with grinning faces, waving your arms around wildly. I know it's not socially acceptable to say this, but I fucking love doing drugs! It was like everything around you was happening in slow motion and all the decisions you made felt foggy, like you didn't even realize what you were doing.

You loved being this person, it felt great to forget everything and just - not think. “I have won! No, really! You crossed the line two steps after me, I saw it!” you exclaimed before Thanos could object to a single thing. “Didn't anyone else see that?” you exclaimed in disbelief as if the others weren't busy staying alive while watching several others die right before their faces. You didn't care about the looks they gave you as you waved your hand. “No, they definitely saw it. I won.”

Thanos just gave in with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I'm getting fucked in the ass which is gay, very funny.” he just mumbled to himself annoyed, and continued to avoid your gaze, but couldn't help grin again when you slapped him on the shoulder laughing. “Hey, why did we stop doing all this again?” he asked you when he couldn't remember the reason. All he knew was that he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, even though he knew that he always had a great time with you - no matter what.

You laughed. “Oh, that's because you promised me that we'd both get clean together, and then you spent the money I gave you for rehab on more drugs behind my back.“ you laughed along with him, even if Thanos frowned a little at the memory and you started to smile forcedly after remembering again how he had betrayed you. “Or what was it again? Was it something about that Youtuber you told me about…” you mumbled to yourself obliviously, feeling any sense of happiness begin to fade. You finally gave up, the details weren't that important anyway. “It doesn't really matter though, right? In any case, you used the money for something else, whatever it was. Even though you knew how hard I worked for it - hell, I didn't even eat most days to scrape it together, man.” you stated while you looked him in the face, even though he averted his gaze from you. “That's just fucked up dude.”

Exactly. You actually hated being this person. You might not remember it right now, but you would as soon as the effects of the pill wore off, which hopefully wasn't soon. You really hoped it wasn't soon, because you didn't want to be aware of anything that had happened today.

next.

[heegyukeluv]

a hundred sunsets (sjy)

pairing: jake x afab!reader

synopsis: Using a dating app in order to find a lover rarely worked properly to you, which was the reason you never planned to do so. But bumping into someone so charming as you texted your possible future love interest wasn’t on your plans either. 

my's note: hello!!! it's not only my first time writing in english but also my first time using tumblr to post a story  i’m honestly kinda nervoussjdjdjs. a few things I want to say before anything: those are fictional characters, also i know almost nothing when it comes to other country’s educational systems sooo i’m sorry if something is off, and mostly important: enjoy!!! 

i wasn't planning to write this much but i think i got a little carried away lol

warnings: quick mention of alcohol (all characters are of age!), slow burn kinda?, at least one ‘kms’ joke srry, strangers to friends to lovers, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, sugar, etc..), lot of language, jake is downnn baddd, there’s a slightly jay x y/n moment (they go on a date lol) but not too much dw!!!, reader blushing/turning red! eventual smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) - jake is kinda a sub, oral sex (both), unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), j. cums inside (consensual), overstimulation (m), slight dacryphilia. enha’s jay, sunghoon and heeseung + lesserafim’s yunjin and chaewon as side characters. LMK IF I FORGOT SOMETHING.

wc: 22k

NOT PROOFREAD.

EXTRA (epilogue kinda?)

As comfortable as your couch was and even though you very much loved watching “Pitch Perfect”, that wasn't the fun weekend you had planned, actually you didn't plan anything at all. But there you were, licking your fingertips in order to clean up the salt flakes of the chips you devoured during the last minutes.

It wasn't like you really cared about what your lifestyle was turning into during the few months that passed by, opting to stay at home doing your little things here and there, taking a fair break from the crazy parties at suspicious places alongside a lame try to hang out with very random people... 

The initial excuse of "I'll focus more on my studies" was holding a bit, however you couldn't help but feel bored at your choices at this point. 

You sighed, opening the message app on your phone and re-reading the last texts you received in your friend group.

Jinnie 💘: my sweet little y/n i’ve been here watching you ROT down in your apartment and i’m tired!!! sure you don’t wanna party anymore or wtv BUT FOR GOD’S SAKE i love you but truth be said YOU NEED TO GET LAID!!!! download the app pleeeeasseeee it’s not like you’re gonna match with a weirdo (i guess Chaebae 💖: Worst case scenario you just call me and I go to rescue you with my very muscly arms Best case scenario you win a good fuck !

You laughed again at the texts, picturing Chaewon with her baby face and a very packed body. Would she be able to really punch someone on the face in order to protect you? For sure she would. And she didn't even need muscly arms or whatever. 

Being friends for God knows how long you thought about trusting them. They wouldn’t try to mislead you, right? 

You always had little to no interest in dating apps. The few times you tried you constantly felt like you were practically selling yourself as some product with specific traits, where the buyer doesn't have enough chance to get to know more parts of you before anything, chasing for the next step so eagerly.

Although your heart beats fast for people you just met seemingly outwardly interesting, the real feeling of wanting to be with them, to go out on dates, to trust enough to let parts of yourself to be shown comfortably needs time and usually grows slowly.

You never really dated anyone in order to fulfill momentary desires, your own body wouldn't let it happen as you lose interest as soon as you feel too pressured by the other part or when the connection wasn’t clicking right.

Chaewon and Yunjin were different though. They had the free spirit to just hit that one night stand and be happy about it. You were happy about it, loving to listen to their crazy dates and nights out, sharing the most terrific stories about it while drinking some wine on your balcony.

Nevertheless, you were kinda desperate. Your last relationship ended one year ago, the one you rooted for a very long time – two years and five months, to be exact, until one day you caught him cheating on you with one of his "best friends that you don’t have to worry, baby". Very much cliché but also a big trauma in your life, leading you to this very moment of neediness but not enough courage to trust someone again.

Since then you have been hooking up once and a while with random people you met at parties, but never felt right or enough especially because you tried so hard to either not get attached – and with that lose the brief sexual interest – or on the very other side of the hand, to build up some kind of relationship.

Every single one turning into a big failure. 

Sighing again, your fingers typed on the screen keyboard.

You: Can you send me the name again?  Chaebae 💖: OH??? YUNJIN Jinnie 💘: I KNOW [LFS] hope you enjoy!! hihi You: What's with the acronym lol Chaebae 💖: "Love at First Sight"  You: Oh god And you rly think it’s a good idea? Chaebae 💖: ..yeah? Jinnie 💘: a great idea actually! You chuckled. What could go wrong?

Everything went wrong.

Not every single thing, but a bunch for sure. 

You didn’t know if your taste was too specific or if overall men were just that boring. You had good features, your pics weren’t that bad either and your personality… Liking video games, some astronomical stuff, movies and dogs couldn’t be a big red flag, right? 

But every match got you thinking “what happened to the old ‘hi, how are you?’”. Maybe because of those exact traits you put on display made the weird nerds attracted to you as a potential match, thinking their fantasies would be fulfilled by you. 

Of course you understand people on those kinds of apps sometimes have very clear goals setted, but how frustrating is it to try to have a good conversation and the least creepy answer be “is it weird that i want you sucking me while i play league of legends? lmao”?

No matter how defeated you were feeling you weren’t one to give up. And that leads to this very moment as you type fast on your phone with your current attempt. 

Park Jongseong, or just Jay, was hot. Like, very hot. And his talking wasn’t going to weird places so far, which at this point was a big win. He was funny and somewhat endearing, sharing avidaly about his travels and his music interests with so much passion that you started to rethink your own life choices thus far – was the ongoing college degree a good choice? Should you give up everything and start to live as an artist? 

Lost in your train of thoughts about maybe having found somebody worthy of your time as you walked down the hallway heading to your next lecture of the day, you didn’t expect to hit your face straight into someone’s chest. A very strong and hard chest by the way, you thought briefly, scented with some woody essence that got straight into your senses. The sweet voice of the owner wasn’t expected either.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”, the boy uttered with a worried tone looking down at you trying to see if he had hurt you in some way. You almost didn’t catch his thick accent. “Are you okay?” he questioned softly, still concerned. You blinked a few times before coming back to reality, looking up confused at his face and answering hurriedly with slightly widened eyes.

“I’m the one who should be sorry! God, I’m so stupid, I should be more careful,” you started to blather as you lost yourself in that pretty face you just hit into. The whole combo was breathtaking. Plump glossy red lips and puppy eyes full of worry; the silky brown hair was just as normal as any other brown hair but what the fuck was that face? “I was looking down at my phone and I didn’t see y–”, you were interrupted by the honeyed voice again “I mean, I was also using my phone and didn’t see you either,” he chuckled. “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened even more at the same time as a smirk decorated his beautiful lips. You don’t know what got you more flustered, the pet name or the double meaning of that simple phrase. You could feel your cheeks burning hard and your first instinct was to look down to the floor and wonder if hiding yourself beneath the tile was a good option.

“Well, sorry again,” he said and you forced yourself to swallow down the saliva that got stuck on your throat and to look up again, facing now a cute small and shy smile that made your heart beat fast. Too fast. “See ya!” and just like that he went his own way, not even waiting for your response.

You were sure someone had glued the sole of your shoes on the ground while you two had that small and awkward talk, because there’s no way your legs stopped working properly just because of him.

You looked over your shoulder in order to see his back going away but it was already too late, since he wasn’t around anymore. You thought to yourself he was certainly a new student, because you would have noticed him sooner. How could you not?

His chocolate eyes and sweet voice were the only things on your mind as you picked up your phone to text back Jay, trembling a bit from the encounter still.

You: of course we can see each other this friday!! :) 

You tried your best to fully focus on your upcoming assignments, but your library time has reduced quite a bit and even in your house your attention was wandering constantly. For the last three days you walked around your whole campus trying so hard to bump into that good-looking visage one more time, going back and forth that hallway hoping to see that guy.

Describing his appearance to Chaewon and Yunjin didn’t help a bit, especially because everything you could remember was his sweet voice, his silky brown hair and his very beautiful smile. Just like any other guy. 

But he wasn’t. 

He looked smooth, confident and whatever other compliment you could build to him – like, you never really met him to know more than just the appearance, and his looks exuded that so you just guessed. The fucking “sweetheart” coming from his mouth sounded too good for your own heart. And that was everything you got from him. Not even a glimpse of something else like what classes he got or anything like that.

“I don’t know, I’m starting to worry you are seeing ghosts or making people up, girl”, Yunjin said as her hands unwrapped her sandwich right before she took a big bite.

“I’m not!” you whined with a pout. “I swear to god he exists. I need him to exist. He’s too fine,” you whispered the last part, even though they both heard you.

“This is definitely something someone who is starting to see things would say, y’know that, right?” Chaewon said with a laugh, making you chuckle a bit because, well, it’s true. How does one prove a person exists given that no one but you saw him?

The campus was big enough for you not to see him ever again, however after the quick encounter you noticed he walked towards the end of the hallway, to classes that only someone with an area of study similar to yours would go to.

“This is frustrating,” you stated, looking at the people wandering around still hoping to see him. Your lunch already forgotten in front of you.

“Don’t you have a date in like a few hours?” Chaewon questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we be worrying about you and that hot Jay guy instead of you and the we-don’t-even-know-if-he-exists guy?”

“She’s right, baby,” Yunjin added. “Jay looks adorable. You should focus on him.”

You nodded defeated, sighing and forcing yourself to re-read your texts with the said guy. “You’re right”, you smiled a bit.

Jay: Looking forward to our date tonight! <3

You: yeah, me too :) 

And just like that the afternoon has arrived and you got yourself in a dilemma of clothing and accessories and shoes and makeup and even between your perfumes! Everything seemed terrible together, nothing was right, no cloth piece looked good enough to match Jay’s insane visuals and taste in style. Through his photos you noticed the way he fashioned himself, wearing fancy brands with a generous constancy, looking too good for yourself.

You were on the verge of crying when Yunjin called you, as if she felt in her guts you needed her.

“Hey,” you answered the call, quickly accepting the change to a video call and propping your phone on your desk. “How we doin’, baby?” She asked curiously with a big excited smile. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” You noticed she had makeup on and was doing her hair while talking to you.

“Not doing well, Jinnie…” you pouted, looking at the mess around you. You were dealing with a lot of emotions at the same time and felt so lost. “I don’t know what to wear,” you said sincerely. “I feel like nothing I have here is enough to match Jay’s.”

In your defense, it’s been a long time since you ever went on a date, especially a dinner date and with someone so elegant like Jay.

You weren’t expecting Yunjin almost screaming at you. “Don’t you dare to say anything like that ever again!” You startled. “Y/N, you will look good in any clothing you decide to wear, because you are hot. Not your clothes or accessories or anything. They just complement your own beauty!”

While Chaewon normally was the one who would speak up for the whole group in terms of defending her girls, Yunjin worked on the other part of bringing the mood and the self esteem up. And both of them always did a great job.

“You are so fucking right, Yunjin,” she smiled proudly after you spoke, continuing her job on doing her hair.

You looked around one more time, getting out of the frame just to change yourself in a simple black dress long enough to cover half of your tights and the exact amount of tightness that hugged your curves with close perfection. “Thoughts?” You appeared again in front of the camera after a few minutes of trying some accessories.

“Sexy. And pretty. You are so getting laid tonight!” You chuckled. “I think I’m not the only one, though?” You wiggled your eyebrows playfully and she just giggled, before saying a quick goodbye and ending the call.

Just like you, she had things to get done. 

Putting on some lip gloss as a final touch, you were ready. And just in time as you felt your phone vibrating inside your purse with Jay's text.

Jay: I’m here :) You: Coming!

The big car greeting the door of your building was expected at some point, nonetheless your shocking expression was hardly disguised with a nervous smile. As Jay stepped out of his car, you quickly analyzed his outfit and had to take a breath because his white button up shirt with the sophisticated black trousers was getting yourself out of orbit. You felt a little dizzy when his hand positioned on your waist as he leaned to greet you with a little kiss on the cheek and a pretty smile.

He opened the door for you and when you both had settled down on the car seat, he said “You look great, Y/N”. With his help, you put on the seatbelt and thanked with a kind smile. "You look good yourself too, Jay."

The drive to the restaurant was quite normal, a few words being exchanged here and there, the conversation was pretty ordinary. You were a pile of nerves and you had to almost physically stop yourself from moving your legs up and down due to the feeling of anxiety. It’s not like Jay was making you uncomfortable, but you didn’t felt too comfortable either. The whole fancy type of thing was getting you too hesitant for a first date. You were more like a cafe date girly, stargazing at some open air park or maybe a picnic. Now you were blaming yourself for not letting that out beforehand.

Jay parked the car at the parking lot. “We’re here”, his voice broke you out of your mind and when you glanced up at the restaurant you felt like dying inside.

Too fancy.

“It’s… amazing,” was everything that slipped out your mouth as you got out of the car with Jay’s help. “I’m glad you liked it, princess.”

The pet name didn’t get you the much you hoped it would, actually it made you think about the fucking hallway guy and his smooth “sweetheart” saying, sending shivers down your spine.

When both of you reached the table reserved under the name Park Jongseong and you looked through the menu, you knew you were fucked up. With no shame, though, you asked “Could you order for me? I know little to no ingredients on this paper.”

Jay let a small breathy laugh and nodded ordering for both of you. He picked a wine impressively saying the name and the year and whatever other things wines have in its description trying to impress you. However, your focus was on the view that you finally noticed on your right side that faced a big window. The night sky was impressive and the moon was shining prettily. 

“Enjoying the view?” he asked after sipping a bit of his wine. “Yeah, it’s incredible. I love the moon, actually I–” you didn’t had the chance to even start on your probably long talk about how much interested you are in the moon, being cutted of by Jay.

“Did you know that once I almost had the chance to go to the moon?” Your head snapped so fast towards his direction that you thought you would break your neck. “What?” The discredited and doubtful expression adorning your face was so clear still you were not afraid of showing it off.

With that, you discovered a not so good part of Jay: his somewhat annoying and exaggerated personality of trying to impress you with exorbitant things, too different from the texts you guys had exchanged. You had no interest knowing that his first birthday present was diamonds or that his dad bought him a car even before he turned eighteen. Let alone that he traveled to every single place you said during the conversation.

The way he would blurt out interrupting you in order to say "It's so amazing there! You would love the beaches and the museums, and the..." so it goes, every single time was really angering you.

Feeling left out in a duo talk was a new experience to you. How could someone be so full of himself and act like his life is the only one that matters? His gentlemanly aura was falling down very fast.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying our date,” he pointed with elegance when you went full quiet, looking directly at you. You sipped a bit of the wine that actually tasted too bad for your palate, noticing how half of your food was left out on your plate. You forced yourself to eat as much as you could handle, but the aftertaste of that food was worse than the taste itself. 

“Oh, now you noticed me,” you artificially smiled.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, a bit offended. You got nervous, but didn’t let that get on you. “I mean that for the past two hours all you talk about is yourself. At first I was like ‘okay, this is how we know each other!’, but since then I haven’t had the chance to talk about anything related to myself, like my likings or whatever,” you vented, having to take a deep breath and drink some more wine afterwards. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t get it,” Jay seemed honestly confused.

“Are you stupid?” the question slipped your tongue a bit too fast for your own thinking. You widened your eyes and covered your mouth with your hand. “I’m sorry I–” 

“I don’t think I’m stupid, but I really don’t get it. It’s my first date in a while and I don’t really remember having to listen to the girls at all…”

Squinting, you questioned genuinely, “What do you mean? Like, the girls you took out on dates just… listened to you bragging about diamonds and travels?” He kinda mimicked your expression and replied as if it was obvious “...Yeah…” 

After you blinked a few times you recomposed yourself and drank the whole wine on your glass at one go wishing you could just get drunk enough to forget that night. Jay watched you with a fazed expression as you got up from your chair. “I’m sure you’ll find someone that likes you the way you are. But with all due respect, to me, you kinda… Y’know. So I’m leaving.” You pointed with your thumb to your back, not even knowing if the exit was that way. “It was… an experience, I think.” You forced a smile. “Do I have to pay for something?” 

“No, don’t worry about that,” he was quick in his response, feeling a bit ashamed and soon adding “But I can get you home, you just have to wait for me to p–”

“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll call a cab or whatever,” you interrupted him as soon as you could, not wanting to spend any more second with him. Being in a closed space with him for more than a few seconds would be too embarrassing. 

“Y/N, come on. It’s the least I can do for you. You don’t have to walk alone at night, it can be dangerous.” You sighed, tapping his shoulder softly when you got closer to him. “Jay, it’s fine. It was not meant to be,” you tried to sound certain but what left your mouth was a mix of sneering with a doubtful tone. When he said nothing more, you left.

You were free. And also hungry. And a bit tipsy.

Maybe it was not the best idea to walk alone at that time of the night, but somehow you managed to feel better outside than with Jay. He was great, but definitely not for you.

You questioned yourself if calling Yunjin or Chaewon or maybe both could be a good idea, but knowing them they would show up in no time and try to beat the crap out of Jay and you weren’t in the mood to witness a murder. Actually all you needed was food. And maybe a cozy place. Nevertheless you typed on your phone just to update your girls.

You: Date went down the hole Guy’s kinda suck ngl Chaebae 💖: WDYM ARE YOU OKAY  DO YOU NEED ME TO GET THAT BASTARD OR WHAT WHAT DID HE DO WHERE ARE YOU Jinnie 💘: i’m very much drunk rn but tell me his address and i'll kick his ass and get you home or are you home already?

You laughed at the quick replies you received and typed some reassurance to them while continuing your walking process. Your goal at that point was to find a convenience store where you could get some lamen and perhaps a soda.

While you wrote down your last message walking slowly not to trip, you bumped into someone, face straight to their chest.

Firm and cunning hands held you by the waist since you lost balance because of your heels, preventing you from falling. Before you could even say anything, that fucking woody essence went directly through your senses and it was as if history was reescribing itself, like a gift from fate. This time, you were fully in his arms.

You looked up. “I’m so– Oh, you again?” He showed his charming smile. Because of the proximity you noticed how the corner of his lips were a bit curvy. So attractive and for what? 

Just like the last time, you blinked twice before realizing what really was happening, feet fixed on the ground. “I’m starting to consider that you like bumping into my chest, sweetheart,” he said with a grin, his mentoled breath hitting straight on your face.

Thank god his hands still held your waist, otherwise you would definitely fall. Your baffled expression had him chuckling a bit. “Did I hurt you?” he asked with care, looking directly at your eyes. His pretty chocolate eyes were hidden behind black specs this time.

You kept gazing stupidly at him like he was a distinct specie, an alien or something, not being able to say a word. Your throat was dry, you were sure you had lost the ability of talking. “Have you forgotten how to talk, pretty one?” He sniggered and bold but gently placed a strand of your hair behind your ear with his free hand. You shivered and almost leaned into the touch. “I remember you having such an endearing voice,” and just like that you finally let your body respond and blushed, taking a deep breath while starting to move away from him “I’m sorry, I didn’t see yo–”

“Cut that off, sweetheart," he let you go, making sure you were stable on your feet. You missed the warmth of his body on yours right away. Also you took your time to appreciate his clothing. The deep red shirt with white stripes covered with a black jacket looked too good on him. "I’m worried our encounters will keep happening like this. You might end up getting hurt for real,” the concerned tone did not go unnoticed, even mixed with the teasing-flirtatious one.

Your eyes wandered his face quickly before you let out a chuckle and diverted your attention away. You decided to ignore the buzzing sound of your phone as you put it inside your purse. “That wouldn’t be fun, would it?”, you said.

“Definitely not,” you looked back at him, caughting the shining eyes staring at you already like all he had down his sight was you. “A beautiful face like yours cannot be hurt, am I right?” And again there was that too attractive sly smile adorning his lips. You decided to smile back but shyly yet unable to hold the visual contact for more than a few seconds, cheeks still reddened. 

“I don’t know you enough to say that but you seem a bit… off”, he was now looking at you with his gleaming puppy eyes, head slightly tilted to the side. “Yeah, I might be a little bit tipsy.”

Normally you would be mad at the fact the small amount of wine was hitting that hard, blaming your weakness towards alcohol for making you feel kinda dizzy and too bold for your own good – you internally debated if that dizzines came from the alcohol or from other sources, like the very good looking man standing in front of you.

Still you thanked the fearless feeling running through your veins at that very moment, otherwise where would you find enough courage to say what you said next?

“Are you down to get some lamen at some random convenience store with me?”, you had no idea what your words could mean to him and honestly weren’t expecting much, but as soon as his face lit up like you told him he won a good amount of money, you felt victorious. “Is this your way of flirting? Because if it is, it’s working on me.” 

“That’s good to know, nameless boy”, you scoffed with a seductively undertone, the little smirk on your lips and your now boldness to maintain eye contact making him laugh as a failed attempt to hide his flustered self. The next moment you both were greeting each other with a quick handshake after he offered his hand to you. “I’m Jake”.

The hallway boy finally got a name, and not only that, you were now sure of his existence.

Sitting on a bench at the little shop you managed to find, the angry owner’s expression facing you two was as clear as crystal water and got you thinking if you were being too loud. Without caring much you just let it be, since being with Jake apparently meant you will be noisy eventually. It was not necessarily his fault, the both of you just shared too many common interests that made it difficult not to get overly excited during the conversation. 

It all began with just a normal “no way you like this flavor!” – with a very strong Australian accent from his side – and since then the flow went smoothly. His company had been greatly enjoyable so far and you let yourself be more and more comfortable about sharing some self information.

For example at some point you discovered he was a physics student, and with that you instantly shared about your love for the moon – also the lack of acknowledgement about it. You explained that you were affectionate to the moon because of its beauty, shining brightly in the sky even when behind heavy clouds. Looking at it always made you feel somehow free, especially when some breeze hits your body simultaneously. 

Jake carefully listened to you with fond eyes and after you finished, he started to explain a bit of theory to you, sounding too smart. He looked very attractive saying words you didn’t even know the meaning behind and you noticed you were paying way too much attention to the way his charming lips were moving as he did so. 

And just like that you traveled around many subjects. You being more emotional and Jake more rational, respectfully giving each other the chance to speak, constantly but easily finding ways to match one’s energy. You finally felt heard that night. And one of the topics being, of course, the whole date situation.

“Ok, so what you’re telling me is that this Jay guy told you about his whole financial status, which I admit makes me kinda envious, and you still managed to end up here with me at some very random convenience store eating cheap lamen?”, he shook off the empty package of said lamen, staring at you with an amusement look.

“Yep,” you nodded, slurping the last bite of your food. “And also I called him stupid.” 

“At his face,” he completed the very important piece of information, finishing his food as well. Jake licking his lips to clean it up didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I swear if I was Jay I would be crying right now,” he stated as a fact and you groaned.

“Don’t make me feel bad for him, please,” you uttered with a whine and he laughed at you, his eyes turning into little crescents as he did so. “I swear he was nice and prolly had good intentions, but y’know…” you left unfinished, but Jake concluded for you. “He bragged about diamonds hoping you would fall for him or something.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head before drinking the last sip of your soda, “yeah, definitely not my type.”

Jake decided to restrain the urge of asking what your type would be, a little afraid he was off league. “Well, at least you got on a date with me,” he sneered. You chuckled. 

“I knew I would hit my pretty face directly on your so toned chest when I walked out that date,” you said sarcastically and then added “that’s why I decided to go in the first place.”

You were feeling way better now, belly full of good food that really pleased your taste buds and not drunk anymore, although you still let the boldness command your words through the talking once and while. You found out that behind Jake’s flirtatious and teasing way of speaking to you, there was also a very sheepish boy that would get flustered from time to time, like right now. He laughed off and drank the rest of his soda in order to run away from your very sharp but playful eyes.

Jake was so entertained by you. The way you expressed yourself so cheerfully and vibrantly. Whenever some topic of your liking was on the track your eyes would instantly get an almost childish sparkle as your hands motioned in a very exciting way and your detailed explanations would be voiced out.

Also he discovered you were a lot more confident than he thought you could be. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t liking this side of yours, audaciously flirting with him whenever you got the chance to do so, without holding back your bold responses. The feeling of the top of his ears burning knowing they were very much red was starting to become common for him. He did not had to know that you not only noticed his reactions, but was loving every minute.

Despite that, he tried to keep his cool.

“What are you up to after here, sugar?”, Jake asked forcing a nonchalantly tone while playing with the rings adorning his fingers, and yet again you were forced to remember the fucking cute pet names that got you flushed everytime he dared to say them. You looked away for a bit before answering.

“I don’t know, maybe go home… Watch some videos until I fall asleep”, you shrugged. Early on that day you weren’t expecting to find yourself in a situation like that, actually the whole program was to get “dicked down” – as Chaewon worded. However, you weren't disappointed either with how the evening turned out to be.

“Come on, Y/N,” your name went out too smoothly on Jake’s plumpy lips, his honeyed voice never failing to make you flutter slightly. Still you tried to keep your composure. “It’s friday and you’re wearing such a beautiful dress to what? To go home, watch videos and sleep?” He mocked the last part and you chuckled before lazily smiling in his direction, fully facing him. You recognized the tiredness starting to consume your body slowly which did not go unnoticed by Jake. Your tinted cheeks from the compliment also did not go unnoticed by him.

“And what would you recommend me to do, Jakey?”

“Jakey?” He raised an eyebrow, liking the way you pronounced the nickname a bit too much, thinking it was definitely something he could grow used to.

You just kept smiling, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You perceived how close on the seat you both were as if a magnet pulled you two together through that night, your bare shoulder slightly brushing against his clothed one from time to time.

“To be honest I just wanted an excuse to point out how gorgeous you are in this dress,” he licked his bottom lip as a habit while you didn’t even have the chance to properly receive the compliment, Jake being too smooth with it. “I don’t have any good recommendations, but if you’re down we c–”

The sound of your phone ringing interrupted Jake’s possible plans, making both of you startle. You saw Yunjin’s name on the screen and wondered whether to answer or not.

“Aren’t you gonna pick up?” Jake asked with curiosity. 

“Actually, yes I will,” you remembered you left your friends hanging on your texts and have been unintentionally ignoring them, so it was only fair to give a quick update just to make them sure you are still alive. 

“Hi baby”, you picked up the call with a smile, hearing a very drunk Yunjin on the other side. “No, I’m not home yet”, Jake watched as you talked on your phone with a neutral expression. He himself feeling a bit worried with the usage of nicknames and with your cute tone towards the person.

He knew you just went out on a date, assuming that you were at least looking to have some fun, however that fact should not be enough to stop you from being unavailable. Jake thought that a pretty girl like you probably already had a love interest in line.

“Don’t worry, Jinnie. You don’t have to come pick me up”, you glanced over at Jake who was now paying too much attention to the table in front of him, lost in his own mind and also trying to give you some privacy. You grinned, “I’m not alone.” Jake accidentally heard a very loud “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT ALONE?” through your phone and had to hold back a laugh. “I’m with… Someone,” you kept your eyes on him as you spoke to Yunjin, grabbing his attention when you indirectly mentioned his presence. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” and then you ended the call with a “Love you, bye.”

“I didn’t mean to hear it, but I’m intrigued…” you knew where Jake was going with that, so you just kept your smile. “‘Someone’, huh?” He said with a smirk, clearly messing with you. 

You turned your head to someplace else because no matter how bold you can be sometimes, the following line that you let out made you hesitate a bit beforehand.

“Well, in my defense I don’t plan to introduce you to my friends through my phone, let alone as a mere guy I just met,” although you tried to keep your cheekily tone, it was obvious how shy you were feeling, gazing briefly at Jake’s direction as you said.

Jake hadn’t noticed until now that he was holding his breath a little, relievedly letting it out as he watched your pretty face and expressions. Regardless, the whole phrase made his head spin, replacing previous thoughts with new, more intense ones, all at once. What do you mean by that?

“Then how are you planning to introduce me?” he boldly questioned leaning towards you a little in order to find a way to look you in the eye again, finding adorable your demeanor right now breaking every little eye contact way too quickly. 

You giggled.

Jake thought he had just found his favorite sound in the world.

“We’ll see, Jakey.” 

Jake rode you home.

He noticed how lazy your hooded eyes started to look and decided to end the “date” instead of taking you to somewhere else, which you particularly found endearing. The bar was low, you admitted to yourself, but a cute guy being considerate for your entertainment other than just leading you anywhere else for his own amusement made your heart flutter. 

However, the moment he offered to take you home you immediately refused, emphasizing that he didn't need to worry and that you would not let him waste gas for nothing. The reply he gave was a not so subtle “I don’t care”, alongside with “I’ll not let you freeze outside waiting for a cab and I don’t trust you enough to let you borrow my jacket for tonight,” making you laugh at his little mischievous tone, especially because as soon as you both were in his car he put his black jacket on your shoulders.

“I thought you don’t trust me enough to have it?” You referred to the jacket, feeling too inebriated by its smell. 

“There's a big difference between leaving it to you alone without knowing if you'll ever hand me back and letting you have it under my watch, sweetheart.” His smug face looked too charming as he spoke and the damn sweetheart again got to you with ease. You chuckled while watching the street lights passing by. 

The ride was calmer than you expected. The radio played on some random station working as a beautiful background to the soft words exchanged between you two. You noticed Jake’s attractive side profile as he focused on the road rambling some physics thing in a very excited way. Your body felt too tired to keep any thoughts on track, leading you to just listen to his sweet voice embracing you mildly until you both arrived in front of your apartment building.

Of course he didn’t let you open the door and also helped you to get out. The touch of his warm hand under yours sended a shiver down your spine. 

“Thank you for the ride, Jake,” you said with a gentle smile.

“My pleasure, sugar,” your cheeks reddened hard as you started to take off his jacket. “You don’t have to,” he shook his hand in front of him, refusing to get the clothing piece back. You looked at him with a stunned-confused expression, lips parted a bit. Before you could even protest he interrupted you. “I need an excuse to see you again, right?” And send you a wink.

As if he said just a normal thing, he confidently got back to his car, letting behind a very flustered you. 

Little did you know how shaky his hands rested on the wheel as he drove off, looking forward to meeting you again.

Of course you had to spend your whole weekend waiting for Monday to come – a peculiar behavior you admitted to yourself. But neither you nor Jake got each other's phone number so all you could do was to wait and hope for the best. You didn’t even know if you would meet him again at the campus because you searched for him nonstop the last few days and never got the chance to do so, making you regret even more about not getting any information about where to find him.

His jacket rested on your desk chair as you deeply stared at the little stars adorning your bedroom ceiling. Stars that remembered how shiny Jake’s eyes looked when he started to talk about Theory of relativity or anything like that. You also remember paying just enough attention to understand and to keep the talking flow, focusing more on the way his lips moved as doing so.

You groaned, rolling on your bed sheets. How long a weekend can be? You were acting like a teenager for having a crush on a stranger! You knew little to no things about Jake. You knew his age – one year older than you, you knew his majoring and you also found out the reason behind him being at your campus block – he had to deliver some paperwork to a friend of his. But other than some common interests and his music taste, that was it. 

Was him a good person? He showed you a good personality for sure, to the point your heart sank with the idea of losing all that excitement to see him again just because he’s good looking and has a great talk. Still you kept questioning yourself. What if he was the player type? Just hitting for one night stand and that’s it?

Monday morning arrived but you did not had enough time to develop any more thoughts when you got to the university. As soon as you reached it, Chaewon and Yunjin flooded you with a very long investigation about what the hell happened that friday.

Talking in person was always an option for the three of you, the feeling of looking eye to eye and reading each other's expressions was more interesting than having to guess it over a phone or video call. Normally you three would pick a place to go and have a little "friends date" and talk about the stuff that happened for hours. However this time you choose to use the excuse you were busy studying, having too many assignments left behind which neither of them bought it from you.

“So Jay sucks?” Chaewon asked. “I don’t like putting it like that,” you murmured. “But yeah, we just didn’t hit it off, y’know?” You just shrugged.

You three were walking towards the class you shared that morning, not caring much about being a little late. 

“Baby, you’re too nice,” Yunjin hugged you sideways and smiled at you. “You can say a man is stupid.”

“Actually I did,” you smiled mischievously and they both looked at you with shocked expressions. “Not my proudest moment, but I said it to his face. Unintentionally, I swear!”  

Chaewon and Yunjin broke down the shocked expressions to laugh out loud with the idea of you calling your failed date a stupid right to his face.

 “And what’s with the jacket?” Yunjin questioned when you stopped to grab your things from your locker.

She knew every clothing piece you had as if it was hers because of your constant need for help in terms of putting together what you like, and even though the jacket looked good on you, definitely wasn't part of your wardrobe. 

“It’s Jake’s, I’m planning to send it back to him today.” 

They already knew about Jake, but not too much. You shared a little through texts not wanting to fill too much of their expectations. Knowing your two best friends, they would go crazy if you detailed your night out.

They both exchanged glances before Chaewon spoke “If he really exists.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, picking up all you needed from your locker before answering. “He does. And he’s… pretty nice.” You tried your best not to sound too whipped at that time, especially because you were still worrying if he would be loyal to his words or if the whole talk about meeting you again was just a big bluff. 

But apparently one thing about Jake it’s that he can counter you with ease. As if you summoned his presence, the honeyed voice that you didn’t realize until now you missed hearing, said from behind you. 

“Hey, pretty one.” your head snapped to the direction faster than you would like to admit, meeting the beautiful plump lips turned into a little smile. He looked you up and down, checking on you. “I don’t think I’ll need the jacket back. You look better on it anyway.” His eyes were locked at you, and only you. You had to remind yourself to breathe, because, God Jake was so hot. 

That day he opted to wear just a normal white shirt with dark jeans and black shoes. At first he thought about really getting his jacket back, because you didn’t know that but that jacket was his favorite. But as soon as he put his eyes on you and noticed how cute you looked with his clothing piece seeming too big like an oversized one, he gave up.

“H-hi,” you damned yourself for stuttering, being fully aware that your friends looked as astonished as you at that moment, but for different reasons. You started to get the jacket off your body by saying “Of course I have to give it bac–”, he shushed you with his index finger before you could finish and your eyes widened, making you stop all your movements.

“Don’t worry, I meant it when I say you look good on it,” you gulped as you nodded speechless. “Here,” he handed you a little paper and your shaky hands took it, you saw numbers written. “It’s my number, you can text me whenever, yeah?” He licked his lips suddenly feeling nervous.

Apparently being around you was an easy break of his flirtatious self. However, he forced himself on this one and said “I gotta go now, I’m kinda late,” he ruffled your hair gently before leaning close to whispering on your left ear, lips lightly touching your skin “See you around, sugar.”

You immediately choked on your own saliva, your cheeks burning like hell, fully unable to say a word. “And bye to you both as well!” Jake referred to the girls as he started to run down the corridor to his own campus building. 

“Bye!” both Yunjin and Chaewon said in unison. You had to blink twice before realizing what just happened. “Girl!!!” Yunjin screamed and you noticed Chaewon covering her mouth as well. “What the fuck?!?!” 

“I–” you tried saying anything but you couldn’t, not only because of your own brain turning into mush, but because your friends were way too hyped and interrupted you. 

“The way he looked at you?”

“THE PET NAMES!!!”

“‘Pretty one’!? He so down bad, what the actual fuck?”

“And he’s cute as hell!!!”

You were overwhelmed with all of that, walking just because the two girls were forcing you to move forward while keeping squealing about Jake's actions. 

“I know that nose can do wonders,” Yunjin said cheekily as soon as you sat in your class seats and you immediately turned to look at her with a terrified expression.

“Huh Yunjin!!!”, you smacked her shoulder with wide eyes and she just laughed together with Chaewon. 

As your ordinary Monday normally would go, you were now sitting under a tree reading the latest book your teacher assigned for an assignment. You always loved to take a break from the library and to literally touch some grass, using your free time to catch up with all the paperwork you needed.

A shadow approached you, blocking the sunlight and catching your attention. You didn’t expect to see Jake hovering over you. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Are you following me?”

“No, I just missed you.” He ironized, taking a seat near you and looking at your book. “You’re such a nerd,” he mimicked your position, so his head was also resting on the tree behind you two but he was facing you. Too close. 

You nervously gulped before saying, “Yeah, cuz I’m the one who likes to show myself off to a girl talking about Theory of relativity and other physical terms”, you sounded too sarcastic and instantly felt bad. “I’m not complaining, by the way,” you whispered looking away, part of you hoping for him not to hear but due to the proximity he obviously heard. And smiled.

Jake was afraid you could hear his heartbeats at that moment. Your side profile enchanted him in ways he could not describe. Your shy little smile got him thinking if it would be too weird to take a picture to have it with him forever.

He looked away, enjoying the silence.

“It’s very calm over here,” he said in a deep low voice, resting his chin on his knee. You took advantage of him not facing you anymore and watched him as he watched other people wander around, almost forgetting to say something back.

“Yeah, I like it here because it’s always calm like this,” he looked back at you when you talked. You forced yourself to keep eye contact for as long as you could, trying your best to ignore your burning cheeks. 

Jake looked away. You noticed he was flustered too. 

“And what about you, Jakey?” The little nickname spilling out your mouth like sugar, he almost melted. “Isn’t your campus like a few blocks from here?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, but I’ve got like an hour to spare before my next class.” You hummed. “So I decided to come over and thought I could maybe bump into you again,” he slyly smiled at you. You laughed at the term he used. 

“But I can go away if you want me to, sweetheart.”

You instantly shook off your head and almost grabbed his arm as if trying to stop him from getting up. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And he did. 

There was a brief silence moment before you plucked up the courage to ask. “What’s with the pet names?”

“You don’t like them?”

The worried puppy eyes he gave you almost broke your heart. “It’s not that… It’s just, y'know…”, you shrugged, trying to find the right way to put it. “Do you use them with everyone?”

You needed to know. You noticed Jake shuffling on his seat a bit, as if he was uncomfortable. And well, he wasn't fully comfortable either. There was no good explanation to why he called you all of that, and no, he didn’t use pet names with no other people but you. He dated two other girls before and of course called them cute pet names while being with them, but now you were the only one on his mind since the first encounter and he could not help it.

Jake was a believer of “love at first sight”, however he understood the necessity of getting to know the other person if he wanted to build something with them and never really got carried away with the primary delusional feeling.

With you he was kinda different. He let his flirtatious side shine way more easily than he would normally do. When he noticed how cute the girl who bumped on his chest that day was, he just let it all out. Little did you know that his first instinct of flirting with you was due to his nervousness. 

Now he would be down to a one night stand type of thing if you wanted to, but didn’t sound right to do so. You looked too precious to him. He wanted to be close to you and get to know every single piece of you before anything. He wanted to know your likings, interests and overall personality.

He could let himself fall in love with you.

Immersed in his own thoughts, he didn’t even realize he had become quiet and left you hanging kinda in a compromised position.

“You know what? Forget it,” you shook it off, feeling embarrassed. It wasn't like he owes you any explanation about his life or what he does with it. If he decided to play with your feelings, then you should know your position of not falling for it. “Tell me something very nerdy about your area,” you asked brightly. “I’ve got a few minutes still.”

You noticed how bold you became around Jake. Apparently that's how it worked between you two. 

He would be the one starting the whole thing, making you get too flustered for your own good with the cute names and shameless flirting, until he breaks out the character for a few seconds, enough for you to be the audacious one and make him blush.

At some point you started to get used to Jake’s presence in your everyday life. Both of you would constantly reach for the other during free time just to hang out, and sometimes to grab some food together. Yet you never let him get too close, fearing that you would let yourself get too attached to the feeling. You made it a rule not to fall for him and you’ve been holding on so far, even with Jake making it way too difficult. 

Jake was sweet, caring and not afraid to express his feelings when he needed to. Not only that but he also would remember little details about you, like your favorite coffee order or the fact that you can only listen to the first half of a song because you think the rest sucks – Jake always skips it when playing on his car radio. 

He got along with your friends easily as he’s a well spoken person as well, and even introduced you to his own friends. You met Heeseung and Sunghoon, the last one being a classmate of Jake while Heeseung studied music, both older than you. You found out that Heeseung was the said friend who made Jake wander around your campus causing the whole bumping-into-each-other situation and it became an inside joke among all of you.

Jake made it normal to ask you out from time to time within the excuse that both of you were overwhelmed with the university duties and deserved to see the outside world.

So after today’s classes you walked down the parking lot after receiving a text from him saying he would take you to a place – he refused to tell you where you were going. 

He was already waiting for you, being too attractive as he leaned against his car while looking at something on his phone. Your heart started to pump fast in your chest, making you take a few deep breaths beforehand. 

“Hey,” you greeted when you got closer and he glanced over at you, immediately opening a big smile and embracing you in a hug.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you took your sweet time to feel the warmth of his body and perfume. “Ready to go?” 

You moved back from the hug and watched as he opened the door car for you.

“Mhm, but you got me extra curious, so I’m having high expectations,” you tried to exaggerate in your words in order to get a little hint, but of course Jake was already getting immune to your tricks at this point so he just laughed.

“I’m sure you’ll like it, sweetheart.”

You settled yourself in his car, feeling way too comfortable with the amount of time you already spended there with him as you threw your bag on the backseats and chose the song for the trip. 

Jake dared you to show him your favorite songs every time you two drove together, but you wanted to get to know his music taste as well so you two decided to alternate who chose the songs for that day. And it was your turn.

“Paramore for today, huh?” He pointed out with a small smile.

“Yeah, you don’t like it?” 

“I love it.”

One of the reasons your heart beat fast when around Jake was the freedom to be yourself and just do whatever you wanted to do, without even noticing you caused the same to him with your charming behavior. Every time he stopped at a red light he would look at you bobbing your head and lip syncing to the lyrics excitedly while doing a little dance. 

He tried his best to not show how dearing he was looking at you, but you caught the cute brown eyes facing your side from time to time and the only reaction from both of you was to look away and blush. 

As the conversation flowed, he shared a bit of his day to you, telling about how stressed he has been because of his study partner being a pain in his ass, and the only hint of where you were going he let out was “And because of that, I need to de-stress and that’s why we goin’ where we goin’”. 

You pouted and forced the best puppy eye you could while looking at his direction. He almost broke out. “You’re mean. You don’t make a girl curious like that.”

“Don’t worry, we are almost there.”

You gave up trying to figure out where you were going and hoped for the best. You knew that with Jake nothing could be bad, because his presence alone was enough. 

Jake felt similar to you, not admitting out loud that just the fact that you were with him already reduced a lot of his stress. You may not know that but everyday he was eagerly waiting for the moment you both would meet during the day, and when you couldn't find time to do so, he was thrilled to receive a simple text from you.

Your presence was enough to make him happy.

It didn't take longer than a few songs for you to arrive at the place you instantly recognized as a beach.

“A beach?” You sounded excited, but also a bit confused. You don’t think you have clothes to enter the water and the sun was already starting to set, so you didn’t get much of his idea at first.

Jake parked the car and as usual, he opened the door for you. “Yep. I know it’s kinda late for a swim or anything like that, but it wasn’t planning to do anyways,” he helped you to get out.

Normally he would let your hand go as soon as you felt stable on your feet after leaving the car, but that day he decided to hold your hand as he gently pulled you in the direction he wanted to take you.

You said nothing. How could you? The slender fingers holding yours had broken you down. The air felt thick in your airways as you walked alongside him, heart beating louder and louder while you watched the beautiful view of the sun finding its way down the horizon. The cold breeze hit your face and brought so much peace to your inner self. You could live forever like that.

Jake suddenly stopped walking and since you were a bit behind him, you bumped slightly at his back, hands still together. You looked over his shoulder and gasped. The place you two were now had a better view of the sunsetting and the waves calmly hitting the rocks sounded way too heavenly.

You blinked slowly, reluctantly letting Jake hand go as you walked a bit forward. Behind you, he watched as your hair flew due the breeze.

"It's so pretty..." you uttered under your breath, mesmerized by the look of the orange and pinkish colored sky. You felt like crying. 

He took a few steps and glanced at your serene expression. 

While you enjoyed the view, Jake enjoyed you.

"Yeah, very pretty."

You had no clue of how fast Jake’s heart was beating right now. He was hypnotized by you, a sudden urge to kiss you building up his mind right away. 

“I now understand why you come here to de-stress”, you said after a while, the sound of your sweet voice bringing him back to reality. He had literally lost himself on you at that very moment. 

You lazily smiled, feeling extra calm and glanced at Jake, who was already looking at you with soft eyes.

“Thank you, Jakey,” you hugged him sincerely. “For bringing me here and for being here with me. I needed that.”

Jake sighed, hugging you tightly. At this point there was no way he could hide the thump-thump in his chest, and honestly? He stopped caring if you noticed or not. 

He stopped caring if you noticed he was – not so slowly – falling for you. 

It was a stressful week for you, not only were you on your period but also dealing with a bunch of deadlines. You considered throwing yourself in front of a bus when you realized how left behind you were in your assignments. Your finals getting closer and closer didn’t help either.

For good and long days you almost locked yourself at the library in order to catch up with everything, because even with the help of some friends that shared the classes with you you were barely holding on.

Jake would appear out of nowhere and give you a cup of warm coffee, some muffins and a little kiss on your forehead before heading out and letting you do your thing.

“I just wanna make sure you’re eating well, princess,” he would say every time. And no matter how lovingly his actions would be, you couldn't allow yourself to feel them because of your anxiety of failure.

And yes, ever since you asked about the nicknames and stuff he started to use them more often than your heart could handle, especially after he discovered that you liked them, even if you didn't admit it out loud.

Friday arrived. You wished you could get excited about going out to the little party Jake said Heeseung would be throwing that evening, but you needed a good night of sleep and your whole body was aching due to your period. You just wanted to sink on your bed sheets after taking a hot shower.

One thing that became normal in your life was getting a ride with Jake some days of the week, unfortunately he didn’t have any classes on fridays so you just had to walk your way home. You took your sweet time to feel the cold autumn breeze hit you on the face hoping it would take away all your stress. The buzzling sound of your phone caught your attention as you saw Jake’s text on its display.

Jakey 🐶:  Hey there princess It’s been three days since I last saw you and I’m ngl, I kinda miss your pretty face lol I hope you’re doing well I left you a little smth at your apartment.  At the door, ofc Don’t freak out, I didn’t stole your keys or broke into your house or smth Please, don’t stress yourself too much <3 And dw, I’m not mad you’re not going to the party Have a good rest, pretty girl. AND PLEASE don’t forget to eat!!!!

You almost cried reading all of that and blamed your hormones for being a mess of feelings. 

You: Hi Jakey!!  Kinda miss you too you left something to me? i’m kinda scared I’m dealing with cramps rn so I’m not so fine, but I’ll eventually, dw! And yeah, I’ll make sure to eat and rest well enjoy your night, pretty boy <3

You noticed you felt much braver through texts than in person, but this was the first time you were the one using a nickname so you were shaking a bit.

Jakey 🐶: AJDKSSJDJS SORRy I Yeah, uhm No need to be scared, princess, I’m sure you’ll like it  Cramps? Take on some medicine, please!! Do u want me to come over? Are u home yet?

He sounded so desperate and nervous that genuinely made you laugh out loud. But with a simple text back saying “no, you go enjoy your night out and I’ll enjoy my bed” you finished the conversation as you finally arrived home. 

Near your apartment’s doormat, there was a pretty bouquet of daisies alongside a little box of chocolates. You noticed a little hand note inside the bouquet. 

“I remember you saying you like these flowers and everyday I pass by a flower shop and always think about buying it for you, so today I finally did. There’s chocolate too. Hope you like it.

Have a good rest, princess.

Jake”

You took a deep breath in order to hold back the tears trying to escape. Not falling for Jake was a difficult rule to follow, and you didn’t know if you wanted to keep doing it anymore.

“So what you're telling me is that Jake left his house on a fucking Sunday morning and brought you ice cream because you... were feeling too lazy to go buy it yourself?”

“When you put it like that…” 

Chaewon, Yunjin and you were sitting at one of the furthest tables in the cafeteria that you usually went to when the three of you wanted to gossip or just meet to catch things up. It was a late afternoon on a Tuesday and you barely had time to see them in the last few days, mainly because you had missed a few classes to finish reading other teachers' required books.

“The real question is: why aren’t both of you dating already?” 

Yunjin was flabbergasted by what you were describing about Jake. There’s no way that guy wasn’t in love with you at this point. She didn't understand what was taking you so long to ask him out already, especially because she noticed that Jake was kinda holding himself back.

“Yeah! He follows you like a little puppy and looks at you like you are a goddess or something!” Chaewon added. “I mean, you are a goddess, but to get someone to look at you like that?!”

“Girl, you gotta bag him ASAP!” Yunjin playfully pushed your shoulder, but you weren't feeling that happy about all of it.

You sighed. “But what if I’m just a fun little game to him?”

“What?!” It was funny the way both of them said in unison, but instead of laughing you just continued with a sad voice tone.

“Y’know, he’s been flirting with me since the very beginning. I don’t know. Part of me believes his words and actions, they seem genuine. But the other part is way too afraid of trusting too much,” a single tear ran down your cheek as you frowned. “I don’t want to be hurt again.” You whispered as you looked down. 

“Baby,” Yunjin, who was sitting next to you, hugged you sideways and planted a sweet little kiss on top of your head. “We know you’ve been through a lot of shit because of your stupid ex, but I don’t think Jake’s like that.”

Chaewon, who was in front of you, took your hand in hers as she spoke. “Yeah, and you know, If he tries something or if he dares to break your heart, you’ll always have me to make his life a living hell.”

You smiled through the tears running down all over your face. With a reassuring look, Yunjin asked. 

“Give it a try, yeah?”

Jake knew what he was getting himself into. He would be fine if you put him in the friendship side, but the thought of having you to himself pleased him way too much. The idea of other guys touching you the ways he wanted to, knowing that none of them would treat you right, consumed his mind as much as the vision of your pretty smile. 

The urge of getting physically closer to you was itching him incessantly. 

Ever since he discovered that he was in fact falling in love with you, he became unable to get you out of his head. It was like a kind of mantra that chanted your name every time he saw something that reminded him of you, and almost everything reminded him of you.

He didn't had the courage to ask you out on a proper date so far, because even though the both of you had developed an incredibly nice friendship, he was too afraid that he was seeing beyond reality because of his delusional self, and more than that he was scared as hell of losing you. 

You probably only thought of him as a friend who you could playfully flirt with, he would say to himself. At the same time, the way he sometimes caught you looking at him seemed much more loving than it should.

There seemed to be more love than friendship in that relationship of yours. 

He was also having to deal with the hard job of avoiding kissing you. Recently he found himself getting lost on your lips too often. A dangerous play. Still he kept you as close as he could, hugging you or having at least one of his arms around your shoulder or waist in order to fulfill a bit of his neediness. 

Thinking about you and only you, he sighed, finishing his business at his locker, finally reaching the book he was looking for and placing it in his backpack. 

"Ok, quick question", Jake almost screamed at your sudden appearance when he closed the metal door, widening his eyes and dramatically putting a hand on his chest. You laughed. 

"Firstly, what are you doing here?” He said after catching his breath. “Secondly, why do you like to scare me so much?", he kinda whined and you laughed.

"I just wanted to know if your name is really Jake or if it's a nickname", you smiled innocently. Jake on the other side of the hand didn't buy your "pure" expression, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Why would you run all the way through here just to ask about my full name, which I’m pretty sure you already know?" He wasn't buying any of that.

"Because I wanna manifest you in my life," you answered like it was obvious and you both began to walk side by side. You were going to be very late to your class but your professor has to understand that sometimes you have more important things to do other than attend classes.

"I thought I was already in your life...?" Jake was trully confused.

"Yeah, but I kinda wanna you in my life more than just what you are right now.”

"What are you talking about, Y/N?" Saying your name was an indicator that either he was serious or very confused, either way you didn't care much so you just carried on with your talking. 

“Go on a date with me.” He stopped walking and so did you. Jake looked at you, blinking without saying a word. "On a date, you know,” you motioned with your hands, losing a bit of the courage you had to build up to do all of that. “We go to someplace, grab some food, wait for the night to fall down and boom, stargazing while we talk about our amazing theories of life or whatever.”

Jake gulped, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Normally he would be the one programming the whole thing and just saying you are both heading to somewhere, but to have you asking like that… If he understood it right, you were asking him to go on a real date.

"Sounds like something we already do." He let out a breathy and nervous laugh, still trying to thoroughly understand what you were saying, looking if there was some kind of joke hidden behind your eyes. 

You looked extra attractive today, as if you dressed yourself up just for this moment. Just for him. He noticed you were wearing his jacket as well.

"It pretty much is, but at the end of this one I want to be able to kiss you,” you said in one go. “On the lips, if it's not clear."

Jake now was more speechless and completely baffled than ever. He was sure he was dreaming. It became normal routine for him to dream of you lately so of course this was all a trick of his own mind trying to compensate for his neediness of you. 

He was so fucking dreaming.

With the lack of response, you thought you fucked up. 

“I-I’m sorry, I–”, you started as you felt your confidence running away from you immediately. “Just forget about what I just said, I should not have said anything to begin with. I’m so sorry, ok?” You noticed your hands trembling. Due to your nervousness, everything you had on the back of your mind just went out. “I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to come here and try to take our relationship to a next level or something. But it's been so hard to be around you without wanting you even closer,” you whined. “And I finally got the courage to ask you out on a proper date, but you clearly don't see us like that so forget about it. I’m sor–”

No one. Not a single soul could prepare you to be silenced by Jake’s lips on yours. His hand automatically grabbed your waist as yours went to rest on his chest.

Kissing in the middle of the university hallway wasn’t the ideal way of tasting each other's for the first time so Jake decided to not take too long on holding the contact, breaking it to say “I’m sorry, I needed you to shut up.” His lips brushed on yours as he spoke. You blinked twice and breathed heavily, feeling the touch of his warm hand on your skin as he cupped one of your cheeks. You looked for his brown honeyed orbs, catching them exchanging glances between your lips and your eyes. 

 “We can go out on a date,” he brushed his thumb softly on your bottom lip. “The one where we go to some place, grab some food, do whatever you want and I can properly kiss you.”

Jake was fighting demons not to kiss you again. He was absolutely certain he would go crazy, just a little taste of you and he already felt like he was starving, his body totally dependent and reactive because of you. 

“Okay,” your voice was barely a whisper and you had to use all your strength to stop yourself from leaning in to feel his touch again. Instead, you reluctantly pulled away, immediately missing all of his touches; you felt your skin tingle in every place he had touched you. Still his hand rested on your waist, unable to let you go. “I gotta go,” you noticed how his eyes wandered all over your face, like he was taking a picture with it in order to save it from the rest of the day.

You smiled, hesitantly sliding your hands away from his chest. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” before you could let him go, he grabbed one of your hands and planted a gentle kiss at the back of it. “I’ll text you later then?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

You had to hold a scream when you heard your doorbell ringing. Chaewon and Yunjin who were in a shared video call squealed for you.

They looked more excited than yourself and you really appreciated the effort they took to help you out even with their busy schedule for the day, deciding to call you not only because they knew you would be nervous as fuck but also because Yunjin was willing to help you with your outfit choice.

You ended up wearing something cute, but cozy and warm: a matching pair of a top and long loose skirt, patterned with a black background and some stars and moons, a black boot and as a final touch: Jake’s big jacket. You also did a little hairstyle with two small braids at the front and the rest of your hair loose. 

Yunjin noticed how confident you were in choosing the clothing and even doing your hair, showing that you didn’t need much of her help – which normally she would dramatically react to, but today she just felt proud and happy for you.

Jake made you comfortable enough to be yourself whenever you were with him.

And you were going on a date with him.

A fucking proper date.

You said a quick ‘goodbye’ to your girls who replied with a very high pitched ‘good luck!’ and then hung up, walking towards the door and needing to take a few deep breaths before opening it.

As you did, you greeted a very smiley – and hot – Jake.

He was glowing. 

Not only was his face glowing but he seemed overall confident. He was wearing a reddish flannel jacket that covered an oversized black shirt together with his everyday silver necklace, jeans and black boots. A perfect combo, especially to you who loved to see a man in red – you once told him about this preference of yours and was questioning if he did it on purpose.

The silky brown strands fell perfectly in place again when Jake ran his hand through it and licked his lips after shamelessly checking you out.

“Hi b– Oh my god, you look stunning.”

Early the day through your texts you decided to go simple but special on the planning due lack of time. The whole idea was kinda in a hurry, but after getting to taste a little of how it is to kiss Jake, you needed the action of kissing him to become an everyday routine as soon as possible, so the initial plan – the date will be happening on a chill day for both of you, mostly likely Friday – was replaced by a very eagerly “Ok, I’m taking you to a place” said by you.

“And you look hot,” the wording flew out your mouth faster than you expected and instantly your eyes went wide.

Jake smirked as he leaned into the door frame. “Appreciate it, baby.”

Baby.

You were so fucked up. There’s no way your heart could handle this the whole night. 

Jake noticed the way you just blinked at him without saying a word and he just knew you were absorbing the whole situation before becoming confident over him. It was the way you worked and he loved that. 

So he decided to take his sweet time and take a bit of advantage over your flustered self as he walked closer to you. “I brought what you asked,” he sounded a bit too sexy saying such simple words and little did you know that he deepened his voice a bit just for fun.

Due to the closeness, Jake scented your perfume and swore he was getting drunk, too intoxicated by your sweet smell.

You looked at the bag he lifted and nodded, fully in a trance. You forced yourself to snap out of it as you reminded yourself you have a fucking date and finally spoke “Oh, right. I’ll go pick up what I’ve prepared for us!” You walked towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything? Water maybe?”

“Just you.”

You choked on your own saliva as your cheeks started to burn. You foolishly thought that at least Jake wasn’t aware of your reaction, but as soon as you got back from the kitchen after picking up the picnic basket with the sandwiches you made, you realized he was very much aware and messing with you with the flirting as usual. You could see in his eyes a strange mix of false innocence and mischievousness. And of course, in that little game of yours you would always win.

“Well, you already have me,” you winked at him as you pulled yourself together and now was time for Jake to lose his composure, blushing. “Let's go?”

“Y-yeah.”

You gave him an address and he drove you both to the place, fully trusting you. You wanted to surprise Jake since he was usually the one who surprised you, but you hadn't gotten your driver's license yet so you needed him to do the driving in order to achieve your goal. That's why you decided to give him an address a little further away from your final destination, so both of you could walk there without him suspecting anything.

Jake was feeling like a happy puppy, very excited about what was going to happen tonight.

He was curious about your plans, especially after you asked for a picnic blanket and some beverages – “a night picnic?” he asked as you two texted. He remembers you just replying with “lol don’t fool yourself”.

He didn’t know what to expect about the place really, and not only that, he couldn’t stand the urge to kiss you properly. God, he was so in need of you it hurted. Having you next to him, your scent all over him, your sweet and lively presence, and not being able to touch you was driving him insane.

“I don’t wanna you to get high on expectations, Jakey,” you said softly after a while with a concerned voice. Jake had stopped at a red light and the silence wasn’t awkward, but it was undeniable that you were worried about the outcome of that night. 

What if Jake doesn’t like what you’ve prepared? What if he thinks you’re too dumb and leaves you? What if he doesn’t really wanna be with you? 

“I’ll like whatever you’ve planned, sweetheart,” just like Jake was reading how anxious was your mind, he uttered. “You are my company for tonight. That’s all I need,” he reassured you, holding your hand and resting it on your thigh. 

You glanced over at him to see his lips turned into such a gorgeous smile you almost cried. Jake was perfect.

“Okay,” you brought his hand to your lips and planted a small kiss. You tried to let it go after, but he refused.

Jake drove the rest of the way holding you, only letting it go when needed, but catching it again as soon as he could.

The warmth and softness of his touch took all the worry out of your head in a minute, and just like you arrived. Jake parked where you told him to do so and opened the car door and helped you to get out as usual. This time though he intertwined your fingers as he let you guide him through the way. 

“Don’t we need to bring the things?” 

“Nah, we have something to do before,” you tried to sound enigmatic, forcing an expression which made Jake laugh, totally endeared by you.

“Ooh, so mysterious.”

You both walked for a bit rambling about the surroundings. It was kinda in the middle of nowhere, with nothing much around and plenty of open space. Jake noticed there was a big building and before he could say a thing, you began to explain.

“So I know we both like astronomical stuff, right?” He nodded, looking at you. So pretty. “May I say you especially in a very nerdy way,” you softly pushed his shoulder with yours and he playfully rolled his shining eyes while failing to hold back a smile, full of adoration for you. “I thought about this when I realized I wanted to be more than just friends with you,” you stopped walking to completely face him, holding both of his hands. “Behind you at this exact moment there’s a stellar observatory,” you stopped him from turning around wanting to finish your speech first. “Apparently fate had worked through this, since today they don’t normally open to everyone. Only for reservations or something like that.”

You finally let Jake turn around and take a proper look at the place. You watched as his eyes began to shine even brighter, it looked like he was about to cry. You also noticed how his hand tightened around yours, as if he was nonverbally thanking you.

Jake was genuinely flabbergasted. How the fuck did he managed to find someone that amazing? 

“I’m not gonna ask how you managed to get a reservation here,” he joked.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?” He just laughed it off. “Well, I kinda didn’t,” you suddenly felt small, even tried to restrain your hand from his but he refused to let you go.

You ran away from his intense gazing, not wanting to see the disappointment on it as you kept talking “We’re not going into the observatory. We’re gonna use the telescopes they have open for use down here,” you explained. “Since today it’s a reservation only or whatever day, we get to use it freely. It’s definitely not the same thing, but I’m sure it can be cool.” you forced a smile still afraid to look at Jake’s direction. “I tried to book it for us I swear I did, but it was too expensive,” you uttered apologetically and again you were rambling due to your nervousness.

Jake not saying a thing helped nothing either. Little did you know he was as speechless as amazed with your witty self for figuring out a way of making that night special in such a short amount of time. He knew how hard it is to come up with ideas like that and to make it work. And you did it. Flawlessly. 

He was so falling in love with you.

“...I’m so sorry if I raised your expectations too high. I wanted to do something nice since you’re always doing nice things to me, you deserve bett–” 

Jake once more interrupted your nonsense speech by pressing his lips on yours and you instantly melted in his arms, your hands moving up to find comfort on his shoulders as his own went down your back until they rested on your waist, squeezing lightly. 

You moved your head to the side wishing to deepen the kiss, the whole fantasy of waiting for the special moment to finally kiss him was already blown apart as both of your bodies searched for the other’s. 

Your heart was beating fast and all your senses were heightened and sensitive, as if Jake had awakened a new sensation in you. A genuine sense of desperation for closeness. You needed more. Like reading your mind, Jake’s tongue touched your bottom lip at the same time your fingers scratched the back of his head, getting lost through his soft strands as you pulled him closer.

Jake touched you with care, he was kissing you so tenderly yet you could still feel his hunger for you. You weren’t different either. One of his hands came up to hold your face to help with the movement of your heads. You quickly found a pace, like two puzzle pieces being a perfect fit.

Neither of you wanted to part away, feeling too addicted to the contact. So whenever one broke down to breathe the other would reach over and start again, until your lips were a little bit sore. You pulled away unwilling, leaving little pecks on his plump lips as he did the same on yours.

Jake was unable to hold back his smile and didn’t even tried to, too happy about finally kissing you. “We have a little problem, baby,” he whispered as his dazzling eyes wandered all over your features. You looked even more stunning under the moonlight. “What?” You quietly asked back. “I don’t think I can or want to stop kissing you.”

You giggled, feeling shy under his intense but gentle gaze. He was adoring you and you could feel every piece of it.

“You don’t have to stop.”

And just like that you kissed again. And again. And again. 

You felt like a drug to Jake, so addictive, so intense, so you. He had the impression that all his problems would be solved instantly if you just kissed him. He decided that from now on at the end of a stressful day, he would search for your touch and your touch only.

“But I kinda want you to stop for a bit, so we can go see the stars,” Jake chuckled when you broke the kiss to say. 

“You love stars, don’t you, pretty girl?” He gave you a final cute little smooch while hugging you tightly. 

“Yeah.”

And even though you had observed dozens of stars that night, none of them shone brighter than your eyes together. 

You were dating. 

Actually there was no big difference from what you and Jake acted before, other than the fact that everyday that he went to pick you up to the university, you got to kiss him, which made you two develop the routine of waking a bit early just to get enough moments together. 

Also you started to feel comfortable to call him cute names, your favorite being pretty boy, very effectively when you wanted to fluster Jake and see him giggling.

The dynamic was similar, but way better.

When you told your friends about the night, they literally screamed. Of course you kept as a secret how romantic it was to lay down under the moon and starlight with Jake as you cuddled and shared kisses. But everything about Jake sounded dreamy. 

He was so cute and you were not so slowly falling in love. He would leave you at your classes everyday and kiss you good luck. Due to his recent research project his time was getting tighter, nevertheless he would squeeze his whole schedule just to see you for a minute or two. And of course, to steal a kiss from you. 

Most of your lunch time was with him, either when you had time to grab some food and eat in peace or when some of you two were in a hurry. On days like that, you normally would find him in the library, leaving him some snacks, water and a sweet kiss. He would do something similar to you. 

Gradually your relationship was growing stronger, however you still hadn’t done anything on the bed yet other than kiss and sleep together. You weren’t complaining! You loved to kiss Jake and to feel his warm body embracing yours.

He was very respectful towards you and you really appreciated that. He would initiate the kisses sessions most of the time, but rarely deepen it waiting for you to do it. His hands would never go further down your hips, even when you tried to force him to do it by putting it on your ass he relocated them back up.

But you were a woman after all. A woman with desires and needs. Strong desires and needs.

Even though you had a long-term relationship, it was only after the breakup that you discovered that your ex didn't give you any pleasure – or gave you anything at all. Your previous relationship was a mess, to be honest. Talking to people and listening to their experiences made you realize how shitty you were being treated back then – in every aspect!

You knew how to please yourself and most of the time was enough. However, it’s been a while since you last had sex and you could live without it normally, but there was Jake, all over you.

His smell, his pretty face, his touches, his lips, his fucking nose and his slender fingers… The way his veiny hands would hold the steering wheel drove you insane. You needed him.

It was a cold Saturday and you were watching him play your video game. Yeah, apparently Jake liked your video game more than you – this was you being dramatic every single time he stopped to pay all of his attention to you and decided to play something, but as soon as he starts to celebrate for defeating a boss, you just smile and forget about the drama.

Today was a bit different though. Normally you would pay attention to either the screen or to his pretty face and reactions, loving how expressive he was, always thinking Jake was a sculpture or something. But on this very specific day you paid more attention to his hand movements. 

The way his grip was strong on the controller and how his fingers moved on it was making you mad. He was biting his lip more than usual as well in order to concentrate and, God, you could feel your panties get wet just by watching him like that. 

Part of you felt like a perverted. 

At some point he groaned. Apparently something bad happened to him on the game, but you didn’t gave a fuck. The sound he left woken a strong feeling inside you.

“Why is this so difficult?” Jake asked frustrated, throwing the controller away on the couch in defeat and looking at you.

He wasn't expecting to meet your intense gaze on him, eyes darkened as your tongue traveled through your lips to wet it. 

His confused puppy eyes and parted lips were your last straw. 

You straddled over his lap, hungrily kissing him. You almost instantly sucked his bottom lip, looking for a more intense contact. You could feel he was a bit confused, hesitantly resting his big hands on your hips, not knowing what to do.

When you bite his lip you heard a whimper and that alone made you grunt against Jake’s mouth in response, pulling him even closer. You pulled a few strands of his hair and again he let out a sound for you, feeling him getting hard beneath your body.

Before you could continue doing your job, he said in an urge, his breath heavy. “I gotta go.”

You shook off your head whispering “No,” and pulled him again to keep making out with him, lewd kissing sounds filling the room, a total mess happening in your living room.

The feeling of his hardened bulge hitting directly on your covered wet cunt was making you rub yourself against it, hoping to get more friction. At this exact moment Jake forced you to move away from him, gripping your hips to stop your movements. 

“I really gotta go, I have some uni stuff to do,” he was breathless. You noticed how his eyes were different from ever, face red and skin hot. You blinked a few times as you just watched him put you back on the couch and stand up, trying to cover his obvious boner with his oversized jacket. He gave you a little kiss on the cheek and said goodbye to you before rushing out of your apartment. 

You had to satisfy yourself alone that night. And after that, you cried.

You started to question yourself. 

Yeah, Jake looked at you like you were the only one in his life. But was it enough? Does he find you attractive? Or better: does he find you desirable? Sexy? Hot? Sensual?

Since that day Jake started to run away from your more passionate touches like he was running from death. 

At first you thought he could be a virgin, and no problem with that. You would let him feel comfortable enough with you to try to do something more, however you knew he had other relationships and weren’t inexperienced either. 

Actually you even went to Sunghoon and Heeseung to ask them about it, to which they answered that Jake may be “boyfriend material” and only have intimate moments with people he somehow trusts, but he definitely wasn't inexperienced in that field.

So doubting yourself was your only option. You could also ask directly why he never did more than just kisses with you, but that option needed more courage from you than you had. 

“What’s with the frown, baby?” Yunjin asked you one day as you both decided to lunch together. You were giving excuses to Jake during the whole day in order not to talk to him, saying you were too busy and that maybe today you wouldn’t be able to meet him.

You sighed, playing with the food on your plate. “I don’t think Jake likes me.”

“What? There’s no way. He almost licks the floor you walk on. What did he do?” She was ready to throw hands.

“The real problem it’s the opposite. He don’t do it.”

“Do what, baby?”

“We’ve been dating for weeks and we haven't had sex yet. I’m almost crawling on my bedroom walls.”

“Wow,” Yunjin was shocked, eyes widened. For the way you two acted together, she thought that every single room of your house was blessed already. “Well, have you asked him why? Because that’s pretty much a ‘he’ problem as it seems.”

“I’m afraid,” you stated sincerely. 

“Of what, baby?”

“Of him saying something I don’t wanna hear. I don’t wanna lose him, Jinnie,” you uttered with sorrow. 

“Y/N, my pretty baby, remember we are talking about Jake. The man who woke up in the middle of the night and went to your house to kill a cockroach because you called him. The man who has a photo of you in his wallet. The man who had literally skipped classes just to spend some time with you because apparently he can’t live without you,” you started sobbing. “He likes you very much, Y/N. And he has shown to be someone who listens to you with adoration. Anything you say or ask him he would do his best to listen and talk about it, you yourself said that to me once when we were ranking green flags, remember?” You nodded. 

It was the truth. He was Jake. The man who demonstrates so much affection in every action. 

“I’ll talk to him. Thank you, Jinnie.”

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetie.” She kissed the top of your head. “You know I’m always here for you and just want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

You decided to talk to Jake on the next day. You weren't planning to “arrange a sex meeting with him” or anything similar, but to talk about it. So you invited him over that day, knowing he would be completely free because it was a Friday. You did a test early that day and were free as well.

Since he was going to your apartment quite often you gave him a key to make things easier for both of you, so when you heard the front door opening as you drank some water your heart started to beat fast in advance.

His scent followed all the way through your house directly to you. You felt his arms hugging you from behind and for a few seconds you let yourself get lost in his warmth. “Hey, gorgeous. How are you?” He whispered close to your ear, kissing your neck. You turned around to face him. “You look sad. What happened? Are you ok?” He flooded you with questions as his eyes worriedly wandered over your face. You just pecked him quickly before taking his hand on yours and leading him to the couch. 

Jake felt his heart sinking.

He maybe was going crazy, but he felt that you had purposely ignored him the day before, constantly finding a rather lame excuse for every solution he gave. He preferred to believe that you were not having a good day and respected your decision. But when you invited him over, it became undeniable how anxious he was feeling.

And the way you welcomed him at that moment made him even more worried, especially when you said the cursed phrase.

“I wanna talk to you about something.”

He swallowed, trying to keep it cool by saying gently “What is it, sugar?” as he reached for your hands to mildly squeeze it in reassurance. 

Even though Jake was quite tense, he would always prioritize you and the fact that you had some difficulty verbalizing what normally was bothering you, so he knew it was consuming you just as much.

“I– Actually I don’t even know how to say it,” you started shyly with a low voice, avoiding Jake’s gaze. “But I’m…”

“Y’know you can say anything to me, right?” Jake tried to encourage you as he gently pulled you closer and just like that you moved to sit on his lap, each of your knees on either side of his legs as you trapped him underneath you.

Without saying a thing, you hugged him to hide your face on his neck. Jake wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, but he wanted to give you some comfort so his hands caressed your back slowly.

After a while you muffled his skin with your breath while asking “Do you think I’m unattractive?”

Oh?

Jake had a delayed reaction to your question. “Baby, what?”

You drew apart from him enough to see his confused expression before looking away. “I don’t know if you aren’t sexually attracted to me or what, but you can always tell me y’know. I’m sure we can figure something out,” your voice was almost a whisper due your worried self about confrontations. 

“Baby, I’m so confused right now. What are you talking about?”

“I– I’d prefer you saying to my face you don’t wanna have sex with me instead of pulling me away from you every time we go further with our kisses,” as you finished saying, you felt your cheeks burning. 

Jake frowned, completely baffled.

Little did you know that Jake lost track of how many times he woke up with a painful boner after dreaming of you. Or how fast he would run away from you after a makeout session with you because of his body response to it.

He would first try to cool down with a shower, but everytime he ended up jerking himself off to get some relief, you being the only one in his mind, always moaning your name when cumming.

But, God, every single time he felt nasty, disgusted with himself. You deserved better. You're like a divinity to him, a beautiful and sweet woman, you needed to be handled with care and love and he was so afraid of hurting you.

The day you told him about your ex and how badly he treated you, especially in the sexual field  by not caring about anything but his own pleasure, Jake got mad. Really mad. 

How could one in their right mind leave you hanging, when your expressions of pleasure alone were enough to drive any man crazy? He could treat you way better. 

Sometimes Jake would get carried away while kissing you, going down to your neck to trail his lips over there biting and sucking slightly. And when he backed a bit to look at your face, he always met you with closed eyes nibbling your bottom lip, a ridiculously lustful view. 

Too hard to handle.

He had to almost physically hold himself back every time. He was afraid of scaring you with how much he needed you, with how much he wanted to get lost between your legs, making you scream nothing but his name, with how much he was willing to make you feel good.

And now he got to know that his actions were the ones making you doubt yourself, making you doubt his feelings and needs for you… He was feeling so dumb.

“I– I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You froze. No nicknames, just your regular name.

“I never wanted to make you feel like this. I’m really sorry.”

You gulped the guilty feeling down your throat. “It’s okay, Jakey, I get it,” you smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. That meant that Jake didn't want you in that way, right?

You were about to start rambling as usual and before you did so, Jake shut you up with his mouth on yours. You startled before reacting, moving your tongue with his and dipping your fingers into his silky strands, both of your bodies starting to get hotter.

Jake squeezed your ass while pulling you closer. “I want you, Y/N,” he was serious when you drew apart to catch your breath. “I want you so bad, my darling,” he was so desperate, your panties dampening just by how his voice sounded.

“Yeah?” You smirked, breathing heavy. “How bad, Jakey?” You noticed his eyes darkening. “Show me.” 

Getting back to work with his mouth in yours, kissing you very messily, Jake impulsed to stand up with you in his arms. You surrounded your legs around him to keep yourself steady as he stumbled a little on the way to your room. You giggled against his lips when he dropped you softly on the mattress and hovered over you, not breaking the kiss for a second.

Jake’s mouth tasted so sweet and hot on yours, you couldn't help but scratch his back and neck with your fingernails thinking how good he would be doing all that job down your cunt. His dick was getting harder and you could feel it, your mouth watering at the thought of sucking him off. You wanted so bad.

He parted away from your lips just to trail his own plump ones to your neck and collarbone, kissing, sucking and nibbling all the area before finally whispering against your skin, sending chills throughout your body.

“I really wanna eat you out,” Jake sounded determined. “I wanna taste you before anything, sweetheart,” your only reaction was a sigh mixed with a “please” that you were unsure if he heard.

But Jake was catching all of your sounds, from the quietest little whimpers to the slightly more intense ones, like the one you released when he removed your shirt and bra to work on your tits, his mouth sucking your left one while his hand cupped the other before he switched to do the opposite.

Before he continued to get down on you, you quietly asked him to remove his shirt and as he did, he revealed to you part of his perfect body. By the superficial touches over his clothes and of course the preview bumps, you knew he had a toned chest, but to see it all on display to you… You literally moaned at the view.

You promised yourself that later on you would give every bit of that skin the attention it deserved.

You watched him smile shyly before kissing your inner thigh, without breaking eye contact. Jake was absolutely certain he would cum in his pants at any given moment. The mix of your little sounds with the way you were looking at him like you were about to eat him alive triggered a strangely pleasant feeling. 

“Can I remove these?” He asked between kisses on your skin, pointing to your shorts. You nodded. “And these?” He pointed now to your panties and you nodded again, head resting on your pillow. “Yes, please. I want you.”

Jake noticed how wet you were through your last clothing piece and he literally had to hold himself back to not just dive right into you. He was getting dizzy by your smell, eyes hooded as he removed the only thing that stopped him from touching you like you deserved.

Jake salivated admiring your pussy, breathing heavily as he swallowed nothing.

At this point you were on the verge of crying due to your desperation and his unnecessary slowness, so you spread your legs even more and pleaded. “Please Jakey, I really want you,” you whined, grabbing his hair with your hand and forcing it down your cunt. “I don’t want you to hold yourself on me, pretty boy.”

And as if you casted a spell, Jake looked at you one more time before burying his face in you.

You gasped. 

He felt you dripping on his mouth and grunted, collecting some arousal with his tongue to spread all over your area before flicking it on your clit, sometimes sucking just the right amount and sometimes doing big licks. His tongue worked so damn well, you just rolled your hips in order to get more. You were so sensitive and so needy. His grip on each side of your body got stronger as he pulled you closer.

You moaned Jake’s name when he decided to use one of his fingers together with his mouth, pressing it on your entrance with care, just to familiarize you with the sensation before adding one more. After all, he just wanted you to feel good and not to be hurt. 

You kept rubbing yourself on his face and now grinding on the two fingers inside you. Jake was doing such an amazing job on you, curling his fingers the moment he needed to like he knew you from inside out, using the tip of his nose to rub your clit as his tongue and mouth worked in the rest.

“You’re doing such a good job, pretty boy,” you praised between moans and heard Jake groaning between your legs and intensifying his movements, eating you out as his life depended on it. 

“I wanna you to cum all over my face, princess,” he said, muffled. His skilful fingers moved at a steady pace. “I need that, give it to me, babe, please.”

Your orgasm was already building up inside your core. You felt the familiar sensation growing bigger and bigger until you let it out the loudest moan of the night as your back arched. Jake’s words and all the combo of his warm mouth and fingers inside you were enough to make you achieve your climax, trembling beneath his touches, grabbing his hair tightly.

Jake drank you like it was his favorite drink, licking every single drop of you with pleasure, his dick now painfully compressed in his boxers. He could get himself off just by eating you out.

He drove you through your high, movements slowing as he felt your grasp on his hair softening and your body less shaky. He kissed your pussy a few times and then crawled over you to kiss you on the lips. You watched your juices decorating his chin, nose and a bit on his cheeks before you felt your own taste in your mouth. 

Jake's hard, covered bulge rubbed against your bare cunt and you whined, breaking the kiss to down your hands all the way to his cock and to utter “Babe, you’re so hard.” Jake whimpered against your mouth and you flipped over to be on top of him. “Let me help you with that.”

And as you promised yourself, you trailed kisses all the way down his chest, putting your mouth and tongue to work through his soft skin, making him squirm a bit underneath you. 

You stopped once you got to the waistband of his pants, taking it off with Jake’s help and removing his boxers as well. You sighed, mouth salivating at the view of his veiny dick right in front of you.

However, you needed to feel him inside you, so you let your other desires for later, starting to move in a way you could sit on him.

“I wanna ride you,” you announced as if it was your only goal in life. “Like, really bad.” 

“Fuck, babe,” Jake groaned, watching you positioned yourself comfortably on top of him, quickly moving his hands to hold your hips. “Go on. Use me,” he threw his head back to just enjoy the sensation of finally feeling your walls around him, before realizing something was off. “But wait– Sugar,” he said with widened eyes, sitting up to hold you before you did anything. “You’re going in raw?” Jake questioned in disbelief. 

You blinked at him, confused. “You’re clean, right?”

“Yeah, but–”

“So am I. And on birth control, don’t worry.” 

Since you were still wet due your orgasm and because Jake’s little sounds aroused you enough, you pushed him back to bed, giving him a little peck before holding his dick and placing it on your sensitive area.

Jake knew he wasn't getting out of there alive. There was no way. How would he survive you? God, you were insane. And the way you slowly slid down on his length, using its precum to lubricate, sent him out of orbit in an instant.

He did nothing but open his mouth and moan, eyes rolling back to his head with the amazing feeling of your pussy coating him so tight and warm. He could feel you everywhere. He almost cummed just because of that alone, having to close his eyes tightly in order to concentrate enough to not let it happen.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake bit his bottom lip the moment you moved a bit, adjusting yourself. “You feel so fucking good already, fuck.”

You watched every reaction of his, enjoying it as a show. The frowned face in pure pleasure, the red wet lips, face all flustered and glowing, not to mention the dim light of your room working to make the view even more gorgeous and pleasant. 

Jake felt you staring and how you stayed still for a while, finding support on his chest with your hands. He opened his eyes to glance at you. You gave him a little smile and he reciprocated, caressing the skin of your body under his touch as he waited for you to feel comfortable enough to move by yourself. Jake watched as you started to move back and forth slowly on his cock, your eyes closing with how good he was filling you up. 

Although Jake's hands rested on your hips, he didn't force a single movement, letting you find your pace. He admired you for a moment, “you look so, so pretty right now, baby,” he praised sincerely, watching the way your expressions changed to pure pleasure as you moved faster.

You leaned forward to find his mouth with yours, kissing him, missing those pretty lips of his on yours. Your moans got lost between your mouths as you continued to move faster until you found the pace of your liking, Jake now helping you to keep it going. 

Lewd sounds of your bodies shocking against each other filled the room, mixed with whimpers as well as the wet kissing sounds.

Jake reached down with one of his hands to rub your clit, and by the way his cock twitched inside of you, you deduced that he was close to cum and didn't want to do it alone.

You drew apart from the kiss to rest your head on the curve of his neck, sucking the skin as well as whimpering against it. The position leaded Jake to have his mouth directly on your ear, and with all the stimulus happening at the same time, his dick hitting your g-spot, his finger rubbing your sensitive nerve and his voice moaning your name in your ear, you started to clench furiously on Jake’s length.

“Wait–”, you barely heard him saying, too lost in your pleasure already. “Where do I c–”

“Inside,” you answered quickly before he tried to pull off.

“Fuck.” Jake’s head was spinning, he was seeing stars. “Be my girlfriend,” he let it out in one breath.

“What?” You asked back under your breath, questioning if you were hearing things due pleasure.

“Let me be your boyfriend,” he said panting. “Officially. Be my girl, please. Be mine,” he begged with a groan, cumming inside of you. 

You openly moaned his name, rolling your eyes back as your orgasm also hit you. You thought that alone could answer his question, keeping on the movement to ride you two through your highs, his strong hands gripping you tightly and your whole body shaking.

You stood over Jake's body for a while after you stopped your movements, catching your breath and feeling his liquid leaking from inside of you. 

He helped you to lay back on the bed, both still panting, both so happy about what just happened. You forced yourself to stand up just enough to kiss him before you said, looking deep into his eyes. 

“I’m already yours, pretty boy.”

That weekend was intense. Still, you just couldn't get enough of Jake. And he wasn't too different. 

Now your routine had changed a little more. He was still the sweet and kind Jake, worrying about you, asking about your day, listening to you rambling about random things, and always bringing you food on your busiest days. But it seemed like you had awakened a monster inside him.

Of course you didn't complain, especially because the one who was getting the benefits was you, who wasn't that different either, never getting enough of him.

Whenever Jake was stressed, he would usually take you somewhere to watch the sunset or to stargazing while talking about life and theories and obviously, kissing you.

Now he started eating you out. Almost every time. And sometimes he would mix these two, taking you somewhere beautiful and eating you out inside his car.

Jake had eaten you out in every room of your apartment, saying that him eating you out got him off more anything else, and you actually witnessed him cum untouched a few times, looking so fucking hot while doing it.

Nevertheless you still couldn't had the chance to give him a proper head. Jake would be saying you didn't have to do it, like you felt obligated. Little did he know that you wanted to feel his dick filling up your mouth and his cum going directly down your throat. Oh, you wanted so badly.

At this exact moment, you were sitting on your kitchen counter with your legs spreaded being supported on Jake’s shoulders as was getting lost between them, diving in your juices, making you cum with his tongue deep inside you. You reached for his hair with your hands, grabbing to bring him up and kiss him fervorous. 

“Take me to the bedroom,” you demanded with an urge. 

And how would Jake deny such a sweet request?

The moment you got into your bedroom, you tossed him on the bed. You were hungry for him, and him only. 

You saw his already hardened cock marking his sweatpants and without giving Jake time to complain, you removed all his clothing pieces – he was already shirtless – and had him naked underneath you. 

As usual, he thought you would ride him. Out of all the positions you’ve tried so far, this was a favorite of his – to look at you while you use him for your own pleasure felt too insanely good, so he got excited in advance. But you decided to surprise him this time, contradicting his expectations as you bend over to be at the same height of his pulsing cock, head pretty close to it.

He panicked.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked and tried to sit, but as soon as he did you pushed him back to the bed. 

“Imma suck you off,” you said like it was obvious. You wrapped your hand around his length and started to pump it.

“Y–you don’t have to, princess,” he stuttered, feeling hot under your soft touches. “Let me fuck you, mhm? You deserve to feel good.” He tried to sit again and you pushed him back one more time.

“Sucking you off will make me feel good too, Jakey,” you blew a bit of air on his shaft, he shivered. “Don’t you get that?” Your hands worked slowly on his dick, moving up and down, smearing the precum out of his slit with your thumb. He bit his lip to hold back a whimper. “Or do you think you're the only one who gets horny by giving pleasure to others?”

You ran your tongue all over his shaft, closing your eyes as you felt the salty precum taste spreading through your mouth, playing a bit with his tip.

Jake kept hiding his sounds from you.

His hands were squeezing the duvet under his body to the point his knuckles started to get white when you gave a little more attention to his head, realizing that this was his sensitive area. You took advantage of that.

Without a warning, you put his whole cock in your mouth in one go, feeling it hitting on your throat.

“Mhm,” he tried to contain his grunt, hips thrusting forward slightly and his left hand smacking the bed one time before grabbing the sheets again.

You held your position for a few seconds, making sure to breathe through your nose, before moving back and forth twice. Jake squirmed under you, still quiet.

“Why are you hiding from me, pretty boy?” You asked with a low voice when you backed off to breathe, hands replacing your mouth as you did so. Jake finally let it out a little whimper and you smiled. “I wanna hear you, baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically, once more biting his lip in order to contain himself. 

The reason behind his choice of behavior under your touches was literally due his fear of scaring you off. He would be a total mess if he let it all go as he really felt. Your hot mouth around his dick sent him to hell and heaven all at once, you didn’t had to do much for him to start seeing foggy and being a whimper mess.

Jake felt your lips coating him again and groaned, back slightly arching.

“So gorgeous, Jakey,” you backed off only to encourage with a smile, jerking him off before going back to suck him. He couldn’t hold back his loud moan, eyes rolling when you sucked his sensitive tip. You quivered. You wanted more of him. “Keep on making these pretty noises for me, yeah?”

Although he was afraid of scaring you off, one thing he loved to do was to obey you, to fulfill all of your requests. Whatever you told him to do, he would do it. So when you told him to be vocal, he started to be vocal. 

Your mouth swallowed all his throbbing cock, his tip going deep in your throat, precum going down on it. Jake threw his head back, open mouthed, spilling all the little noises you loved. “Fuck, mhm, that’s it, babe,” he breathed out between groans and put one of his hands on your head without forcing you down or anything, just resting there.

The way your throat was pressing his sensitive tip as you swallowed around it, God, he was getting stupidly close. Jake dared to look down at you, meeting your strong gaze as you devoured him like a last piece of meal. “Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he gasped, rolling his eyes. Jake felt a familiar burning wave all the way through his body. “Fuck, I’mgonnacum”. 

You kept your movements steady, lightly scratching his thighs before you felt Jake’s body start to shake, his moans intensify and his cum hitting down your throat. You swallowed every drop of it before letting his dick with a pop and using your thumb to clean up the corners of your lips as you crawled back to kiss him passionately. 

At this point you were already horny again, so as you kissed him, feeling his shaky hands all over your body, you pressed your bare cunt on his softened shaft and moved a bit. He parted the kiss, trying to push you away.

“I– I don’t think–”, he tried saying. “I’m sensitive, baby– Ahh...”

“Yeah?” You rubbed your bare cunt on his dick with a sly smile. “So you don’t want me to ride you, Jakey?” You kept waving your body on him, forcing a disappointed face with a fake pout.

Jake trembled, feeling his eyes water in a painful pleasure. “Of c–course I– I do, fuck.”, his voice cracked, eyelids closing. He was fully unable to stop you at this point, and he didn’t wanted to anyway, so he just started to sob as you kept sliding on him, back and forth, slowly, painfully slowly.

You were sending him into overstimulation, loving his reactions, loving how desperate he looked. Legs squirming beneath you, eyes tearing up, hands messily trying to figure out what to do, facial expression switching in a mix of pain and delight.

“Please…” He begged. He didn’t even knew for what. Neither did you, so you asked. “Please what, Jakey?” You stopped moving. “You want me to stop?” 

He hurried to answer “No! Please, don’t– Don’t stop.” Definitely his begging wasn't about stopping. His breath was short as you started to move again, still slow. Too slow.  “Go faster, please darling.”

And how could you deny such a sweet request?

The wet sound of your pussy rubbing against his cock was too lewd. You leaned to kiss Jake, who wasn’t able to kiss you back properly due his undergoing situation. His was dick hardening again against your folds and that was your last straw.

Yeah, he was desperate because of overstimulation, but you were desperate to feel him inside you. So you repositioned yourself to slide him deep on you in one go, making both of you scream.

You threw your head back and instantly started to grind on him, making circle movements, sending both of you to cloud nine. 

“Babe I– I’ll not last long– damn.” Jake said breathlessly, hands helping your hips to move.

“Make me cum with you, please,” you begged and of course he would never leave you hanging, so he did his work, rubbing your clit at the same pace as you bounced on him.

You felt your climax building up rapidly, breath getting heavier and heavier, body shaking as you heard Jake saying under breath "I'm cumming", while throwing his head back and filling you up with his warm liquid. You shivered, moaning louder and achieving your peak right after.

Your body fell over Jake’s, who immediately hugged you, panting, all sweaty. “This was…” He started to say after a while, still inside you. 

“Good?” He analyzed your expectant eyes when you got up to look at him and chuckled at the difference of the demon eyes you were giving him earlier.  “Incredible,” he kissed your forehead. “You are always incredible, my love.”

It was a weirdly sunny day when Jake seated you on his car hood, fitting himself between your legs while his hands rested on your hips, drawing little circles there. 

You both decided to go out that day to celebrate your new job. But instead of going for a fancy dinner or anything similar, you decided to follow the roots of your relationship and asked Jake to take you to see the sunset. 

And he would never deny anything to you. So here you were, looking at the pretty sky behind Jake’s back when he himself was sunk on your neck. 

"Why does the sky turn orange during sunsets?" You asked nonchalantly, feeling Jake's kisses on your skin. He was inebriated by your scent and acting as if he was getting drunk on you. 

He loved that. 

He loved you.

"It has something to do with the light traveling through the atmosphere. Don't make me do my homework right now, baby," he said muffled, unable to leave your warm embrace. You chuckled.

You loved that. 

You loved him.

"Sorry," your fingers slid through his hair, scratching slightly. He hummed in response. 

It’s been two weeks since you started to call him your boyfriend and he started to call you girlfriend, the honeyed voice always making you melt. 

Nevertheless none of you said I love you yet. Not that you two needed to. You felt Jake’s love on every action of his. The way he would look at you so dreamily at any point of the day, how he would embrace you so tightly at the end of a stressful one. Or how he would always clean you up after the sex, even when he was tired as hell. He treated you like a goddess. You felt it. 

It was as clear as crystal water that you loved him too, at least you thought. 

You would purposely ask questions about astronomy just to have him speaking animatedly in technical terms that you often didn't understand very well, but loved to see him sparkle in joy. Or when you cooked his favorite meal just to see his puppy eyes widening in surprise and thank you with a sweet kiss. Or even when you watched him play video games for hours without complaining, actually enjoying and hyping him up, sometimes playing together when he asked you to. 

Jake, actually, noticed every bit of it. 

He himself making sure to love you every moment of his day, making sure you were safe, fed, warm, and most important: happy.

Jake loved your smile. He loved to see you ramble about your favorite songs and flowers and chocolates and movies and everything. 

He loved everything about you.

You exhaled. The feeling was consuming you, you had to let it out. The ache of holding it to only your actions wasn't enough. You needed to say it.

And you did. In one go.

“I love you.”

Jake lifted his face off your neck to look you in the eyes, kind of shocked by your sudden statement. “I don’t care if you don’t love me back, but I love you. More than stargazing, more than feeling a cold breeze under the moonlight, more than listening to my favorite artist. None of those feelings overcomes the feeling of having you around,” you caressed his cheek. Jake listened to you with attention. 

“You color my world by just being around. Every part I go I look out for you,” you could see Jake’s eyes watering. “And I do find you in everything, because, Jake, you became my everything. It’s scary how much I need you. It's scary how much I can love you,” you rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes. “So yeah, I love you,” you whispered at the end.

Jake's breath got heavy as he assimilated all your words.

God, he loved you as much as you did. Lately he had to deal with the urge of telling you the three words, afraid of scaring you off as always. But now he knows you are as much in love with him as he is with you, and he felt so damn lucky.

"You wanna know something that has nothing to do with physics?" Jake spoke softly after a while in silence trying to find the right words. You weren't expecting that question after your confession. "What?" you asked in a whisper.

He looked so gorgeous under the golden light. 

"I can watch a hundred sunsets with you," he said softly, loving eyes at you. He gently put a strand of hair behind your ear, as usual, and continued, "And you’d still be the prettiest view."

Jake didn’t had to verbalize “I love you” after that, but he did. 

He did it continuously. He did it before you went to sleep and when you woke up. He did it before leaving you at your classes and as soon as he picked you up. He did it out of the blue, while you were vacuuming your apartment and he was dusting the furniture. Because no matter how much he said, it didn't seem enough.

It was love at first sight, blessed by the moonlight keeping their love secrets and under the sunset light, keeping their sweet passion burning.

[moonstruckme]

hi!!! wanted to req a poly! marauders x reader where the reader has never had anything inside before so like first time fingering if that’s okay 🫣 totally okay if not, love your work!!!! <3

Hi my sweetheart I’m so sorry I held onto this for sooooooo long but thank you for requesting I love you ! And thanks to @mareagirls for helping me out when I was struggling with the choreography haha <33

cw: smut mdni, fingering, inexperienced reader

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

Sirius, you think, is treating this all very casually. He’s lying on his stomach between your bent knees, legs kicking idly behind him while he circles your entrance with a finger. 

“Baby.” He looks up at you. “Could you stop being so nervous? I cut my nails for you.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, a bit affronted. 

Remus chuckles. His two fingers move over your clit in rhythmic, dedicated passes. 

“You’re all tensed up, sweetheart,” James clues you in. He’s lying on your other side with one arm cushioning your head. It’s almost like you could be going to sleep, except one of your boyfriends is tormenting your clit while the other attempts the breaking and entering of your cunt. 

“Not breaking,” Sirius had said when you made that joke earlier, looking at you in horror. “It’s going to be fun, not torture, you freak.” 

James’ other hand goes to your side. He gives you a little squeeze, and you gasp, ticklish. “See?” he asks. 

“Jamie,” Remus scolds, but he’s smiling. With his free hand he rubs the underside of your thigh, trying to calm you back down. “You don’t need to worry, dove. We’ll start slow, and we can stop anytime you want, yeah?” 

“I just don’t know how it’s going to feel,” you fret, shifting on the mattress to get comfortable again. 

“The point’s to find out, isn’t it?” Sirius is looking at you like he really wants to know. He holds up his index finger as though to exhibit it. “I’m only going in with the one at first, and slow like Rem said,” he vows. “It shouldn’t hurt.” 

“Definitely say if it hurts,” James agrees. 

You chew your lip, nodding. Sirius’ expression softens. 

“Just tell me if you don’t like it,” he says earnestly. “Say stop and I’ll stop, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say. 

“Good girl,” Remus praises, leaning sideways to kiss the top of your knee. His skillful fingers never stutter.

Sirius makes a soft sound of agreement, and then he slips one finger into your entrance. 

You’re prepared to be shocked, but he’s right; it’s not a substantial intrusion. You almost don’t know it’s there at first, until he swirls it around experimentally and a little “oh” stumbles out of you. Your hips shift. 

“Yeah?” James noses at your cheek, smile audible in his voice. “Not so bad, huh?”

“No,” you agree breathily. 

Sirius grins below you, planting a big kiss on the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl. You’re so tight, sweetheart, fuck,” he groans, wriggling his finger against your gummy walls. “And your little cunt is so pretty. Next time we should do this with a mirror.” 

“One step at a time,” Remus tells him mildly. But when you push your hips upwards, he obliges you, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“S’that good, honey?” James’ lips are warm and soft against the column of your throat, teeth barely there as he suckles at your skin. “Do you like having Pads inside you?” 

“Yeah,” you answer him again, voice pitching slightly when Sirius slips another finger inside you. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Shh.” James presses a gentle kiss over the mark he’s left. “You’re okay, sweet girl.” His murmurings, sweet and lovely and too quiet for you to understand, trail down your chest until he finds something he likes. His arm slides from beneath your head, hand finding your shoulder and resting there with a soothing weight. 

You know patience isn’t in Sirius’ nature, so you appreciate the restraint he’s using with you now. His fingers sponge in and out of you at an easy pace, shallow and careful. When you find it in yourself to open your eyes, he’s watching you from beneath his lashes, using your expression as his guide while he works you open. 

You moan when James sucks hard at a spot on the underside of your tit. 

“Don’t bruise her,” says Remus, still sour from the mark that’s yet to fade on his left pectoral. 

“Sorry.” James pulls his mouth from your tit, smiling at you sheepishly. “Is it okay if I leave you a pretty little mark, my angel?” 

“No kissing up to get what you want, either,” Remus grumbles, but you nod, and James goes back to what he was doing, albeit more gently. 

“You’re doing so good.” Sirius is leaning his cheek against your thigh now, seemingly lost in his own sort of trance. The weight tips your leg outward so that Remus has to grab your knee to keep him propped up. “So good for me, baby. Now,” his eyes gleam, and you know the look of it well enough to be both excited and a little bit nervous, “how would you like to try the feel of something else inside?” 

“Oh,” you say, caught offguard. “Um, I don’t think I’m ready for…” 

“I meant my tongue, sweetness.” 

“Hey!” James pulls his lips from you with a wet suctioning sound. “No fair, you’ve had your turn already! I want to go.”

[harrysfolklore]

the carlos sainz roast

summary: it's carlos' 30th birthday and what a better way to celebrate it than roasting him. wc: 2.8k

folkie radio: happy birthday to the smooooth operatorrrrr. i hontesly LOVED this idea that randomly popped in my head and writing it was sooo much fun, i hope you like it !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Carlos Sainz was turning 30. The big 30.

You wanted to do something special to celebrate it, something out of the ordinary that he would never forget. After spending multiple hours on the internet looking for ideas, a brilliant one came to your mind: A roast.

"So all of you will take turns roasting me? Like making jokes about me?" Carlos asked, looking at you from the couch as you pitched him your idea.

"Exactly, baby, It's going to be so much fun!"

The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of preparations. You sent out invitations, coordinated with the other drivers, and gathered embarrassing photos and funny stories about Carlos.

The night of the roast, you transformed your living room into a makeshift comedy club, complete with a small stage and a spotlight. Each driver that arrived at your house complimenting your effort.

As everyone settled into their seats, you stood up and tapped your glass with a spoon to get their attention.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Carlos Sainz Roast!" you announced, catching Carlos's eye and winking at him. "We're all here to celebrate the man, the myth, the legend... the one who always leaves the toothpaste open - Carlos Sainz Jr. on his 30th birthday. And what better way to show our love than by mercilessly making fun of him?"

Laughter rippled through your friends as Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, "Thank you, amor, that's very nice of you."

You playfully blew a kiss his way before speaking again, "Now, before we start, let's remember the rules: keep it funny, keep it respectful, and try to speak slowly so Max can understand." You shot a teasing glance at Verstappen, who grinned and shook his head.

"First up, we have Charles Leclerc, Carlos's teammate and the only person who can make Carlos look slow on a good day. Charles, the floor is yours!"

Charles stood up, straightening his jacket as he approached the makeshift stage. He cleared his throat dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Thank you for that introduction," Charles began, "You know, when I first heard Carlos was joining Ferrari, I was excited. Finally, someone to make me look good! But then I realized, with his luscious hair and chiseled jaw, he was going to steal all my sponsorship deals. So I had to step up my game."

The room erupted in laughter, Carlos included.

"But seriously," Charles continued, "working with Carlos has been an experience. He's like a Spanish version of Google Maps – always recalculating, never quite sure where he's going, but somehow ends up in the right place eventually. That's why I had no doubt in my mind he was going to find an amazing car to drive next season, my bet was on the Safety Car but he opted for an even slower car, a Williams!"

Everyone erupted in laugh again, making Carlos shake his head with his eyes closed, "That one was low, Leclerc."

Charles took a moment to catch his breath, then added with a grin, “And Carlos, now that you’re 30, you’re officially a veteran in the sport. But don’t worry, no matter how many years go by, you’ll always be the guy who can make a Ferrari look like it's in a constant state of panic. Cheers to you, mate!”

You grinned at Charles as he stepped down, patting Carlos on the shoulder. "Alright, that was pretty good, Charles," you said, "But let's see if Lando can top that. Norris, you're up!"

Lando bounded up to the makeshift stage, his trademark cheeky grin plastered across his face. He adjusted the microphone, clearing his throat dramatically.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the birthday boy, Carlos 'Smooth Operator' Sainz," Lando began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, when I first met Carlos at McLaren, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got it all – talent, looks, charm.' Then I realized it was just his hair products messing with my senses."

The crowd burst into laughter, Carlos included, you ran a hand through his famous locks and he gently grabbed it to place a kiss on your palm.

"If I'm being completely honest," Lando continued, "Carlos taught me so much during our time as teammates. Like how to perfectly time a dad joke in team radio, or how to look devastatingly handsome while finishing P7. Essential skills in F1, really."

The room erupted in laughter once again, with Carlos shaking his head in amused disbelief.

"Carlos, you're one of my best friends," Lando's tone softened slightly, "Even if you did spend most of our time together trying to teach me Spanish pickup lines that work about as well as Ferrari's strategy team."

"But I have a girlfriend and you don't, mate. Even with my bad pickup lines." Carlos jabbed, making you throw your head back in laughter.

As the laughter died down, Lando raised his glass. "To Carlos, the man who proves that you can be devastatingly handsome, irritatingly talented, and still somehow likeable. Happy 30th, mate. May your midlife crisis be as smooth as your overtakes."

Lando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up from his seat to give him a hug.

"Love you, mate," you could hear Carlos say, making you smile.

"Next up, we have Fernando Alonso, Carlos's longtime mentor and fellow Spaniard!" you announced, making everybody clap as Fernando took the stage.

"Ah, Carlos. I've known him since he was just a little karting prodigy. Back then, I thought, 'This kid's going places.' Now, 20 years later, I realize I was right – he's gone to every midfield team on the grid!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Fernando continued, "But seriously, I always thought Carlos had potential, and I was right, he's got the potential to be the second-best Sainz in Motorsports!"

Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his drink.

"But let me tell you something, Carlos," Fernando's tone softened slightly, "You've made all of Spain proud. You've shown that with hard work, talent, and a famous last name, anything is possible in F1. Well, almost anything, winning a championship might still be a stretch!"

As the laughter died down, Fernando raised his glass. "To Carlos Sainz Jr., the man who proves that you can be a great driver, a fan favorite, and still be overshadowed by your dad at family dinners. Feliz cumpleaños, amigo!"

Fernando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up to give him a warm, laughing embrace. As they parted, you stood up to introduce the next roaster.

"Now, let's hear from someone who's known Carlos since their early days in Formula 1. Please welcome to the stage, the reigning world champion and certified cat lover, Max Verstappen!"

Max sauntered up to the stage, he adjusted the mic and grinned at Carlos.

"If it isn't the new old man of the grid," Max began, earning chuckles from the crowd. "You know, Carlos and I go way back to our Toro Rosso days. I remember when we first met, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got great hair.' Then I realized that's all he's got!" everyone laughed once again, "Back at Toro Rosso, Carlos was always so dedicated. He'd spend hours studying my telemetry, trying to figure out how to be as fast as me. Spoiler alert: he's still trying!"

The crowd roared with laughter, Carlos included, as he playfully threw a napkin at Max.

"But in all seriousness, Carlos," Max continued with a grin, "you've always been one of the most hardworking and determined drivers on the grid. You never give up, no matter how many times you've been dropped by your teams mid season."

Carlos laughed, raising his glass to Max in a mock toast. "Thanks for the reminder, Max."

"Carlos, you're one of the best guys in the paddock. With your resting bitch face and all, you're always there with a helping hand. Even if your driving skills are debatable," he added with a wink. "Happy 30th, mate."

Max stepped down, and Carlos stood up to give him a hug, both of them laughing. You took the mic once more, "Thank you, Max, for that trip down memory lane. Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who's known for his infectious smile and his matchmaking skills. Please give it up for Daniel Ricciardo!"

Daniel bounded onto the stage with his characteristic enthusiasm, flashing his famous grin.

"G'day, everyone! Carlos, mate, happy birthday!" Daniel began, "You know, I've known Carlos for years, but my proudest achievement was introducing him to his lovely girlfriend, YN," you smiled at this, feeling Carlos squeeze your hand, "I thought to myself, 'This bloke needs someone who can put up with his golf obsession and his constant need for mirror checks.' And boy, did I deliver!"

The crowd erupted in laughter, with you and Carlos exchanging amused glances.

"I remember the day I introduced them," Daniel continued, "I told YN, 'Look, he's a great guy, but be prepared for endless conversations about tyre management and the perfect hair product.' Little did I know, she'd be nodding along enthusiastically!"

You playfully rolled your eyes as the audience chuckled.

"But seriously, folks," Daniel's tone softened slightly, "watching these two together is like watching a perfect pit stop - smooth, efficient, and occasionally involves someone getting sprayed with champagne."

Carlos pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your cheek as everyone 'aww'ed.

"Carlos, mate," Daniel concluded, raising his glass, "you've found yourself a keeper. Someone who can navigate your mood swings faster than you navigate Eau Rouge. YN, love, you've got yourself a man who's smoother than a freshly paved track... at least when he's not tripping over his own feet trying to impress you."

Daniel stepped down from the stage, approaching you and Carlos. You both stood up, enveloping him in a group hug, all three of you laughing and thanking him for his words.

"Alright, that was brilliant, Daniel. Now, let’s hear from let's hear from someone who's about to get very familiar with Carlos's driving quirks. Please welcome to the stage, Carlos's new future teammate, Alex Albon!"

Alex strode up to the stage with a playful grin, adjusting the microphone as he faced the audience.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my new teammate, Carlos Sainz," Alex began, "You know, when I heard Carlos was joining Williams, I thought, 'Great, someone to help push the team forward!' Then I remembered his time at Ferrari and realized he's just as confused about strategy as the rest of us."

The room erupted in laughter, with Carlos good-naturedly shaking his head.

"But seriously, Carlos," Alex continued, "I'm excited to work with you. I mean, who wouldn't want a teammate who's been through more teams than I've had podiums? Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari... Williams is just the latest stop on the Carlos Sainz World Tour, isn't it?"

Carlos raised his glass in mock salute, chuckling along with the audience.

"I have to say, though, I'm a bit worried," Alex said, feigning concern. "I've seen how competitive you are, Carlos. I just hope you remember that at Williams, we're usually racing against the clock, not other cars. But hey, at least you'll always beat the safety car... probably."

"You know, Carlos, I just realized we have something else in common besides our great hair and questionable career choices. We're both proud members of the 'No Appendix Club'!"

The room burst into laughter, with Carlos nodding in amused agreement.

"That's right, folks," Alex continued, "Carlos and I have both had our appendixes removed. I like to think it makes us more aerodynamic, but let's be honest, in Carlos's case, it's probably just made room for more hair product."

Carlos playfully patted his hair, eliciting more chuckles from the audience.

"But seriously," Alex said, "I suppose this means we're perfectly matched as teammates. We're both down an organ, so when Williams inevitably asks us to give 100%, we can honestly say we're already giving everything we've got - minus an appendix, of course! Happy birthday, teammate, here's to a season of driving a tractor, but at least we'll be together."

Alex stepped down from the stage and approached Carlos, who stood up to give him a hug patting his back.

"Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who needs no introduction, but I'll give him one anyway. Seven-time world champion and fashion icon, Lewis Hamilton!" you said and everyone clapped.

Lewis sauntered up to the stage with his characteristic cool demeanor. "Carlos, my man," he began, "I've got to hand it to you. You've had quite the career. Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari, next year Williams, it's like you're collecting team merchandise,"Lewis grinned mischievously as he continued, "You know, Carlos, I've got to thank you. You've done such a great job warming up that Ferrari seat for me. It's like you were my personal seat heater all along!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Carlos playfully buried his face in his hands, and you rubbed his back comfortingly while chuckling.

"But seriously," Lewis continued with a grin, "You've made that Ferrari seat look good. I just hope I can live up to your legacy of looking devastatingly handsome while trying to figure out what on earth the pit wall is thinking."

Carlos laughed, shaking his head in mock despair. "Thanks, Lewis. I appreciate the… kind words."

"You know, Carlos, I've always admired your ability to stay positive," Lewis continued his roast, "No matter how many times you've been dropped from teams, you always manage to smile for the cameras. It's like you've mastered the art of looking happy while screaming internally. I'm taking notes mate!"

After a few more jabs Lewis concluded his roast, several other drivers took their turns at the mic, each adding their own flavor to the celebration. George joked about Carlos's infamous beach photos, Pierre told some stories about their Toro Rosso days and even Oscar joked about being surprised about being invited since him and Carlos always push each other off the track.

Finally, it was your turn. You stood up, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as you approached the stage. Carlos looked at you with a huge smile.

"Well, well, well," you began, locking eyes with Carlos, "what can I say about Carlos Sainz that hasn't already been said? He's talented, he's handsome, and he's the only man I know who spends more time on his hair than I do."

The room filled with laughter as Carlos nodded in mock pride.

"But seriously, living with Carlos is an adventure," you continued, "He's always talking about smooth operations, but let me tell you, there's nothing smooth about the way he leaves his socks all over the house. It's like living in a minefield of sweaty foot prisons."

Carlos threw his head back in laughter along with the rest of the guests.

"And don't even get me started on his competitiveness. Everything's a race with this guy. Brushing teeth? Race. Getting dressed? Race. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to overtake me in bed yet!"

The room erupted in cheers and wolf whistles as Carlos turned a shade of red.

"But in all seriousness," your voice softened, "Carlos, you're the most incredible person I know. You're kind, passionate, and you never give up, whether it's on the track or trying to convince me that paella is a breakfast food."

You raised your glass, "To Carlos, the love of my life and the smoothest operator I know. Happy 30th birthday, mi amor. May your future be as bright as your smile and your pit stops be faster than your hair routine."

As you finished, Carlos stood up, his eyes shining with laughter and love. He pulled you into a tight embrace as the room filled with applause and cheers.

"I love you so much," he whispered into your ear, kissing your temple softly.

"Well, folks, I think we've successfully roasted Carlos to a crisp," you said with a grin. "But before we wrap up, I think it's only fair that the birthday boy gets a chance to respond. Carlos, amor, the floor is yours!"

"Wow," he began, his accent thicker than usual, "I'm not sure whether to feel honored or insulted. But I guess that's the point of a roast, right?" He paused as chuckles rippled through the room. "First off, I want to thank all of you for being here. It means a lot that you'd all take time out of your busy schedules to come and insult me."

Carlos thanked each of his friends with a blend of humor and sincerity, making everyone laugh. He playfully teased Charles about making him look good on track, jested with Lando about the success of his Spanish pickup lines with you, and expressed gratitude to Fernando for his mentorship while vowing to become the best Sainz in motorsports.

"And finally, to my beautiful girlfriend," Carlos's voice softened as he looked at you, "Thank you for organizing this amazing night, and for putting up with me every day. You're the real smooth operator here."

The room erupted in cheers and applause as Carlos stepped down from the stage. You met him halfway, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug once again.

"Happy birthday, amor," you whispered in his ear, pulling away to kiss him softly.

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you - part 4

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: lesbians failing at normal conversation, one (1) suspicious ankle, and Y/n pretending she's fine when she is clearly not fine.

Word count: 6k

..

The morning after dinner came too fast. Y/n had barely slept, her brain stuck replaying every awkward second of dinner.

She wanted to cringe every time she remembered the whole flower episode–the way she had panicked when she thought the flowers were for her. How Olga kept glancing at Y/n and Kika with a knowing grin on her face.

Y/n hated how dinner had slipped out of her control. She hated even more that she… maybe liked it? Somehow?

It was nice having Kika over. She was easy to be around, even though both Kika and Y/n were still pretty much awkward as hell. It just felt…nice.

After dinner, Kika offered to help Y/n clean the dishes while Olga was taking care of Alexia’s wounded knee. 

Y/n passed Kika a dish towel without looking. “You really don’t have to help, you know.”

Kika shrugged, taking the plate from her hands. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

They worked in silence for a bit–just the sound of running water and plates clinking.

“Dinner was good,” Kika said, a little shy. “I mean… the food. And the vibe.”

“The vibe? You mean Olga attacking Alexia’s bad knee or..?” Y/n raised an eyebrow at her, skeptical. 

“She wasn’t that bad,” Kika said. “She seems very caring.”

Y/n glanced over. “Yeah, aggressively caring.”

Another pause. Kika was drying a fork that had already been dry for like, ten seconds too long. Y/n noticed but didn’t say anything.

“I still had fun,” Kika said after a beat, setting the fork down and leaning against the counter, suddenly very interested in the dish towel.

Y/n hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah. Me too.”

They stood there for a second too long, not saying anything. Y/n opened her mouth like she might add something, then closed it again.

“Um, you make good pasta, by the way,” she said, looking down.

Y/n blinked, confused. “I… didn’t make the pasta.”

 “Oh. I–Olga said you did.” Kika’s face immediately flushed.

They stared at each other for a second. The silence hung there, weird and uncertain, like neither of them knew what to do with it.

What the hell would Olga say something like that to Kika? Y/n wasn’t even aware that the dinner was happening? Y/n knew Olga was up to something. 

Y/n finally shrugged, turning back to the sink. “Well, good to know I’m getting credit for things I didn’t do.”

“Still… It was really good.”  Kika let out a quiet, nervous laugh

Y/n handed her another plate without looking. “Yeah. Olga’s like…annoyingly good at everything.”

Another beat of quiet passed.

“I liked it,” Kika added, softly.

Y/n didn’t say anything back. But her shoulders eased just a little.

Maybe dinner wasn’t bad for every member of the Putella’s household after all. Well… maybe just for Alexia. And possibly her kneecap.

Two days had passed, and Y/n and Kika shared a few polite interactions, just some shy greetings across the pitch, no ice cream date. Not that Y/n was actually expecting Kika and her to go out, of course not! 

They didn’t even have the time for that. An El Clásico was coming– and it was Kika’s debut. Kika and Y/n were on the starting eleven. They didn’t have time to…eat ice cream.

Y/n could very well buy ice cream if she wanted to and eat in her room. But she wouldn't do that, it would be pathetic.

She kept quiet through breakfast, letting Alexia and Olga talk over her head about formations and press conferences, as Y/n usually did when it was match day.

Her body moved almost on autopilot: eating, packing, walking into the team bus, focused on the game ahead of them. Jana and Vicky called Y/n to sit with them in the back of the bus to film TikTok, but Kika was there too, smiling. Y/n knew she was going to get distracted.

She couldn't allow herself that.

She had a big day ahead of her. She needs to be great. And for that to happen, she needs a strong headspace. So that’s why she sat by Alexia's side. 

It was good to sit with Alexia.

She didn't try to make small talk or give unsolicited advice, instead, she simply shared one of her earphones with Y/n, letting the music fill the silence between them. 

It was like an unspoken moment between her and Y/n that showed that their bond–even if a little difficult sometimes–was still there. It grounded Y/n. It was one of the few occasions where Alexia’s presence felt calming.

Y/n was confident, really.

But as the bus neared the stadium, Y/n could already feel her chest tightening again. The vehicle stopped and the girls walked out of it, right into the chaos of the stadium tunnel, where the usual anxiety of a match crept in.

The energy before a clásico was always palpable.

There were reporters and journalists around, flashing their faces with their cameras and absurd questions. Fans who screamed loudly enough to give Y/n and the other girls a headache. And security guards that barked and shoved the players, trying to protect them from the most energized fans.

Y/n’s boots echoed off the floor as she made her way to the locker room. Her jaw tight, focus narrowing.

No one tried to talk to her. They used other more closed-off demeanor before any big games.

There was no room for distraction now. Not dinner. Not Kika. Not even Alexia’s watchful eyes. 

Just the game and only the game.

..

Y/n stood in front of Kika as Barcelona’s team lined up in the tunnel, waiting to be called onto the pitch. She had her eyes pinned on the back of Aitana’s head, trying to focus.

Y/n didn’t like the ambiance of the tunnel.

Her mascot’s hand was far too sweaty. The Real Madrid players were puffing out their chests, trying to act tough, which only irritated Y/n.

 Somewhere behind her, she could hear hushed whispers–probably Ona and Salma–carrying all the way to the front of the line.

There was too much going on. 

It was always too much before a game. No matter how hard she tried to focus, the chaos around her felt overwhelming. She felt like she always had to put on a show whenever she stepped onto the pitch.

Estrella.

La princesa.

Mini Alexia.

The Barcelona fans always chanted when they saw her, screaming loudly as she ran across the pitch, ball at her feet, defenders left behind.

She couldn’t make mistakes.

Focus. She needed to focus.

Her heart was beating fast, and her breathing was uncomfortable, not enough air in her lungs. 

That always happened. That uncomfortable feeling��the heaviness on her chest that made Y/n feel like she was slowly being crushed to the ground.

She held her fist tight, trying to ground herself, until a squeaky voice 

made her snap out of it,

“Ouch! You’re hurting my hand!” said the little boy by her side–her mascot. 

He had a pout on his face, almost like he’d just been betrayed because Y/n had held his hand a little too tight.

Y/n might have felt bad if he hadn’t practically announced it to the entire tunnel. Now all eyes were on them. 

“Oh, perdó,” [Oh, I’m sorry] Y/n said, letting go of the boy's hand, feeling embarrassed for having all heads turned to them.

“I don’t wanna go with you anymore!” said the boy, half yelling–again.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Y/n said, lowering herself down just so she was the same height as the boy. “It won't happen again, nen [boy].”

Y/n reached for the boy’s hand again, but he quickly pulled away from her. “No! I had told my mami I wanted to go with Alexia, not you! And now you hu–”

“Hey little man, how are you?” Kika had knelt to the ground beside the boy, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Can I see your hand? Is it hurting?”

Y/n watched as Kika talked to the boy, almost as if soothing him. Kika did it so easily, like soothing a nervous kid wasn’t even a bother.

Y/n noticed that Kika, even though a little shy, was good at talking to others, at doing small talk and making people feel comfortable and reassured. Y/n wondered how she could do that. 

It was just like dinner, a few days better. She answered all of Olga’s questions with ease, and didn't seem starstruck like most new girls were with Alexia.

But when it was just Y/n and Kika? It was like neither girl knew how to hold a conversation properly.

Still, Y/n admired Kika, she was good at socialising. It was a skill Y/n wished she had been born with, because she was surely not developing it well. People always called her cranky, even when she was still a kid; she just never had the patience for small talk and meaningless conversations.

Kika had just moved to a new country and she didn't speak the same language as her. She was about to debut for a big club…and yet she seemed calm.

While Y/n could barely breathe, standing in a familiar tunnel.

In the end, the boy refused to be Y/n’s mascot. Deciding to hold Kika's other hand.  So Kika had two kids, and Y/n had zero. Zero mascots. 

Maybe next time, she’d try not to crush a child’s bones.

“Sorry,” Kika whispered to Y/n, pointing her chin at the boy. “I tried to make him go with you, I even offered some candy”

“It’s alright,” Y/n smiled, for the first time that day, “I didn’t think he was very kind.”

“Hey, I’m right here, ma’am,” the boy said, sticking his tongue. “I’ll tell my mami you hurt my hand.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You can tell your mami to s–”

A very sound ran through the tunnel.

The classical signal to the player to enter the pitch.

Y/n forgot the boy right away.

She was going to nail this game.

...

The match had been going on for 30 minutes. Kika had already been tackled three times. Three. And the ref had done absolutely nothing. Not even a warning.

But the moment Kika got too close to Madrid’s number 8? Straight yellow. No fouls before. No prior warnings. Just a card.

Y/n felt rage spiking in her chest. She hated injustice, especially now with Kika’s debut. She barely touched the girl and got a card? It's completely unfair.

So she started shadowing number 8. Not very subtly, Y/n wasn’t trying to hide her intention behind it; she was pressed against the girl, giving her light shovings whenever the ball was close to her.

If Y/n could mark number 8, then Kika would have more freedom to run and make passes to the other girls. Y/n wasn’t worried about Kika herself, of course, she was worried about the team.

If it were any other girl being this marked up by other players, Y/n would definitely do the same thing…maybe just not with the same enthusiasm.

Y/n kept close to number 8, but when she turned around to get the ball and Ym tackled her, the referee gave Y/n a warning.

Y/n rolled her eyes and backed off slightly.

But she stayed very much alert. Watching for gaps. Watching Kika. Watching everyone.

As a defender, she needed to read the game better than anyone. Especially when the people in charge refused to play fair.

But of course, Y/n wasn’t the only player who had–as Alexia said a million times –an aggressive play style.

Ona had made a pass to Y/n–it was quick, sharp. Y/n was just there to redirect it to Vicky or Pina, who were a few meters away. Y/n didn’t even need to ruin it, just one touch would’ve been enough.

But another player, number 6 from Real Madrid–Whose name Y/n couldn’t be bothered to remember– tackled her. Hard.

The tackle wasn’t clean, and it was very much unnecessary as Y/n was standing still, very far away from Real Madrid goal. Number 6 took the ball with her, as well as Y/n's ankle.

Y/n hit the ground face-first, a hiss escaping her lips as her ankle throbbed. Her hands dug into the grass, jaw clenched as she heard the crowd–Real Madrid fans cheering, Barça fans booing.

“Hey, amiga,” Ona’s voice came through, calm but concerned. “That was dirty. Want me to call the medics? The ref blew the whistle already.”

Ona knelt beside her, placing a steady hand on Y/n’s back as she helped her turn over and sit up. Her ankle didn’t look injured. They never did right after an impact–the worst came after.

But the pain was growing, creeping up her leg and almost reaching her shin. She’d twisted it badly. One week off, minimum. But there was another Madrid match coming soon. She couldn’t miss it. So she breathed through it.

The other girls came over, Alexia, Irene, Aitana… and Kika.

They all looked at her the same way: worried.  Like they didn’t think she’d be able to continue. Like they already knew it and were calculating how many weeks off she would get.

Y/n hated that. Hated being looked at like she was…fragile. 

So she forced herself to stand. She bit down a whine as her foot hit the ground, hiding the tremble in her knee. Ona instinctively grabbed her arm, and Aitana caught the other, helping her stay upright.

“I’m calling the medics,” Alexia said, already waving toward the bench.

Y/n was faster. She dropped Alexia’s arm “No, Ale. I’m good.”

“Good?” Irene echoed, sounding incredulous. “Estrellita, she almost snapped your ankle in two. I saw it.”

“Guys, really,” Y/n said, pointing at her ankle as she moved it side to side. It hurt a lot, but she faked a confident smile. Then she took three shaky steps forward. “See? Fine.”

Alexia pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Nena, if you feel any pain, you ask to be subbed off. No…. heroics, ok?”

“Yes,” Y/n said quickly. “Don’t worry.”

“Let’s make it 3–0 for us, yeah?” Y/n added, eyes already locked on the scoreboard. 

2–0 for Barça.

 Her game face was back on, the player in her settling in neatly.

Y/n wasn’t sure if it was the placebo effect, the adrenaline, or if she was simply such a good liar that even she believed it, but the pain was gone. Or at least, it felt like it.

She didn’t feel any pain when she sprinted down the right side of the pit to make a pass to Alexia, who sent the ball shooting into the net. And definitely not when she passed to Ona, who sent the ball flying to Irene, who then set Patri up perfectly for another goal.

The locker room was completely buzzed with laughter and half-sung chants. The 4–0 win over Real Madrid felt like a party already, but somehow, the girls had more energy to burn.

Y/n was seated on the bench, unlacing her boots, when she glanced across the room and saw Kika.

Kika was leaning against her locker, eyes crinkled in a laugh at something Vicky said, her jersey sleeves pushed up as she tossed her hair back. She looked so at ease. Like the tension from the game had never happened.

For a second, Y/n thought Kika might turn around and look at her. Maybe smile. 

But she didn’t, being too caught up in her conversation.

Y/n looked away before anyone noticed she was watching. 

The girls kept talking, singing, happy about their victory.

That energy didn’t end after they gave interviews, or after they made some media content for Barcelona and, in the case of Vicky, Jane and Salma, filmed a TikTok.

So of course, the barça girls had to commemorate even more.

“Bar tonight!” Patri said, tugging her jersey over her head and putting on a clean t-shirt. “Who’s on?”

“Yes!” Irene said, phone already in hand. “Just gonna let Lucia know I’ll be late.”

Y/n, still seated on the bench, unlaced her boots slowly, as all the girls agreed to Patri’s idea. 

Just one person didn’t say anything, and she could feel the bullying starting.

 “I’m gonna skip,” Y/n said in a low voice, not even looking up, because she knew she was going to be met with a lot of hopeful eyes staring at her.

A chorus of groans followed immediately, and Y/n had to let a chuckle out. They were so dramatic whenever it came to ‘team bonding time’.

“Come on, that’s like the third time in a row,” Vicky whined from across the locker room, Jana nodding aggressively as she agreed with her. “You’re boring.”

“You never go out,” Ona added with an exaggerated pout. “We can’t just see each other on the pitch!”

“Sorry,” Y/n replied, her usual dry tone, the fake smile on her face making it even more sarcastic.

“You’re the lamest 19-year-old I know,” Pina chimed in, throwing in a towel at Y/n, who let it land on her hand before tossing it to the floor.

“You know you’re going to die one day and won’t have any stories to tell, right?” Jana said, more like a warning, pointing a finger at Y/n as if it were a prophecy.

“Oh, and what stories and memories are you guys creating tonight?” Y/n asked, lifting her eyebrows. “Because the last time I went out, Marta choked on the fries because someone,” Y/n gave Patri a judgmental look. “Challenged her to see how many fries she could chew at the same time.”

The girls tried to talk back, but they really didn’t have arguments, so they just rolled their eyes at Y/n while others just laughed it off.

One by one, the team started to leave. The buzz faded with the slamming of the locker room door, and soon, only Alexia and Y/n were left behind.

Y/n kept unlacing her second boot slowly, aware of the silence that was creeping in. She didn’t have to look up to know Alexia was still there.

"Nena, ets molt antisocial," Alexia’s voice came through–not stern, but amused. “You always say no.”

“I’m always socially tired,” Y/n replied, almost whining.

“They’re starting to take it personally,” Alexia said, grabbing her game bag.

“They’ll survive, I’m sure,” Y/n said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“They might not,” Alexia added, letting her hair down from the ponytail. “Well, Vicky might not–she looked like she was about to cry.”

That made Y/n roll her eyes, but she smiled. She missed that, those teasing moments with Alexia that felt like siblings messing around. 

When Alexia wasn’t acting like her mom, or the strict team captain, she was actually cool and funny.

Though to be fair, Alexia’s captain persona never really turned off. And it didn’t know either.

Her gaze dropped, quick and instinctive, noticing the way Y/n’s hands were clamped tightly around her ankle. The way her foot was angled–awkward, tense, like she was trying to find a position that didn’t make her flinch.

She still had her right boot and sock on, so Alexia couldn’t see the swelling or the bruising that had already started to bloom. And Y/n was determined to keep it that way.

“You alright?” Alexia asked, her voice softer now.

“Yeah. Just sore.”

Alexia raised a brow. “Like, ‘sore I’ll be fine tomorrow,’ or ‘sore I don’t want the physios to see’?”

“Sore like I just need to ice it when I get home,” Y/n said, too casually.

“I think you should see the doctors,” Alexia pressed. “I’ll take you. They can do imaging just to be sure.”

“No, Ale.” Y/n shook her head. “I’m fine. I swear.”

“That player stepped on your ankle. I watched it happen—I can’t see how you’re ‘fine.’”

“The same way you were fine when you twisted yours two months ago!” Y/n snapped, then immediately regretted it.

Alexia deadpanned. “I was literally out for two weeks.”

“…Okay. So maybe not exactly the same way,” Y/n muttered, shifting her weight. “Now go. The girls are waiting for you.”

Alexia gave her a long look but let it drop. “Alright. I’m going. But Olga’s home–maybe you two can order something in for dinner”

“Will do.”

“And please put ice on it,” she said, already pulling out her phone. “Actually, I’m texting Olga to leave everything ready so you can prop your ankle up.”

“Ale–stop.” Y/n groaned.

“Is it a crime to care for you now?” Alexia asked, halfway teasing, but she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.

“You are not ‘caring for me’,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes. “You’re hovering.”

“No estic,” Alexia said, a little too quickly. “Només estic... preocupada. Una mica.” [“I’m not. I’m just... worried. A bit.”]

“--But I’m trusting you not to be an idiot and downplay this,” she continued, more serious this time. 

“I’m not! I won’t!” Y/n said, forcing a smile, trying to convince her.

Alexia lingered with her hand on the doorknob, her back to Y/n.

“You’re sure?” she asked, quieter now. “You’ll ice it? Real ice, not frozen peas like last time.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Yes. Promise.”

Alexia turned just enough to narrow her eyes at her, like she was this close to calling the physios behind her back. She took a breath.

“Okay. I’ll let you off this time,” she said. “But only because I know Olga will give you more shit about it than I ever could.”

The door shut behind her.

Y/n waited. Waited until she didn't hear Kika's shoes anymore, then peeled her sock down.

“Shit,” she muttered.

Her ankle was already swollen, a deep purple bruise creeping up the side. It throbbed with a dull ache now that the adrenaline had worn off. She hissed under her breath and grabbed her water bottle, pressing it to the skin in place of proper ice.

Just ice. Just rest. She’d be fine.

It was just sore. She could walk. Limping was still a form of walking. She had iced worse things.

She would just take some anti-inflammatories, smear some cream on it overnight. Tomorrow, she’d tape it up and keep going.

She was halfway through pulling her sock back up when—

“Whoa.”

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Kika stood frozen in the doorway, the same clothes she wore when they first got to the game. A grey sweater, white shirt underneath and baggy jeans. 

“Sorry…I forgot my–” She trailed off, eyes glued to Y/n’s ankle.

“That looks… kind of bad.”

Y/n straightened instinctively, tugging her suck up too fast. 

“It 's nothing.”

“It’s… purple.”

“I have poor blood circulation,” Y/n said dryly.

Kika blinked. “Right.”

Y/n looked away, busying herself with her bag. “It’s just a bruise. It’ll be fine by morning.”

Kika didn’t say anything right away. She stood there, shifting her weight awkwardly, clearly unsure if she should stay or go.

“It doesn’t look like anything,” she said eventually.. “But–I mean, maybe you know your body better.”

“Yes, I do,” Y/n clenched her jaw, not liking the sudden attention to her injury. “You can back off, no need to worry.”

Kika shifted her weight from one foot to the other, like she wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure if she was allowed to.

Y/n sighed. “Sorry.”

Kika blinked, a little surprised.

She took a small step forward, then stopped again.

“I’m not trying to… I’m not judging or anything. I just saw it and–the other girls said it was minor, so I didn’t expect it to look…purple.”

“It’s just…” Y/n shook her head. “Long game.”

Kika gave a small nod. “Yeah. It was a big one.”

She hesitated. “Your first,” Y/n added quietly, eyes still on her sock. “You played well.”

Kika smiled, almost sheepish. “Thanks.”

She lingered a second longer. “And… Thank you for marking the players for me. I noticed it, and well…for tracking back when I lost the ball during the first half.”

She pressed her fingers into her ankle a little harder than necessary, just to distract herself from the warmth creeping up her neck.

“Yeah, of course. I’m a defender. That’s my, hm… job.” Y/n’s ears burned. She cleared her throat.  

Kika’s smile widened a little. “Well… you’re very good at your job.”

Y/n glanced at her quickly, as if to see if she was being made fun of. But Kika 

“Have you booked with the physio at the club yet?” Kika asked, gently, but with purpose. Her eyes flicked down to Y/n’s leg again. She clearly wasn’t ready to drop it.

“No. That won’t be necessary,” Y/n said, not looking at her. She slid her ankle behind her gym bag so Kika wouldn’t see it anymore. “It’s feeling better already.”

Kika clearly didn't believe Y/n.

“Is it because of the upcoming game? The other one against Madrid?”

Y/n watched Kika, her eyes soft, not with judgment, just concern. Y/n looked down at her poor ankle and nodded. 

“I just wanna play–FIFA dates are coming up and I need to stay on the squad,” Y/n said, in a small voice, as if she didn’t like to admit it.

There were a lot of good Spain players who could easily fit her position on the squad, it was a very competitive selection. That’s why so many players with double nationality sometimes chose not to represent Spain, because their chances of getting in were slim.

Y/n didn’t have any other option, though, so she had to be good, excellent even. If she were out for a few weeks, there was a big chance of not getting called because of minutes.

She needed more minutes. More games. More experience. She needed to show them she was worthy of being called again.

Y/n had been in a few share of seniors games, but she always thought they were going to be their last, so she never slacked. Always gave her best,

“It looks bad, though,” Kika said again, pulling Y/n out of her thoughts. 

Y/n’s jaw tensed, just slightly.

“It’ll get better,” Y/n said, too practiced as if she was saying it to herself, so she could believe it.

“Hm. If you say so.” Kika said hesitantly, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Y/n didn’t look at her, instead focusing on the zipper of her gym bag. “Yeah.”

“Can you keep it in between us, though?” Y/n asked, eyes on the floor still. “Just–while it heals…it won’t take long, two days max.”

Silent. 

“I just don’t want Romeu to bench me now,” Y/n continued, blushing on her cheeks as she realised that she was asking Kika to do something that wasn't really nice. “Just…two days, Kika.”

There was silence again, this time way too long.

Y/n finally looked up.

Kika’s face had shifted slightly. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her lips were tight.  Her eyes flicked down again to the ankle Y/n had tried to hide behind her gym bag. Then back to Y/n’s face.

Y/n didn’t say anything else. Didn’t push or soften the ask. She just waited, pretending she wasn’t watching Kika carefully.

Y/n hated to see how uncomfortable she looked, but it made sense; she had just been handed a secret she clearly didn’t want to hold.

They looked at each other, and Y/n felt her stomach twist.

Kika shouldn’t have walked in, not when her ankle was on full display; it looked okay-ish when her sock was covering it. A little swollen, but nothing more than this.

Kika finally gave a small nod–barely noticeable. 

But her body language didn’t match. Her shoulders were very tense. She looked like she wanted to say she wasn’t sure. That she didn’t want to be put in this position. But she said nothing.

But Kika wasn’t like the other players. She still stood a little too straight sometimes, spoke a little too politely, like she wasn’t sure how far she was allowed to go yet., Like she was still trying to figure out her place on the team.

Y/n felt a flicker of guilt.

Y/n was feeling like the bad guy for asking a teammate not to snitch, and it felt worse because the teammate was Kika, and Kika was sweet and caring, and she didn’t deserve to be put in this situation.   

But this was about her career. The next call-up, the next game, staying relevant. She needed the minutes.

Y/n pulled her hoodie over her head, trying to shake off the weird feeling creeping in her chest.

“I’ll be fine.” Her voice was low, firm, meant to end the conversation.

Kika fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

“I have to go,” she said finally.

Y/ne expected her voice to be snappier now, but it wasn’t, it was gentle, still soft.

“Jana and Vicky are waiting.” She continued, pointing at the door. “They said they want me to drink sangria.”

Y/n forced a smile, but it barely made it to her eyes.

“Oh. Yeah.” Y/n’s voice was quieter now, trailing off into something smaller. “Have a good time… and don’t trust Jana with the sangria,” the corner of her mouth tugged up just a bit. “Vicky’s got better taste.”

Kika lingered at the door before offering Y/n a small smile, her gaze staying a second too long on Y/n.

And then she turned around, the door clicking shut behind her.

Y/n still felt the weight of Kika’s gaze. It wasn’t harsh or judgmental, it was concerned. The same one Alexia gave her, but more…tender.

Y/n exhaled, long and slow, and ran a hand down her face. This is what it felt like to be perceived? Y/n surely didn’t like it.

Y/n looked around and noticed Kika didn’t take whatever it was that she came back for. 

She looked at the cubby to her left, a water bottle was there; the Portugal sticker gave it away about who it belonged to.

Y/n stared at it for a moment and bent over on the bench to pick it up. She turned it over in her hand, the water was warm now. The girl carefully placed it inside her gym bag.

Then she pushed herself up, only to suck in a sharp breath as pain ran through her ankle. Her fingers immediately reached for the bench again to steady herself.

Okay. Maybe she’d need more than just ice.

She changed slowly, trying to avoid putting pressure on the ankle as she took her gym bag and Kika’a water bottle.

Alexia probably still had some painkillers in her bedside drawer. 

Hopefully, Olga had left the freezer stocked, too.

..

“Ai, la meva nena”, Olga said as soon as Y/n walked into the house. Alexia had really texted her about Y/n’s ankle because Olga had a pack of ice and a towel waiting for her. [Oh, my girl].

Y/n didn’t even have time to drop her bag before Olga was already there, arms open,  the ice in one hand and the towel in the other.

Y/n accepted the hug stiffly. No matter how many years she had been living with Olga, she would never get used to her sudden moments of affection. Y/n only pretended she didn’t like it, though. Olga was a very good hugger.

Olga had probably taken what she called ‘premium shower’ because she smelt like strawberry, a body wash she only used on special occasions. 

Y/n tried her hardest not to limp. Olga might not be a physio or a football expert, but even she knew that if someone was limping after hours of hurting their ankle, then it wasn’t a minor injury.

Olga was the snitchiest person ever. She would tell Alexia in a heartbeat. They were loyal to each other like that. 

“Ale said a player stomped on your ankle? Sí?” Olga urged Y/n to sit on the sofa as she pulled her phone, probably letting Alexia know Y/n was home already.

Olga put her phone down on the coffee table while Y/n took off her shoes, but not her socks, even though the pressure made it worse. Olga couldn't see the state of her ankle, or else she would drive Y/n herself to the closest orthopedist.

The bruising had deepened. It was darker now, the swelling higher up the side.

“She didn’t stomp,” Y/n said casually, putting her shoes to the side and letting Olga put the ice over the towel on her ankle. “Alexia’s being dramatic.”

Y/n winces slightly when Olga rubbed the ice back against her ankle. But she tried to hide it with a yawn.

Olga looked at her, eyebrows raised, not buying it. But she didn’t push. Just sat next to her, tucking her legs beneath her,

“I don’t think I would use the word dramatic to describe Ale,” Olga said.

Y/n held the bundle to her ankle. The cold stung, and her toes curled instinctively.

“I would,” y/n mumbled, putting her head back against the sofa cushions. “She is a helicopter parent and she isn’t even a parent.”

Olga laughed, a soft snort. “She’s almost a parent,” she said, winking at her. “At least with you.”

Y/n scoffed, but it came out quieter than she meant it to. 

She wasn’t annoyed. Not really. Not even at Alexia. The truth was– her chest felt warm at that.

Y/n would sometimes feel like the odd one out when it came to Alexia, Olga, and the whole Putellas family dynamic. Like she didn’t truly belong. As if she were just someone they kept around out of obligation or pity or… god knows what.

But here–now–feeling Olga’s gentle presence beside her on the couch, listening as she asked about the match, then about what they should order for dinner like it was the most natural thing in the world… Y/n felt like family.

The feeling only grew stronger when Alexia video called mid-conversation, her face appearing on Olga’s phone screen with a worried crease between her brows.

“Let me see it,” Alexia said without preamble. She was clearly at a bar, Y/n could barely see her face, and her voice came out muffled from the sound of the Catan music playing.

Y/n rolled her eyes and lifted the injured foot, sock still on, ice pack balanced over the top. She pointed the camera like it was a piece of evidence. “There. Happy now?”

Alexia smiled, clearly relieved. “I’ll be back in just over an hour.”

“Oh, please stay longer,” Y/n said, teasing. “Olga and I are finally getting a chance to watch TV–the one you’re always hogging and never let us touch?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “You have a TV in your room. And Olga and I have one in ours too. Don’t be dramatic.”

Y/n grinned. “Living room TV is different, though.”

Alexia tilted her head, amused. “How exactly?”

“It just is,” Y/n said with a shrug, sinking deeper into the couch. “Better sound. Cozier vibe. Feels more communal.”

 “Okay, you two keep on watching your…communal TV” Alexia rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. “Text me if any of you need anything.”

She let her smile linger and nodded, but as the call ended, the tension in her shoulders didn’t.

There was a small, guilty part of her that hoped if she played it light enough–joking and teasing and casual–Alexia might not press further.

That maybe, just maybe, acting normal would keep things from Alexia noticing how much in pain she was.

And Y/n wasn’t ready for that.

Notes: Please tell me if you guys liked it <3

..

Tag list in the comments.

Part 5 here

[fairyhaos]

yeoubi. // chwe hansol

여우비 (yeo-u-bi) : noun. literally “fox rain” — when sunlight filters through rainfall, creating a golden shower.

PAIRING : vernon x f!reader

INFO : east asian historical fantasy(ish. i kinda made up my own mythology), fox demon!vernon, silver!vernon, immortal!witch!yn, fluff, magic, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT : 22.3k+

WARNINGS : blood mention, injuries, slight discrimination against yokai, cursing

NOTES : for the @camandemstudios winter with you collab! i had so so so much fun writing yeoubi and it's genuinely one of the best things ive done this year. writing a fantasy au soft vernon fic was never something that i thought i needed to write, but now i have, and i love him and i love this and i hope everyone loves yeoubi just as much as i do too <3

SYNOPSIS : living as a magic, immortal healer in a rural, human mountain village means most of your existence has been rather peaceful. that is, until one cold winter when an injured yokai stumbles into your life; and though everyone else is terrified of him, you take him in, nurse him back to health, and show the others that some demons aren’t that scary after all. (...and maybe, just maybe, you end up falling for the pretty fox yokai too.)

For the first time in years, the river freezes over.

During winter, it’s often a lot harder for you to notice things like this, as the cold dulls your senses and numbs your fingers, so you’re only informed of this fact when the village children come to your cottage in the morning, their high-pitched voices blending with the mismatched beats of their fists knocking against your door.

“Miss Witch! Miss Witch! There’s something wrong with the river!”

“The river is all solid, Miss Witch!”

“Miss Witch, we can’t play in the river! Can you fix it for us, Miss Witch?”

Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you open the door with a groggy smile, squinting down at the children on your doorstep.

“Hello, little kids. What are you doing here?”

“Miss Witch!” one of the children chirps. “Good morning!”

Despite being half-asleep, you can’t help but laugh a little at their chipperness. The children are, undeniably, your favourite people in this entire village.

“Good morning,” you say, bemused. “How may I help you?”

Their voices rise in volume again, all of them clamouring to be heard over each other. It can’t be any later than five in the morning, and your fingertips prickle with the cold grey of the mist as you blink down at them, surprised at their energy.

A girl tugs at the end of your blanket, wide-eyed. “Miss Witch, the river is all hard. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah,” you say gently. “I see.” Crouching down so you’re at eye level with the kids, you ask, “If the river is hard, solid, and cold, what do you think that means?”

The children blink at you. 

“What else is hard, solid, and cold?”

One of them brightens. “Ice!”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “The river has turned into ice. It’s nothing to worry about, but it does mean it’s very, very cold right now, so why aren’t any of you wearing any hats or scarves, hm?” 

You ruffle the hair of the nearest child, and she shakes her head, giggling. “We were helping the grown-ups, of course! Something happened at the river, an’ they told us to go away.”

“So we came to you,” another boy pipes up. “They said something’s wrong!”

You tilt your head. Whilst it’s certainly been several decades since the river last froze over, it’s no reason for the villagers to worry that much about it. It’s also not something that your magic can fix, or something that needs to be fixed, so—

“Y/N!”

You look up at the call, and see a man in the distance, jogging down the pathway towards your cottage. It’s still far too dark to see clearly, but you smile at the familiar voice.

“Soonyoung,” you call back. “Good morning! Are you here to tell me about the frozen river, too? Don’t worry, it’s completely normal and not dangerous at all.”

His reply, if he has any at all, goes unheard as one of the children suddenly cries out, as if he’s had an epiphany.

You look down at him, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, something else happened at the river,” he says brightly. His remark makes some of the other children perk up too, as if they also remembered this other thing that had happened.

The kids are all at the age where something like a leaf falling onto their heads would be remarkably significant, so as you wait for Soonyoung to come closer and deliver the actual news, you decide to humour them, smiling and tilting your head interestedly. “Oh, really? What was it?”

 “There’s a man in the frozen river, Miss Witch!”

“A—” The smile turns to stone on your face. “A what?”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung says. He’s finally reached your doorstep now, and you notice that his usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. He frowns down at the children, displeased. “What are you all doing here? We told you to go home, not to Y/N.”

“They thought I could help,” you say placatingly. “It’s okay. And if there’s a man stuck in the river, you might need my help after all.”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung repeats, his face darkening. “It’s not a man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the graveness in his tone. “Well, then you certainly do need my help, it seems. What is it?”

Soonyoung sighs. His exhale clouds the air, and your fingers prickle even more at his next words, like invisible icicles piercing through your skin.

“It’s a demon.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You are not exactly a human.

Certainly, you look and dress like one—and you have to eat and sleep like one too, otherwise terrible things happen to your energy levels—but that doesn’t mean you are human. There are some things which make you slightly different.

One of those things being that you live forever.

“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s hostile?” Soonyoung demands, struggling to match your strides as you hurry towards the river. “Of course it’s hostile. It’s a fucking demon!”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to realise that some yokai aren’t hostile,” you respond, frosted-over leaves crunching under your feet. Soonyoung squawks back something unintelligible, too out of breath to make an argument. 

After encouraging the children to return back to their homes and sleep—since it really is five in the morning, and none of them should be awake—you and Soonyoung began making your way to where the rest of the villagers were. 

The river flows down from the mountain that the village is located near. The further up you go, the more dangerous the terrain becomes, and you pause on a jagged rock to frown down at Soonyoung, who’s gasping as he tries to keep up.

“Did you really find the yokai over here? Why were any of you up here in the first place?”

“We didn’t,” Soonyoung said hoarsely. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. The demon was found near the edge of the woods.”

“Oh.” You blink. The two of you had marched past the woods a decent while ago. “Okay.” And then you float down from the rock, lightly hopping over frozen patches of land, past Soonyoung again. “Come on, let’s turn back, then.”

Soonyoung sighs, turns around, and begins his clumsy, human descent. “You could at least use your magic to help me down too, you know.”

And that’s the other different thing about you. Magic. It’s such a flimsy, weak word for what you can do, but it’s also the best way to describe it. There are certain things about you, certain things you’re capable of in the way that no human can ever truly be.

Without even looking back, you wave a hand, and a glowing stream of wind nudges Soonyoung’s feet towards the easiest path down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And hurry up before those villagers aggravate the yokai even more.”

Demons, or more traditionally, yokai, aren’t something you’ve encountered in countless decades. As technology and weapons developed, and the human population expanded, many yokai simply faded out of existence, unable to sustain themselves in the less wild, less natural environment that humans created. Others were smart enough to recognise they now had less of an advantage over humans, and tended to stay away from densely populated areas, preferring to target any lone travellers who ventured too far into their territory.

Yokai values and morals are vastly different to humans, and they are so incomprehensible to mortals that yokai gained a reputation for being vindictive, vicious, vile, and all other negative ‘v’ words. That doesn’t necessarily make them so, however, and over your lifetime, you’ve encountered some who don't quite fit the stereotype that humans are all too eager to place on them.

It takes you and Soonyoung long enough to get to the river that the sky has lightened ever so slightly, but the lacey edges of morning mist are still blurring the edges of your sight, and you can only barely see what the villagers are looking at, especially with them all crowding around and pushing against each other to get closer to the river.

You crane your neck, standing on tiptoe, before huffing. Scratch that, you can’t see anything.

“Move out of my way, please,” you say sharply, adding a little volume magic to your voice so that it carries over the whole crowd. 

Most of them instantly look back at that and clock your presence, eyes widening. Some of them begin rushing towards you, looking almost like their children as they begin talking over each other all at once.

“Y/N, there’s a demon—”

“Absolutely vile creature, is there any way—”

“—river’s all frozen, how did it even get here—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you interrupt, adding even more volume to your voice to be heard. “Minah, yes, I know there’s a demon. Soonyoung told me. And no, Joongseok, we don’t know if it’s truly vile yet. And Woongri, yokai often work with magic, so it could’ve gotten here in a variety of ways. But if you want me to do something, you have to let me through. Yes?”

You’re tired, and cold, and dealing with stressed adults is not the best way to start the day, so you're more blunt than is perhaps necessary, but it gets your point across. The villagers look sufficiently contrite and finally shuffle to the side, making way for you to get through. Seungcheol, the village leader, nudges his way through the crowd until he’s by your side, face solemn.

“Good morning,” he says. “Sorry about the chaos.”

“Good morning,” you say back, voice now normal volume once again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s scared. You don’t call me at ungodly hours unless it’s serious, so I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol nods, looking both grave and apologetic. “We only ever want you to use your magic for good.”

It’s a terribly human thing to say, and you  smile dryly. “Of course. What can I help you with this time?”

“Well… You can help with that.” Seungcheol points to a mound of warped ice a little ways down the river. “How can we get rid of it?”

You squint in the direction Seungcheol’s pointing at, peering through the tendrils of mist, and then gasp. Half-buried into the ice of the river, you can make out a blurry, pale-coloured figure clothed in pale silk. Dark liquid pools in all directions surrounding the motionless body, and anyone can tell the yokai is very badly hurt. 

“It’s already bleeding half to death, so it shouldn’t be too hard to finish— wait, Y/N!”

Ignoring Seungcheol’s shouts, you step onto the frozen surface of the river and rush towards the yokai, and your blood runs cold as you take in the sight before you.

The yokai is a fox demon, you notice, with white ears and soft silver hair and a gorgeous white tail, which is partially being crushed by a river’s worth of ice. He’s waist-deep in the frozen water, and a thick layer of more ice has begun to form around the yokai’s torso from where he’s slumped against the surface of the river at an almost unnatural angle, causing his poor tail to be twisted and buried both in the river and the new ice.

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kneeling down beside him, tracing a finger across the yokai’s cheek. Your finger comes away stained dark with blood, and you swallow thickly, heart constricting.

The crushing ice isn’t the end of the damage: there’s blood pouring from seemingly unknown sources, matted into the fox demon’s hair and streaking down his neck. He must have been in some sort of fight before getting stuck in the river. 

Gently, you thumb over the yokai’s cheek, taking in the pale skin and delicate eyelashes. This fox demon is devastatingly pretty, and seeing him so badly injured makes your heart hurt even more.

Something rustles near the riverbank, and you look back to see some of the children hiding amongst the leaves, peering curiously at you as you kneel next to the yokai. Further up the river, Seungcheol is approaching you, wanting to know your thoughts on the demon, and his eyes widen as he also notices the children in the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” he says in their direction, the disapproval clear in his tone. “It’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be looking at this. Where are your parents? Didn’t Soonyoung tell you to go home?”

“But we wanna see Miss Witch,” one boy says, eyes wide. “Please, can’t we stay?”

You frown and open your mouth, preparing to reprimand them, but then the yokai makes a soft, pained sound beside you, and you instantly return your attention to him, bending down even closer to his face.

Seungcheol cries out, this time in your direction as you lean towards the yokai. “Y/N, what are you doing? Stay back!”

You ignore him, reaching out a hand to brush matted hair out of the yokai’s eyes. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

The yokai scrunches his eyes up, whimpering in pain. The moment he’d returned to consciousness, he’d started shivering intensely, struck by the cold of the river. 

“Hello?” you repeat, gentle. You move your hand away from the yokai’s face, directing it towards the ice surrounding his back instead. Silently reciting an incantation, the ice begins to glow orange under your palm, slowly beginning to melt away. “Can you tell me your name?”

The yokai shivers, mumbles something unintelligible. Then he looks up at you, golden irises shuddering in fear, every movement of his face telling you it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. 

One of the children lets out a shriek, and you whip your head up in alarm. They don’t look hurt, but the yokai notices the sound too, raising his head to look at them with wide, unsettling eyes, and the children shriek again, all of them frozen in fear. You can kind of understand why: the fox demon is covered in blood, and anyone unacquainted with the supernatural would find his slitted golden eyes petrifying. 

But before you can say anything, do anything to reassure them, the ice around his back makes a cracking sound as it melts under your hand, and the yokai’s mouth drops open in pain. He coughs, splattering blood over the ice, more of the black liquid dripping from the corners of his lips as he starts writhing and scratching against the river, hauling himself up onto his elbows, eyes fixed on the children in the distance, and all hell breaks loose.

The children are screaming, ear-piercingly loud, and Seungcheol is screaming too, and the yokai starts writhing even harder, yipping and gasping like a distressed fox, his hands sticky with his own blood as he tries to push against the ice. 

“No, it’s okay— don’t do that—Cheol, let me think!” 

It’s obvious Seungcheol wants you to kill the demon, especially with the way he’s screeching at you right now, but the yokai looks so pitiful, ears shaking, eyes wide, still bleeding from gashes all over his body.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol yells, children cowering behind his legs, and he shields their eyes from the river. “Y/N, please, you have to get rid of it!”

You look at him, and then down at the helpless yokai beside you, and really, it takes you less than a second to decide what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, getting to your feet. Seungcheol tenses, sensing something wrong in your tone as you look down at the yokai again, leaning down with your hand outstretched. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your fingers come into contact with the yokai’s forehead, and there’s a golden glow before his eyes flutter shut and he freezes up, before collapsing against the ice.

Hidden safely behind the village leader, the children stop screaming. Seungcheol also doesn’t make a sound, still staring wide-eyed at you, and now the yokai is no longer moving, the early morning air is frozen still once more. You look back at Seungcheol, and he blinks, his face unreadable.

“Please tell me you killed that thing.”

You smile weakly, dried-up demon blood on your fingertips. At your feet, the yokai’s shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with every shallow breath he takes, unconscious.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Bad idea,” Seungcheol admonishes loudly from outside your window, and even though there’s a whole wall and a thick pane of glass separating him from you, his disapproval is crystal clear. “This is a bad idea. Y/N, let me in. We have to talk about this.”

You don’t look up from the boiling pot on the stove, simply lifting a hand and giving Seungcheol the finger.

“How dare— Y/N, you cannot let that thing live. It’s a danger to us. Especially the children! Y/N, think of the children, please, it could hurt the children.”

Seungcheol raps against the glass insistently, but you ignore him, humming to yourself as you ladle some of the boiling concoction into a wooden bowl. Gently, you blow on the steam, inspecting the lilac colour of the liquid before nodding, pleased, and heading over to the yokai asleep on your couch. 

It’s been some hours since that moment on the frozen river, where you’d decided to save the yokai trapped in the ice rather than kill him. None of the humans agreed with your decision, however, so you’d had to make the tiring trek down the mountain yourself, a heavy, unconscious yokai in tow. That’s partly the reason you’re so tired right now, arms aching as you set the bowl down on the coffee table, where you’ve laid out bandages and various dried bags of poultices and face towels to help clean up the yokai. 

Said yokai is still unconscious and bleeding all over the fabric of your sofa, the golden threads of magic you’d used to briefly staunch his wounds already beginning to fray open once more. You sigh, settling down beside him, and begin inspecting the more serious injuries on his forehead and down his arms.

“What happened to you, hm?” you say softly, ignoring Seungcheol still rapping against your window. “Why are you so hurt?”

Living as the only magic user-slash-competent doctor in a rural village means that you have plenty of experience in patching up the particularly nasty injuries that the villagers sustain, and your hands are careful and practised as you dip a towel into the warm, disinfectant potion you’d made, swiping it over the yokai’s skin. He’s injured practically everywhere: deep gashes are scored along his arms, his hands, and there’s one slashed across his chest. Not to mention his definitely-broken tail, the still-bleeding head wound and, judging by the way blood had been pouring from his mouth out on the lake, some internal injuries you can’t see. 

You wince, taking a towel into your hands. “Sorry,” you say, heart twinging in sympathy for the yokai. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

Ideally, you’d run a bath first and scrub the yokai clean of all the grime and blood before getting to tending his wounds. But he’s a fox demon—ridiculously tall and with a fluffy tail and delicate ears, so he won’t fit in your tiny tub and it’ll end up being more troublesome than anything else.

So, you’ve resorted to magic, dipping a cloth in the potion you've made to melt and dissolve all the dirt into thin air.

The wounds are all worryingly deep, most notably the still-bleeding one on his forehead, and if he were human, you’d be concerned that he’ll suffer a serious concussion afterwards, along with an inability to use his hands for a long while. But as it is, the ancient demon-magic that he’s made of will mean that he’ll heal pretty quickly, and there should be no grave threat to his life.

Hopefully. As long as he doesn’t develop an infection from the open wounds. 

You finish cleaning up the blood and then wipe down his face with a cool cloth, frowning slightly at how his skin still feels unusually hot. Infections will make his healing process much longer and much more arduous. The poor yokai looks like he’s already been through more than enough, so you really hope the fever dies down soon.

Seungcheol is still yelling at you from your window when you finish your preliminary clean-up, and you sigh heavily, beginning to develop a headache from how annoying he's being. So you walk over to the window, wrench it open, and jab a bloodstained finger in his direction.

“Seungcheol. Kindly, please, fuck off.”

Seungcheol blinks, both startled by your abrupt confrontation and a little affronted, but before he can say anything, you carry on. 

“Currently, this yokai is injured, and it’s my job to take care of injured people, regardless of who they are, so you can take any thoughts of me killing him and shove them up your ass. It’s not happening, and it’s never happening, and you’re also disturbing my patient with the racket you’re creating, so please go away.”

If it were anyone else talking to him like this, Seungcheol would have blown up with anger a solid thirty seconds ago—as it is, he simply stares at you, still looking affronted, before he sighs, and all of the energy drains out of him. He knows how headstrong you are, and when you get like this, he knows there’s no way he can sway you. He’ll have to wait until you’re no longer brimming with obstinacy to get his thoughts across.

His gaze drops from yours to your bloody finger, and then he sighs again, folding his hands behind his back.

“Give the demon my wishes for his speedy recovery,” he says at last. “But we still have to talk about this later, Y/N. Okay?”

You huff, and lower your hands. “Fine. Later.” With a resolute swish of magic, you shut the window once again and turn your back on Seungcheol to return to your patient.

As village leader, you can understand why Seungcheol may have concerns regarding a yokai entering a human village, but that doesn’t mean you like how he has no qualms with telling you to just kill it in an instant. Discrimination against magical creatures is half the reason they’re so hostile to humans, anyway, and you’d know firsthand how painful it is to be targeted and attacked purely for being who you are.

It’s not like you ever asked to be magic. And yet, people end up hating you for it.

You look down at the unconscious yokai, with his silver-white fur and gentle eyelashes and those heart-wrenching injuries. Then, wordlessly, you pick up one of the poultices and get to work.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Hansol wakes up to the strong, warm smell of chrysanthemum.

It’s an unusual scent to wake up to, and his ears prick up, alarmed—only for him to cry out a few seconds later, upon realising the action sends a sharp bolt of pain throughout his entire body.

“Oh!” 

A voice sounds from somewhere above his head, and he startles even more, trying to open his eyes and locate the sound, before realising he can’t see.

He cries out again, panicking at the pitch black that surrounds him, flailing around before realising that that action also causes him debilitating pain, and he begins panicking even more. How did he end up here? What happened? All he remembers is being chased through the forest and then tripping and crashing into a river, and then hard ice and the cold water and the throbbing in his head and then— and then—

Something damp and heavy gets lifted from his eyes and he gasps, freezing up as bright white light almost blinds him.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice from before says, sounding terribly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before doing that.” 

Hansol scrunches his eyes, and then squints, vision all blurry from having been unconscious and now being blinded by bright light. He can’t see who’s speaking, but whoever they are, they carry on, the words steadily flowing out faster and faster as the person rambles. He can barely keep up with the onslaught of noise, twitching confusedly and trying to see what’s going on. The world feels like it’s spinning. He’s pretty sure the world isn’t meant to spin this fast.

“That was probably really scary when you woke up, huh? I’m so sorry. The towel slipped from your forehead and covered your eyes, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to wake up now, but I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause you’ve been out for a whole day, and any longer and we’re veering into coma territory, which would mean that you were really, really hurt. Which is, like, definitely not good, you know? But you did wake up, thank goodness, so that means there’s a chance you’ll get better very soon. Plus, your fever isn’t that bad anymore, so it seems you really are on the road to recovery, which is all very—oh, wait. Sorry. It’s still too bright, isn’t it?”

Another wave of chrysanthemum hits Hansol’s senses and a hand comes up to his face, creating a shadow over his eyes so he’s no longer squinting furiously up at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry,” the voice says, apologising yet again. “Is that better?”

Hansol blinks, slowly opening his eyes fully to look up, and then, the whole world abruptly stops spinning as he finds himself looking at the most beautiful being in the entire history of the universe. He doesn’t say a word, mouth falling open in shock.

You smile down at him, made anxious by his silence. “Hello,” you say, hand still shielding his eyes from the brunt of the winter light. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

Hansol squeaks, a small, high-pitched sound that instantly floods him with mortification when it accidentally slips past his lips, and he screws his eyes shut and curls into himself, knocking your hand away hurriedly in his rush to hide his face. He tries to bury himself into the couch, shaking. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, gently, worried you've scared him. “I promise. I want to help.” Perched on the edge of the couch, you lean over and slowly lower the yokai’s hands from his face, coaxing him to look at you again. “Can you please tell me your name?”

You smile, again, and Hansol feels a little faint as he looks up at you. His vision is still slightly blurry from his eyes being shut for so long, and the way you’re backlit by the light makes you look like you’re glowing, a gentle halo of silver light surrounding your form. That, coupled with the way you have the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, is making him feel all dizzy. And a bit warm. The air feels like it’s suffocating him, actually, but all of that is made irrelevant by how pretty he thinks your smile is.

There’s a possibility he’s still in the process of getting rid of his fever, because he blinks slowly, focused, and when he opens his mouth to speak, the next words spill unbidden from his lips.

“My name is Hansol,” he says, “and I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a flush rapidly creeping up your cheeks. Hansol looks at you, worried that you’ll suddenly hate him for what he’s just said, but you just laugh, flattered, and bring your hand up to his forehead. The touch is cool against his skin, like a soothing balm.

“Thank you, Hansol,” you say. “Your fever seems to still be pretty high, if you’re saying stuff like this, huh? I’m currently brewing some chrysanthemum tea, and I think it’ll be a good idea for you to have some too.”

Hansol blinks slowly again. “Chrysanthemum tea,” he muses. He looks up at you. “That must be why you smell so warm and pretty.”

You laugh again, flustered, subconsciously brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his cheek, your fingers feather-light. “Perhaps. So would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Hansol says. “I’ll have anything… you… give m…” His eyelids and ears slowly droop, and before he can even finish his sentence, he drifts back off to unconsciousness once again, head leaning into your hand.

Open-mouthed, pink-cheeked, you look down at the one-more unconscious yokai in your hands. 

“Wow,” you breathe out. And then you smile. “You’re adorable.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Over the next few days, the yokai—Hansol—constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, his fever fluctuating in intensity the entire time.

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

You chalk it up to his fever.

His demon-magic must have taken a serious blow from the extent of his injuries, as it takes him a lot longer than you’d like for him to finally shake off the infection. A whole excruciating week goes by, and you almost cry with relief when, as you get up to check his temperature in the middle of the night, you find that his fever has finally broken, and he’s able to breathe easily once more.

When the weak sun finally peeks out from over the horizon, you enter your spare room to check on Hansol. Sometime after his first bout of consciousness, you’d gathered enough energy to move him from your couch to the spare bedroom in your cottage. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of magic—weakened by the stress of taking care of a dying fox demon and trying to fend off any curious and judgy villagers, it takes a lot of energy for you to do anything strenuous lately—but you managed. And it certainly seemed to help, as he slept a lot better in an actual bed.

Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you make your way over to the guest room, fingers dancing and causing golden threads of magic to tidy up the state of your house as you go along. 

To your surprise, the yokai is wide awake when you enter the room, and he startles when you noisily open the door and step inside. The moment you make eye contact with Hansol, you freeze, the song dying off your lips at the same time as your magic drops a partially-fluffed up cushion in the living room.

“Um.” You blink, hanging off the door handle, staring at the yokai picking his bandages in bed in the middle of your guest room. “Good morning?”

Hansol doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at you, wide-eyed.

You cough, feeling terribly awkward, attempting to adjust your stance and take your hand off the doorknob in the most natural way possible. “Hello. I’m, uh, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

There’s another beat. Then Hansol finally opens his mouth, only to completely ignore your question to say, “You’re the one who smells like chrysanthemums.”

“I— Sorry, what?” You blink, taken aback by the abrupt and unrelated question, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I guess you remember the chrysanthemum tea I made you?” You smile slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was when you were the most unwell.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s ears twitch, and he continues to look at you with his golden eyes, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. (Amazed by what, you aren’t entirely sure.) “I do remember, though. I remember you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to push down the blush that threatens to rise up your face. Having a handsome yokai stare at you with such focus, saying that he remembers you even when he was deep in the throes of a fever is such a heart-fluttering thing to experience early in the morning. You aren’t nearly awake enough for this conversation. If you aren’t careful, you could accidentally fall in love right then and there.

“That’s nice,” you croak, and then shake yourself. You have a job to do. Hansol’s a patient under your care, and you need to check his condition. “Um. Sorry. But, uh, I do have to check if you can remember anything else,” you say, slipping into healer mode as you step further into the room, walking towards the bed. “Do you remember your name?”

Hansol nods, intently following your movements as you draw closer. “My name is Hansol,” he says.

You smile, relieved by the coherency of his answer. The fact that the yokai remembers his own name is a very good sign. “Yes, you are. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Yes,” Hansol says obediently. “I was in a river. Trapped in the ice. And you… saved me.”

That makes you smile a little wider. “I took care of your wounds, yes! It’s really good you’re finally awake and able to answer questions, ‘cause it’s a sure sign there’s no lasting internal damage. I do have to check your bandages, though, so… may I?”

You make a gesture towards Hansol’s bandaged arms, and the yokai obliges, raising his arms to let you see. 

You take Hansol’s hand in your own, preparing to lift his arm up higher—but the moment your palms brush, you gasp, fingers tightening around the yokai’s at the sudden sensation. Hansol, too, lets out a small noise of surprise, looking up at you.

The yokai’s hands are firm, strong, and perfectly healthy, but they also thrum with magic. You can feel every spark and fizzle of the magic as it dances under his skin, spinning and zipping back and forth like a cloud of hyperactive fireflies. Like the magic can talk, and when it noticed the magic that lives inside you, it seems to yip with recognition, spinning itself around in excitement in the yokai’s hands.

“It’s so strong,” you say, amazed. “I didn’t realise magic could be this powerful.”

Hansol’s also staring up at you, similarly in awe. “You’re magic too?” he asks, looking like he’s never fathomed such a thing is possible. “You’re like me?”

You laugh slightly, made a little giddy by the feeling of how alive the magic is under Hansol’s skin. “Not exactly,” you say, releasing Hansol’s hand to finally reach for the bandages, feeling around to see whether his skin is still tender underneath. “I don’t have the ears or the tail, do I?”

Hansol’s ears flick. You’re decidedly focused solely on the yokai’s bandages, but you can feel Hansol looking at you intently as you work. 

“But you’re very pretty,” Hansol says. “Are you sure?”

Fuck. Hansol has to stop saying things like that, because they’re very bad for your poor heart. Very bad.

“I’m sure,” you say with a smile, straightening up once again. “I think all your wounds are healing nicely. Now your magic’s come back to its full strength, it’ll help you heal the rest of the way in no time.”

You can’t help but reach for Hansol’s hand again, once more feeling pleasantly surprised by the light zap of magic when your hands touch. Now you can feel the thrum of it under Hansol’s skin, it’s easy to realise how unwell the yokai was before, when his hands had been deathly cold with no fizz of magic in them at all. You’re just endlessly relieved that you can feel that fizz once again.

Hansol looks down at your intertwined hands, and then up at you, a smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “Thank you,” he says, so very sincere that it melts your heart. “Thank you for looking after me.”

You can’t help but smile back, squeezing Hansol’s hand once. “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Hansol smiles even wider, ears twitching pleasedly, and you once again have to try and valiantly fight away your blush. Fuck. This yokai really needs to stop making you blush so easily, and fast, else you’re going to start having problems.

───────────── ‘✽, 

It turns out, the blushing thing ends up being the least of your problems, because later that day, Hansol tries to leave.

Sometime after bringing Hansol a breakfast of soup and chrysanthemum tea (since he really seemed to like the tea), you’re drying away the breakfast dishes when a blast of cold air slices through the cottage, and you look over to see Hansol holding open the front door, looking like he’s about to step out.

“H—wait! Hansol, what are you doing?”

The yokai looks over at you, still holding the front door, confused. The bottom half of his tail is still bandaged, making it difficult for him to move it around, but it still sways from side to side unsurely as he blinks at you.

“I’m leaving,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “You took care of me. And I’m now better. So I’m going to go.”

You gape, jaw almost dropping to the floor at the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Like hell you are,” you say, marching over to the front door and firmly shutting it with your still-soapy hands, and then ushering Hansol back to the guest room and into bed. “You are very far from being better, Hansol. Your tail is still all bandaged up! I’m not letting you leave until you’re back to full health, so don’t you dare think for a second that you get to go before then.”

Hansol makes a noise of confusion as you fussily tuck him back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his head and arranging the covers around him. “What? Why would you let me stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you stay?” you counter, patting down the duvet and absentmindedly brushing away the strands of hair that fall in his eyes. “I want to take care of you. I want you to get better. I can’t exactly do that if you go off into the woods all by yourself and get up to heaven knows what, can I?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, you smile and pat his head. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long while yet, mister,” you say, the faux-scolding adding a light playfulness to your tone. “You’re going to stay with me and get better until I say so.”

Hansol looks up at you, tilts his head, and scrunches his nose just slightly as he smiles, shy. “So you’ll let me stay as long as I like?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling back. “However long it takes you to heal, and then some, if you want. Of course, unless you have somewhere else to go.”

The yokai hesitates, ears flicking unsurely. “Not really,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never actually had anywhere real to stay.” He looks back up at you again, golden eyes glinting hopefully. “So if it’s okay…”

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” you rush to reassure him. And then you pause, deflating a little. “Although…This is a human village, so they don’t really like… your kind. It might make life a bit difficult, but since you’re with me, they shouldn’t bother you too much. Though I understand if that makes you hesitant to stay.”

Hansol shakes his head, smiling slightly. “That’s okay. I like it here, so I don’t mind staying with just you.” 

“I’m glad,” you say sincerely. “Seriously, you can stay here for however long you want.”

Hansol ducks his head shyly. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

You awkwardly pat his hand where it lays on the covers, a little embarrassed in the face of his obvious gratitude, and instruct him to rest up before exiting the room. You’re glad that the brief misunderstanding had been cleared up, because you don’t want Hansol to feel anything less than welcomed. Being a yokai, he won’t have received similar acts of kindness in the wild, and as a magical being yourself, you know how that can feel. No one deserves to feel unwanted, least of all an injured yokai who’d obviously been hurt intentionally before you found him.

Unfortunately, though, the trials of Hansol’s first weeks of consciousness do not end there. Some days later, at some point during the afternoon, Seungcheol comes knocking on your door.

You hadn’t intended on inviting Seungcheol in. But afternoons are always a miserable time during winter, when the sky darkens far too early for anyone’s liking, and it’s difficult to find one’s way through the cold, barely-lit paths. That’s why you often get people coming to your door during the late afternoon, lost or confused or panicked because they’ve lost their way, and your cottage, shimmering with gold magic and warm lights is the only beacon they recognise.

So that’s the only reason why, when Seungcheol turns up, you accidentally open the door for him. Not that you have anything against the village leader, but—Hansol’s only been awake for a week at this point, and you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with a talk about getting rid of him.

Unfortunately, when Seungcheol already has one foot in a door, he will not go. Literally.

“Get your foot out of my door,” you say exasperatedly, struggling to push the door shut as Seungcheol pushes back. His foot is still wedged in the doorway.

“Let me in,” Seungcheol says. 

“No. You’re gonna tell me to hurt the yokai again.”

“I’m going to tell you to get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, finally giving up on the little game and pushing his way through the door like it’s no difficulty at all, making you let out an indignant hey!. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. You cannot harbour a demon in our village without discussing this with anyone. He needs to go.”

“He’s hurt,” you say. “He can’t go anywhere! And he won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Seungcheol furrows his brow, his tone grave. “He’s a demon, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You can’t keep him here.”

“Yes I can,” you insist, “because he’s a fucking real-life being with feelings, not this scary, evil harbinger of doom that you’re making him out to be, and I know this, because he’s been here with me, in my own home, and he’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Over the last several days, Hansol has been healing rapidly, so much so that most of his bandages have been removed and he practically glows with magic every time you see him. It’s incredibly relieving to see, and it’s also allowed you to get to know him better: sometimes unintentionally, as a natural side effect of living with him now, but also, sometimes quite on purpose. Because he’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and you want to know who he is.

Turns out, one of the key things about Hansol is he’s the most adorable being you’ve ever met.

He’s adorable, in an awkward sort of way, from the way he hovers hesitantly in doorways to the way his tail always fluffs up with contentment when he feels the tendrils of your magic brush across the room.

Unlike yokai, who simply have ancient magic embedded in them from birth, you are born of magic and made entirely of magic, so the stuff practically spills out of you wherever you go. The magic can’t only be felt from under your skin, but extends out and away from your being. You’re not used to having guests in the cottage, so you weren’t aware of the extent of how much you let your magic run free when in the safety of your home, until you noticed how Hansol reacted. He always blinks in surprise, lifting his hand palm-up, fingers curling inwards, as if your magic is some elusive silk strand that constantly evades his grasp. It’s as if he can truly feel it, and he always seems to like it.

“Can you actually feel my magic?” you ask one day, and he looks up from his hand, surprised. His tail is all fluffy and big, lazily waving from side to side and creating static against the decorative pillows on your couch. You’re sitting on an armchair next to him, smiling at him amusedly from over the book of hexes you’re reading. He doesn’t even seem to notice what his tail is doing, too occupied with the invisible tendrils between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hansol says after a moment, closing his hand and resting them both back in his lap, a little awkward. “It feels warm. Nice.”

“Really?” 

You can’t help but smile at that, oddly flattered. To you, your magic is just… yours. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular, nothing more than a familiar tingle in your hands and a weight against your skin. Though you like describing it as gold, in reality, your magic doesn’t have any colour or any real tangibility to it apart from a fleeting pressure. The idea of it being “gold” is just how you feel about it. It never occurred to you that others could feel it, let alone feel differently about it—living amongst humans, your magic has always subconsciously curled tighter around your arms when you interact with the villagers, not wanting to weird them out with your abnormality or make them feel intimidated by you.

Hansol nods, tail swishing once more. The static has caused all his white fur to stand on end, making him look even more fluffy and adorable. “Yeah,” he says again. “It’s so much calmer than the way my magic feels. It’s really cool.”

He’s looking at you earnestly, as if expecting you to totally agree that your magic is “calmer” than his. And even though you’ve only felt his magic twice before, you nod along in agreement anyway, and Hansol nods back, satisfied with your assent. Then he lowers his gaze back to his lap, opens his hand again, and goes back to playing with your magic.

An endeared laugh bubbles up into your throat, and you smile at the top of Hansol’s head before turning back to your book. Goodness, Hansol is so ridiculously cute.

That interaction only happened some days ago, and whenever Hansol smiles at you or stiltedly asks if he can help you around the house, the surge of affection comes back even harder. So you cannot stand Seungcheol standing here, right now, frowning at you like you’re being unreasonable in your decision to treat Hansol like a normal being.

Seungcheol continues to frown, and you simply stare defiantly back, arms crossed. You don’t let him walk further into the cottage, and a stare-off commences there in the front hallway, neither of you willing to back down.

That is, until there’s a loud crash from further inside the house, and both of you flinch in alarm.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, and you look back to where the sound had come from. Connected to the living room, behind a door disguised as an unassuming bookshelf is your own personal library, filled with all the tomes and books on magic and alchemy you’ve collected over the centuries. That’s where the sound’s originated from, which is definitely a cause for concern, but you don’t say so, lest Seungcheol uses this to fuel his argument against Hansol.

“Probably nothing,” you say, though you still glance over in the direction of the library. “You know my cottage. Everything’s old and falling apart.”

Seungcheol looks at you suspiciously. “That’s a lie. You always keep everything in perfect condition.” He begins to move past you. “I bet it’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“No, I—” You try to stop Seungcheol from investigating, but it’s a futile effort. “Cheol, come on, you shouldn’t go see him, he’s still unwell and you could end up distressing him—”

Hurriedly, you trot after Seungcheol through the bookshelf door and into the library, only to end up slamming face-first into his back when he stops abruptly, stunned at the sight before him.

You’re quite proud of your library. It’s an open secret that the bookshelf in your living room leads to it, which is cool all by itself, but your library is also made of magic. What appears as a normal, small study behind the bookshelf turns into a large and sprawling library with high ceilings and mahogany shelves and rows upon rows of books when you step inside. 

You’d allowed Hansol access to the library when he’d asked what was behind the bookshelf, and as far as you know, he’s been peacefully situated there the entire day. But, as you peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see why he’s suddenly stopped, you realise you can’t see the yokai at all.

In the middle of the floor, there’s a large… fort of books. A book fort. With four walls built of books piled on top of each other, complete with battlements made of upright books and towers with open books as turrets, it’s actually quite amazing to see. The only drawback is how some of the walls are falling down, books tumbling from where they’re piled up. 

Also the large spread of ice coming from under the fort, that’s very slowly continuing to pool further and further outwards.

Seungcheol blinks. “Uh… Y/N… you wouldn’t happen to be doing this, would you?”

You shake your head. “Weather magic is my weak point.”

Suddenly, two white ears and a head pop up from behind one of the crumbling walls, and Hansol’s eyes widen when he realises you’re here with a guest.

“Oh!” He ducks his head down, and then straightens once more so he can fully see over the walls of the fort. “Hello. I was just building a castle. One of the walls fell down, ‘cause I sneezed, but I can fix it.”

The tip of his nose is slightly dusted with glittering frost, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that or the ice that’s creeping across the wooden floor. His eyes are shining as he looks at you, infinitely more relaxed than when you’d first seen him, and he inclines his head respectfully in Seungcheol’s direction, looking as humble and polite as possible even when half his face is covered by his book fort. 

“Hello to you too. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re not sure what Seungcheol is most flabbergasted by: Hansol’s gentle manners, or the book fort he’s quite amiably making in your very respectable-looking, very grandiose library, or the circle of ice that’s very clearly coming from the yokai. Hansol is very close to giving the village leader a heart attack any time soon, it seems.

“I— This is— You’re using Y/N’s books to do this?” Seungcheol eventually manages to ask, looking both confused and horrified. “She let you?”

Hansol’s ears droop just slightly, but there’s no obvious change to his expression. “Well… no. But none of the books are damaged, and I’m going to put them back once I’m done with them.”

“It’s fine,” you interject. “I could probably fix a few ripped pages. You can do what you like.”

You couldn’t, probably, fix a few ripped pages, because each book is nearly as old as you. But you’re not going to say that, because you don’t want the confusion on Seungcheol’s face to turn into grim disapproval, and you also don’t want Hansol to feel guilty for what he’s doing.

“Although,” you say, looking down pointedly at the floor, “do you think you could stop the ice?”

Hansol peers over the wall, eyes widening when he realises what you’re talking about. “Oh, sorry. It just happened when I sneezed, I think. Everything is still going haywire… I think I’m still sick.”

The movement of the ice slows to a halt, until only a spattering of frost manages to creep over to where you and Seungcheol are standing. It covers the whole expanse of the floor, now, and there’s not a single patch of the warm brown that’s not frosted over, but it’s okay. That is definitely something you can fix.

Ignoring Seungcheol, who’s still standing there like he can’t believe he’s looking at a walking, talking yokai, you move forward and make your slippery way over to the fort. Hansol moves away a column of books, allowing him to step out of the fort and meet you.

“Is this one of the humans?” Hansol asks in a low voice before you even say anything. The sweetness in his face has disappeared, replaced with an icy look of anxiety. “He’s one of the mortals who don’t like me, isn’t he?”

You try not to wince. “Yes. He’s Seungcheol, the village leader here. He… wants me to get you out of here.”

Hansol regards you for a moment. “You make it sound a lot nicer than what he actually means,” he says. “He wants me killed, doesn’t he? At the very least, badly injured and banished from here.”

“Well… no,” you try to say, but yes, that’s actually exactly what Seungcheol wants. “He doesn’t want you badly injured. He’s just… scared. Of your kind.”

“Hm.” Hansol nods, expressionless. “Same thing, really. He wants me out.”

“Okay, Y/N, stop whispering with the… him,” Seungcheol says, and you look up to see the village leader making his slow way across the ice towards you. “We need to talk. Discuss what you’re going to do, because you are going to do it, for the safety of our village.”

You frown, frustrated. “Hansol’s not a threat to our safety,” you argue. Seungcheol continues to slide gingerly across the ice, and he sighs and shakes his head as you carry on. “He doesn’t have anything against humans. And if he did, he’d have been dead long before we found him at the river, because—Hansol. Tell him why you ended up there.”

Hansol hesitates, looking at you unsurely. The other day, you finally managed to ask him why he’d been so injured and how he’d gotten trapped in the river. It was nothing unexpected, but it still had broken your heart, and hopefully, hopefully, it’s enough for Seungcheol to feel a little bit of empathy towards the yokai. Seungcheol’s a good man, a kind man, and all he needs to do is realise Hansol’s not evil, and he’ll warm up to him faster than anyone could think possible.

“Some other yokai attacked me in the forest,” Hansol says slowly. “Really old yokai. Older than me. And… I got hurt.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he doesn’t get the point of this. You simply glare at him, silently telling him to continue listening.

“It wasn’t bad. Just a broken tail and some scratches,” Hansol says, and Seungcheol blinks, surprised at Hansol’s nonchalance. “But then some demon hunters found me, and tried to get me to… attack them? I dunno. They were picking a fight, and when I didn’t give it to them, they also hurt me.”

Almost imperceptibly, Seungcheol’s face softens a fraction, and you feel a flicker of hope. You know he’s weak in the face of innocently victimised stories like this.

“And so I was trying to run away from them, but everything is kind of in pain at that point. So I end up tripping down the mountain and into your river. My magic goes haywire when I’m sick,” he adds, “so that’s how I end up accidentally freezing ice all over me, too. It kind of responds to my feelings I guess? So when I’m scared, it starts acting up even more, which is why the ice was so thick, too. Like it was trying to protect me, ‘cause it knew I was scared of someone hurting me.”

It’s the most that Hansol’s said in one go, uninterrupted, before. Seungcheol’s face softens even further, and he straightens slowly. He’s been standing still, a few metres away the entire time Hansol’s been talking, like he’s been frozen by his tale.

“And yeah,” Hansol finishes awkwardly, ears twitching. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, Seungcheol’s empathy tangible in the air. “Then I ended up here.”

“After several, painful weeks of healing,” you add, and Hansol nods jerkily.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared. But…” And then he sighs, straightening up further, the softness melting away from his face. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a harm to the others, now you’re all better. Who knows how you might feel when you’re hungry, or angry. You said your magic acts up according to your feelings, and I can’t have it acting up and hurting people here.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “When I’m hungry?”

It’s a bit absurd that’s the thing he’s focusing on, so you feel indignation over Seungcheol’s whole speech on his behalf, crying out at the injustice.

“What do you mean?” you argue. “You’re saying that like he’s some mindless beast.”

“He may as well be, for all I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “He’s not human, Y/N. We don’t know how he’ll act. And I need to think about the villagers. They’re… they’re like family to me, you know that.”

“I’m not human either,” you point out angrily. “And yet I’m also a part of this village. What are you saying, Cheol? Do you not consider me family?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head instantly. “No, you are. But still, you’re more human than he is. And… there are days where I’m a bit wary of you too, Y/N.” At your outraged look, he rushes to continue, “Because you’re so powerful! But you’ve been with us for so many years, during the time of my father and his father, and his father before that, so I know you’re good. You’ve saved their lives. Saved everyone’s lives. Hansol, on the other hand…”

You scoff, beyond furious. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as being ‘good’, just as there’s no such thing as being ‘evil’. We don’t live in a fucking fairytale, Seungcheol.”

“I know. Maybe if you’d made different choices, I’d think of you as less good, too, but…” Seungcheol trails off, shrugging helplessly.

You stare at him, eyes so impossibly wide that it’s actually hurting your eye sockets, astounded by what he’s just said. Seungcheol? Thinking of you as evil? Just because of your power? 

Beside you, Hansol stiffens just slightly, and during the course of the conversation, he’s somehow ended up so close to you that you can feel his magic simmering frantically under his skin. You don’t know why he’s so worked up, and distantly, you wonder whether it’s on your behalf.

Seungcheol, noticing how irate you’re getting, takes a step forward to try and placate you. But he misjudges his balance on the ice surrounding the fort, leg twisting and his eyes widen and he yelps as he falls forward, on course to crashing face-first onto the hard, frozen ground. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to him, before then—

There’s a blur of white fur and Hansol catches him before he falls over and breaks all the bones in his knees, gripping him loosely around the torso, getting to Seungcheol before you can even blink. He gingerly helps him back into an upright position, and you wave a hand to whisk away the rest of the ice with streams of gold before another accident like that happens again. Hansol’s still holding Seungcheol when you’re finished, but by the shoulders now, looking the village leader right in the eye, golden irises soft and determined at the same time.

“I get you have a responsibility,” Hansol says. “I used to have one too, in the wild. To keep myself alive. But my rule, and this should be yours too, is to not hurt anything that doesn’t hurt you first. I haven’t hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt me. And Y/N—” He looks over at you, eyes flashing, before looking back at Seungcheol. “Y/N has never hurt you. So don’t act like you’re preparing for the day she one day will.”

Seungcheol’s face doesn’t change, but you’ve known him long enough to detect the minute shifts in the air around him as he digests Hansol’s words and, grudgingly, accepts it.

“I apologise,” he finally says, reluctant but sincere in the way only Seungcheol can be. “That was cruel of me. To you and Y/N.”

He looks at you, and Hansol’s hands fall away, allowing him to walk towards you.

“Sorry. But you have to understand where I’m coming from,” Seungcheol says, almost pleading, and you realise that, whilst his stance on Hansol’s existence has wavered, his overall reluctance over him being here hasn’t changed. “At least don’t let others see him, if he’s going to stay. They’ll be terrified.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hansol’s problem,” you retort. “I know these villagers, Cheol, and they’ll warm up to him, they really will.”

You look over at Hansol as you say your next words.

“Hansol is sweet and kind and really rather funny, and it breaks my heart to hide him from others because he might be seen as scary. That’s just people’s prejudice talking.” You smile. Hansol’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, and a fluttering warmth unfurls up inside you as you continue to smile at him. “Because I’ve seen Hansol, and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hansol’s entire face goes pink, and he looks away.

“Maybe so,” Seungcheol says heavily, and you look back at him. The warmth in your chest fades at his tone, dropping to the depths of your stomach. “But I can’t risk them being near him. Don’t let him out.”

You sigh, disappointed. “No. He can leave the house if he wants to, Seungcheol. He’s not some kind of housepet you can impose rules on just like that and expect me to follow through with them.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my home,” you say, evenly. “Go. You can take your rules and go piss off out of my sight.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You stew in your anger towards Seungcheol for several days. 

He comes to your door every so often, either with a letter or a plea to talk through this, but you refuse to let him in and instead tell him to, not so kindly, fuck off. 

Hansol looks at you with a mixture of affection and disappointment each time you do so. You don’t really understand why he looks at you like that—neither the affection nor disappointment—but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing soon after, either playing with your magic, or his own, or reading your books.

Having him around the house is quite like having a very adorable, very shy, fox. You might’ve gotten furious at Seungcheol for treating Hansol like a pet, but you don’t mean it like having a pet fox: it’s just like having an inquisitive, cute being around the house who quite likes following you around as you go about your day.

It’s cute. He’s cute, with his swishing tail and his sudden bursts of frost when he’s fiddling with his fingers, and the way he stays perfectly still whenever you gain the courage to slowly inch closer to him on the sofa until you’re laying on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to peer down at the book in his hands so you can read it with him. They’re all your books, of course, so you know what they’re all about, but it’s quite nice leaning against Hansol, feeling his warmth through the silk of his clothing, and the pleasant hum of his magic under your ear.

He never initiates physical contact, but he seems to like having you near. He’s never protested when you’ve held his hand or laid on his shoulder or (very, very gently) touched his ears, so.

He’s quite like a fox, in that way. But he’s like a fox in other ways, too: namely, how it appears that he’s a bit nocturnal.

Sometimes, you’ll awaken at three, four, five o’clock in the morning to someone clattering around in your house. It always turns out to be Hansol, trying to occupy himself without waking you up, but always failing to do so.

“Hansol?” you murmur blearily, shuffling into the kitchen where the flurry of clatters had emitted from earlier. It’s dark, and all the curtains are drawn; nevertheless, his dim silhouette looks distinctly guilty as he whirls around to face you, pots and pans in his hands. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I read some potion in your book, and I wanted to try it out.”

“At three in the morning?”

“Five,” Hansol corrects. You fix him with a look, and he winces, demon magic-enhanced night vision meaning he can see you perfectly clearly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It’s cold in the kitchen, and being exposed to the chilly night temperature is gradually waking you up. “It’s okay. I guess you don’t sleep a lot, huh? You’re wide awake, even though it’s so early in the morning.”

Hansol shrugs. “Dunno. But I always just feel like I have so much energy. Like it doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I can’t sleep for too long before it tells me to do something.”

“I see.” You purse your lips thoughtfully, pondering why Hansol’s feeling like this and what could cause it. And then, a realisation strikes you and your eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, I get it. I understand why you’re feeling that way.”

The yokai tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s totally okay,” you reassure, nodding your head. “Totally understandable, too. But don’t worry, it’s easily fixed.”

You wave a hand and turn all the light fixtures on so you can see Hansol properly. The yokai literally does look like he’s vibrating with extra energy, holding your cooking utensils in his hands, ears perked upright and tail fluffed up to the max. Yeah, he’s definitely understimulated and frustrated with it right now, even if he doesn’t realise that’s what it is.

You smile. This is a good way to help him and piss off Seungcheol at the same time.

“Come on, Hansol. Let’s go outside.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Not even an hour later, you’re making a trek up the mountains in your warmest clothes, lagging behind Hansol even with your magic-aided agility helping you up the hardest of the steps. The yokai is bounding on ahead, nimble and quick-footed even in the darkness of the early winter morning, and you can hear the light crunch of snow under his footsteps as he moves.

This is what Hansol needed. Some time outside, where he can finally breathe.

Some minutes later, as you’re sitting on a log on the path to catch your breath, Hansol comes back down the mountain to meet you, settling down by your side.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispers. The air around you is lit with a faint glow, courtesy of a visibility spell you conjured so you wouldn’t fall flat on your face as you walked. It makes Hansol’s face look golden as he smiles at you, eyes shining. “Everything is so quiet out here. I can hear the animals.”

You smile back, finding joy in how relaxed he looks. “Doesn’t that make it noisy?”

Hansol shakes his head, and then looks away from you, ears cocked to the side, listening. “No. This is like a familiar buzz of noise, so familiar that it becomes silent.” He looks back at you again, smiling. “Down in the village, it’s so noisy because of all the people, but up here, it’s all gone.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you say with a smile, and Hansol nods so quickly that you laugh, endeared. “I’m glad. You can go off for a bit, if you want, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Hansol beams. “Okay.”

And like that, he’s off, nothing more than a faint swish of a silver tail before he disappears once more.

He doesn’t come back to you for some time, which gives you a chance to sit there and breathe in the cool air. It’s so cold that it feels like inhaling clouds of peppermint, but it’s… relaxing. 

You haven’t had a chance to properly rest this winter. Winter’s a tricky time for you: the cold numbs your senses and makes your magic more sluggish. This year feels much colder than usual, and now the prolonged adrenaline that came with bringing Hansol back from the brink of death is fading, you’re beginning to anticipate feeling more worn out more often, the warm fizz in the tips of your fingers not as present as it ought to be.

Strangely, though. It hasn’t happened yet. Maybe being around Hansol and his frost-related magic has built up your resistance to the cold.

Or, he’s just so lovely and comforting that you don’t feel the effects of the winter.

That’s always a possibility. You look down at your hands, still glowing slightly with the visibility light you’ve put on yourself. It hasn’t faltered even once, a brilliant gold, and when you think of the colour of Hansol’s eyes, the light seems to glow even more.

You breathe in, and then exhale, kicking your feet out in front of you, looking down the dim mountain. You’ve been up here, thinking, for so long that the weak sunrise is beginning to peek its head above the horizon. Hansol still hasn’t come back. Though, you find you’re not too worried about that: somehow, you know that he will come back to you, though you can’t find ears nor tail of him while he’s gone.

It’s incredible how much you’ve come to trust and believe in Hansol, though he’s only been with you for several weeks. He’s been so reserved, anxious and afraid at times, especially during the early days, when he’d been bandaged up and newly healing in an unfamiliar environment, but now it’s clear how earnest and gentle he is. Something in your chest tightens and then relaxes with happiness whenever you see him smile. He’s just so—genuine, and you really like that about him.

You like him. A lot. He’s certainly an unexpected new part of your life, but now he’s here, and you can’t imagine living without the silver-furred fox yokai by your side.

There’s a rustle in the evergreen bushes to your left, and, as if he’s here answering your summons, a familiar silver head of hair pops out, golden eyes shining when he sees you. 

He blinks at you, ears flicking curiously, twigs in his hair like he’s been rolling around on the forest floor. His tail is out of sight, but you can imagine how it’s waving from side to side in contentment, the morning dew slowly turning into frozen crystals in his fur. You smile.

“Hey,” you greet, the moment you see Hansol’s face. “Are you gonna come over?”

Instantly, he stands up, hops over the bush and makes his way to you. His footfalls are light, looking like he’s dancing over the rocks before he settles next to you once more, looking like he never left your side.

“Hey,” he says. “There are so many rabbits in these mountains, you know? Like I’ve never seen so many rabbits gathered in one place before, because normally they get killed by hunters or there’s just not enough food in that area to sustain so many. It’s actually insane how many rabbits you have up here.” When you just smile, his eyes widen, ears pricking upright. “Oh, is it you? Do you do something to help them stay alive? With your magic and all that?”

Hansol then launches into a flurry of questions for you, so eager and animated that it surprises you a little, before melting your heart.

At the sight of sunrise, you’d taken down your visibility spell, but Hansol is still glowing, looking so alive with his cold-dusted cheeks, shining eyes, wind-fluffed hair and the frost dusting the tip of his nose, which must have accidentally happened when he’d gotten too excited and lost control of his magic.

Hansol’s positively lit up, now he’s surrounded by all this nature. He must’ve been so cooped up and nervous before, when he was just in your house, barely anything to do. Now he’s healed, and outside, and you can tell that being out of the house is where he’s meant to be.

“It’s not me,” you admit after Hansol’s finished conjuring up crazy theories. “Well, kind of. I messed around with the mountains about eighty years ago and did something by accident so we get a lot more winter flowers than normal. The rabbits love eating them, so we get a lot of them too.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, amazed. “That makes so much sense. I saw so many flowers. I thought that was a little bit weird, but I just chalked it up to Mother Nature having fun, or something.”

You laugh. “Yeah. I guess Mother Nature was having fun,” you say, gesturing to yourself, and Hansol grins too. His eyes crinkle as he does so, the corners of his lips spread wide so his pearly whites are fully visible, the tips of his yokai fangs slightly on display. Even his big, bright smile is as cute as he is. You’ve never seen him smile this widely before. It’s… pretty.

Even though he’s all warmed up to you now, even though it’s clear he trusts you, it’s obvious he’ll always be most at peace out here in the big, wide world.

His gaze slides away from yours, looking at something behind you, and he gasps.

“What is it?” You turn to look back, trying to find what had caught his eye, but Hansol doesn’t respond. He jumps up, diving into the bushes without a word.

A moment later he emerges, and in his hands is…

“A daffodil?” you say, amazed. “What’s this doing here? Spring is very, very far off.”

“I guess it’s because of you,” Hansol says, handing you the flower. 

You accept it gratefully, tracing the edges of its buttery yellow petals, such a warm, golden colour in your hands, in stark contrast to the cold white of the snow around you. It’s so pretty, so pristine, and it’s amazing it managed to survive in the freezing winter temperatures. Must be due to your magic, like Hansol said.

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise. 

“Really? How?”

“You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

You smile, so endeared that you’re practically glowing with it. “Thank you,” you say, touched, and look back down at the daffodil in your hands before raising your eyes to the definitely-blushing yokai once more. “That’s so sweet.”

Hansol shrugs, a little bashful, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m gonna go find the rabbits again,” he says, and before you can even reply, he’s disappeared.

You laugh, breathing in the crisp air and then releasing it in a sigh, feeling warm all over despite the cold. You shake your head, fond. Hansol is just so…

That’s it, you decide. You’re not going to let Seungcheol dictate where Hansol can and can’t be. You’ll let Hansol do whatever he wants, and encourage him to do whatever he wants. 

Whatever makes him smile.

───────────── ‘✽, 

From that day on, you make it a point to take Hansol to the mountains as often as you can.

He loves it—he’ll never say it in so many words, extremely shy when it comes to voicing his preferences for reasons you cannot discern, but it’s so obvious that those few hours he gets to spend with you, in the fresh air, away from all the people, are his favourite hours in the day.

It’s another one of those mornings when you’re up in the mountains with him. You can’t come here every day: you’d collapse from exhaustion if you had to wake up at four in the morning every day, but today, it’s a particularly clear-skied day, and you wanted to watch the sunrise with Hansol.

He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, looking silently down at the village below. It’s still not sunrise yet, but the sky’s beginning to lighten gradually, and you can see some of the windows beginning to light up with orange lights, everyone slowly waking. Hansol hasn’t said a word for a while, so you haven’t either, content to just look down at everything in silence.

The entire experience is rather humbling. From the mountain, the village looks so small, like it’s merely a miniscule dot in existence, something that could be missed in a single blink. Like each mortal is worth next to nothing. Like each could be destroyed in a second.

That’s what a lesser immortal would think, anyway. For you, however, rather than how fragile life is, being this high up makes you marvel at the intricacy of it. Every person, every soul, despite being so small, is filled to the brim with so many unique experiences that no one else can ever live through as that person did. They live, and they die, but almost magnificently so. Like a one-of-a-kind snowflake that melts as soon as it lies in your hands.

You look at Hansol next to you. His eyelashes flutter thoughtfully as he looks down at the village, delicate against his pale skin. 

Every life should be cherished, you think. Because if even the fleetings lives of humans are that complex, then what of the immortal creatures, who live forever? No one should tell them to hide themselves away.

“I can hear you cursing Seungcheol in your head,” Hansol says abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He’s staring at you, now, no longer focused on the village, and he tilts his head bemusedly when you meet his gaze. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You blink, and then smile. You were kind of cursing out Cheol in your head, you admit, and it’s kind of funny that Hansol picked up on it.

“I am,” you sigh, looking down. “Well, now I’m more annoyed, really. I know I should be glad that he’s not going to extremes, like some other people in the world, but…”

Hansol nods slowly. “I get where he’s coming from, though,” he admits, and you look up. “What? Seungcheol cares for his village. These people… they all mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know me, so I guess it’s natural for him to be cautious.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s no excuse. These people all mean a lot to me, too. I watched them all grow up! And Cheol should know I wouldn’t suggest anything that puts them in danger.” You frown. “It’s frustrating. It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgement, even though he’s literally known me his entire life.”

The yokai hums, and reaches over to pat your hand placatingly where it rests in your lap.

“Also, it pisses me off that he’s saying all this without ever making an effort to get to know you, and see if his judgement is right,” you say, looking at Hansol, catching his hand in your own when he begins to move away. “You’re just—you’re just so lovely, and how dare Seungcheol try to hide you away, like you’re something taboo, or something to be ashamed of?”

Hansol’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, before averting his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sincere compliments. “That’s… nice.”

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.”

To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.” 

And then he keeps lowering himself down until he’s laying in your lap, the tips of his flickering slightly at the contact as he adjusts himself until he's practically lying down in the log, head in your lap. You stiffen in surprise, and Hansol slowly shifts so he can blink up at you with innocent, gold eyes. 

“Can I lie here?” he asks, even though he's clearly very much lying there already, and you smile, relaxing. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and Hansol smiles, closing his eyes as your hand goes to his hair and begins to gently run through the strands with the tips of your fingers. 

You stay like that for some time, running your fingers through Hansol’s hair and over the soft fur of his ears. Abruptly, he playfully flicks his ears as you trace a finger through the fur at the base of them, making you yelp in surprise, and he smiles, pleased at having made you jump. You lightly tug at a few strands of hair, teasing, and he smiles wider, eyes still shut, the slight points of his canines visible.

Too distracted with Hansol’s face, you end up completely missing the full sunrise, and eventually it becomes late enough in the morning that the village fully awakens, bustling with noise as people go about their day. But curiously, you can’t hear a single thing. It’s like your world has narrowed down to you, your hands, and the yokai laid comfortably in your lap.

He really is very pretty. You notice the small spattering of snowflake-like freckles on his cheeks, and smile. He’s so pretty that it isn’t even fair.

You trace a thumb over his cheekbones, opening your mouth to comment on them before Hansol’s eyes snap open, and his ears suddenly tilt towards something down the mountain, listening. Your hand freezes, and you let him turn his head, alert.

“What’s wrong?”

Then, you hear it: the crunching of twigs underfoot, and the telltale huffing and puffing of a human making their way up the mountain. Your hand falls, and you get ready to stand up before—

“Y/N?”

Soonyoung, clad in winter furs and holding a woven basket in his hands, blinks at you in confusion, and then he glances to the yokai in your lap, and shakes his head, his expression becoming even more mystified than before.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” you ask back, equally confused as Soonyoung. “You literally hate climbing the mountains. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung looks at you oddly, lifting up the empty basket. “I’m here to collect wildflowers for you,” he says. “I asked you the other day if you could make some of that non-dangerous magic fire you did last year. You said you needed wildflowers harvested at sunrise to make that potion, so I’m here to get those.”

“Oh. Did you really ask me that?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “You said you’d make them for me. And also complained for like five minutes because I tried to pay you, and you wanted to refuse ‘cause you said I was paying you too much. As if there’s such a thing as being paid too much money.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis, and you laugh.

The conversation comes back to you now, and you shrug sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Soonyoung makes a disgruntled sound, feigning annoyance before his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it, boo. Just as long as you remember to make the potion, it’s all fine. The children’ll love it for the bonfire tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to make it for tonight? There’s a bonfire tonight?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “I specifically told you when I asked, as well. Goodness, you’re forgetting everything today, huh?” Then he gestures casually to Hansol, who’s still lying in your lap, looking unsurely at the villager. “Don’t tell me, you also forgot you have the injured demon in your lap, too?”

He points to Hansol so naturally, so calmly that you look down in surprise, as if you really had forgotten the yokai was there. Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head as he bends down near a bush, poking through the dirt to see if there are any flowers. He turns his back on you and Hansol, craning down towards the ground to see better as he continues to talk.

“Cheol told me all about the demon and how he disapproves of you keeping him alive,” Soonyoung says. He manages to find a few wildflowers, and lets out an aha! of pride, putting them away in his basket. “Not gonna lie, I agreed with him a bit. But then I come up here and find him in your lap as you pet him like a cat, and now I’m thinking, maybe not so much.”

Soonyoung turns back to face you once again, and somehow, during those thirty seconds, he’s managed to get dirt all over his nose.

“Plus, you seem to like him,” he carries on. “So he can’t be bad, can you? Because you’d kick his ass if he was.”

You quirk a grin at that, proud. Then you nod down at Hansol. “He has a name, though, you know. And he can hear you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation, and he stands up quickly, brushing down his clothes. “Oh, sorry, you’re right. Sorry. Hi, I’m Soonyoung, one of the villagers who live here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extends a gloved hand towards Hansol, and Hansol looks at the hand for a long moment. Then he slowly sits upright again, and grasps Soonyoung’s hand in a firm handshake, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly.

“Hansol,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And then he must do something, because Soonyoung lets out a small yip in surprise, withdrawing his hand quickly as Hansol observes him amusedly, eyes glinting. 

“Did you…” Soonyoung starts, wide-eyed. “Did you just. Give me an electric shock? On purpose?”

Hansol cracks the slightest smile, evidently pleased with Soonyoung’s reaction. He’s in a playful mood today, you muse, smiling as Soonyoung stutters, clearly not sure what to do when a yokai plays a prank on him like this. It makes you smile too, amused.

“You have to show me how to do that,” Soonyoung eventually says, going from surprised to confused to full of amazement. “Can you show me? Is that something which can be taught?”

That makes Hansol smile properly, lips curving upwards. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” Soonyoung says, but something about Hansol’s smile must make him smile too, because eventually he laughs, shaking his head. “Goodness, you magic people need to stop messing with me. One day, I’ll accidentally set myself on fire, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You’d do that anyway,” you tease, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to get going, I think. Jeonghan’s coming over for a poultice for his back pain, and I need to get to my cottage before he does.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “This is a hell of a way up the mountain, by the way. I might go down with you as well, and see if I’ve missed any flowers.”

“Cool.” This is definitely not that far up the mountain, and even though Soonyoung hates climbing, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes to reach where you are. It’s clear he wants to walk with you for a moment to tell you something, so you look at Hansol, and offer him the chance to stay up in the mountains by himself for a bit.

He agrees, so you and Soonyoung begin your slow descent.

“What do you want?” you ask, when you’re out of Hansol’s hearing range.

Soonyoung just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing bad,” he says. “I meant it when I said Hansol seems like a cool guy. I just…” He pauses, thinks over his words, and then leans in closer. “Bring him to the bonfire tonight.”

You reel back. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, if you’re worried about him getting hurt, you shouldn’t be,” Soonyoung says placatingly. “Hansol’s a demon. He can hold his own. Plus, the people aren’t as against yokai as you might think. Cheol’s just overly cautious, and the elderly might have traditional views about it, but it won’t be hard to make them like him. He’s cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“He is!” Soonyoung argues. “I saw him in your lap, Y/N. He’s adorable. And very… docile? Like, he’s so quiet. But also very silly. The kids would love him, you know. So would everyone else.”

“Even Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung thinks about it for a second. The cold air has made his cheeks all ruddy red, and he looks like a very earnest, very red-cheeked schoolboy as he nods firmly. “Yes. Even Seungcheol.”

You hum, still incredibly sceptical. “Well. I’ll think about it. We’ll have to see.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Unfortunately, even though you were slightly swayed by Soonyoung’s words and his instant kindness and all-round chillness in Hansol’s presence, you ultimately end up not bringing Hansol to the bonfire night. It’s not your decision, though: it’s Hansol’s.

“Are you worried about the humans?” you ask, when Hansol tells you that, respectfully, he doesn’t want to go. “You don’t have to worry about that. I could blast them all to pieces for insulting you, if that makes you feel better.”

Hansol smiles a little, before shaking his head. “No. It’s actually just… I’m not really a big fan of all the noise and stuff. And how hot bonfires are.”

“Oh.” You soften, concerned. “Have you been… hurt by fire before?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

Hansol’s ears flick. “Yeah. My magic originates from winter, as you might have noticed, so…”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised,” you say teasingly, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. “I thought the white fur and random bursts of frost on your skin meant you were a summery fox.”

Hansol scrunches his nose, and you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it does mean I don’t like being all warm, so fires are a no-go for me. Especially bonfires, where there are many people. That’s way too much warmth for me, for sure.”

“I see,” you say, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his silver hair out of his face as he nestles closer into your side. “That’s cool. But I am going to have to go, even if you aren’t. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself in the evening?”

“Yeah. Can you make me dinner before you go, though? Last time I tried, I almost destroyed your kitchen.”

“What? When was that?”

“Oops. Did I not tell you?”

Anyway, the bonfire night ends up being a bit of a disappointment. Several of the villagers have cottoned on to the fact you’re housing the yokai, and express their concerns to you over the matter several times over the course of the night. You love these people, you really do, but hearing so many of them advise you to send him back off into the woods for your own safety really wears you down after a while.

“I think Y/N understands what you’re saying now, imo,” a gentle voice butts in, right when you’re in the middle of having a particularly exhausting conversation. This tricky older woman’s insisting you let the yokai go… only, she’s using much more unkind words.

You were very, very close to losing your cool with her—respect the elders be damned because hell, you’re way older than she is—before she’s interrupted mid-sentence by a villager appearing over his shoulder, and you smile in relief as you recognise him.

At the call of “auntie”, she looks up and comes face-to-face with your saviour, Joshua, and all it takes is another gentle smile and some sweet words before he successfully convinces her to leave your side and rejoin her friends on the other side of the bonfire.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua says when you thank him for his help. “You know how they are. Once they latch on to you, it’s impossible to get them to leave without using some sort of witchcraft to pry them away.”

You laugh at that. “And yet, it seemed to be you who helped get them off me. Maybe you’re the real witchcraft user out of the two of us.”

Joshua laughs, light and melodious, magical fire reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to your joke, however, and nods into the distance behind you, down the darkened paths that lead to your cottage. “You need to bring him out, though,” he says. “Whilst he’s still unknown, they’ll continue conjuring theories that become wilder by the day. They need to see the yokai so their suspicions can be wiped away once and for all.”

“Wh—Hansol?” You blink. “It’s dangerous, Shua. They might hurt him.”

“They’re hurting him now,” Joshua says. “They’re hurting you and hurting him by making stuff up. Just introduce him to them, okay? He can’t become part of our village if he never meets our villagers.”

At your stunned look, Joshua smiles. 

“What? I know you, Y/N. You’re attached. You want him to stay. And honestly…” His smile turns a little more secretive, a little more knowing. “I think he wants to, too. The yokai will stay for you, but to truly bring him in, you have to bring him out to us.”

Joshua smiles again, the colours of his irises swirling together, before he pats you on the shoulder and gets up, leaving you there speechless.

He isn’t… wrong. But hearing it like that sounds insane.

You shake your head. Hansol will have to meet everyone sooner or later, you suppose. You very much do not want to go ahead with Seungcheol’s idea to let him be hidden, like a secret, so of course, you need to bring him out into the open.

You shake your head again, mystified. Joshua’s correct, but how does he know so much?

Honestly, you really do think he’s more of a witchcraft user out of the two of you. His incredible timing, his knowledge of all your thoughts, the fact he’d called Hansol a yokai rather than demon…

Also. How old even is he, anyway? 

Too confused and befuddled by all the thoughts in your head, you end up playing with the children and run through the fire all night instead. It’s a lot safer than having to deal with all the grown-up stuff of thinking about things.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Both Soonyoung’s and Joshua’s words linger in the back of your mind for days after that, and you contemplate how to get Hansol out of the house. Hansol had never really shown signs of wanting to be part of the village, which had made you reconsider this whole thing, wanting to brush away the villager’s words, before you actually asked the yokai, and—

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah. I’d like to get to know everyone. I want to be part of the village.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says again, smiling at you. “This village is your village, and I want to be with you.”

Oh. You smile back, touched. Hansol smiles wider, brightening at the eye contact, all sweet and lovely and really quite cute, before ducking his head and disappearing back through the shelves of your library once again.

So Hansol turns out to be not as against the idea as you thought, which makes you feel a lot better about thinking of how to get the villagers to trust him and how to get Seungcheol off your back for taking care of Hansol in the first place.

However, it ends up not being you who makes the first steps into getting him known. Oh, no.

Instead, Hansol does that all by himself.

It happens during the first snowfall of the year. You’d woken up to the beautiful sight of the white crystals floating down and covering the entire village with a soft, muffled coat, and the equally beautiful sight of Hansol, who had already woken up, practically pressing his nose against the window to look at the snow in awe.

He’d clearly wanted to go out and be in the snow—as a winter yokai, that made sense—but you’d had some errands to run that day, so you’d told him he could stay only in the front yard of the cottage and go no further.

Hansol had smiled at you, an amused quirk of his lips that acted as all the reassurance you needed.

So he’s sitting in the snow in front of your cottage, legs out in front of him, the silk of his clothes getting damper the longer he sits on the cold ground, but he hardly notices, more focused with tracing a finger through the soft white that is steadily building up.

Snowfall is Hansol’s most favourite wintry thing. It’s a perfect, wondrous phenomenon: the intersection of the perfect time and the perfect weather and the perfect temperature that makes the sky release soft handfuls of the white stuff down on Earth. Even nature falls silent when the snow falls. In Hansol’s opinion, that’s proof enough that it’s something to be appreciated beyond belief.

His robes, his old robes, used to have silver snowflakes embroidered into them, intricate and sprawling patterns that he could run his fingers over and almost feel the cold gust of wind that accompanied the snow. They’re not on the robes he’s wearing now—he’s wearing ones you’ve given him, after his old ones were ruined by his own blood—but he traces his fingers gently over the sleeves, letting frost spread out from his fingers like the feathery patterns that used to adorn the cloth he wore.

He quickly grows bored of that, though, and turns to the real snow in front of him, ears flicking absentmindedly to get rid of the small pile-up gathering on his head. He absentmindedly gathers the stuff in his hands, patting it into shapes and then leaving them out on the lawn. 

This carries on for some time, and eventually there is an army of misshapen snow clumps in your front yard, all frosted over with a touch of his magic, and he grins, satisfied. And then his ears twitch again, and he feels… eyes. Watching him.

Hansol turns around, and some houses away, peeking from over a well-trimmed, leafless hedge, he sees three children clad in fluffy winter clothes staring at him, curious.

He doesn’t have much experience with human children. Or any children, for that matter. But he’s pretty sure that, when a yokai makes eye contact with them, they’re not meant to light up with glee and come running over with absolutely no regard for the icy paths or the danger that said yokai could present.

Surprised, Hansol jumps up to his feet, reaching out hands to steady the little kids as they skid over the snow and come to a stop right in front of him, eyes shining, expectant. He doesn’t know what they’re expecting, and being so close to these mini humans is a very awkward experience for him. He’s not sure what to do.

So he lifts a hand, and waves. “Hello?”

The three children beam, and one of them, the girl, practically vibrates with happiness when he speaks.

“Hello!” she chirps, and waves back. “I’m Yeowon! What’s your name?”

Hansol blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Hansol.”

“Hansol!” Yeowon keeps speaking in exclamation marks, and it’s honestly kind of amusing. “It’s nice to meet you! This is Junghoon, and this is Minjun!” she says, gesturing to the boys on either side of him, who also give Hansol equally enthusiastic waves.

“Hello,” he says unsurely. How old are these kids? He doesn’t know much about human years, but they look… very young. Where are their parents?

He doesn’t get to voice his concerns before Yeowon starts speaking again, going a mile a minute and he can hardly get a word in edgeways.

“We were watching you from Minjun’s house,” she says, and picks up one of the snow balls that Hansol was making, lifting it up so he can look at his own handiwork. “These are so pretty! We wanted to come over and play with you, ‘cause we’ve never seen you before, but you live with Miss Witch, right?”

Hansol opens his mouth, but it’s apparent that wasn’t an actual question when Yeowon barrels on.

“So you must be a good guy! So we wanted to come say hello and play.”

She blinks big, innocent eyes up at him, as do the two boys, evidently begging him to play with them, or something. He doesn’t know what play entails, but… there’s no harm in entertaining these fun-sized humans, right?

So Hansol nods, says they can play with him, and sits down in the snow again. And then, before he knows it, they’re all shrieking and climbing over him and asking him to make figurines out of ice and snow and patting his hair in amazement and asking if his ears are actually real.

Children are very overwhelming, Hansol quickly learns. But he also kind of likes them: likes the way their eyes light up when he makes them the little ice characters they want, likes their fascinated smiles and the way they very gently touch his ears and accidentally get damp suede of their gloves in his mouth in their excitement. They’re bubbly, full of life, and so friendly with him that it honestly makes him so delighted that it surprises him.

“Make me one too! Make me one too!”

“Your ears look super fluffy! Can I touch your tail?”

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Can you make me something out of magic too, Mister Fox?”

“Mister Fox! Mister Fox!”

Hansol doesn’t know how it happens, but he blinks and suddenly he’s surrounded by what seems to be every child in the village, clamouring around him and asking if he could play, Please, Mister Fox, won’t you?

Your front lawn is quickly becoming a gathering place for the little humans who had swarmed towards him so quickly that Hansol’s starting to think they were waiting in the background for his very opportunity, and he makes more ice figures and listens interestedly to their babbling as they conjure stories for the figurines on the spot. They’re all so very noisy, but Hansol smiles, brimming with a similar sort of energy as his magic fizzes and pops with glitters of snow and makes the children laugh.

There’s no other way to describe it. He’s feeling happiness, pure and simple.

Unbeknownst to Hansol, there’s one human who’d been watching the entire scene right from the beginning. Coming down the path, on his way to visit the village’s magic-user, Soonyoung had noticed Hansol sitting by himself and had prepared to go over, extend a hand and a friendly word before Yeowon, Junghoon and Minjun had run over.

As a result, Soonyoung retreated a little ways round the bend to watch from a distance, which is where he is now, smiling at the innocent joy of both the children and Hansol.

From the opposite end of the path, he spots you walking back to your cottage, and clocks the exact moment you realise what’s happening in your front yard. Your eyes widen, and you stop in your tracks, before your eyes slowly lift further and you notice Soonyoung standing there too, smiling.

See? he seems to say with your eyes, meeting your gaze. They love him. 

One of the children shrieks with laughter as she grabs Hansol’s tail and he playfully gasps in shock, scooping her up and lifting her into the air until she’s giggling and burbling for him to put her down. At his feet, one child is patting snow into the hem of his robes, and another is playing with a fox-eared figurine that Hansol had made him.

It looks so natural, and you watch them for a moment before looking at Soonyoung again. Soonyoung smiles even wider. You have nothing to worry about.

You laugh, a little bit in disbelief, warmth spreading across your face as you smile back, looking fondly at the sight in your front yard. Finally, you really do believe that that’s the truth.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Hansol looks up from his book, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Hm,” he says in reply. “Are you sure?”

It’s been a few days since the first snowfall, but the wintry precipitation has not let up, and it continues to softly drift down from the sky even as you speak. The blanket of snow covering the earth has also blanketed your senses, and your magic is nothing more than a gentle hum beneath your skin. A month ago, this would have stressed you greatly, but with Hansol and his winter-attuned magic singing happily around the entire room, you feel nothing but peace. 

Nodding in reassurance, you smile at Hansol. “Very sure. Let’s go out today.”

Hansol blinks, once, and then smiles back, closing the book and getting up from the couch. “Okay. Where are we going?”

You smile wider. “To make you some friends.”

That was the plan, anyway. Ever since the first snow, when Hansol had been accosted by the children and ended up playing with them for a good part of the day, you’ve had several villagers come to your door, either complaining about the yokai or wanting to know more about him. So, you figure, today you should get him out to the village square so he can finally meet everyone. Regardless of their opinion of him. 

Because you have trust in Hansol. Now, you have confidence he can turn their opinion around. 

Hansol, despite having all the appearances and mannerisms of an introvert, doesn't seem to mind leaving the house for so many days in a row, and eagerly agrees as you urge him to get dressed and head out to the village square. There's the daily market taking place, and most people will be there, so it'll be a good opportunity to introduce him. 

But, like you said, that was the plan. 

Unfortunately, you're whisked away by some of the villagers who need help with their sick relative, leaving Hansol stranded in the village square. 

“You don't have to stay,” you insist to him, as you're rushed off to deal with the medical emergency. “Seriously, Hansol, you can go home. Especially if anyone starts throwing insults, then just go, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I finish.”

Hansol watches you go, head tilted, slightly amused. It's kind of cute that you think he needs protecting. You know, since he's an ancient demon, and all. But before he can say as such, there's a small voice near his knee, and he looks down to see a small child, piping up in favour of him. 

“Don't worry about Mister Fox!” the small boy chirps brightly. “We will look after him!”

And as if out of nowhere (seriously, where do these kids come from?) several children come up to him and cling to his robes, waving at you as you leave the market square. Hansol waves too, mystified by the miniature support latching onto him, but also a bit touched by their loyalty. They're really sweet. 

“So what do you wanna do, Mister Fox?” the first little boy says, and Hansol recognises him as one of the first children to come up to him a few days ago. Minjun. “Are you hungry?”

Without even waiting for Hansol's answer, Minjun and the rest of the children start ushering him to the food stalls, fiercely advocating for their choice of what Mister Fox should eat first. 

“Wait,” Hansol says, interrupting the particularly fierce fight over having hotteok or bungeoppang first. “Kids. Do you have any money?”

There's a short silence, and all the children look down, which is how he learns that they don't, and so they don't end up buying anything at all. Except, Yeowon, who joined the discussion partway through, manages to wheedle some of the stall-owners to give her free food with her big puppy eyes and innocent pout.

It’s like a magic trick, Hansol has to give her that. And when she happily tells the vendors that she’s sharing the food with Hansol, the villagers do nothing other than blink in surprise and then smile, polite and awkward, well. That’s also an incredible magic trick too. 

They sit on the outskirts of the village market, pillowed by the mounds of snow all around them as they eat their steaming hot snacks. They’re delicious, and sticky, and very sweet, so it’s not too long before Hansol has several super-hyper, sticky-fingered children on his hands, who are all practically launching themselves into the snow with the bounding amounts of energy they have.

It becomes very noisy very fast, and Hansol starts panicking slightly, before he loudly suggests they ought to go and make some snowmen, and all the children whip their heads around to look at him, wide-eyed, and then—

“That’s such a good idea!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

“I’m gonna make the best snowman!”

“No, me!”

“No! Me!”

And then they go tumbling off into the snow, and Hansol slumps back down, relieved. He can still see them, and he can still sense them, too, so there’s no worry in any of them getting lost. At least he can now have some peace and quiet.

Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he gathers handfuls of the white snow, turning it over. He turns it over again, and then begins patting and shaping it in his hands until he has something that resembles a little snow duck.

It’s terribly misshapen, and the beak is a bit too long to be a duck, but it’s cute, and Hansol’s pleased. He swirls his fingers in the air, and uses some magic to add finishing touches, trying to rectify the wonkiness. It doesn’t work, but he still thinks it’s cute. You’d probably find it cute, too. Right?

Probably. Hansol hums to himself contemplatively. You like everything he does. It’s very sweet, he thinks, that you’re always so receptive to him, and it’s even sweeter that you genuinely enjoy his company. You brighten like a blooming chrysanthemum, spring-like in your warmth whenever he says something to you, and it makes him feel all warm too. Ever since the first time he woke up on your couch, out of his mind with a fever, and he’d noticed your floral chrysanthemum tea scent and accidentally called you the prettiest person ever, you’ve always been so gentle and kind and oh, Hansol likes you so much.

You’re just—lovely. You’re the loveliest being he’s ever met in his entire life, and that’s saying something, because Hansol’s been alive for a really fucking long time.

“Hello.”

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a light, melodic voice coming from over his shoulder, and Hansol looks up in surprise to see a villager bent over him, warm brown eyes glinting and the corners of his lips curving upwards in a seemingly permanent smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just saw you, and thought I’d say hi,” the villager says, smiling properly, extending a hand. “I’m Joshua. You’re the yokai, right?”

Hansol manoeuvres his body around awkwardly and shakes Joshua’s gloved hand. “I’m Hansol, and yeah, I am the yokai. How could you tell?” His ears flick pointedly as he talks, and Joshua’s eyes immediately go to them before he smiles wider.

“Yeah, I guess it was a silly question,” Joshua says, and his fur boots crunch in the snow as he climbs over a mound and crouches down next to Hansol. “But I don’t wanna seem impolite, you know?”

Hansol shrugs, but he understands. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joshua smiles.

They say nothing for a moment, and Hansol lifts his head up briefly to check on the children. He can still see all of them, actually, dotted about the edges of the market as they build their snowmen. He watches them thoughtfully, and then down at the snow at his feet.

It only takes a moment for a snowman of his own to begin to form, aided by his magic as the snowballs roll themselves to become bigger and more round.

“That’s really cool,” Joshua comments, and Hansol had almost forgotten he was there. He’s so quiet, feather-silent, but when he catches Hansol’s eye and smiles, there’s a twinkle to his presence that makes him wonder how he could have ever forgotten him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Y/N be able to do that.”

“Hm?” Hansol looks at the snowman that’s slowly being built. “Oh, well, it’s nothing, really.”

Even as he says so, his tail fluffs up in pride at Joshua’s words, and he begins adding more and more intricate frost details to the snowman. The feathery patterns wind through the body of his creation, like embroidery, and Joshua whistles, amazed.

“It’s very cool. Your magic is very cool.”

Hansol shrugs, bashful. “Thank you. But really, it’s nothing.” As the snowman continues to construct itself, he leans over to Joshua as if confiding a secret. “In the wild, there are yokai who can create literal monsters out of ice. In about five seconds flat. But I mostly just deal with frost and snow, so it’s a lot more difficult for me.”

Joshua tilts his head, genuine interest written all over his face. “Oh. I didn’t know there were differences in yokai magic.”

“Of course there are,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “Like there are differences in humans’ skills, there are differences for yokai, too. We are not unlike you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Joshua says thoughtfully. And then he looks Hansol in the eye again, smiling. Joshua is honestly so friendly, and even though they only met two minutes ago, he feels like he’s known him for years. “So you won’t object to being friends with a human, right?”

Hansol blinks, surprised, and Joshua’s smile just widens. It’s obvious what he’s asking, and Hansol feels… touched, that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Yeah,” Hansol says, and his magic finishes off the snowman with an intricate flourish of frost. “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Joshua!”

The calling of the human’s name makes both Joshua and Hansol turn around, and they see one of the elder villagers coming over to them, the skirts of her robes swishing as she walks. She’s terribly intimidating, greying hair pulled back into a bun with a pointy hair stick, marching over with incredible grace even through the ankle-deep snow that has gathered. She squints at the yokai and how close Joshua is sitting to him. 

“Mrs Choi,” Joshua greets, apparently oblivious to the sharpness of the woman’s gaze. “Hello. It’s very cold today, isn’t it?”

She eyeballs Hansol for a moment before nodding at Joshua. “Very. Frightful weather, but at least the children are enjoying the snow.” Mrs Choi lifts her gaze and squints into the distance, where the children are playing. “I hope someone is supervising them.”

“Oh, well, Hansol is, so don’t worry about it,” Joshua says with a smile. 

Mrs Choi snaps her gaze back to them. “Is he really?” Hansol nods, doing his best to look as earnest and trustworthy as possible, and she hums. “I see.”

“He has them doing a snowman competition, actually,” Joshua says. “He’s very good at making them himself, too. Look. Don’t you think his creation looks amazing?”

He points to the snowman in front of them, glistening with frost and embroidered with thin ice, clearly a work of his magic. Hansol swallows, expecting Mrs Choi to fly into a tizzy over the presence of such witchcraft, but she just scrutinises the snowman, and then—

She smiles.

“It’s very pretty,” she says, and in the blink of an eye, her expression has turned warm. She’s smiling so nicely at Hansol, and then she leans down and brushes a hand over the top of his head, gently dusting away the snow that had landed in his hair. “Just like you, my dear.”

Hansol blinks up at her, open-mouthed. “I— thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckles, straightens, adjusts the skirt of her robes. “No need to thank me. I’m simply telling the truth.” Mrs Choi nods in the direction of the children, before turning away. “Thank you for taking care of the children, also. Keep up the good work.”

Hansol watches her go, feeling a little dazed. She had looked so sharp and stern at first, but something about him sitting there harmlessly and making a harmless snowman with harmless snow gathered in his hair must have done something to convince her that he’s, well, harmless. Which is good. Very good. Hopefully she’ll let everyone else know, too.

“Yeah, she looks scary, but Mrs Choi is anything but,” Joshua says with a laugh, when Hansol directs his wide-eyed gaze to him.

“She’s terrifying.”

“Her son takes after her,” Joshua chuckles. “Choi Seungcheol. He looks scary, but he’s a right softie on the inside, trust me.”

Hansol’s eyes widen further. “She’s Seungcheol’s mother? The village leader?”

“The one and only,” Joshua affirms. He laughs. “Don’t worry about him. His own mother found you cute. I’m sure he’ll be won over by you in no time. Especially if you keep making snowmen that rival Y/N’s in their intricacy. Seriously, I think yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Shua, I hope I didn't just hear you dissing my amazing snowman building skills.”

Hansol looks up at your voice, and sees you slowly treading over to them, a drawstring bag dangling over your shoulder as you pick your way through the snow. The tip of your nose is red from the cold, cheeks a pretty pink with an amused smile on your face, and the moment he sees you, it’s like you’ve stolen his breath away.

Whilst Hansol’s too busy being starstruck, Joshua laughs, leaning back on his hands.

“So what if I was?” he teases, and nods to Hansol’s snowman. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

You look away, directing your gaze to the snowman. Humming thoughtfully, you eye Hansol’s creation, and he begins to grow a little nervous under your critical silence, fiddling with his fingers and digging them into the snow, wisps of cold air seeping from his skin.

And then you smile, a lopsided smirk that makes Hansol feel a little dizzy.

“I can certainly do better.”

Before he can say anything, you set down your bag, and with a flick of your wrist the snow begins to swirl and gather itself before you. Under your command, golden streaks of magic begin to press the snow together, creating larger shapes that you obviously plan to sculpt into a showstopping piece.

You look almost relaxed in your movements, the entire process taking nothing more than a slight twitch of your fingers as magic sparks zip around the sculpture that’s gradually beginning to form. Hansol can only watch in awe, amazed at the fluidity and effortlessness of your power. By his side, he thinks he hears Joshua chuckle softly.

After a few short moments, the three of you are staring at a large, smoothly finished sculpture of a winter fox, and you smile and cross your arms, satisfied.

“What do you think?” you say, smug, confident in your belief that you’ve proved yourself.

Hansol’s jaw is on the floor. Delicate pointy ears, a fluffy-looking tail all made out of snow, and wow, are those whiskers? Did you really make whiskers?

“Wow,” is all he can say, staring at this lifelike fox that’s made entirely out of snow. “Wow.”

Just then, there are high-pitched exclamations from somewhere in the distance, and the children that Hansol’s been supervising come bounding over, shouting in amazement at the fox that you’ve made. 

“Hi, kids,” you say when they’re close enough, laughing when Yeowon barrels into your legs to give you a hug. “Quick question, which snow sculpture do you think is better? The fox, or the Frosty the Snowman?”

They all look very thoughtfully at the two snow pieces in front of them, before unanimously pointing to your creation, and you grin triumphantly at Joshua and Hansol. Hansol just smiles back, totally expecting such an outcome. You’d beat him any day when it comes to stuff like this, and he’s totally fine with that.

“That’s not even a snowman,” Joshua protests, but it’s clear he’s arguing just for the fun of it. “Y/N, that’s not a fair competition.”

You shrug flippantly. “I’d win anyway.” And then you wink, pleased, and Hansol feels like burying himself in the snow just to try and get rid of his red cheeks.

“Mister Fox, we wanna play with you now,” Minjun says, and he looks up to see the children standing around him, red-cheeked and damp-haired but still eager to play more. “Can we play a game with you?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansol tries to say, but apparently, that had been a rhetorical question, because they’re hauling him up to his feet so they can play with him. “The market’s already closing. Shouldn’t you all go back to your parents now? Joshua? Y/N?” He looks back pleadingly as he gets dragged away, and you and Joshua just laugh, waving him goodbye.

“Have a nice time!” Joshua calls, standing up from the snow and brushing down his clothes. He stands closer to you, smiling as you both watch him begin to play. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?”

You smile too. “He really is.”

“The best,” another voice adds, and you look over your shoulder to see some of the villagers also watching Hansol. They’re all the parents, and yet they seem perfectly content to let their children play around with the yokai, any trace of hostility gone from their faces. 

That makes you smile wider. “I’m glad you think so, Mrs Lee,” you say, and the woman smiles back. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep your children safe.”

Mrs Lee bows her head in acknowledgement, eyes turning soft as you all watch Hansol let the children punt tiny clumps of snow at him. “We know.”

They stay with you for a little longer, chatting about Hansol’s gentle nature and how wonderfully he gets along with the children, before eventually they disperse and begin packing up the market for the day. Next to you, Joshua is also smiling, looking fond, which is really weird because he barely knows Hansol but there’s definitely a clear look of admiration and affection in his face. Before you can comment on it, though, he pats you on the shoulder, and begins to step away.

 “I better go,” he says. “Cheol’s coming your way. I think he wants a talk.”

He bids you goodbye then trudges back through the snow, and you look over your shoulder to see that Seungcheol really is coming your way. Instead of greeting him, however, you look back out at Hansol, and wait until the village leader is by your side.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hello, Seungcheol.”

You don’t offer him anything else, and so the two of you stand there in silence, continuing to watch Hansol play with the children. It is an adorable sight, though, and makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards the longer the silence goes on. He’s totally lenient with them, letting them pull his tail and ambush him with damp gloves and shrieking laughter. His head whips back and forth constantly between the two sides of kids that have inexplicably formed, somehow finding himself in the crossfire as snowballs get flung around him.

It’s cute, and it makes you laugh, heart warming with fondness. You can feel Seungcheol watching you out of the corner of your eye, and when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything until you do, you sigh and turn your back on Hansol at last, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” you prompt. “What’s up? You didn’t come find me just to say hello.”

Seungcheol pauses, and looks down. “No. I didn’t.” A beat. “My mother actually told me you were here.”

“Okay. And?”

“She talked to Hansol,” he says, and both your eyebrows raise this time, in surprise. “She said to me that she liked him, and she wanted me to open my eyes and finally realise how much of a good person he is.”

Seungcheol clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. He looks over your shoulder, at where Hansol is undoubtedly doing something silly to entertain the children, and his eyes go gentle. They don’t soften, and they certainly don’t melt, but his gaze becomes a little more mellow, like a layer of hardness has finally given way.

“And he is a good person,” Seungcheol says, looking at you again. “I’ve been watching him all day. All week, in fact, and even if my mother hadn’t said anything, I would’ve sought you out to tell you this, because I think I owe you an apology.”

You breathe a laugh. “You certainly do,” you say, but there’s no real bite. Seungcheol’s actions were understandable. You’ve already forgiven him.

Seungcheol seems to know that too, because his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Nevertheless, his words are genuine when he says, “I’m sorry. I was too rash, and too harsh. Any worries I had over yokai did not excuse the way I talked about Hansol. Do you think you can also tell him how sorry I am?”

You draw in a long breath, cross your arms and lean back, staring down your nose at Seungcheol. His smile wavers, a little, but then you relax, breaking out into a grin.

“You can tell him yourself. He’d love to talk to you,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You’re just looking out for the village, like you always do. But…” You shrug. “I was looking out for my kind, also. I was frustrated that you were treating Hansol like that just because he was a yokai.”

Seungcheol breathes out, wisps of white spilling from his lips. “I get that. It makes sense that you felt that way.” His eyes lighten with mischief suddenly, his smile taking on a teasing edge. “Especially considering the fact you’re in love with him, too.”

The world grinds to a halt. You stumble, taken aback by Seungcheol’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nothing else gets to be said about the matter, though, because a small child goes zooming past you right at that moment, brushing against your side. And then, half a millisecond later, a fat clump of snow hits you square in the back.

The child continues running off, bubbling laughter fading into the market square. Slowly, very slowly, you spin on your heel and come face-to-face with the culprit.

Hansol’s still frozen in his throw position, one hand incriminatingly covered with snow. The moment he sees your face, his face breaks into a wide grin, that beautiful, big grin that shows the slight point of his yokai fangs. His eyes are glowing, alight with amusement and another, warmer emotion you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the snow gently tumbling down your back. “Whoops?”

“Whoops?” you echo, breathing a laugh. You look at Seungcheol, as if saying Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hansol, a handful of snow magically making its way into your hands. “Oh, you’re going to be saying a lot more than ‘Whoops’ in a minute.”

Hansol laughs, holding his hands up placatingly. “Now hold on a minute—”

Abruptly, his head jerks back, and he gets knocked off his center of balance by the force of the snowball you’d just lobbed at him.

You burst into laughter as Hansol, sitting on the ground and with snow in his hair and up his nose, wipes his eyes with a grin. “Now you’re just asking for it, I think.”

Still laughing, you snap your fingers, and several more balls of snow float up around you. “Oh, it’s on.”

Cut to several minutes later, and somehow, the snowball fight between the two of you has devolved into a village-wide thing, children slipping and sliding in the snow alongside their parents as Seungcheol yells at his team to close ranks and you yell at yours to focus their sights on Hansol. The icy air stings your cheeks, and at some point it begins to snow again, hard, blurring your sight, but the whole thing still continues, the square filled with the laughter of the villagers.

And throughout it all, Hansol manages to find your gaze no matter where he is, gold eyes seeking your gold magic, and the beautiful sound of his laughter leaves you breathless every time.

───────────── ‘✽, 

All things considered, perhaps it’s totally expected that you end up falling for Hansol.

You don’t get to truly mull over Seungcheol’s last words until much later, when you and Hansol have both changed out of your sopping wet clothes and are sitting curled up together on the sofa, both of you blinking sleepily at the fire you’ve lit in the fireplace.

The snowball fight ended incredibly amiably, with everyone agreeing that Seungcheol’s team had obliterated everyone else’s, despite the lack of magic users in his group. You’d helped some of the villagers dust themselves off, and used magic to dry off the people who had gotten the most wet. Soonyoung, inexplicably, looked like he’d been dunked five times in a swimming pool, rather than emerging victorious from a snowball fight.

Finishing with Soonyoung, you’d looked back, and of course—Hansol was playing with the children, again, as if he had endless reserves of energy to spare. But in between letting the kids climb his legs and play with  his swishing tail, he was chatting with the rest of the villagers, helping them tidy away their things.

It made you smile. 

And then Hansol had looked back at you, as if sensing your gaze, and his entire face had lit up, brighter than the brightest summer’s day, and he’d quickly said goodbye to the villagers before coming bounding over to you, face so open and comfortable and warm and—

Yeah. You like him a lot. And you’re sure that he likes you a lot too.

Hansol yawns, big and wide and content, his tail flicking lazily as he rests on your shoulder. Outside, the snowfall has increased to a snowstorm, complete with howling winds and dark, looming clouds, but inside, your cottage is warm, and you have a sleepy yokai pressed against your side, and life is, admittedly, kind of perfect.

There’s just one thing, though.

You need to tell him.

Lost in thought, you shift around absentmindedly, and Hansol looks up questioningly at the movement. The warmth of your magic prickles softly in the air around you, and when he takes your hand, you can feel his own magic murmuring softly in tandem with your own. 

He continues to look at you, and then smiles, eyes glowing. Goodness, he really is so pretty.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.”

Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

It’s almost a direct copy of the first words he’d said to you, almost a lifetime ago, when he had been out of his mind with a fever, red-cheeked and hazy-eyed and fixated on the way you smelled like chrysanthemums. The memory makes you laugh, heart squeezing with fondness, and you reach forward to cup Hansol’s cheeks, smiling wider when his eyes flutter shut briefly and he leans trustingly into your touch.

“That’s funny,” you say. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Hansol’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, showing those yokai fangs that you adore so much. His ears twitch with happiness, light speckles of frost covering his cheeks as he blushes. He’s so pretty, and you love him so much.

Slowly, you inch closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. So close that you can count the snowflake-shaped freckles on his cheeks.

“You forgot to say it back, though,” you murmur. “Hansol, you didn’t say you like me back.”

Hansol breathes a soft laugh. “I thought it was obvious.” His smile widens, so enamoured that it warms your heart. “Y/N, I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

You beam. “You know what? I think I’m in love with you too.”

And then you lean forward, and Hansol leans in too, and your lips meet in the softest, sweetest kiss. He tastes like magic, like love, like soft snow that numbs your senses but leaves your heart alive and alight and oh, this is everything you never knew you needed and more.

Hansol’s silver-white hair is falling into his eyes when you pull away, his golden irises shining brightly through them like dazzling, gorgeous sunlight peeking through the translucent colours of snowfall. The sight makes you instantly lean in to kiss him again, dizzy with adoration because goodness, this happiness is for you. He looks like this because he loves you.

And you love him too.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[pillow-coded]

To Have and to Hold — Chapter 1

Summary: finding a lost toddler's mother in the library wasn’t how Spencer expected to spend his afternoon. Later, when her mother arrives—panicked, breathless, and beautiful—Spencer starts to forget how to breathe. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Brief depiction of a lost child, mild panic from a parent, emotional vulnerability word count: 5.3k

A/N: This is the first work I had the guts to post (genuinely scared lol), slow updates! (so sorry, but uni is killing me), and lastly, English isn't my native language, so please do let me know if i got any grammar mistakes! (also not proofread cause i'm too embarrassed to show any of my friends)

Series Masterlist

Libraries have always been a great comfort for me. It’s a place full of knowledge, warmth, peace. Maybe it’s the smell of old books and how I can easily link that smell to the amiable parts of my childhood.

Those Autumn nights when everything was fine, where my wires were still intact. Mom was doing well back then. She’d read to me those old books she collected from all her years of teaching. That’s how I saw them back then... Old, decrepit books that contained the most fun stories... At least, I found them fun. Like Shakespeare’s Tales Retold – child-friendly versions of Shakespeare’s works.

Nowadays, they’re more than just fond stories or old books. Those books are relics and a memory of when my mother was... well, more lucid.

What I loved most about libraries was the quietness of it all. I spent a couple of hours of my day when I could, basking in the quiet. It was nice not to have to hear the gruesome details of some innocent woman murdered in cold blood.

Days like these only made the quietness feel even better. Soft Autumn day, nearing Winter already. We had just come back from a tough case, children were involved. Thankfully, we managed to get on time.

I had watched that boy while JJ tried to talk to him, trying to understand what had happened to him. He was barefoot, his hair disheveled, and he looked achingly thin. We later found that the boy’s parents held a “discipline ring.” According to his parents, it was a “behavior modification” experiment—one they claimed was “research-backed,” designed to “train” their child into being the perfect prodigy. The boy was denied food, affection, and even basic care when he disobeyed. But worse? The parents live-streamed it all on private forums for a group of like-minded “disciplinarians.”

It didn’t matter that we caught his parents. That the live-stream was shut down. That the others in that so-called “discipline ring” were going to prison. None of it mattered when he looked up at me with those eyes—hollow but obedient. Like love was something he still thought he had to earn.

I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more than I hated those people.

I’ve done a lot of pretending in my life. Pretended I wasn’t scared. Pretended I wasn’t lonely. Pretended I didn’t want a family of my own. But that boy—he didn’t know how to pretend. He didn’t know how to fake normal. He just waited patiently in that hospital bed for someone to love him back.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, which is why I had decided to come to the library instead of resting after the case like a normal person. I needed a moment of peace, a moment of quiet.

That moment of quietness was rudely interrupted—torn apart by high-pitched, desperate sobbing. I turn to my left, and there's a girl at the end of the long corridor full of bookcases. A tiny one at that, since the whole corridor looked gigantic compared to her.

She couldn’t have been more than five, barely tall enough to brush the second shelf. A statistical outlier in this ocean of silence, suddenly very, very loud. There was something unsettling about how her tiny fists rubbed at her eyes. Children cried in a language everyone understood.

“Are you lost?” I ask hesitantly, not moving from my spot in the corridor. The little girl stops crying for a brief moment. Well, not stop, but slowed down. Her big eyes are still so full of fear and tears, but they open wide to look at me as if she hadn’t been expecting someone to help.

She doesn’t say anything.

Just looks at me—eyes still shimmering, lips trembling, chest stuttering around hiccuped sobs. She’s scared. That much is obvious. But it’s the way she clutches the fabric of her little coat that really gets me. Like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth right now.

I walk towards her. I'm not close—just close enough to show I’m not a threat. A non-threatening stranger in a cardigan and tie, kneeling among the books like I’m part of the furniture.

She stares, still trembling, still silent.

“It’s okay,” I murmur gently. “I’m not going to come closer unless you want me to. I just want to help.”

Her little hand scrubs clumsily at her cheek. She sniffles, her shoulders curling inward. Still holding it in. Still trying to be brave.

Then, finally—after a moment that feels like something unspooling—she shakes her head. And her voice, when it comes, is a soft, crumpled thing:

“I can’t find my mommy.”

I nod, matching her quietness. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

A pause.

“I’ll help you find her, alright? No rush. We can check the kiddie section together. That’s probably where she’ll look first.”

I didn’t offer my hand. It felt like too much for both of us. Instead, I walked beside her, slow and steady, letting the silence settle between us like soft dust. She kept sniffling quietly the whole walk down.

I desperately needed a way to make the little cries stop.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” I asked softly.

She tilted her head back to look up at me—really look this time. She was so small she had to crane her neck to find my eyes. Her expression still carried that flicker of uncertainty, her trust not quite earned yet.

“I’m Spencer.”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Just stares for a second, like she’s still deciding whether I’m safe. Then, in the tiniest voice—barely above a whisper—she says:

“...Maddie.”

Maddie.

I nod, repeating it once under my breath to make it real.

“That’s a beautiful name, Maddie.”

She says nothing, but her fingers curl tighter around the hem of her coat. She’s still scared, but she’s not looking away anymore.

Progress.

I scan the rows of shelves ahead. The kiddie section’s not far now—colorful bean bags, tiny chairs, picture books splayed on wide tables.

“Do you like magic tricks, Maddie?”

She nods her tiny head, her eyes warming up to me at the thought.

I felt something in my stomach… I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe yearning?

She nods—just once—and I see it. That flicker of trust, like a light turning on behind her eyes. Not quite safety, but something near it.

And something stirs in my stomach.

I don’t know what to call it. It’s not adrenaline, and it’s not fear. Maybe it’s yearning. Not for her, necessarily—but for what she has. What she’s lost. What she’s looking for.

For someone to come back for her.

For someone to call her name.

“Okay… how about I show you some magic tricks while we wait for your mommy to get here? that sound fun, Maddie?”

This time she nods enthusiastically. Her big eyes excited to see what sorcery I had planned to show her.

I dig the pocket of my pants, my movements slow and deliberate. I pull out a simple quarter. It’s nothing special. Just a plain, shiny quarter that for some reason, I’ve held on to for way longer than I should’ve.

“Behold,” I announce, holding it up between two fingers like it’s enchanted. “A perfectly ordinary quarter.”

She leans in, captivated—eyes locked on the coin like it’s something rare. A small smile starts to tug at her cheeks.

“It’s your everyday quarter,” I say, twirling the tiny thing between my fingers, doing my best to keep this unfamiliar girl comforted—as if her calm is the only thing keeping me steady.

“Watch closely.”

I place the coin on my open palm and slowly close my fingers around it. Then, with my free hand, I give the air above my fist a little wave—like I’m stirring something invisible.

“And now… it’s gone.”

I open my hand. Empty.

She gasps.

I see it—the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes light up like I’ve just rewritten the rules of the universe.

I lean in, just a little. Not too close.

“Huh. That’s strange…” I murmur, pretending to look around her, behind her, above her. “Where could it have gone…?”

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I reach behind her ear, and pull the coin free like I just plucked a star from the sky.

Her breath catches. She stares at the quarter in my fingers like it’s a miracle.

“It was behind your ear this whole time,” I whisper, grinning.

She beams at me, her fear momentarily forgotten. Her laughter is soft but real, bright and bubbly and innocent in a way that makes something sharp tug behind my ribs.

“Are you a sorcerer?” She asks, her big, curious eyes staring into my soul, trying to get answers out of me.

I blink, “A sorcerer?”

She nods, completely serious, “like the ones in Harry Potter.”

I chuckle fondly at her question, “Well… I don’t have a broom. Or a wand. Or an Owl.”

“But you made the coin vanish…” She pouts slightly, and although the sight of her minor pout was adorable, I would’ve given anything to see her smile again.

I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the case that had me feeling so fond of a child I just met. Maybe it got all the loose wires within me, all frayed and sparking from things I still hadn’t worked through. But there was something about this moment—this tiny human with tear-streaked cheeks and a Harry Potter reference—that made something ache deep in my chest.

I felt it so sharply it almost hurt.

This... this mattered.

And I hated how much I wanted it—interactions like this. Not just the comfort or the connection but the permanence. The possibility of something that was mine.

Kids of my own.

I glance down at her, still wide-eyed, still waiting for more magic. Her little hands twitch with excitement like she’s ready to believe anything I say.

“Yeah, but it’s only a magic trick, sweetheart,” I murmur, trying to offer the truth gently, without breaking the illusion. Without hurting her feelings.

But maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe I should let her believe in it a little longer. Let her live in the dream. Give her what I wish someone had given me at that age—a reason to believe in wonder.

So I sigh, dramatically, like I’m about to confess something world-altering.

“Okay… you got me. But you can’t tell anyone, alright?”

She leans in, eyes shining.

“I’m actually a wizard.”

She gasps, delighted. A smile blooms across her face so fast it nearly knocks the air out of me.

“I knew it!” she squeals.

“Yeah, you did,” I grin back. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

She looks like she’s about to burst with thousands of questions. Eyes wide and shining with a special curiosity. I just hope her parent doesn’t murder me for fueling these wizard dreams that she has.

“Are you friends with Harry?”

I try my best to suppress a warm chuckle, but I can’t help the smile that shines through.

“Harry Potter?” She nodded so hard at my response that I worried her head might pop off. “Well… I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s mostly busy these days. But yes, we’ve met.”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, and this time, I couldn’t subdue the fond chuckles that her reactions got out of me.

“Can you show me more magic?”

I smile, helpless to deny her. “Alright. One more, but you gotta sit down for this one.” I say, holding up a finger like I’m laying down a rule neither of us will actually follow.

She hurries to a small chair in the kid tables. Wiggles in place, hands clasped in front of her like she’s bracing for something incredible.

I reach into my pocket again, fingers brushing against the familiar coolness of the coin.

“But you have to pay very close attention, okay? This one’s advanced wizardry.”

She nods like she’s preparing for a test at Hogwarts.

“We have, the very same coin from earlier,” I move the coin to the center of my palm, “But if I place it right here… and you keep your eyes on it…”

I curl my fingers over it, give them a little dramatic wiggle.

“This simple quarter will just…”

Disappear. Or—it’s supposed to.

Everything was going fine. The coin’s in my palm. My fingers close around it. I make the usual gesture—slight misdirection, a practiced flick of the wrist, the classic illusion.

Except this time… something goes wrong. There’s a soft metallic clink followed by—

“Ow!”

Not me. Behind me.

The little girl’s eyes go wide, delighted at first by the trick. But then her head snaps toward the voice—the one behind me, the one that just yelped in surprise.

And just like that… the magic disappears.

“Mommy!” She takes off running.

I stand and turn instinctively, ready to reassure the parent—let her know her daughter’s safe, that I was only trying to help. Maybe even apologize for the quarter that, somehow, made impact.

But then I see her.

And for a moment… I forget what I was about to say.

She’s standing there, breathless, eyes wide with relief, and the softest kind of panic still clinging to her expression. The kind that says she’s been searching—not just through the aisles, but through every possible worst-case scenario in her head.

And yet, despite the tension in her posture, despite the flurry of emotion on her face...

She’s—God, she’s beautiful.

Like something from another lifetime. Light catching in her hair. Autumn caught in her breath.

An angel.

I’ve always thrived on routine. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, go fulfill today’s duties… It wasn’t anything exciting, but it was dependable. Familiar.

That all changed when I had her.

My Madelyn.

Now, my mornings depend on a dozen unpredictable factors. Maybe Maddie wakes up before I do and cuts my desperately needed seven hours of sleep short. Maybe she had a nightmare. Maybe she wet the bed. Or—more often than not—she’s just too excited for the day and bursts out of sleep like it’s a celebration.

It’s exhausting.

But she’s my entire world. My sun. My moon. And I’d sacrifice every ounce of sleep or peace of mind a thousand times over if it meant making her life feel safe and full of joy.

Still, we do have one day of the week that rarely breaks pattern.

Saturdays.

Every Saturday, for as long as I can remember, I wake up early, make pancakes, get dressed, and head to the library—the one place where time slows down, where stories open like doorways and the world feels just a little quieter.

Bringing Maddie into that routine was surprisingly easy. I started taking her when she was just a month old. I would’ve done it sooner, but I was still figuring things out—how to be a single mother to a newborn. Just surviving those first few days was its own kind of story.

She loves our Saturdays.

Every Saturday morning, once the pancakes are ready, I head to her room—and without fail, she wakes up with the biggest smile.

She always knows it’s Saturday because of the smell. Like clockwork, the scent of warm batter reaches her tiny nose, and her whole body just springs to life. She throws off her covers, races into the kitchen barefoot and beaming, already asking for her syrup before I can even plate the first stack.

This Saturday morning was different.

I should’ve known things would go wrong the moment I decided to step even slightly out of routine.

“Good morning, princess,” I sing, beaming as I step into her bedroom—blueberry pancakes in hand. “Brought you breakfast in bed. Aren’t you a spoiled little princess today?”

Her face lights up like it always does. “Good morning, Mommy!”

She spots the pancakes, and her eyes sparkle. She bounces a little beneath her blankets, already reaching for the plate. “Blueberry?”

I nod, smiling. “Well, I know how much you like them, so I decided to change things up,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Alright, eat up. The library’s waiting for us.”

She hummed as she ate, little legs swinging off the edge of the bed, syrup smeared near the corner of her mouth. It was such a small thing, but I remember thinking—this is what happiness feels like. A plate of blueberry pancakes and a five-year-old who thinks I hung the stars.

We left a little later than usual.

Just ten minutes. That’s all.

She insisted on picking out her own outfit—a striped shirt and a pink coat—and I let her. Another tiny detour from routine. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous.

The nearest library, which we were used to visiting, was a three-story building. It was old, but they kept it clean. The library had a huge variety of books, from Children’s books to cookbooks.

It was just as it always was. Quiet. Warm. A kind of sacred.

We walked in together. I remember holding the door open while she skipped inside.

I remember telling her—“Stay close, baby.”

she nodding.

And then…Then I blinked. I looked up from the shelves. And she was gone.

I’ve never lost my Maddie before. She’s a curious child, and she loves to wander off on adventures. She probably inherited that from me. This need to find whatever’s glowing. I understand it. We’re moths, both of us. Fragile, flitting things, always blinded by the glow, unaware that it might hurt us.

But I’ve gotten better at spotting the danger.

At least… when it comes to her.

I watch everything. Every step she takes. Every handrail she climbs. Every crack in the sidewalk I gently guide her around. Not even the tiniest fruit fly gets near her without me noticing. I make sure of it. I always make sure.

So how did I miss this?

how did I lose her?

“Maddie?” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maddie, where are you, sweetheart?”

No reply.

Just silence. Just shelves. Just the sound of someone flipping a page somewhere far away.

I couldn’t see her.

I couldn’t hear her.

Panic bloomed in my chest, sharp and fast. I started moving—too quickly to think, too slowly to matter. I scanned every row, every corner of the first floor, spinning in half-circles, eyes darting, throat dry.

Think. You have to think. Breathe.

I forced myself to stop. Just for a second. Inhaled. Shaky. Exhaled. Useless.

That’s when I saw it.

A sign hanging above the staircase in soft, colorful letters:

Children’s Section – Second Floor.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken stairs that fast in my life.

I practically leapt two steps at a time, nearly tripping—twice—but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My heart was pounding too hard, my breath caught somewhere between a prayer and a scream.

As soon as I reached the top, I heard it. Laughter. Soft, bubbling giggles echoing from the back corner of the floor.

Maddie. My sun.

I followed the sound like it was oxygen, rounding the shelves toward the children’s section—and there she was. She was fine. Smiling. Whole. Lit up with joy I hadn’t seen since breakfast.

I was so blinded by the sight of her—so completely caught in the gravity of that relief—that I didn’t see the small, shiny object flying straight at my face.

Thunk.

“Ow!” I yelped, instinctively pressing a hand to my forehead where the coin made impact.

“Mommy!” I blinked, still holding my forehead, and finally looked up to see my daughter running full speed to me.

I dropped my hand and opened my arms just in time, catching her as she flung herself into me.

The force of her little body nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs—and I didn’t care. I clutched her to my chest, my hands smoothing over her hair, her back, her arms—like I needed to physically confirm every part of her was still here.

Still mine.

“I was looking for you,” she mumbled into my shoulder.

“I know, baby,” I whispered. “I know. I’m here.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and only then—only then—did I let myself breathe. Let myself relax and look around with a clear mind.

And that’s when I saw him.

A man—tall, gangly, cardigan-ed, and completely mortified. His wide brown eyes darted from the coin in the floor, to my face and back again like he wasn’t sure which deserved more immediate attention.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t—I mean, the coin wasn’t… is your forehead okay?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence. He reached down and took the quarter in his hands.

He was nervous. The poor thing couldn’t even get a full thought out without stuttering or switching pitch. He looked like a deer caught in headlights—in the most endearing way possible.

I adjusted Maddie in my arms and slowly rose to my feet, brushing a hand over the spot where the coin had hit.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m okay.”

“Mommy, that’s Spencer. He’s a wizard, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.” Maddie’s little voice cut in, muffled by my shoulder. Her tiny hands clung to my shirt like this secret was sacred. Like this moment mattered.

“Is he now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

The poor man looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink, and he kept shifting like he wanted to disappear behind the nearest bookshelf. He was clearly mortified for making my daughter believe he was an actual wizard.

Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she might explode from sheer joy.

“He did magic, Mommy!” she beamed. “He made the coin disappear! And he’s friends with Harry Potter!”

I looked at him again—this tall, blushing stranger in a cardigan, holding a rogue quarter like it was evidence from a crime scene—and for the first time since the panic hit…

I smiled. No, not just that. I giggled.

“He’s friends with Harry Potter, sweetheart?”

“Yeah!” Maddie chirped, her little head nodding furiously against my shoulder. “He told me so!”

I glanced down at Maddie, still glowing with excitement in my arms, then back at him—this stranger with a guilty expression and a coin pinched nervously between his fingers.

“So you’ve met the famous Harry Potter?” I asked softly, more amused than anything else.

His mouth opened… then closed again. He looked completely out of his depth, like he wasn’t sure whether to defend himself or disappear behind the nearest bookcase.

“I… may have implied we’d met,” he said, almost apologetically. “In a—fictional sense.”

“Fictional,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, eyes flicking anywhere but at me. “She asked if I knew him, and I just couldn’t say no. Plus, it calmed her down.”

My heart twisted, gently. Of course it did.

I crouched to set Maddie down, brushing a hand over her curls. “Don’t wander off, sweetheart.”

She nodded seriously—too seriously for someone who just believed she’d befriended a wizard—but she stayed put, her wide eyes still bouncing between me and the man standing awkwardly by the bookshelves.

When I stood, he was watching me. Not in a weird way. Just… watching. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say something, or leave before he embarrassed himself further.

I finally broke the silence.

“Thank you,” I said. “For keeping her calm. And for the magic tricks. Even if one of them involved hitting a complete stranger in the face.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my god—yes. I’m really sorry about that. That was not part of the trick. I swear it usually disappears. Like, away from people.”

I smiled again, gentler this time. “I believe you.”

A beat passed.

“You’ve got a very brave little girl.”

My chest squeezed.

“Yeah,” I whispered, looking over at Maddie, who was now spinning slowly in place, humming to herself like nothing had happened.

“She really is.”

I looked back again, and of course—despite being told not to wander—she had already drifted toward the toy shelf, her tiny fingers trailing along the edge of a plastic castle.

Moth. Always drawn to whatever glows.

He hadn’t stopped staring.

He kept looking at me like he wanted to tear me open—not in a violent way, but in that quiet, curious way. Like he needed to understand what made me me. Like he was trying to read my soul the way other people read books.

I hadn’t even noticed—Not until I turned my gaze back to him, and when I did, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

There was something behind his eyes—something searching. Gentle, but sharp. Not the kind of stare meant to intimidate. No, it was worse. It was the kind that saw. Saw too much.

The kind of look that made you feel like maybe you weren’t a collection of masks and moments. Like maybe you were a story he’d just opened to the first page.

It made my skin warm.

I looked away first. Not because it was uncomfortable—But because it wasn’t.

Because I didn’t know what to do with the way he looked at me like that. Like I was worth reading.

“So… she read the Harry Potter series?” he asked, breaking the silence.

His voice jolted me back to reality. I blinked a couple times, trying to shake myself free from whatever trance those hazel eyes had pulled me into.

“Has she read—? No, no. She still struggles a bit with reading. The only books she’s managed on her own so far are Frog and Toad Are Friends and The Tales of Oliver Pig.”

His lips twitched at that, like he was trying not to smile too hard.

“Do you mind me asking… how old is she?”

“She’s turning five in a couple weeks.”

He blinked. “And she’s reading at a first-grade level? That’s impressive.”

I smiled, soft and proud. “She’s always been a quick learner. Loves stories. I think it’s how she makes sense of the world.”

He nodded, like he understood that. Like maybe he did the same.

“So I take it she’s only seen the Harry Potter movies then?” he asked, circling back to his original question.

“Oh—no. I read to her a lot. We actually went through the entire Harry Potter series last summer.”

His eyebrows lifted, impressed. “All seven?”

“All seven,” I nodded. “It took us a few months, but she was completely obsessed. She didn’t want me to put the books down, not even to sleep. Had a million questions. Wanted to know why Harry had to live in the cupboard, how the time-turner worked, what butterbeer tastes like.”

He chuckled softly. “She sounds like someone I would’ve been friends with at her age.”

“You read a lot as a kid?”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to answer, but because he seemed to be sorting through too many memories at once.

“Pretty much all I did,” he said eventually. “Books were easier. Made more sense than people did.”

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t just a fun fact, but a truth he’d learned the hard way.

I didn’t push. I just nodded, quietly understanding.

“Maddie’s the same,” I offered. “She talks to books like they talk back.”

He smiled at that. “That’s the best kind of kid.”

I was about to reply—to agree with the praise of my daughter, to maybe say something more—but then she came barreling back toward us, beaming.

“Mommy, Mommy! Look!” She held up a Rapunzel doll.

“Can I have her? Please? She has real brushable hair!” Maddie clutched the box to her chest like she’d just been entrusted with state secrets.

I chuckle, “That’s yarn, sweetie. You can’t brush it.”

“Can I have her? Please, Mommy?”

I looked at him, then at my daughter’s wide, pleading eyes. The panic from earlier was still fading in my bones, but the joy on her face grounded me again.

“Fine,” I said with a knowing smile. “Let’s check her out and ask if she’s ready for a new home.”

Maddie squealed and ran ahead toward the counter.

He straightened, glancing at me with the softest grin.

“She’s something else,” he said.

I met his eyes, the warmth still lingering between us.

“She really is.”

He smiled—soft, sheepish. A little unsure.

There was a pause.

My eyes flicked between him, the floor, and Maddie standing at the counter, rocking on her heels with the raggedy doll held up against her chest.

I didn’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the way he spoke to her, so tender.

Maybe it was the way he panicked when I first approached them—all flustered and apologetic, tripping over his words like he hadn’t spoken out loud in days.

Maybe it was his eyes—big, toffee-colored, and far too curious. The way he kept looking at me like I was a puzzle he genuinely wanted to solve.

Despite everything in me that usually resisted introducing new people into our lives, I felt it—that pull.

I wanted to know him.

“I should get going,” he said, his voice low, like he didn’t really want to.

I nodded, even though something in me quietly hoped he’d stay just a little longer.

“Of course. Thank you again. For everything.”

He looked down, then back at me, like he was still trying to memorize something.

“It was… nice meeting you. Both of you.”

“It was nice meeting you too.”

He took a step back, then paused.

“I hope she keeps believing in magic,” he said, glancing toward Maddie with something almost wistful in his eyes.

“She will,” I said, smiling. “She has a good reason to.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Just smiled once more—brighter this time—before turning and walking away.

And even though I knew I’d just met him… I wanted to call out after him. Maybe invite him to eat with us, I had the pretense of him keeping my daughter safe. It would be so easy, just go, “hey wait!”

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Because despite having every reason to call out to him, to try and integrate him into my life, the fear in me always ended up eating my intentions up.

Still. I had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last time I saw him..

I stayed still for a moment, just watching him leave.

It wasn’t until he disappeared from view that I finally moved—walking to the counter where my daughter was waiting, still cradling her new doll like a prize.

“Where did Spencer go?” she asked, as soon as I appeared beside her.

Spencer. So that's his name.

It fit him, somehow. A little old-fashioned, a little too soft around the edges for someone who carried so much weight in his eyes. But now that she’d said it out loud, I couldn’t imagine him being called anything else.

“He had to leave, sweetheart.”

Her little face fell just slightly. “Will we see him again? I want to see more magic.”

I crouched beside her, brushing her hair back behind one ear as I pulled her into my arms. The weight of the day finally caught up to me—settling in my chest like something too big to name.

“Who knows, Maddie,” I murmured, holding her tight. “Maybe someday.”

I pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.

“I need you to promise me something, okay?”

She blinked up at me, her Rapunzel doll dangling loosely from one arm.

“Don’t ever wander off like that again. Spencer was kind, and he kept you safe. But not everyone is like him. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

She nodded, serious now. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“I know, baby,” I whispered, holding her again. “I just need you safe.”

“I promise, Mommy.” She murmured.

“Thank you, honey.” I kissed her temple. “Now… let’s buy you this doll and go get something to eat.”

She grinned, her earlier worry forgotten, clutching Rapunzel to her chest like she’d just made a new friend.

We walked out hand-in-hand, the late morning sun spilling through the library doors as they shut behind us.

And even though I told myself it was just another Saturday…

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else had quietly begun.

Next Chapter

[mysicklove]

summary: Sukuna tries to teach Yuuji self-defense, but of course, he happens to forget how helpless the toddler is.

cw: mentions of death/kidnapping, reader gets called helpless

wc: 1.4k

a/n: i love them so much. its so fun to write this au!!

big brother au masterlist

When you walk into the living room, you can’t help but smile. Truly, was it a rarity to see Sukuna and Yuuji getting along nicely. Of course, Yuuji was always sweet, but Sukuna was a brat and found that hanging out with a four-year-old was not really his cup of tea. Or at least, that’s what he proclaims to you.

Yuuji throws a punch at his brother’s hand, brows furrowing in concentration. Sukuna sits on the floor, cross-legged, and in front of Yuuji, who was standing at his full height. The older sighs, “Well, that was pathetic. Harder.”

The boy nods, obviously trying to hold back a smile. He wanted to seem just as serious as Sukuna did, but it was hard for the toddler due to how smiley he always seemed to be. But he lets out a tiny huff and brings his fists up to his face. Then, he makes a little “Hii-ya!” noise and slams his fist into Sukuna’s open palm.

“Okay, this ain’t working. Fuck, how are we of the same bloodline? I was not this weak,” Sukuna complains to himself, pulling his hands down. 

You roll your eyes and step into the room. “Maybe because he is a four-year-old. Don’t think it’s his job to be strong,” You say, and Sukuna’s eyes flicker to you. A smile pulls at his lips, and the man begins to stand up from the floor to greet you. Yuuji beats him to it though, letting a high-pitched squeal in excitement before running over to you.

You grin at the noise, watching the boy waddle over to you with bright eyes. You crouch down to his level and greet him, ruffling his hair. Then you pinch at his cheeks, ignoring the whine of complaint from Yuuji. “You are way too cute to fight! Huh, no fighting for you. You just gotta stay this small forever!” You coo, peppering kisses to the boy’s cheeks and forehead. 

The boy lets out a fit of giggles and a “Noooo! Wanna be big like Kuna!”

You shake your head, a fake pout on your face. “But Sukuna isn’t cute at all,” You half-heartedly complain, sparing a glance at your lover.

He walks up to the two of you and picks up Yuuji by the back of his hood, causing the kid to squirm in the air. Sukuna pays no mind to it, instead looking toward you, who is standing back up. “Don’t lie,” He scolds, and you raise your eyebrows, “I am adorable.”

You chuckle at him, rolling your eyes, and he in return presses a quick kiss to your lips. His brother begins to whine in complaint, causing the older to roll his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, quit whining. I’ll put you down in a second, little pest, but you need actually to put in some effort to fight me.”

“Okay!” Yuuji exclaims, and Sukuna sighs. Yuuji was so agreeable. When Sukuna was that age, he was supposedly a brat who argued with everyone, or at least that is what he had heard. Yuuji was strangely different than him. He didn’t know if he minded it or not.

Sukuna puts the boy down and sits again on the floor. He glances at you, who is taking a seat on the couch. Your eyes seem to read, play nice. It makes Sukuna want to roll his eyes, but the kid distracts him again, his tiny hands placed on the knees of Sukuna’s sweatpants while he grins up at his brother. The little beast had no concept of personal space, and the older of the two swears he can feel his brother practically breathing on him.

Sukuna pushes the boy off, sending him falling on his backside. “Sukuna,” You warn, but he ignores you. Yuuji only frowns and gets back up again, climbing back over to the other.

“Pretend im a kidnapper,” Sukuna demands, straightening his back and moving closer, taunting the small boy. “I am a very bad man who is going to take you home with me and lock you in my–”

“Sukuna!” You interrupt before Yuuji could hear his brother’s unneeded explanation. Yuuji seemed to stare owlishly at his brother, a little nervous but mostly confused about what he was talking about.

The man grins at you and shrugs his shoulders. But he abides to your wish with a scoff. “...Do bad things to you,” He weakly finishes. “Now, defend yourself!” 

Yuuji’s hands go up into his mouth, tiny fingers playing with his lips, and he shakes his head with a giggle. “But big brother will protect me!”

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, and you let out a small laugh. “I’m dead.” Yuuji’s face visibly falls. “The kidnapper killed me because you were too weak to defend yourself and save me. Now look, Y/N is all alone and helpless because of you.”

Your mouth opens in shock at the bluntness of it all. Yuujis eyes are wide, and he goes silent for a second. Then, his mouthline begins to wobble, and his eyes begin to water. “Kuna gone?”

Sukuna begins to backtrack, not wanting to deal with his brother’s tears. He stumbles toward the child, eyes wide. “It’s a hypothet–”

Yuuji’s scream sends you scrambling to your feet and over to the pair immediately. You grab Yuuji by the waste and swing him around, a huge, forced smile on your face. “And boom!” The force of it all startles the small boy, and he pauses his cries for a moment with owlish eyes while you continue to swing him around. “Y/N comes in and saves the day! And guess what, Sukuna was just sleeping!”

You place Yuuji on your side and help wipe his tears away. Only about two or three fell before you grabbed him, but still, his eyes seemed to be slightly puffy. The boy continues to sniffle, hands rubbing at his eyes. “Just sleeping?”

Before you could answer, Sukuna tears the boy from your arms. He holds him up in front of him by both of Yuuji’s underarms, causing the boy to dangle in the air. “I’m offended that you would think I would die so easily, brat.”

A smile begins to crawl up Yuuji’s face, but he shakes his head, and his voice holds a whine to it.  “Don’t. Don’t like it.”

Sukuna sighs before placing the boy on his hip. Yuuji seems to find comfort there, burying his head into his brother’s shirt. It was rare to be held by Sukuna, and Yuuji obviously wanted to soak up all the time he has up there. “Yeah, I don’t think I would like being dead either. Luckily, your brother is the strongest, so you won’t have to worry bout that, yeah?”

Yuuji nods into his brother’s side, grinning and possibly wiping snot onto Sukuna. You take this time also to add your say in the matter. “And I’m not helpless.” You glance at the man who was just remembering what he said in the moment.

“C’mon, maybe just a little?” He teases, and you step closer to the pair, fighting back a smile. But before you could retort another teasing bite, the boy interjects his opinion.

“Nuh-uh! Y/N saved us. You sleeping, Kuna!”

You fake gasp in realization of his words, and Yuuji’s eyes light up. “Oh my, you are so right, Yuuji! Don’t you think he is the helpless one?” You coax, and Yuuji seems to lean toward you at your excited tone.

He nods his head rapidly, not really knowing what he is agreeing to but just trying to mimic your actions. “Kuna helpless!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at the two of you and pinches the boy’s cheek, looking down at his brother. “Says the one who had a whole breakdown over the word–”

“Sukuna.”

Sukuna takes a deep breath and glances at you and Yuuji’s big dark eyes. He shakes his head in defeat, “Yeah, guess I am, ain’t I?”

You crack a smile, and Yuuji squeals in delight, digging his tiny hands into his brother’s shirt. Sukuna ruffles the boy’s hair.

[samkerrworshipper]

lights are on, but nobody’s home

barca femeni x reader

it’s unedited. i’m not sorry about it, if it puts u off then soz icbf. this fic has been in my drafts since october so it was about time i finished it! combined to fics lol to get it done and its a fast paced very vague mess but have fun :) loved the idea not the execution!

warnings: kinda angsty?

Red cards exist in the game for a reason. You don’t deny that. Red cards are needed to keep people safe, to set a boundary between safe and unsafe play. But there had been something so undeniably unfair about yours.

You’d hurt somebody, you weren’t going to lie about that. It had been unintentional, but a risk you’d taken had ended up with the world’s best player being stretchered off the pitch, and for just that, you deserved a yellow. But a red, for a tackle that was mostly legal, seemed ridiculous. Tackles happened. As a defensive midfielder, it was your job to get the ball off attackers, it was your responsibility to make sure that you stopped the ball from being kicked in the direction of your keeper or down the field to another player. It was what cemented your spot in the English midfield; you weren’t just a good attacker; you were ferocious in defence. You averaged at least 5 tackles per game; it was the most crucial part of your game; it was fundamentally what made you a good footballer.

Arguing with the ref and using some particularly vulgar language definitely didn’t help your case but in your defence it hadn’t been a red cardable offence. It was all pointless though, the card had already been raised and pointed in your direction, you’d been booked, in a friendly of all games.

It was bad, you’d know that from the moment your cleats had stepped over the line, the incessant booing being directed towards you as you walked past Sarina the grim frown etched into the details of her face was enough of a sign. You were in a bad situation, but you’d just put your team in an even worse situation with a one less player on the field to continue the fight in the world cup final rematch. It wasn’t good, it was your job to make sure that your team was in the best situation to achieve success on the pitch and you’d jeopardised that. What you hadn’t realised was that action wasn’t only jeopardising your team, it was jeopardising you as a whole.

It had begun from the moment you’d gotten back to your hotel room later that night. Your teammates had focused all of their energy on trying to lift your spirits, with the game ending in a 1-1 draw, everyone was happy. The England team was your second family, and considering you didn’t play in the WSL like the vast majority of them, national team time was valuable to you. You sat next to Beth on the ride back to the hotel, happy to listen to her non-stop talking as a distraction for the disappointment that had settled inside of you. At team dinner, you sat sandwiched in between Grace and Ella; most dinners spent on your normal table, you struggled to get a word in, but it was the constant surrounding buzz that kept you out of your head and specifically off of your phone, and you were more grateful than usual that you had that. By the time you’d even made it to your room and gone through your nighttime routine, you still hadn’t checked your phone. It was only as you began to prepare yourself to get into bed that you headed towards your bag to fish it out. You climbed into bed, finally opening your phone for the first time, and instead of it having a handful of messages from your family and a sprinkle of Instagram notifications, there were thousands. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, newsforums, both English and Spanish; as you scrolled down the list, it only got bigger. All of it was the same, about how you’d ‘intentionally’ injured your own club teammate to benefit your national team, how you were malicious, how you had played beyond the line of safe play, how you deserved to be penalised, how you had ruined sportsmanship. It was never-ending, and the more that you read, the worse it got. You felt like a shell of yourself as your eyes scanned the different words; you completely dissociated it all. It felt like you were reading about somebody else, like there was absolutely no possibility that the sentences you were absorbing could possibly be about you. There was so much falsity behind all of it that it was hard to understand it. You’d played the same you always did, you hadn’t played dangerously, you’d played within the rules as you always did. Beyond that, you’d visited Aitana in the change rooms after the game, desperate to apologise and make sure that you hadn’t done any damage or hurt her in any way. Your play hadn’t been malicious, there hadn’t been any ill intention or hatred fueled behind it, even though every single article or post was making it seem that way. Aitana had come off after the clash purely as a caution, when you’d gone to see her, all she was dealing with was a little bit of inflammation. By the time you were both back in Barcelona, she’d be as good as new. Even after watching the replays, it was clear to anybody with eyes that all you were doing was fighting for the ball, the same as every other 1-on-1 battle throughout the game. Yet as soon as a spotlighted player got injured, it was suddenly a different story being told.

Normally you would shake it off, in general, you were the kind of person who didn’t get bothered by much, You were a bubbly and happy person, you were the kind of teammate who was always smiling and trying to make other people laugh. Usually, if you had a teammate who was in the same situation as you were now, you would be the one picking them up and trying to help them shake off all of this. It wasn’t normally a struggle for you to overcome a little bit of hate, but there was something so shattering about this. Whilst you still believed deep down that you’d done nothing wrong, it was hard to convince yourself of that when there were so many people who were telling you otherwise.

You weren’t the kind of person who regularly fell into the mind numbing action of doom scrolling, you weren’t big on social media in general, it was something you had to do because of your job but not much else beyond that. Yet right now it felt impossible to deviate away from it, every time you saw your name pop up again somewhere you were drawn to another dark place of the internet where you kept reading until you were mentioned or tagged in another post and your phone lit up with a new piece of media.

It was never ending, it just kept coming, and the longer you indulged in it, the sicker you started to feel. Had you done something wrong? Were you truly as malicious as everyone wrote? Were you the bad person they were painting you to be?

It was impossible to not consider that potentially everyone else was right, maybe you were the problem.

It was a good day to be roomed with Lucy, she’d been in bed before you’d even made it up to the room and asleep whilst you’d been showering. If the sounds of snoring were anything to go off of then she was long gone, which made you feel more secure as you muffled a sob into your pillow. It was going to be fine, by the time morning rolled around it would be forgotten. Or at least that was what you thought.

The convenience of playing your games in Spain was that unlike majority of your teammates, you were able to sleep in the following morning instead of flying back to their club teams. Lucy was gone long before you woke up, something you were specifically grateful for because whilst Lucy was mostly oblivious, you weren’t sure if you would have been able to hide your red eyes and puffy face. You hadn’t had much sleep, but even in the few hours that you had managed to get, the notifiations on your phone had only multiplied significantly. Every second your phone lit up again, and for the sake of your own brain you chose to switch it off completely. If you stayed in the shower a little longer because you got so lost thinking about it all that your feet started to go numb from the water pressure there was nobody around to say anything about it. If you happened to space out halfway through your skincare and accidentally spill half of your serum down the sink it was nothing a bit of water from the sink couldn’t fix. Every time you thought you’d forgotten about it all, like you’d drifted away from everything you’d read and then suddenly it all came back to you like some sick fever dream. It was the same words that kept circulating, and every time it came back to you it was impossible to just let it go.

You were half way dressed when your door was knocked on. It was what woke you up to the fact that you had absolutely no idea what time it was or how long you’d spent spaced out and in your brain.

You weren’t shocked to find Keira waiting outside your door, looking significantly more put together then you were.

“Mate, I’ve texted you about 30 times. The taxis here to take us to the airport.”

Fuck. You’d forgotten that you were taking a group taxi instead of leaving the hotel individually.

“Give me five minutes, I slept in and forgot to pack up last night.”

Keira cut you off before you continued your ramble of excuses.

“I’ll help you pack up, you focus on getting dressed and sorting yourself out, okay?”

Keira wasn’t your closest friend, she was one of the few people on the Barcelona team that spoke fluent english which grouped the two of you together. She was also one of your idols coming through as the youngest midfielder in the English and Barcelona squad. But personality wise the two of you didn’t jell, you were too energetic and a little bit too immature to buddy up with her. It didn’t change the fact that she was basically an older sister to you. She wasn’t exactly the person you’d go to for relationship advice or confess your troubling thoughts to. But she was the person you could rely on to help you in any situation without asking questions, and this really was an extension of that.

Keira made quick work of packing up your things from around your room whilst you finished getting dressed and putting your hair in a messy bun.

By the time you’d made yourself look just enough presentable for the public eye Keira was done, all of your bags piled together at your hotel room door.

“I found your phone at the bottom of your bag, looks like you might want to charge it before the drive.”

Right now, your phone felt like a block of dynamite, balancing in Keira’s hand, ready to explode at any second.

“No, I just turned it off.”

You didn’t really think about how odd your words could sound until they’d left your mouth, and Keira’s eyebrows were raising quickly.

“You just turned it off?”

It’s an unusual behaviour for you, one that Keira has clearly picked up on by the tone in her voice. Your phone is practically an extension of you, the team didn’t joke about you having square eyes for nothing. Always getting people to film tiktoks or do stupid challenges.

“Yes?”

You actively observe all of the cogs in Keira’s brain turning, she looks like she has a lot to say, but then she glances down at her watch and it’s clear that the fact that you are running well behind time takes priority.

“Let’s go, the taxi is waiting.”

Keira practically pushed you out of the hotel room, all of your bags in her hands and ushering you straight towards the elevator.

As she’d said, the taxi is waiting in front of the lobby, the driver looks particularly ticked off as he waits outside the drivers side door, his foot tapping and a cigarette hanging halfway out of his mouth. Keira loads your suitcase into the boot of the car whilst you take your backpack off of her and hop into the back of the car, Keira follows and sits down across from you.

The first five minutes of the ride are silent, Keira flicks through her phone whilst you stare out the tinted window and pretend that you can see the things passing by.

“You can talk to me you know? I know we’re not exactly the closest, but I’m here for you.”

You don’t bother to look in Keira’s direction, you keep your eyes and facial expression schooled and focused on the window.

“Anything the media writes is bullshit, you ought to just ignore it.”

You wished you could have ignored it last night, when theoretically you were at your most vulnerable. Maybe if you hadn’t of read so much when you were already in a bad mindset it wouldn’t have imprinted so much, regardless it has and you can’t just ignore it.

“Kei, I’m fine. When have I ever cared what the papers write about me?”

Now, right now is when you care. It’s a fair statement though, you’ve never been affected when tabloids have written far worse things about you, when you came out and for months there was homophobic slander everywhere you looked. In the past it hadn’t been based off of facts, it had all been fictitious. But now that there is just a inkling of truth behind what’s being written it feels far more real and you aren’t sure how to get past that.

“I’m just saying that there isn’t anything wrong with being affected by it. Especially after last night, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that.”

This is the trouble between you and Keira, she’s a lot more frank. In your opinion it’s a thing that comes with age, whilst she’s very happy to admit when she’s going through a hard time you’d rather cover it up with jokes and pretend that it doesn’t actually bother you. The trouble with your approach is that it only works for so long before people start to see you fraying at the edges or you completely break down from the pressure.

“Just mad I hurt your bestfriend, huh?”

The only response you get from Keira is a loud exhale, the same a mother would when her child makes a immature joke at a immature time. Immaturity is your coping mechanism, because by default people tend to be put off by it, they naturally gravitate away from it. Furthermore they gravitate away from whatever conversation or confrontation they were going to have.

“I’m not mad, I’m concerned for you and how something like this can affect a persons career.”

It’s too many feelings, to much concern, too much. You don’t deserve it and you definitely do not want it.

“I’m fine, we play football, it’s part of it all.”

You still haven’t looked at Keira but you could make an educated guess and assume that she looks deflated. It’s another reason that out of Keira and Lucy you’d always gotten along better with Lucy, you didn’t care to admit it but she knew how to get to the bottom of all of your weird cues and knew what was right and wrong to say. Keira’s too smart for her own good, and it doesn’t work on you, it never has. She’s all you have at Barca now though, besides Roebs, whose been too focused on her rehab and getting back on the pitch to be much of a friend.

“Hate shouldn’t be part of it. If you need to talk about the fact that some part of it is clearly bothering you then I’m here, anybody else on the team is here. Okay?”

You nod purely for the sake of ending the conversation, you can’ even figure out how you feel about it all, let alone trying to rationalise it with Keira. You’re upset, yet you can’t quite get to the bottom of it. You’ve never been upset before when your actions have ended in somebody else getting injured, it’s a rare occurence and when it happens you feel a little bit of guilt but usually it fades. Injury is part of the game, it happens all the time right in front of your eyes. You suppose Aitana isn’t actually injured though, she’s sore and has a low grade ankle sprain but it’s nowhere near the same as her tearing her acl or breaking a bone because of you. You just feel drained, it’s odd, you put it down to the fact that you hardly got any sleep last night but you have this underlying feeling that it’s somehow more than that, yet you have no explanation for it.

After a long break of silence Keira and yourself fall into a fairly bland conversation about the upcoming fixtures and winter break plans. It’s so evident that there is tension in every word each of you speak, like you’re both a few syllables away from saying something that neither of you want to.

Luckily Keira is a lot more cautious than most people, unlike most of you friends or teammates in general she can control herself to a respectable level and can stop herself from word vomiting emotion fueled spieles.

By the time the driver pulls up in front of your apartment building not much has been said at all, but the overarching feeling is tense, it doesn’t feel good and the mixture of it with the everything else is making you feel sick. Keira gives you a hug after helping you unload your luggage and then leaves you. You know that outwardly you’re presenting that you want to be left alone yet everything in you is being used to stop yourself from clinging onto Keira and asking her to stay with you.

Your week is a lot of the same feelings. You have two days to yourself before training starts again and the two days are spent in bed. If you aren’t scrolling on your phone andreading every single thing that has your name mentioned then you are sleeping, or crying, or lying in bed thinking about it all. Every text from one of your teammates is left unopened, none of it matters when every single waking moment of your life is being spent thinking about the moment over and over again. It’s not just your career, not just the fact that you’re going to have to sit out in the next fixture and potentially tarnish your relationship with Sarina. You hurt Aitana, you hurt your ownt teammate. Your own actions had caused harm to somebody that you cared about. Every article, tiktok, post they were all painting you in some kind of negative light, like you were a demon hiding behind smiles. It was hard not to consider the truth behind it all, had you done what you did with malicious intent?

By the time training finally rolled around you were feeling even worse than you had a couple of days ago. Even though you’d been sleeping for hours a day there wer ebig eye bags under your eyes, you were pale and looked like you were sick. It was noticed by your teammates almost immediately, you weren’t even fully dressed in the change rooms before Pina was punching on you, talking rapidly in Catalan that you didn’t remotely understand.

“Chica, you missed our games night last night. To busy sleeping off the four goals you scored over the break, no? You need to leave some goals for other people.”

You shook Pina off as quickly as you could, you had a focus for the day and that was getting all of this over with. You had a game in three days, a game that you couldn’t ruin for your team again.

“Estas bien?”

You finish pulling your training top on and sit down on the bench in front of your locker.

“Estoy Bien.”

You focus on getting a sock on each of your feet and then your boots.

“Chica?”

There is concern laced in Pina’s voice, she’s still standing in front of you. Almost everybody else has made their way out onto the pitch, leaving the two of you and a couple of stragglers behind.

“You don’t look so good chica, are you feeling okay?”

Your boots are easy enough to lace up, once you’re done you reach behind you for your jacket, not quite sure if it’s warm enough to train in just your shirt.

“Estoy Bien. Vale?”

Before Pina can ask much more, you begin to walk towards the doors of the locker room. It’s breezy enough outside that you choose to put your jumper on, as do most of your teammates.

Aitana is doing individual training, because of her ankle. Pere says that it’s precautionary.

If you weren’t already feeling like you were on the brink of vomiting then now it’s the only thing you can feel. You feel ill, you feel completely absorbed by the sickness pooled at the bottom of your stomach. When Pere asks if you’re feeling alright you can’t say no, because you have no reason to feel as badly as you do. But it’s all the words, they’re spinning around in your head, every article, every single word.

It shows on the pitch, every decision, every pass, every shot, every tackle is helf back. You’re fearufl and it shows.

When training finally does finish, and Aitana is still working by herself with one of the coaches on another pitch you feel like it’s almost your breaking point. Until Pere pulls you over again and lets you know that you’ll be starting for the match on the weekend as a replacement for Aitana.

That’s your breaking point. You have nothing to say, nothing to think. You feel like a zombie as you walk towards the locker room. You sabotaged your teammate for your own good.

As soon as the team list is out that’s the only thing people will be saying, You don’t even want to think about what people will think when they see the photos of Aitana training by herself with her ankle all taped up. Whilst you were out on the pitch with all of your teammates. What was just starting to get better for you was only bound to relapse with the new information.

All of the girls notice your shift in behaviour. It’s Pina though who approaches Alexia on your third day of training back. Aitana is still training individually, purely for precaution and preservation. There are more important games then the one coming on the weekend and it’s not worth aggravating the small injury. It doesn’t feel like that to you though, and it’s been abundantly clear to everybody that something is up with you.

“Alexia, can I talk to you for a second?”

Alexia’s been talking to Irene about ….. for at least ten minutes and whilst Pina has no interest in interrupting it’s getting boring waiting around for a conversation to end that’s clearly dragging.

Alexia looks so care free, and Pina asking to talk to her shouldn’t change that, but the look that’s on her face changes Alexia’s demeanour almost immediately.

“What’s up?”

Pina looks at Irene awkwardly, like she’s not sure if the information she’s about to share with Alexia is for Irene’s ears. Irene seems to get the message, farewelling the two of them before heading off.

“I’m worried about y/n.”

Alexia’s silently been wondering whether to approach the subject. She’d thouyght about asking Keira is something had happened on England camp, considering that your particularly filthy mood had seemed to start afterwards. It was out of character for you, and originally Alexia had thought it was all part of some sort of prank plot. But as the last couple of days had passed it had become drastically clear that there was something else wrong. She’d thought it would be smarter to give you the benefit of the doubt, everyone had bad weeks. Alexia wasn’t aware of any relationships you were in but she wouldn’t have been shocked if your mood had been due to a breakup or something of similar origin.

“Ale, she’s been acting strange. She comes in everyday and hardly talks to anybody, she doesn’t joke around with use like she normally does, she hasn’t been answering our groupchat, she’s been avoiding all of our plans to hang out. Out on the pitch she’s been cautious but so unphased and she won’t talk to me or Ona or Patri or Kika or Esmee and I don’t know what to do anymore. Somethings really wrong, normally she’s so happy, I mean everyones noticed that the locker room has been more quiet. I thought it was going to pass, but she’s seemed really upset, like somethings really wrong and what’s happening on the internet can’t be helping it.”

The problem is that Alexia doesn’t disagree with anything that Pina is saying, she can’t dismiss any of it as overreaction because whether it’s been conscious or not she has noticed all of the things that she’s being told. She hadn’t yet pieced it all together as one thing but now that all the puzzle pieces are being laid out in front of her it seems impossible to ignore that it’s all coming together.

“On the internet? De qúe estás hablando?”

Alexia is the first to admit that she’s not exactly the best with technology, sure she’s got all the social media apps and Olga is constantly trying to teach her the ways of all of them but it doesn’t particularly interest her. She finds it easier to look at them as another means of work, it’s how she makes money, posting about football and endorsements. Otherwise she finds enjoyment in places besides her phone. Does it keep her slightly out of the loop? Yes. Does she have younger teammates to keep her up to date? Also yes.

“All the stuff about Aitana. I haven’t read into it much, but I know it’s not good. The media have been slaughtering her for that red card. She punishes herself enough after a bad tackle or pass, I can’t imagine what a red card would do.”

Alexia makes a mental note to look into it later but for now she knows that she needs to deescalate. Because if Pina is telling Alexia now then it’s not long before it blows up within the team.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her tomorrow after the game, if she’s still off I’ll talk to her. I’ll have a chat with Keira and ask if anything asked on camp, bueno? Whatever it is Pina, it can be fixed, all problems can be fixed. I’m sure it’s just been a rough week with all the travel and games, not everybody can adjust well, mixed with the recent fixtures it would be expected that everyone is feeling a bit more exhausted.”

It’s the rationalisation that seems to calm Pina down more, which was ultimately Alexia’s end goal. She can deal with you tomorrow but for now it’s crucial that she stops this from escalating within the team. When things spread it all becomes more drama and it’s not good, distractions are not what everybody needs leading into the next fixtures.

Alexia honestly forgets about the conversation completely. Between organising dinner the night before, stretching, spending quality time with her girlfriend and generally just getting herself game ready and in a good head space. She woke up feeling rested and prepared for the game ahead.

You however, were quite simply a mess. You’d hardly slept in over a week now, if you did sleep you woke up in a sweat after a particularly brutal nightmare, you were hardly eating because you always felt so nauseous from the anxiety and your performance on the football pitch had been dismaying.

Alexia, and your teammates, weren’t noticing the smaller things. You lived in your own apartment, in your own building. Nobody was aware of everything that was contributing to all the things that were beginning to show.

Alexia, hyper vigilant after Pina’s admission decided that she’d try and find you before everyone hopped on the bus to head to the opposing stadium, yet you were nowhere to be found. As everyone loaded onto the bus she almost missed you. Usually, you sat at the back, with the younger girls. Normally, Alexia gravitated somewhere in the middle of the bus, she was too old to be singing or messing around at the back but she liked to still be kept in the mix.

It was why she almost missed you, hunched into a seat almost at the very front of the bus.

“Chica?”

The way your whole body darted upwards as soon as you heard Alexia was another concerning thing that she was adding to a mental list.

“Capi.”

You pull your headphones off as a courtesy, but the reintroduction to the sounds of earth and the environment around you brings you right back to everything you’ve been feeling.

“Are you waiting for Kika or Vicky?”

Alexia feels like she already knows your answer, but she’s hanging on to a thread of hope that whatever Pina is feeling isn’t as bad as it seems.

“No, I need some sleep and it’s impossible to get any back there without somebody sticking something in my mouth or posting videos of me with my mouth half open.”

Alexia laughs, it’s the exact reason she can’t sit up the back anymore, it’s too much stupidity in a concentrated space.

“Ah, normally you’re more than happy to terrorize the rest of us, normalmente eres la reina de los estupidas.”

When your face doesn’t even respond slightly to Alexia and you have no witty comeback about her being boring or something else it’s another clear sign that something is up, she just can’t quite pin point what.

You’ve tuned out from her though, and as much as she is worried and thrown off, the bus is not a place to make a scene, specifically before a match. You will not take well to Alexia interrogating you and potentially causing any kind of emotional distress.

So, even though it pains her to do so, she walks on, she leaves you in the sinking ship you’re currently n in, taking on more and more water as every minute passes.

You’re at a point where you can admit to yourself that you are in no way fit to play.

You don’t want to be on the pitch, the fans don’t want you on the pitch, your teammates musn’t want you on the pitch, Pere wouldn’t have you on the pitch if Aitana was available and when you think about it the whole footballing world doesn’t want you on the pitch.

You flinch when you walk out to warm up and are met with boos, the Spanish fans are unlike all other fans, their passion is palpable and when one person starts booing everybody follows suit. It’s not even Barcelona fans, which is undecidedly worse and better. The overall impression is that you’ve aggravated the Spanish people.

It takes your teammates a couple of seconds to catch on to who it is the anger is being directed at but once they do it’s a domino affect of everybody turning to you, and then turning to each other and back to you. You try your best to not let it affect you, you’ve been booed before and have dealt with many angry fans, but when it starts to echo from the away side of the stands you honestly question if you’ve pushed yourself a little bit too hard.

Alexia regrets her decision not to say something to you when she sees the complete fear in your eyes as you look around at the crowd, who are vehemently booing you. It’s not a good feeling on any day to clearly have a crowd so against you but when you’re clearly off kilter as it is it’s clear that it all throws you off even more.

Before Alexia can think about it, she’s beelining straight to Keira.

“What happened on camp?”

Keira is just as thrown off by what is occurring as everyone else.

“England camp?”

It’s clear in the bewilderment in Keira’s face that she’s not understood what Alexia’s asking.

“With y/n, did something happen that nobody knows about?”

The booing finally comes to an end, but it doesn’t change the overall energy in which a whole crowd is sending your way.

“She was fine all camp, being an idiot with grace and beth and being her usual self. All the other games she was fine, and then after the Spain game, after the red card, she’s just been acting different. It’s like G at Man City all over again.”

Alexia understands everything that Keira’s saying, until the last sentence. Her English is pretty good, hger understanding is almost perfect, speaking less so but the last few words completely surpass her level of interpretation.

“G? Man City?”

Alexia notices you in the corner of her eye doing shooting practice, every time you miss and echo of cheers erupts.

“Georgia? Stanway? A couple of years ago, when she was young she got a stupid red card, it wasn’t pretty not dissimilar to the challenge on Aitana. Big mess with the media, got some really nasty messages.”

She doesn’t remember the moment itself, but she does remember reading something about it a couple of years ago.

“Gracias.”

You’re red hot with rage already, the crowd has you amped up. When Pere questions you in the locker room about your state of mind, you are quite literally in a blinding fury. It the kind of sadness fueled anger, youa re literally ripping apart at the seams and instead of actually feeling all of the innate anguish you are experiencing you turn it into anger.

“Why the fuck did you go to Pere and tell him I wasn’t ready to play.”

The tunnel is the only time you’ve been able to talk to Alexia, she’d been so held up with the pep talk, then talking to Pere, then giving inspiration to everybody else. But now that you have the opportunity you can’t ignore it.

Alexia’s eyes are ahead, you’re stuck standing behind her but she can hear you perfectly clear.

“After the game.”

It had taken enough effort for you to convince Pere that you were fine. You were begging for a starting spot that you didn’t even want, a spot that is actually making you feel sick to your stomach. It’s the doubt though, you doubted yourself in that stupid tackle that got you the card, so if you doubted yourself what was to stop everybody else from doubting you?

“No, what makes you think that you can talk to our coach about my game fitness without even talking to me? Do you have any respect for me at all?”

Alexia turns around, and it makes you feel slightly validated and slightly less like you’re about to punch her in the head.

“It’s not about your fitness.”

The punching in the head feeling returns pretty quickly.

“Not about my fitness? What the fuck else is it then? Just because I don’t act like a dickhead on the bus and decide to take a nap?”

Alexia gives you on final look before turning around, the look on her face only adds to your sickeningly consuming anger.

You go onto the pitch angry, which isn’t good for anything. Every time the ball lands at your feet, boos echo out. Every time you get tackled, which is fairly frequently because the opposition has chosen you as the punching bag for the game, cheers erupt. The game is easy enough, 90 percent of possession is with Barcelona, with you spot in the midfield the ball comes to you every few seconds. It’s mostly fine, for the first ten or so minutes. Until the tackles start to get rougher, and you’re mad, and the crowd is loud and everything feels so incredibly wrong.

It’s working you up at a fast rate, then the ball lands at your feet for the 50th time in the match already, and without even looking up at your defender, who three seconds before was standing right in front of you, her studs are placing themselves directly into your calf. It’s not a comfortable feeling, to put it lightly. You manage to clear the ball before you’re on your back, clutching at your leg and trying your best to breathe as the crowd cries out, your opponent mutters something aggressively in spanish and your teammates argue with the referee.

It’s all too much. Your just angry, and upset. Not even at your defender or at the tackle, just at all of it. You think in a roundabout way that this is all karma, that this is your punishment for whatever you did to anger everyone and yourself. You’re tired and fed up and want it all to go away.

You want to sink into the grass of the pitch and just disappear, it would make your life so much easier if in this moment you could just disappear and not face any of the stuff that is happening.

Then there are hands on you and you’re reminded that it’s nowhere near that easy.

“Estas bien? Necesitas la medica?”

You force yourself to stand up, push through, get it over with. You need to prove everybody wrong.

Whether you can see it or not, you are spinning out. Everybody else can see it, you’re frantic, timid and shaken. Patri is the one to put her hands on your shoulders and steady you before you try to return to play.

“You need to go off.”

Twenty minutes have passed, you aren’t going to force a sub when it is unnecessary.

“I’m fine.”

Patri shakes her head, in the same way Irene or Marta would when they are being tough.

“You are not okay, and you need to go off before something worse than that happens.”

You shake Patri off, and when she tries to come back you give her a shove.

“I’m fucking fine. I know when I can and cannot play.”

Like every other attempt that’s been made to try and stop you, she just frowns and walks away. The ref gives you a once over before allowing the game to return to play.

It’s not fine, nothing is fine. Your defender continuously gets away with dangerous tackles that should be continous yellow cards, the crowd is getting to you with every passing second. By gods grace three goals are scored in a few minutes, not only does it silence the opposition it puts you at ease a little bit. For the most part, you’re doing okay, or as okay as possible.

Until it gets to a corner.

There is two minutes of stoppage time, which have well and truly been used up. The corner is going to be the last play and it’s impact is not super important but the pressure is still there. You end up sandwiched between the two centre backs, and for whatever reason when the boot releases off of Patri’s foot from the corner instead of running to make room like you’re supposed to, you are yanked directly to the ground, with two boots stepping directly onto your legs.

It’s not agony, it’s definitely not good but you’re spending more time trying to not cry and collect air then focusing on everything else.

You can’t breathe, and you physically can’t stop the sob that leaves your mouth, it’s pathetic but it’s been building and you can’t stop it.

You don’t bother with listening to the call, or letting your teammates help you up or worrying about the play. The whistle has blown and you have one mission, to go anywhere away from people. You force yourself to stand up even though your back hurts from falling flat on it and your thighs hurt from being stomped on, and walk off.

Pere and the bench are still waiting in the dug out, normally you’d hug or talk or anything but right now the only thing on your mind is getting away, because if you don’t then what is now only tears is going to turn into a full panic attack. You’re working simply off of pure instinct, you have the shutters on and the only thing you are focusing on is your end goal and getting there. When you get to the changing rooms it’s empty, you bee line straight through to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall before you actually let yourself think beyond the orders that have been set out in your mind.

Like everyone had said, you aren’t ready. You are living with the knowledge that because of your actions, your stupid actions you are being given a spot and opportunity that you didn’t deserve, you got it purely based off of the fact that you injured one of your teammates. Now you can’t even live up to the expectation of being a replacement.

The feeling that was initially what you had thought to be anxiety sickness builds up and all of a sudden you’re grateful your in the bathroom because within a couple of seconds you are kneeled on the floor letting your whole stomach contents out. It’s not a good feeling, you’ve been slowly descending towards rock bottom for days now but you’ve come to the realisation that this is it, this is your lowest point. Every time you think about the pitch you subsequently think about the crowd which leads you to think about everything happening inside your phone and then the sick feeling is back full force. The you think about Aitana, her ankle, her spot, her training, everything. All of that combined and all you can do is cry, it’s the only emotional outlet that you have enough energy for. You’d love to be able to punch something or throw something but you don’t have the energy, you’re running off of no sleep, hardly any food and now the fatigue of playing a half of football.

“Chica, can you open the door?”

Truthfully there are not many people you want to see in this moment or really ever again but Alexia might be at the top of the list. You’d been a little bit star struck when you’d gotten to Barcelona, you were an up and coming and to be on a roster with the best midfielders in the world was something you were in awe of. You were still slightly in awe of the fact that you were sharing a bench with two ballon d’or winners.

“I’m fine.”

You force yourself to stay as silent as possible even though it’s hard with the constant sobs building up inside of your chest.

“Please open the door.”

You’re at rock bottom and even if you try to swim out you’re going to need some help at some stage you suppose.

As soon as you open the door there is a resounding gasp, you close your eyes to keep a little bit of your inner peace whilst Alexia steps into the stall and locks the door behind her. There is just enough room for her to squeeze down on the floor next to you so she does without any hesitation.

“I don’t need you telling me that you were right to question me playing and that it was a bad idea, I’m already aware.”

You’re not sore from the match and yet everything hurts, you actually feel like your limbs are slowly being ripped off of your body and everything is being split open.

“I wasn’t going to say that, I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

It’s a complicated question.

“Physically yes.”

Your eyes are still closed, if you look at Alexia then suddenly this all becomes a whole lot more real.

“Mentally, emotionally?”

Just the question is enough to essentially demuzzle you, everything you were doing to stop yourself from crying out fails, and you start sobbing, in the loudest and ugliest way possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Alexia bunches up jext to you, slings an arm around your shoulders and brings you in closer.

“Don’t apologise when you didn’t do anything wrong, even if everyone else is making it seem like you did.”

Deep down you do believe you did something wrong, you don’t exactly know what but you must have, you must have done something because why else would all of this have happened.

“I hurt Aitana, I took her spot, I sabotaged her.”

The crying is cathartic, you’ve been crying for days but in an unemotionally detached way to expel some of the depression instead of actually feeling it.

“No you didn’t. You mis-timed a tackle that ended in a very minor injury. Football is a game of injuries, it happens. I don’t care what you’ve read online or what you’ve heard, the facts are simple. Anyone on our team or the england team can tell you that. Nobody blames you for what happened, not even Aitana. So you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

It’s easier to blame yourself you think.

“Everybody hates me, all I’m getting are messages about how I deserve to die and how people wish I’m never able to have kids or that I get injured as payback.”

Alexia’s deep breath makes you feel queasy all over again.

“What we’re going to do is delete all of your social media apps for the next few weeks, nothing is going to make people stop being putas, si? So for your own sake you’re going to delete all of them, turn all of your comments off, turn your messages off. There is nothing more important then your peace of mind, once that’s gone then this happens. You deserve better than this, you deserve to feel better than this. You also deserve to have fun and enjoy being a part of this team, nobody thinks you sabotaged Aitana, nobody blames you. You are just as welcome here as you were before the break, you are just as valued here as you were before the break. This stupid situation is not worth your health, si?”

You wipe away some of your tears, even though they’re still coming and nod.

“You deserve better, and until people realise that we need to focus on making sure that you know that.”

You feel specifically worthless, and it’s completely your own doing.

“Now, we need to get up before my legs go to sleep and my old body is stuck on the floor in here. Not everybody has young bones like you kids.”

You flush whatever parts of your stomach decided they wanted to resurface and force yourself to stand up, but as you do so the realisation that you are midway through a match comes back and all off a sudden you feel the need to sit down again.

“I told Pere to take you off for the rest of the game, I was coming off anyway, managing minutes. You can get dressed or shower, or do whatever you need to do and then we’lltalk a bit more about how we can turn this around. I’m serious when I say that the main focus is you right now and supporting you.”

You ignore the fact that nothing was ever mentioned about Alexia managing minutes and just accept that it’s a pointless argument and you don’t exactly mind her company right now. It’s nice to know that there is somebody shining a light for you at the end of the tunnel.

[holyblonded]

team dinner | stargirl

pairings: barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: you decide to make the whole team dinner

warnings: fire.

notes: this was so fun to write 😭

“I’m scared, Mami,” Alexia whispered to her mother fearfully as her leg bounced a hundred miles an hour. “My life is at risk.”

“Alexia,” Eli scolded. “You are so dramatic. my Estrelleta will be a wonderful cook!”

“Do you believe that?” Alexia cocked an eyebrow up.

“Yes. Now go monitor her before she sets herself on fire.” Eli responded.

“Mami-“

“Goodbye Alexia. I love you,” Eli said, hanging up before Alexia could even respond.

Alexia stared at her phone in disbelief, her mother’s words still ringing in her ears.

“Monitor her before she sets herself on fire.”

She let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before reluctantly pushing herself off the couch. This was not how she imagined spending her evening. Maybe a nice, peaceful dinner, sure. Maybe even indulging in a glass of wine. But instead, she was walking into what could very well be her final moments. Because you were cooking. And that was a problem.

With heavy steps, Alexia made her way to the kitchen, her heart pounding in anticipation. The second she stepped inside, she was met with the immediate and overwhelming smell of something… burnt? Maybe melted? Possibly toxic? It was impossible to tell, but one thing was certain, her instincts were correct.

You stood at the stove, a look of deep concentration on your face as you poked at something in a pan. Something that looked less like food and more like an unfortunate science experiment gone wrong. There was flour on the counter, an uncracked egg somehow rolling toward the edge, and a suspicious amount of steam rising from a pot on the other burner. And the worst part? You were wearing AirPods.

Alexia’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “Estrelleta!”

You jumped, nearly knocking the pan off the stove as you yanked out one AirPod. “Mierda! You scared me!”

“I scared you?” Alexia marched forward, turning off the burner before the situation could escalate. “Are you trying to gas us all in here? What is this? What are you even making?”

“It’s a surprise,” you grinned proudly.

Alexia looked at the chaos surrounding them. “Oh, I’m sure it is.”

Before Alexia could ask any more questions, something inside the oven started making a violent sizzling noise. Your eyes flickered over to it before you waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s normal.”

“That’s not normal.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Open it.”

Your confidence wavered just slightly. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you on the pitch,” Alexia stated firmly. “I do not trust you in the kitchen. Open it.”

With an exaggerated groan, you grabbed an oven mitt, muttering about how no one had faith in your culinary skills. You pulled open the oven door only for a thick cloud of smoke to immediately burst out, swallowing the both of them in a fog of doom.

Alexia coughed violently, waving her hand in front of her face. “Estrelleta!”

“Okay, that might be a little concerning,” you admitted, stepping back.

Alexia rushed to open a window while you fanned the smoke with a towel.

“You’re going to kill us both,” Alexia wheezed, eyes watering.

“Oh, stop being dramatic. This is just a minor setback.”

Alexia turned, staring at her incredulously. “Minor setback? Estrelleta, we are one step away from the fire alarm going off and the neighbors thinking this is an emergency.”

“Good thing it’s not an emergency then,” you grinned.

Alexia let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Mami lied to me.”

“What?”

Alexia pulled out her phone and dramatically typed out a text to Eli:

“You told me to monitor her. You should have told me to evacuate.”

You gasped, scandalized. “You’re reporting me to my avi?”

“Yes.”

“You are such a snitch!”

“I am saving lives! Our lives!” Alexia fired back.

You groaned, grabbing your pan again. “You have no faith in me. None at all. And you know what? I’m going to prove you wrong.”

Alexia eyed the burnt contents in the pan. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” you huffed. “By the end of this night, you’re going to eat the best meal of your life.”

Alexia sighed, already accepting her fate. “I should have just ordered takeout.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Alexia pinched the bridge of her nose once more. She knew it was going to be a long night.

Deep down, Alexia had hope. Foolish. Misplaced. Hope. Hope that was shattered into a million pieces the moment the rest of the Barcelona squad walked in.

“What the hell is that smell?” Patri blurted out as she stepped inside, her face scrunching up like she had just walked into a landfill.

“I don’t know,” Ingrid muttered, cautiously sniffing the air. “But it’s… strong.”

“It’s Estrella’s cooking,” Alexia said, her tone flat, as if announcing a national disaster. The silence that followed was one of pure horror.

“I see,” Ingrid finally said, taking a step back. “So this is a hazardous environment.”

Lucy’s eyes immediately locked onto the stove. “Do I need to get the fire extinguisher?”

“No!” you huffed, stirring whatever monstrosity was in your pan. “Everything is fine. Totally under control.”

“That’s exactly what people say before things explode,” Pina mumbled.

“What are you even making?” Jana asked, stepping around the counter to get a closer look.

You beamed, grinning with full confidence. “Dinner.” A long, horrified silence stretched across the room.

“Dinner,” Lucy repeated slowly, as if trying to process the weight of that word.

“Yes,” you said proudly.

Patri swallowed nervously. “And… who’s eating it?”

“You all are!”

Another silence.

Alexia massaged her temples. “I should’ve left when I had the chance.”

For the next thirty minutes, the squad gathered around like scientists observing an unprecedented catastrophe in real time. You were fully in your element, whisking, chopping, tossing random ingredients into pans with zero logic or reasoning.

Jana kept peering over your shoulder, visibly horrified. “Is that supposed to look like that?”

“Yes,” you said, lying effortlessly.

Lucy whispered to Patri, “That’s not supposed to look like that.”

Patri nodded grimly. “We’re in danger.”

Meanwhile, Ingrid had taken on the role of an investigator, pointing at a bowl of something questionably slimy. “And what’s that supposed to be?”

“A surprise,” you answered, stirring it proudly.

Alexia just stood there, watching her life flash before her eyes. You turned away for one second. And that’s all it took.

A small but very real fire erupted on the stovetop.

“Oh, shit.”

“OH, SHIT.”

Ona ducked. Jana ran in circles. Alexia almost passed out.

Lucy activated full firefighter mode. Without a second of hesitation, she grabbed the fire extinguisher, ripped the cap off, and blasted the stove into oblivion.

“TARGET NEUTRALIZED!” she shouted triumphantly, standing in the middle of the smoke-filled kitchen like a damn hero.

Everyone just stared at her.

Then, slowly, Ona started clapping with Patri joining in.

Ingrid nodded solemnly. “Lucy Bronze, footballer and fire safety specialist.”

You, meanwhile, waved off the smoke with a towel and huffed. “You’re all being dramatic. It was just a tiny flame.”

Alexia whipped around. “Estrella, you started a fire.”

“Just a baby fire.”

“Small flames turn into big flames,” Lucy scolded. “Lesson of the day.”

After the trauma of the mini fire, everyone somehow managed to sit down at the dining table, staring at the plates of unidentifiable food in front of them.

It was… disturbing. Something was grey, which food should never be. Something else moved, which was even worse.

Alexia, as the reluctant leader, took the first bite. The way her entire soul left her body did not go unnoticed.

Patri gulped. Ona stared at her plate like it had personally offended her. Ingrid blinked twice, then once more, just to make sure she was still alive. But for your sake, they all pretended it was fine.

Jana gave you a thumbs up while chewing in agony. Patri nodded while blinking SOS in Morse code.

Lucy straight up pushed her plate toward Ingrid. “Nah. I’m not dying today.”

Vicky broke first. At first, just a snicker. Then a full-blown cackle.

Your lips twitched up in a smile before you corrected yourself with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

Through gasping breaths, Vicky finally managed to say, “It’s a prank. She actually knows how to cook. You are so full of it, man.”

“ESTRELLA.”

Alexia pushed back her chair, hands on her hips, eyes wild with betrayal.

“You mean to tell me,” she began, her left eye twitching, “that I have spent this entire night mentally preparing to die, for nothing?”

You grinned. “Yep!”

Patri groaned. “I literally called my mom to tell her I love her.”

Jana was shaking her head. “I was drafting my will.”

Ingrid, still looking traumatized, exhaled heavily. “I have never been more stressed in my life.”

Lucy, however, nodded, impressed. “Honestly? Respect.”

You beamed and shook her outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

Alexia sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

“I love you too, Ale.”

In the end, Alexia ordered pizza while you sat back, grinning in triumph.

“You have to admit,” you nudged Alexia playfully, “that was a good prank.”

Alexia didn’t even look at you. “I’m blocking your number.”

[writing-mlm]

Nothing stays buried

Summary: People and secrets are never really gone when it comes to this family, aren’t they? Pairing: Jason Todd x Martian!Male!Reader Word Count: 6.5k Tags/Warning: Bruce is bad at parenting, talks and mentions of parents dying, talks and mentions of Jason’s death, sexual themes A/n: i probably missed a couple of tags but it’s 5am as I’m writing this

He remembers that night vividly. Jason felt on top of the world, he’d passed his math test and he’d just helped B take down the Penguin before his bedtime. Not that he had a bedtime, of course. It’s just Alfred gets worried if he’s not back at a certain time. 

Back on track. 

He was on a rooftop, well, he was making his way to the ledge to practice his Batman impression. For future references, y’know, as a Robin does. When he saw a strange little creature sitting on the edge, trying to talk to the gargoyle. His green tail swished back and forth, the red hairs on the end puffing up when a bird landed on the gargoyle. 

“Excuse me!” Jason called and the creature turned around, standing to his full height. 

“Hello,” The alien chirped. Jason almost laughed, but Alfred would’ve told him that was a rude thing to do. But in his defense, the alien reminded him of a cat. The chirp was strange, a hello broken into a he-llo, with a chirp akin to a very friendly cat but mixed with a very high-pitched voice. “Lost.” The alien chirped again, standing up. He almost laughs as the young alien is only half his height and he’s not very tall himself— Bruce says he’ll get taller when he’s older, though.

“I can help,” Jason extended his gloved hand and smiled. The alien looked at the hand and tilted their head before grabbing it. Jason counted five fingers and short fingernails before he properly grasped their hand. “I’m going to take you to my friend, okay?” The alien nodded, their pitch black eyes reflecting the little light around them in an oddly comforting manner. 

“Fr-end,” He chirped. 

“Mmhmm, I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n)!” 

—

“Jason?” You call into the empty cave. A whole week later after the rooftop and Bruce only let you go so far— with or without supervision. It’s only been the cave and something called a lab. “Jay-son!” Your voice chirps as you’re walking around, your tail flicking side to side. You don’t know how to leave the cave, the door is confusing and Bruce won’t tell you how to use it. Jason is sworn to keep it from you, too. He says it’s best that you don’t make Bruce upset, so you don’t. But he always seems angry at you, so you tend to avoid him altogether. 

“Jason?” You’re now dragging yourself along, bored in the cold, damp, and dark cave without any type of entertainment. Flying up, you scan over the cave and find no one but the bats hanging upside down on the dripstone. Huffing, you land on your feet and cross your arms, the end of your tail puffed up as you grow more annoyed. 

“He’s at school,” Alfred explains as he walks up from behind you. You spin around and grin up at the older man. He’s without Bruce and holding a silver platter. He’s always fun to be around when he’s not with Bruce. 

“Al-fred!” He smiles at the chirp and guides you to your little living area. It has a bed, a table and three chairs. “I go… school?” You ask, sitting across from him as he sets the sandwich down in front of you. Whatever this school is, you think you should be able to attend as well. 

“I’m afraid not,” He frowns and you mimic the action while he tries to find the best way to break it to a child that he’s considered a threat. “Master Bruce is still running tests and making sure you’re… not in danger.” He settles on saying. 

“No in danger!” You tell him through a mouthful of the sandwich. “Only in cave,”

“Yes, you are in the cave. But he wants to make sure you’re safe,” Alfred continues and you hum. You’d been taught that word. 

“Safe.” Pointing to yourself, he smiles and nods. “Safe.” You point to him and he nods again, his smile growing a bit wider. “B not safe?” That almost makes him laugh; the nickname Jason had given Bruce clearly rubbed off on you. 

“Master Bruce is safe,” Alfred corrects. “He’s making sure you are extra safe.” He hands you a napkin and you stare at it, a little unsure of what to do with the paper. 

“Oh,” You hum and your face twists as you try and find the right words. “So… we safe?” Alfred hums and motions to wipe your face with the napkin. 

“We are safe, yes.” He corrects as you harshly rub your face free of any crumbs. He cringes and takes the napkin, dabbing it on his tongue before wiping them away. 

“We are safe,” You correct yourself. “But I still here,” Pointing to the cave. “If safe, why cave?” He sighs, still not knowing how to explain to a child that he’s considered a danger— an unknown danger that Bruce doesn’t trust to be in the public; he barely trusts you alone in the cave as it is. This was easier with Dick and Jason, they weren’t aliens who needed to be under lock and key all day. They also didn’t have powers that made things all the more difficult. 

“Soon.” He nods. “You’re meeting Master Bruce’s friends tomorrow, remember?” Alfred asks and you nod, beaming at the idea of meeting more people. 

“I know,” 

—

Jason was happy to take you out of the cave, he’d even packed you a lunchbox just like Alfred packs his for school. He doesn’t eat them anymore because he’s twelve and doesn’t use lunch boxes anymore. Totally. Just don’t check his bag. Maybe he does, but Alfred has killer cooking and he can’t resist it. No one can. 

Moving along now, please. 

You’re in the Watch Tower, staring at the large TV screen that has a bunch of stuff on it, along with a picture of you. You don’t understand much, the words Bruce uses aren’t ones you’ve learned yet and you don’t know how to break them down or use the proper context clues to understand them. It makes your head hurt. But everyone is very nice so you don’t mind. The man in the red suit has given you some weird block to play with. 

It clicks!

“Genetically, he’s half Green Martian,” Bruce explains to the members sitting at the table as Dick tries to bring your attention back to the meeting and Jason is sneaking you slices of various fruits. Your favorite is the lemon slices, they burn and make your tongue feel funny. And purple. “And half unknown. For now.” He shows some diagrams of the genetic makeup he was able to piece together from his mini experiments, taking your DNA and cross-referencing it with everything he had on file. There’s something that links you to Martian Manhunter’s picture and you find his face at the table. He looks… familiar. He looks like home. 

“I am him?” You whisper to Jason and he looks over at J’onn, then you. 

“No,” He shakes his head and glances at Dick to try and help him but he suddenly becomes engrossed in what Bruce is talking about. Looks like it’s up to him to explain genetics. He’s glad he paid attention during science last week. “You know how I am human and Barry is human?” Nodding, you glance at Barry while he continues. “Well, you are half Martian and he is Martian.” Looking at him, you soak in what he’s saying and look down at your pencil. 

“Why only half?” You frown. “Am I less than him?” Looking at him, Jason panics a little. 

“No-no,” He waved his hands. “Half means one of your parents was a Green Martian.” He holds up two fingers and then takes one away. “J’onn has both Green Martian parents,” He adds a finger back. 

“We all— we were all green,” You explain, fumbling over the proper sentence structure. “My mom— my eyes.” Pointing to your eyes, Jason hums. “My dad— his eyes,” Pointing to J’onn, you see the Justice League is watching you. When did they start listening to the conversation? Maybe you had said the wrong thing. You hug your tail, playing with the red hairs on it. 

“Do you remember your father's name?” J’onn tentatively asks. “Maybe I remember him.” You smile and enthusiastically nod. J’onn smiles back, his eyebrow line deepening. 

“His name is Ma'alefa'ak,” For some reason, the room goes silent. Oh no, you definitely said the wrong thing. Sinking into your seat, you look down at your shoes while Bruce types that in and the others share glances. 

“Like the supervillain?” Oliver whispers, covering his mouth so you don’t see. Supervillain, Bruce had taught you that one. That was a bad person, the type of person who hurts people for fun. You look at Jason and then at Bruce. 

“My dad is bad?” You ask him and he only gives you a small nod, a frown deepening on his face. He doesn’t want to lie to you, even though everything in his body is telling him to. 

“But your uncle is J’onn! Yay!” Jason turns your attention back to him. 

“Yay,” You try and be as happy as he seems but you can’t lie nearly as good as he does and he rubs your back, offering to take you exploring around the Watchtower while the others continue their conversation. 

—

Turns out, Green Martian puberty happens a bit later when you’re mixed with a different species. You’d turned fourteen recently and a week later you sprouted like a beanstalk. The height also came with more powers. Better powers. 

“Yes, you hear me speaking? I know all of the words, ever created,” You grin at Jason, holding your hand to your green ear while he rolls his eyes. He’s had to deal with this for two weeks now. Although, he only pretends to be annoyed. He’s mostly upset he doesn’t need his flashcards anymore or that he can’t help you by reading his ‘old people’ books. 

Today he’s in your apartment, the one you’ve shared with J’onn since the whole Jerry Springer episode back at the Watch Tower. He’s not happy about that, but you can fly fast and the distance isn’t too far. Plus, you both know how to use a phone— now more than ever since your brain doubled in size. 

Your bedroom is nice, it’s plain all things considered. A bed, a dresser and some decorations here and there. It’s things J’onn thought most teenagers would enjoy. But Jason knows you. He knows you’d like your room with a canopy bed, a clear case filled with random trinkets you’d found across the globe. 

“That big ole head of yours remembered to get lunch?” He asks, grabbing your tail and playing with it. It flicks, moving on its own accord. You purse your lips and reach behind you, your arm phasing through your bedroom wall and into the fridge. 

“J’onn bought ten Lunchables earlier this week in preparation. Do you want the sandwich or the nachos?” Grabbing both, you present them to him and he takes the sandwich box. You don’t mind the nachos, they’re your favorite. The sandwiches get all crumbly and there’s never enough to fill you. 

“Oh, and so have got to teach you how to be a kid. You sound like your uncle,” He laughs, stabbing the juice pouch. 

“Please, bestow your wisdom upon me, Jason.” 

— 

“Look, Jay!” You rush into his room, phasing through several walls until you reach the right one. “Finally figured out telepathy!” Motioning to your mouth to emphasize that it’s not moving, Jason raises an eyebrow as if to say okay? “Aw, c'mon dude! At least act like it’s the first time someone’s been in your head.” You frown, giving him a thumbs down. Ever the theater kid, he jumps up from the bed and rushes over to you, grasping your shoulders and shaking you. 

“Wow! Oh my god, (Y/n), however are you doing that?” He fake gasps, holding his head. You blink at him and flick his forehead, dead between his eyebrows. 

“Ruined it,” Flopping on the bed, you grab the book he had been reading and hold it up in the air. “Yknow, J’onn doesn’t have any books in his apartment?” Looking over at the cover you wonder how many times he’s read through Jane Austen’s book collection. 

 “Sounds horrible,” Taking his book back, Jason lies on his stomach and slides his bookmark into place before setting it down. “Do you think he knows how to read?” He snickers, looking over at you. 

“He has to, right?” You laugh. “He’s like a genius and whatnot, I’m pretty sure he can read.” 

“Why aren’t you a genius?” He knocks your shoulder and you grab his cup of water from his nightstand. 

“I can’t be totally awesome, you still need to have something I'm not good at.” Sitting up, you take a sip before handing him the glass. 

 “Ha-ha, real funny,” He rolls his eyes, holding the cup in his hands. 

“But B thinks it’s something about being only half, I don’t get everything a full Martian would. J’onn thinks it’ll kick in later, like a second puberty. Or something, I dunno.” Lying back down, you watch as he takes a sip of water before returning to his book, holding the cup to you. 

“Makes sense,” He shrugs. “But did your mom have any powers?” He never really asks about your family, you can probably count on one hand how many times he’s asked you over the course of four years. Which you appreciate. 

“Yeah,” The glass cup hits the nightstand and you scoot up on his bed, lying on his pillow. “She could breathe underwater and touch lava,”

“Cool,” 

“Very,” Closing your eyes, you listen to the sounds of him breathing and flipping pages until he eventually gets up to put the book down and lies next to you. “I didn’t get much time with her, so I don’t remember all of her powers.” You quietly admit. 

“I miss your accent,” He admits and you crack an eye open, looking at him as he stares at the ceiling. 

“I still have it,” You laugh, closing your eyes again. Jason smiles as he hears the chirpy voice he’s almost forgotten about. “J’onn and B want me to develop a standard American accent, help me fit in.” 

“Fuck that,” He scoffs. “They’re hating on your sick ass voice.” He flips his body so he’s looking at you, and you follow suit. 

“You’re the only one who thinks that, y’know?” You quietly admit, looking down at the small space between the two of you. “Everyone else, like… I dunno, they get weird about it.”

“'Cause they’re fuckin’ jealous,” He insists. “It’s cute.”

“I’m a grown man, my voice isn’t cute,” You grumble and he laughs. 

“You haven’t even grown a mustache yet!” He gently shoves you. 

“Neither have you!” You shove him back but he grabs your hand and pulls you closer. Neither of you says anything, rather his eyes flicker down and yours follow. It’s natural, how your noses brush against each other. 

“Jason, (Y/n), lunch!” Dick shouts as he bangs on the door. The two of you jump apart and Jason shouts something back while you stare at the side of his face. 

—

“Jay-son!” You chirp, trying to find him in the large manor. He hasn’t called you back in two whole days and you figured he wanted to see you in person. “Jay!” You call again, climbing up the stairs. “Dude, are you sick or something?” At the top of the stairs, you see a red-eyed Bruce, desperately wiping his face. He looks… different. Wearing an old shirt that’s probably been sitting in the back of his closet for at least a decade and stained sweatpants that don’t seem to really fit him. His nose is red and his face is stained with similar red lines going from his eyes down to his

jawline. Which hasn’t been shaved, the stubble is growing in awkwardly and he’s gotten that five o’clock beard you’ve been trying to grow in but martians don’t grow hair so it sort of cancels out a lot of your mother's hair gene. 

“Hey, B…” You pause, unsure of yourself. “Are you okay?” He sniffs and nods, bringing a hand to your shoulder then pulls you in for a tight hug. You look at it, confused by his sudden touch— this is the man who has never even given you a high five! 

“I’m sorry,” His voice is hoarse and he can’t fully meet your eyes when you pull away while you’re desperately trying to see his eyes. You don’t know why, it’s really just this gut feeling but you really need to see Jason. 

Right now. 

“Where’s— Where’s Jason?” You stutter, about to move past him. “Yknow… um… it’s just he hasn’t answered my calls and— yknow… uh,” You shake your head and swallow and give a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll go find him!” Giving him a grin, you try and squeeze past him but he sighs and follows you for two paces. 

“(Y/n).” He stops you but you shake your head brushing him off, tears are starting to pool in your eyes and you don’t seem to know why. 

“Don’t worry, B! You rest, we won’t make too much noise!” You reassure, wiping your face. God, why are you crying?

“He’s dead.” He finally croaks out. 

“What?” You let out a humorless laugh, turning back to face him. “That’s a really weird thing to joke about, B.” Wiping your face again, Bruce takes a deep breath and shakes his head. Once again pulling you close but you phase through him. 

“He got into a car crash on Sunday,” He whispers. “He didn’t make it.” You stare up at him, the tears building in your eyes before they start to free fall. Your chin quivers and you can’t breathe. This feeling isn't new and yet it feels so foreign that it's crushing you. 

“No,” Shaking your head, you turn away from him and start down the hallway. “You’re lying!” Bruce watches as you run down the hallway, throwing his bedroom door open and then every single door in the manor opens. He stands there, listening to your shouts for his dead son, the aches returning to his body and guilt building in his stomach. 

He watches from the window as you fly down to his family's cemeteries before collapsing on Jason’s freshly laid grave. Clawing at the dirt and begging him to come back. You shout and you cry, your body shaking with the pain and he walks away, hardly able to contain himself for more than one reason. 

He just prays that you don’t find out the truth. Ever. 

—

When Jason comes back, no one tells you a single thing. No one seeks you out, no one even thinks about it in your presence, no one wants to tell you. You’ve spent most of your time since his death in space, avoiding anything that reminded you of him and that included Earth. You’d go on month-long missions, spend most of your free time in the tower, and only ever visit Earth for Jason’s birthday. 

It’s strange, since you left space following the death of your parents. Finding solace on Earth but mainly in Jason. Now you just felt lost, mostly angry if you were being honest. First it was your dad, then your mother, and you thought, finally, with Jason he wouldn’t have their same fate. You worried about what would happen to J’onn if you stayed, so, you left. 

Just enough not to get close but close enough you were reachable in case they ever truly needed you. Any yearn for camaraderie or things alike had died with Jason. 

This year he was turning twenty-five, ten whole years had passed since his death and you weren’t doing good. Far from it, honestly. You’d woken up with a tight face, stained from crying and just knew what type of birthday it was going to be. 

You must’ve sat at the edge of your bed for two hours, staring at the floor as your alarm beeped and beeped. The only sign that time was still moving and this was really happening. It’s really been a decade. 

“You’re awake, good.” Diana opens the door to the room you’d converted into a bedroom in the tower. “Come, there’s a meeting.” She watches as you slam your fist to the alarm, silencing it before standing up and staring at her. That’s another thing about you that’s changed since his death, you don’t talk as much as you used to. At least not out loud. 

“Can I shower first?” You ask, already grabbing some new clothes. She watches as you enter the bathroom before leaving the room and heading to the meeting room. Bruce and all of his kids are there, Clark and his family— basically all of the JLA and their family; although Jason looks a bit… uninterested in the situation. But Bruce knows his son is nervous, he had been since he caught wind of the plan for the day. Doesn’t mean he likes the stupid party hats that Barry had forced him to wear or the birthday boy's sash Lois had gifted him. (He took the nearest marker and added undead to the sash before wearing it.) 

“I don’t know why I’m needed for this meeting,” Your voice cuts into everyone’s head and Jason’s stomach drops. He didn’t realize just how much he missed you, how much he actually needed you around. He blinks and sits up impossibly straight, his fingers tapping on the metal table. “I’m going to visit some planets in an hour, so Bruce better not go on another five hour long meeting rant about whatever the fuck he does.” Your voice is only getting louder— closer and his heart is hammering. He thinks he’s about to pass out. 

“It won’t.” Bruce calls from behind him and the doors open. His breath hitches as he sees you— and shit, you’ve gotten tall. You’re in your human form and he wants so desperately to see you, not the you that Bruce and J’onn had concocted over the years. 

You walk across the room, not even bothering to look around the room. Everyone waits as you pour yourself a cup of coffee, waiting for you to see him. 

“Hey, (Y/n)!” Bart calls, suddenly next to Jason. “Can you look at this real quick?” You hum and turn to look at him. Your eyes quickly flicker over everyone before they settle on Jason. The mug clatters back down to the table when you recognize him. It doesn’t take long, you know it’s him. Despite his height, his build, and that white streak in his hair you know Jason. 

“Jason,” You softly call and he watches as you subconsciously change into your actual form. Everyone notices how you actually spoke, your mouth moving and there’s actually a sound coming from you. Your tail flicks from side to side as you rush over to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Jay-son!” You chirp into his neck, hardly aware that your tail wraps around his leg. 

“Hey, Greenie,” He laughs, holding you just as tight. Feeling his breath against your neck, your lip quivers and you try to bury your face deeper into his skin. He feels it and runs his hand over the top of your head, the other clutching the length of your back to keep you as close as possible. 

Everyone else filters out as the two of you continue to hug. They hadn’t really understood the gravity of the situation, how this should be a moment shared between the two of you and no one else until they saw the way you lit up. They hadn’t seen that spark since Jason had died. Bruce had feared it was gone for good. 

“Happy birthday,” You sniff into his neck before pulling away, he watches as your eyes scan over his face; just taking in his new appearance. Last time you didn’t get to do this, parts of him faded from your memory and he was slowly becoming just words and feelings. No person behind them. But now the puzzle was together again and you can recall each feature he’s grown into, new scars that he’s trying to hide with his clothes, and the new air to him. 

You’re silent for a while, just softly smiling and looking at him and he waits. He doesn’t move until your eyes meet his again and even then he waits a couple of seconds. He gulps, his jaw tightening as several emotions rush through him and he can’t pick one to settle on. 

“Yknow,” You grin, your head cocked to the side. “I did learn mind reading while you were gone and unless I’m hearing you wrong—“ Fuck it, he decides. If you can hear his thoughts then to hell with waiting, to hell with letting another day slip by. Before you can even hear those thoughts, his lips crash onto yours. It’s as if years of yearning and cliffhanger chapters finally having a proper closure finally came to a halt. 

Everything in that moment was perfect, it was just… it’s what you needed, honestly. Both of you. It wasn’t about the kiss, it was about the feeling of having Jason there again. The fact that Jason felt safe in your arms again, the fact that despite how he’s changed, you’re still there. Without judgments or disgust at his new body. His new— him. 

There’s little parting in the kiss, between the hands rapidly moving along each other's body and the constant switch on who’s leading, you settle on holding him close and letting him lead. It is his birthday, after all. 

His hands settle on the waistband of your pants, keeping you as close as possible while also making it easy to move away if you wanted to. He’s comfortable like that, the kiss transforming from one born of desire and need into one that was clearly one of many, one that meant there was no rush. A promise that a repeat of the last ten years was never going to happen again. 

“Still human,” He pants as he pulls away, his face red from the lack of air and his lips wet. He gulps down as much air as possible while you watch him, slowly running along his back to coax more air into his lungs. “Fuck, one sec.” He holds a hand up and tosses his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing and his chest heaving one final, stretched-out inhale before his breathing levels out again. His other hand, the one still attached to you, squeezes the flesh of your hip and you’re sure your knees buckled just an inch more you would’ve fallen on your ass. 

“Again?” You ask and he laughs. Your head dips as you smile, your tongue dancing across your bottom lip just to get a reminder of his close he was. 

“I missed you, too,” He says instead. Gently, he places a hand on your face and watches as you instinctively nuzzle towards it. His hands are so rough now, so worn. The hardened pads trace across your new features, sharper features that whisper ghosts of the ones he’d last seen. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call.” He whispers and you shake your head. 

“It’s okay,” Your voice shakes while he blinks, one stray tear slipping past his attempts to hide them. “You’re here now.” 

—

He has your shirt pulled a little more than halfway up your chest, resting just above your nipples as he holds you. His fingers dig into your ribcage and the flesh of your hips as he kisses the exposed flesh. It’s nothing if not tender, the feeling of his lips brushing against you, him not wanting to pull away so bad that his nose drags down your chest. 

About a year into Jason coming back, the two of you are hanging around in the manor in his room. Normally you’d be at one of his safe houses but Alfred had requested everyone’s presence for the night. He was laying on the bed, rereading Jane Austen's Emma while you had found your time being filled by using a crochet machine. You say you’re making a scarf but really you just like watching the yarn loop and spin around. But that’s on the back burner for now.

“Jay,” You whisper, staring down at him. He hums, lips vibrating on your stomach. “Nevermind. Keep going,” He laughs and continues until he reaches the hand of your boxers. Jason stops there, resting his head on the same spot and watches you. Staring down at him, you run your fingers through his hair, settling on the crown of his head while your thumb rubs against his hairline. Slowly, his eyes close and you return back to making your scarf with one hand. 

Not that he would ever admit it, but Jason snores. It’s nothing major, but if you’re quiet enough and pay enough attention you can hear the small snores leaving him. He also moves a lot in his sleep, only if he’s sleeping alone, though. Whenever you’re cuddling he’s holding tightly onto you. He wakes up when you have to use the bathroom and is pointedly upset that you’d taken longer than two minutes. 

“Big baby,” You tease as you climb back into his bed. He grumbles, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you onto him. You don’t protest, wrapping your tail around his leg and simply scrolling through your phone. He grabs a new book from the pile, Ring Shout by P. Djèlí Clark. 

“You notice how weird B gets when we’re in a room?” Jason asks after about an hour of the two of you laying like that. It's true, if you and Jason are in the same room as Bruce, he gets this odd look on his face that isn’t there if it’s just one of you. Only when it’s the two of you. 

“He’s alienphobic and you’re his undead son dating an alien,” You shrug and he flicks your tail. “I’m just being honest. It’s either that or he can’t handle his son moaning my name.” You grin over at him and he huffs, peering at you from behind his book. 

“You should read his mind,” He sits up and sets his book down, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “They’re having their movie night or whatever the fuck it is.” He adds, stopping you from continuing to sorting objects into piles.

“I don’t read people’s minds without permission, hun,” Going back to the game, Jason huffs loudly and flips the two of you over. He lies his body along yours, trying to make you uncomfortable enough to stand up. It doesn’t work, despite his large frame. 

“I’m your totally awesome boyfriend asking you to do this one, tiny thing for me.” He reminds you, peppering kisses down your neck when trying to push you doesn’t work. 

“Not working,” You hum but he sees how you stretch your neck out for him. He grins and kisses in spots longer and a little harder, seeing the green skin turning a soft shade of brown. 

“Don’t you wanna know what he’s thinking, baby?” He whispers, his eyes shifting from your neck to your face as you cradle the back of his head. Your fingers playing with the ends of his hair. 

“Still not working, come up with a better reason,” You strain, moving him into your lap. “Or y'know… say please.” You grin, rubbing your hands along his thighs, squeezing the plump flesh every so often. His eyes narrow, looking between your eyes before he grunts and begrudgingly agrees. 

“Please read Bruce’s mind this one time.” He drags out. 

“If I must,” You grin and tap his thigh, asking him to get up. 

The two of you head down to the family room, although Jason has half the mind to have the whole idea thrown out the window when he sees you shift into your human form. It’s not that it’s ugly, your human self is quite handsome but he’s fond of the green skin and the tail— namely the tail. 

The two of you enter the room, expecting to see some shitty movie playing while everyone tries to enjoy it but find everyone sitting around on the floor, having a very intense game of Clue. Spotting Bruce holding some cards, you flip a metaphorical switch in your head and perverse in his mind for only a second before exiting. 

Not the library. He thinks as his eyes scan over the board. The kitchen, then. He shuffles through his cards and settles on a card but doesn’t look at it. 

“Good!” Tim says when he sees the two of you. “Jason, lay on the ground and die!” Bruce looks at the two of you and his mind flashes a panic shade of red. And looks back down at his cards. 

Crowbar. He thinks over and over, you see flashes of a snowy building exploding before Bruce refocuses and sees you, staring at him. You see yourself crying and trying to dig into Jason’s grave with your bare hands. Don’t. He tells himself and you see yourself as Bruce, holding a beaten and bloody Robin. Jason’s Robin. Everything around the two of them is destroyed, like a bomb had gone off. 

You blink and push further into his mind, going back eleven years for that day he died. You watch hours in a single second, seeing no, Jason didn’t die in a fucking car crash. How The Joker had killed him, how Bruce had to pretend as if he had died in a car crash to the press. How Bruce swore to the JLA to never tell you the truth. The boys never told you because it was an unspoken agreement that you knew and just never brought it up. That his death was too painful, too raw. Not even to joke about it around you.

“It wasn’t a car crash.” You say, exiting his mind. The talking around you stops and you see Jason about to lay on the ground, happily pretending to be dead. Everyone looks at you, a confused expression on their face. But your eyes are locked on Bruce. 

“Car crash isn’t even one of the methods, alien.” Damian squints, looking at the paper used to take notes. You ignore Damian, blinking as your mind replays his memories. 

“You told me it was a fucking car crash, Bruce.” You glare at him. In all honesty, you don’t know how to feel. You’re feeling so many emotions at once, there’s so much hurt, so much anger, and all those feelings from his death are resurfacing again. 

“What was?” Dick asks, looking between the two of you. It takes a moment but his face drops; his eyes settle on Bruce and he has this disappointed stare clear on his face. “B… you didn’t.” He shakes his head, setting his cards face down. 

“I had to.” Bruce shakes his head, never looking away from you. “You weren’t in the right place to handle the truth.” He continued and it clicked for Tim. It hasn’t clicked for Jason, he assumes you already know. Sure, the topic of his death has come up but he doesn’t like getting into the actual details with you, everyone’s warned him not to for one reason or another. Not to mention, between the death of your parents and then Jason, the topic of death is a touchy subject with you. 

“When would I?” You utter, anger bubbling in your stomach. “When was the right time to tell me, Bruce? On your deathbed? When someone slipped up? When?” Now, you’re not shouting. You’ve never really been one to shout, and you know it’s easier to argue with Bruce when your tone isn’t raising. But you can’t. You can’t not shout, you can’t help how the anger is consuming you. 

“Father, what is the alien talking about?” Damian asks with a glare. 

“He has a name.” Jason flicks a crowbar at Damian who catches it without looking. 

“So I’ve been told,” The little shit has only been the manor for two months so you don’t expect much from him. The name-calling is whatever, honestly. As long as he didn’t try to set you on fire again. 

“I had to,” Bruce says again and you shake your head. “The truth was too much for you to bear!”

“Was it easier to lie, then?” You ask. “To watch me leave? I trusted you! I- I thought I was some fucking bad omen!” 

“(Y/n), baby,” Jason stands up and holds your shoulder. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Your eyes snap to his and you falter, holding his hand that’s touching you. Inhaling, you shift your stance and mess with the lines on his hand. 

“Bruce told me that you died in a car crash,” You gently tell him. “That’s why he’s so weird around us.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” He breathes, his head turning to give Bruce a sharp glare. “Can’t do shit right, can you?” There’s no argument, there’s nothing to be said. They’ve spent ages repairing their relationship and in two minutes it’s gone to shit. Jason doesn’t have the energy to fight, he doesn’t want to fight with Bruce. At least in front of you. 

He leaves the room and you follow after him, struggling to keep your mind on one focused topic. 

Ten fucking years, a decade where literally everyone you knew kept this giant secret from you. All under the guise of protecting you, telling themselves it was better than you didn’t learn the truth. It felt like you just found out, piecing together the scars and the touchy subjects you never quite grasped since Jason came back to you. 

And Jason, fuck, Jason was a mess waiting to snap. He’d been healing, he understood Bruce to an extent on why Joker wasn’t dead because, in truth, Bruce had tried. He nearly killed the Joker for Jason but Clark had stopped him, reminded him that for Bruce, murder was a slippery slope he wouldn’t come back from. He’d grown to accept what happened to him, grown to move past it but it was like he was right back to begging Bruce, demanding reasons for the Joker still breathing. 

He doesn’t know if his pit rage is real, if it ever was, but he knows that feeling is coming back. He knows he can’t do this with Bruce anymore. He packs his things, his favorite items he always left behind when he and Bruce fought because he knew deep down they’d make up but this was a line Jason wasn’t sure Bruce could come back from. He’s tired of Bruce’s paranoid behavior, tired of having to sweep it under the rug, and tired of being the bad guy for pointing out the bullshit Bruce puts everyone through. 

The two of you leave the manor without a word, you’re flying beside him as he rides his motorcycle. 

“Where are we going?” You finally ask while he refuels his ride at a gas station well outside of Gotham. 

“The Outlaws.”