#I keep a clean house but they don’t keep a clean room and supposedly the other neighbors aren’t that good at it

[deathsmallcaps]

I walk out of the shower. There is a fucking large roach by my trash can.

I tell my roommate’s dog to kill it with fire. Knowing that he won’t, I run and get my shoe and smash it.

Since I believed my brother and his girlfriend (the roommates) are asleep, all I brought to the bathroom was a pajama top and clean underwear.

Once the bug is dead, I flip my shoe back to where it came from. Standing in the middle of my apartment with just a shirt and underwear on.

I look up as I go to grab a paper towel to pick up the smashed bug. On the stovetop is a large pan full of uncovered cooked chicken. It’s been left for at least 2 hours.

You know, where the roach could’ve touched it. Ew.

Mentally I’m thinking “Bug on meat??? Especially the kind of meat most likely to be yucky dirty?? The Samauri’s curse meat? That stuff that gave that entire family a Life full of Shits because they liked to keep some on the counter??? Chicken meet with prints of bug feet??? And we have a perfectly good storage area??? The fridge???”

So, thinking they won’t hear me, I whisper-scream at what I thought was an appropriate level “MEAT? Where the bugs can get it???”

I then Realize that I forgot to brush my teeth, and I rush back into the bathroom just as someone from their room opens the door.

I hear rustling. Oh god they heard me.

I get out of the bathroom again and yup. The chicken is now in the fridge.

I am glad that the biohazard is gone. Being younger than me, they left a slight mess, but being such a great big sister, I finish clearing the stovetop. I try not to do for them anymore but I don’t mind getting those last bits.

But I feel bad because that wasn’t the most elegant methods of communication. And it certainly wasn’t supposed to actually be communication, just an expression of a strong feeling.

Such is life

[heegyukeluv]

M.O.R.E. - my only ruined escape (lhs)

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Trapped in a broken marriage, you felt bound by everything you had invested in it, unable to walk away despite the cracks. But when Heeseung, unexpectedly striking up a friendship with your dick husband, entered the picture, things began to shift in ways you never saw coming.

my's note: i don't condone cheating. and this fic can be triggering for many, so read the warnings with care, please!

warnings: toxic relationship/marriage, fight/arguments, mentions of blood and wounds (due to the fight lol), y/n's husband is an ass but he doesn't attacks her physically, verbal abuse, y/n is constantly degraded by her husband, angst (with happy ending!!), pet names (mostly darling), cheating (yn cheats her husband with hee), SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), oral (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, lowkey angry sex. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 26,6k.

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis

“Fuck ass food.”

Heeseung was peacefully eating his lunch at the small company’s break room; the other two spare tables were already occupied when he first stepped in, later than his usual schedule as he always managed to choose a less crowded hour to take his break peacefully.

The situation led him to sit with a random guy that apparently just entered the room as well, since he had his lunch box closed for quite a long time, while typing on his phone, laughing.

They both exchanged a few words as in “Can I sit here?” and a comfortable “Yeah” in response; but as soon as the guy spoke again, his curious eyes followed towards his food and then, arched a brow

“What's up, man?”

Heeseung attempted a friendly approach, but the man seemed inclined to complain other than talk. And although Heeseung was the type who preferred silence over small talk during meals, especially with strangers, he felt compelled to interact, given that they were the only two at the table.

The downside of arriving late or during peak hours: having to deal with people sharing – and invading – your space.

The man took a deep, exhausted sigh, his pursed lips indicating he was mad, his clenched jaw only adding to it, and the way he tilted his head quickly to the side before starting to speak got Heeseung regretting his decision of asking about it.

“My wife. She's just too... Useless?” The man blurted out, shrugging as if the statement held universal and undeniable truth.

He gave a brief unreadable gaze to Heeseung, that definitely didn’t spark not even an ounce of interest in him – actually, he quietly prepared himself for the following words, restraining an eye-roll that was teetering to escape. 

“Can't cook, can't keep the house clean, can't do shit,” he continued, his tone dripping with gross disdain. “And the good thing she had on her, she lost through the years.”

Heeseung kept his skeptical and slightly confused expression weighing his features, eyes darting towards the said “ass” food as he took a bite of his; it looked delicious and the smell was amazing. If the guy kept on crying over it, he would definitely suggest changing plates.

“Yeah?” Heeseung replied flatly, his voice carefully measured to express his disinterest.

He didn’t buy a word of the man’s complaints but held back the urge to ask why he had married this supposedly intolerable woman in the first place.

“Yeah,” he agreed and then leaned closer, now chewing a piece of meat with an exaggerated disgust. “You know, she was a hottie back then,” he muttered, a repulsive smirk creeping onto his face. Heeseung swallowed his will to punch that idiot in the face, his jaw clenching involuntarily. He wasn’t enjoying a glimmer of that conversation.

The man’s face contorted as if he was reminiscent about his wife in the past. “Fuck, she was hot. Best pussy I've ever had. Thought I could marry her and screw my stress away, you know?” The man’s head shook in mock disappointment. “But now? She barely gives me anything. Always some excuse. Lazy as hell.”

Heeseung’s stomach churned as the man's nauseating words thickly filled the air. He tried to focus on his own food, avoiding engaging any bit on that topic, but that casual, sickening misogyny was an appetite killer.

“You get me, right?” the man said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Your wife probably takes care of you, huh? Keeps you satisfied?”

The playful shove to Heeseung’s shoulder nearly pushed him over the edge. Holding back a retort – or worse, a punch – he forced his expression into something resembling composure.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Heeseung finally said, his voice tight, sharp and precise, a clear indicator that he didn’t want to be bothered anymore, not by that fuck ass guy.

The man laughed, shaking his head. “Well, lucky you then.”

That was Heeseung's first interaction with your husband. At the time, he couldn't have cared less about your relationship, he was indifferent, barely bothering to acknowledge it. His only genuine hope was that you would eventually escape from the grip of that asshole and find yourself with a real man who actually deserved you.

That was his stance – until the moment he saw you.

It was the company’s party reception or something similar, he didn’t care much to give a proper definition, not when you walked into the room, radiant in a sleek, black dress that hugged your figure perfectly. The way your smile lit up your face as you greeted everyone made the entire place seem to pause for a beat. Your lips, painted in a bold cherry red, glistened in the soft lighting, and your eyes – oh, your eyes – shone like stars in the night sky, captivating anyone who dared to meet your gaze.

You were beautiful in a way that left him breathless. 

And then, as if in slow motion, his gaze shifted to the man standing beside you. Your husband. The one he eventually – and unwillingly – learned the name: Brendon.

The words that escaped his lips were little more than a breathless mutter, “Are you fucking joking?”

His grip on the glass tightened, fingers curling around it with an intensity born from pure frustration and anger. This was the woman? The one your husband had described as plain, unremarkable, not even remotely sensual?

This goddess, standing there like an oasis mirage? Like something unreachable, untouchable, immaculate? 

He couldn’t understand it, no, definitely not. A woman like you dating – no, worse married to – a douchebag that didn’t give you what you needed, what you deserved.

He didn’t believe in fate, but the way things had unfolded, Heeseung was starting to wonder if the universe had conspired to bring him there, to that exact moment. After all, there was no other way he would have ever crossed paths with you.

Witnessing your existence, so alluring, so captivating, had flickered a spark in his mind, like a quiet revelation that simmered until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Heeseung made it his mission to make you his.

It was a dangerous game, even reckless, his friends would try to stop it even before turning the idea into real words.

By then, he had gathered just enough to know the basics – your husband was a waste of space, and you, without a doubt, deserved something far better. 

He didn’t know how you felt about the way you were treated, nor how deeply you were tied to that toxic relationship, but he knew he had to take the chance, to shoot his shot. 

With that resolve, and after draining his glass in a single gulp, his eyes never leaving yours, Heeseung moved towards you both with quiet confidence, every step sure and deliberate.

“Hey, Brendon!”

Heeseung noticed the way your beautiful eyes gently settled on his, briefly wandering over his body before returning to meet his gaze once again. Your cheeks flushed – at least, he noticed a faint blush that didn’t seem to be the result of your flawless makeup.

He smiled warmly, shaking Brendon’s hand, who made sure to release his own from yours to greet Heeseung properly, pulling him into a half hug.

The first thing Heeseung would change in this dynamic: he would never let you go for something as a brief touch, left alone to greet some random acquaintance. And if he did, he would be quick to pull you back into his arms and show you off.

“Heeseung! Good to see you, man.”

The pat on the back felt a little too friendly, a little too close for Heeseung’s liking, but if he had to go through hell just to get closer to you, the goddess, he would endure it.

“This party’s kind of weird. So far, I’ve only seen strange people, but it’s nice to have some familiar faces.”

Heeseung forced a laugh as they pulled away, trying not to let the intensity of his gaze linger on you too much – he couldn’t be too obvious.

“Yeah…” He replied, trying to keep the conversation going, but honestly, he had no interest in Brendon – not that he could admit it out loud, especially since Brendon was probably the biggest obstacle in trying to do anything directly with you.

But when you responded to your husband with a shy smile, linking your arm with his, Heeseung couldn’t hide the wave of relief that washed over him. And your voice... It was beautiful.

“Stop it, babe. They weren’t weird, they were just being nice.”

“Yeah. For you, it’s always just kindness,” he rolled his eyes, not even bothering to reciprocate the affection by properly linking his arm with yours as he took a sip from his drink. “See, Heeseung? Women and their sensitivities. Be careful when you get married, man. Choose wisely, don’t pick the sensitive ones.”

The wave of nausea that hit Heeseung was enough for him to not even try to hide his discomfort. Brendon spilled all that nonsense like it was easy to say such atrocious things, ending it with a sleazy laugh that only added to the ridiculous image he was creating of himself.

Heeseung couldn’t deny that it was impressive how quickly Brendon could spew so much garbage, as if his mind was actively working to spread blind hatred towards anyone who didn’t fit into his corrupted morality.

“And this is...?”

Before any awkward silence began to settle in, and after Heeseung noticed that Brendon hadn’t made even the slightest effort to acknowledge the stunning wife standing by his side, he took the cue and swiftly redirected the conversation towards his primary target: you.

“Ah, Y/N. Apologies for not introducing myself earlier.”

You smiled warmly, extending your hand for a handshake, but the touch was brief, fleeting – only for Brendon to possessively wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to him.

Heeseung barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes – so this was the type of man who treated his wife like trash, yet couldn’t stand anyone giving her attention?

“You always forget your manners at home, don’t you, honey?” Brendon tried to make a joke, one that only he seemed to find amusing as he laughed solitarily.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Heeseung didn’t bother mentioning that the few times he and Brendon had ever spoken, you had been one of the main topics – yet none of those discussions had been about praising or cherishing you as you deserved. Instead, it was always something demeaning, as if your worth were only worth degrading. 

Heeseung noticed that you seemed like you wanted to say something, almost as if you were about to murmur a “me too,” but all that came out was a forced, distant smile – almost sad, withdrawn. Your once radiant and seemingly communicative aura slowly and painfully faded away. You swallowed the words that dared to leave your mouth, and it left a bitter taste in Heeseung’s mouth to see that, but he swallowed it as well, choosing to remain polite – at least for now.

And you, indeed, were holding yourself back. Brendon didn’t like it when you greeted other people, especially men. He used to tell you that they were all filthy, that they would seduce you and take you to their rooms to fuck you, and you, as the good slut you were, would give in to their charms.

Part of you wished that were true, because if you at least had good sex with your husband, it could serve as a reason to stay firmly and resistant to his attempts – and success – of being an ass, but even that he couldn’t give you.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you murmured, more to avoid a potential fight in the future than to actually inform anyone. You could feel the tears threatening to fall, burning like fire in your eyes.

There were moments when you questioned what was still keeping you there. You had read countless reports and books – hidden, because Brendon didn’t like you becoming too informed – about women in relationships that you later recognized as abusive. They were designed to destroy a woman's self-esteem and take out the light of happiness that once burned so brightly.

You saw yourself in each of those stories in different ways, because Brendon had never dared to physically harm you. His game was personal, psychological, like controlling the finances and part of your daily routines.

He even went as far as threatening to install cameras around your apartment to make sure you weren’t cheating on him or breaking any of his ridiculous rules when he was out of the house.

Thankfully, you managed to hold on to your decision to keep working, something you cherished deeply. The flower shop that took up most of your time was a sanctuary, a place where you could momentarily forget that you had a husband of questionable character.

It was undeniable that the thought of divorce had crossed your mind countless times. Building a routine of minimal care for him, based on his absurd demands, also fed the feeling of permanence. You had to stay because you had to take care of him. Who would make his lunch boxes or wash his underwear?

It was a trivial thing, and maybe you used it to cover up your true desire – to run away, to escape from a relationship that, at one point, in a distant and fantastical past, had been full of promises that sounded genuine, of eternal love and affectionate care.

Everything was perfect during the first six months, until he realized that the sex he had once craved every day had lost its appeal, even though you kept trying to innovate, to please him. Brendon was never satisfied with you, judged every little part of your life as though that became his greatest pleasure.

Sharing a home with you was more of an obligation than a choice, and for a long time, you felt guilty.

He attempted to make it up with you, to buy you gifts and lead you to cute dates. It worked in the first year. And the second as well – the transient hopeless feeling of fixing him, of growing over it, of getting used to it… You tried everything.

To exhaust yourself in order to take every effort in the books to save your marriage from failure was in vain, your husband himself was making sure that your deep, sincere love turned into hate.

Heeseung was torn between feeling relieved that you had walked away and utterly frustrated that you had to.

He didn’t truly know you yet –  not enough to form solid judgments about whether your character was as vile as your husband’s. However, the brief moments he shared with you were more than enough to convince him that you didn’t deserve even a fraction of the treatment Brendon gave you.

But if he wanted his plan to succeed, he needed to win Brendon’s trust first.

“So, man, how’s it going?” Heeseung forced himself to sound as friendly and approachable as possible, his expression carefully crafted to radiate genuine interest in how Brendon’s life had been lately.

“Oh, you know. Tons of work, annoying clients, a couple of coworkers who... I don’t know, just seem like they couldn’t care less about their jobs. The usual.”

The internal battle Heeseung was fighting was so intense he had to physically restrain himself from throwing the punch he had been saving for Brendon since day one. The man hadn’t said anything outrageous – yet –, but the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, was enough to taunt Heeseung the wrong way.

Still, he forced himself to stay in character.

“Ah, that sounds rough. Sorry to hear you’ve been under so much stress.”

With a subtle pat on Brendon’s shoulder and words laced with faux sympathy, Heeseung could tell he had earned another fragment of his trust.

“Thanks for understanding, man. When I try to talk about this stuff with my wife, she just goes insane, you know? Says all I do is complain, and that nothing’s ever good enough…”

Heeseung nodded, carefully calibrating his expression so nothing but fake empathy would slip through. Inwardly, he wholeheartedly agreed with you – so much that he had to work hard to keep composure, leaving to Brendon the mission of filling up the awkward silence. 

“And how am I supposed to not complain when she can’t do anything right?” Brendon huffed, shrugging dramatically and exhaling like a childish tantrum.

Heeseung’s self-control was tested to its limits. He wanted to roll his eyes so badly but instead kept his mouth shut, grabbing a drink from a passing waiter to occupy his hands, not uttering a word.

“No one at work does anything right, but then I think, well, at least I can go home and unwind with my hot wife. And then I get home, and it’s all wrong there, too.”

This time, Heeseung couldn’t stop himself. The words slipped out before he could think better of them, sipping on his drink right after, eyes locked onto Brendon’s angry expression.

“Have you ever thought about getting a divorce?”

Brendon turned to him, wide-eyed, as if Heeseung had just suggested something unthinkable, as if he was a lunatic.

“What? Divorce? Are you out of your mind, man?!” And then he laughed, a hollow, grating sound. “She’s the love of my life.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Heeseung forced a small chuckle, drifting his eyes to his drink as he sipped once more. Yeah, definitely a lot of alcohol to help him go through this job of hell. “You two look like a lovely couple, my bad for suggesting that shit,” Heeseung nearly choked out that horrible sentence, cringing hard before the idea of complimenting anything in that piece of thrash.

“Nah. You’re good.”

Little by little, Heeseung managed to earn Brendon's trust. He started conversations about their few shared interests, sometimes even pretending to know more about topics he wasn’t particularly invested in, all to build a solid foundation for their blossoming “friendship”.

Heeseung had one clear goal: to keep you out of their conversations. He knew Brendon would likely take the opportunity to list every supposed flaw you had.

The more time Heeseung spent with Brendon, the more he realized he was a spoiled man who expected the world to revolve around his desires. It was almost comical and pathetic to hear him brag about his so-called glory days in college, where he claimed to have broken countless hearts as if it were some sort of accomplishment.

Through these interactions, Heeseung learned more about you – or at least about how you and Brendon had met and fallen in love.

Back then, you were calm, the kind of girl few would approach because they thought you were plain, boring, bland – Brendon's words. Apparently it was forbidden to use flattering ones even while describing how he fell in love with you. He decided to ask you out because, despite everything, you were pretty. And hot.

Of course, Brendon’s interest in you started with your looks and the supposedly mind-blowing sex you offered – almost as if you were some kind of goddess in bed – those were Brendon’s words again.

As Heeseung listened to Brendon recount this “love story,” he had to fight the urge to let his thoughts slip into words that would be anything but kind. He also worked hard to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to reveal his growing disdain.

The “love of Brendon’s life” wasn’t someone he cherished – it was a possession, a fantasy. He married you to maintain his hold on you, to keep other men away, because the thought of someone else touching you drove him insane.

The absurdity of it all nearly made Heeseung sick. Brendon couldn’t speak about you without a complaint to follow, without reducing your beauty to objectification, or without expressing his so-called “love” through a thinly veiled frustration rooted in his own insecurities.

But amidst the storm of Brendon’s toxic words, like a single ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, Heeseung now had reasons to visit your home regularly.

You were rarely home when he came by. On weekends, you worked at the flower shop, with your days off falling on Mondays and Tuesdays instead of Saturdays and Sundays. Brendon didn’t seem to care, often commenting that at least your “annoying voice” wouldn’t disturb his peace.

Yet, Heeseung found himself wishing he could see you more often. After enduring so much time and effort to break through Brendon’s defenses, earning a significant amount of his trust, it was disheartening to not see the person who made it all worthwhile.

“Y/N should be home early from work today. Let’s enjoy the peace while we can,” Brendon said offhandedly.

Heeseung’s ears perked up at the news.

It was the fourth weekend in a row that Heeseung had ditched plans with his friends to hang out with Brendon. Their gaming sessions weren’t the worst – most of the conversation revolved around the games themselves, sparing Heeseung from Brendon’s typical misogyny. But still, spending time with someone so consumed by complaints and negativity was exhausting.

The thought of finally seeing you again, however, was enough to rekindle his energy. Heeseung glanced at the time on his wristwatch, silently hoping your shift at the flower shop would end sooner rather than later; his heart was already racing at the thought of finally seeing you.

He cared little if you looked like a tired, married woman after a long day of work. You would still be beautiful, as always, with your charming smile that would likely grace your lips, your radiant gaze – maybe even surprised to find him there, sprawled on the couch playing video games with your husband. 

Heeseung just hoped you wouldn't misunderstand, that you wouldn't think he was anything like your husband. The fleeting idea of being seen under thar judgment was enough to make him slightly desperate to prove he was different.

When the door swung open, revealing a female figure entering, greeted by the dim light of the living room, Heeseung froze. Like, literally, his fingers froze on the controller, and his eyes locked on you.

You were wearing the most adorable light denim overalls, with embroidered mushrooms on the front. The black shirt contrasted perfectly with the light tone of your overalls and matched your black Converse sneakers perfectly. You looked beautiful.

“Yo, we're gonna lose, man!” Brendon shoved his shoulder into Heeseung’s to snap his focus back to the game.

“Sorry,” Heeseung murmured quietly, turning his gaze back to the light of the TV screen, though occasionally taking a moment to admire you as you slipped off your shoes and hung your purse by the door. “Need help?” He asked you directly, almost standing up from the couch when he finally noticed the two heavy bags of groceries you were carrying.

Brendon rolled his eyes and shoved Heeseung back onto the couch, not even giving you the chance to accept or decline the offer.

“Ignore her, focus here.”

Heeseung shot Brendon a skeptical look, which luckily he didn’t catch as his eyes were glued to the screen again. Heeseung gave you one more glance, a silent apology in which you gently shook your head and smiled warmly, whispering. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Heeseung could see the frustration in your tired eyes, although you attempted to keep as nonchalant as possible, as if you were used to your husband's futility. He watched how you vanished into the back of the house, most probably the kitchen to organize the items you had bought. 

Somehow, Heeseung wasn’t interested in gaming anymore, not when you were just a few steps away and he could properly greet you. He stalled a little, just not to be too obvious with his intentions, before getting up and saying.

“I’m gonna grab something in the kitchen.”

And of course, the spoiled asshole would ask for something as well.

“Yeah, yeah. Grab me a beer.”

“Alright.”

Heeseung didn’t deny it; he had learned a few areas of the house already. After all, on the few occasions when Brendon didn’t say a single word about whether you were home or not, he’d claim he was going to the bathroom, when in reality, he was sneaking around, hoping naively he might catch a glimpse of you somewhere, gracing his eyes with your gorgeous presence.

The kitchen was the most obvious place his feet knew the way to by heart. It was the spot where guests were welcomed, where Brendon would offer drinks like whiskey and cold beer – which, apart from you and the PS5, were the only decent things that house had to offer.

So Heeseung made his way there slowly, feigning casualness, though internally preparing himself for a direct interaction with you. Since the very first day, he hadn’t had a single chance to speak to you alone, so he had to make the most of every second to begin showing you that he was a good man, and that if you wanted, and allowed him to, he could show you just how good he could be – in every sense of the word.

He heard a faint hum and the soft sound of things shifting around, indicating that you were still busy organizing the kitchen as he approached the room. He lowered his voice as much as possible to announce his presence, not wanting to startle you.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Even so, you jumped slightly and turned towards him, flashing wide eyes that expressed your surprise.

You didn’t expect no one to come into the kitchen, let alone your husband or his friend, but you couldn’t deny that you were a bit happy that he did so.

Despite befriending your husband, Heeseung seemed to be a nice guy. You had little to no information about him, since Brendon barely told you about his day or his overall routine during the brief moments you two were together; he would rather choose to mistreat you and complain about your mistakes instead of sharing the perks of his work day.

“Yeah! I’m sure,” you managed to answer back in a breath, ignoring Heeseung’s presence for a bit as you reached for some of the groceries packages scattered all over the counter, to place them perfectly into the cabinets. 

Heeseung’s eyes followed the motion of your skilled body handling everything a bit too well, as if you were used to chores overwork.

Heeseung felt a tingling urge to help, to be useful, to ease your stress. It was something he would do effortlessly, if he was the one married to you. In fact, if it were up to him, you would just sit there being beautiful while he took care of everything, because you deserved to be treated like a queen.

Brendon had complained countless times about all the things you did – for him, obviously, in the form of grumbling.

How you were “cringe” for making little love notes and putting them in his lunch box, how you made the bed so he could sleep, but never chose the most comfortable duvet, how you “tried” to cook his favorite meal but never got the seasoning right.

Heeseung once casually suggested swapping lunches, and when he finally had the chance to try your cooking, the urge to punch Brendon grew immensely, because it was all so good.

Brendon didn’t appreciate the little things you did. He saw them as annoyances, predictably bad, and yet they were the exact actions that made Heeseung realize just how special you were.

He was struck by how deeply you cared for someone who didn’t seem to understand, or even acknowledge, your efforts. It only made Heeseung more determined.

“So… You work at a flower shop, right?” 

Once again, you startled with Heeseung’s gentle voice suddenly echoing in the kitchen, pulling you out of your concentration state. You were crouched while organizing the groceries, and he was standing up, drinking ridiculously slowly a glass of water.

“Yes, I do.” You answered politely, but not quite giving Heeseung any recognizable attention.

“Do you like it?”

His question caught you off guard. First, because you weren’t used to people asking about your interests, especially when it came to your “boring” work. Secondly, because there was a sincerity in his voice, a curiosity that felt different from the usual respectful small talk.

You paused for a moment before straightening your legs, calmly turning on your heels to completely face Heeseung with a slight flabbergasted expression. 

The moment your eyes laid on his tall figure casually leaning on the wall, your breath got caught in your throat – was he watching you this whole time?

His bright and lightly inquisitive eyes were grazed on you, busying his lips with small sips of water and a hint of a tender smile, waiting for your reply. Your heart skipped a beat, a soft, thrilling tremor that vibrated through your body without leaving you to have any control over it as your hands started to tremble. 

“I do, yeah.” You pondered for a while, searching for the words that would match your genuine opinion over your job; unconsciously a sincere smile began to form on the corner of your lips and Heeseung took a close, quiet note to it. “It’s… It’s calm and peaceful. Fulfilling in a way, even when it’s exhausting. I feel I can be myself easily and… Avoid some– other stress. For a bit, at least.”

Heeseung’s chest warmed with the way you spoke, a delicate radiance of soothing heat sweeping as your softly and lovingly voice talked about something you liked. He wished to see more of this persona, more of this part of you; the apparently authentic, happy version that expressed affection through your every pore.

However, he couldn’t help the sting that came along, knowing what “other stress” you were talking about. He also hoped to help you escape out of that. 

“That’s good to know,” he nodded tenderly, keeping his tone layered with honesty and kindness. Your eyelids blinked slowly as you watched Heeseung approach, silently placing the glass on the countertop that separated you both. “I’m glad to see you being passionate about what you do and enjoying your life, Y/N. At least… Part of it.”

He had carefully constructed his sentence before speaking, wanting to ease you into the conversation with the most comforting approach he could offer. At the same time, he dared to let slip a part of his disguise, hoping you would pick up on the subtle hint about him being aware of the difficult reality of your marriage, particularly your situation.

Your eyes showed that you were slightly taken aback by his words. You were shrewd enough to catch the underlying message of what he had said, even though it was somewhat confusing to understand his exact intentions. 

Still, you gave him a shy but pleasant smile, touched by his gentle and thoughtful words.

“Thank you,” you would’ve ended there, but something unknown prompted you to add more, a sudden need to speak your truth. “I do what I can with what I have.”

It sounded too sad, too realistic. Your eyes fell to your hands resting on the cold countertop as you spoke, nonetheless, it was your reality, after all: making do with what you had. You had learned the hardest way to survive on the scraps life gave you, to accept the little, or sometimes, nothing at all. It had become routine, normal – your life for the last three years.

Heeseung caught the opening you had unwittingly – or perhaps purposefully – left for him and gently took the lead on the topic, offering his personal opinion as he noticed your guard had lowered at least a little.

“It shouldn’t be like this, Y/N.”

A part of him feared he had crossed a line, violated your boundaries, or even frightened you. If any of that had happened, he couldn’t think of a way to backpedal and ease into a gentler, slower approach. But he was surprised when you, equally startled by your own reaction, replied.

“But it’s been this way.”

The sigh that followed expressed your exhaustion – an exhaustion you usually tried to ignore, otherwise it would send you down a path you didn’t feel capable of walking alone. “This is how he makes it to be.”

The indirect mention of Brendon shocked Heeseung even further, though it also brought a strange sense of relief. He hadn’t expected you to open up so quickly, still he wouldn’t take it for granted and chose to continue to walk carefully.

It was as if the plan he had set in motion had been laid out by divine hands, providing him with every tool necessary to reach his ultimate goal.

“It doesn’t have to be… You know that, right?”

You were taken aback when Heeseung’s warm, gentle hand covered one of yours, making you flinch slightly but didn’t pull away. The touch was soft, innocent, and comforting. It offered you just enough weightlessness to let your words flow with more ease, your heart feeling lighter within each passing second.

You wished for that moment to last a bit more. 

“Maybe I know, but… it’s so hard.”

Heeseung nodded softly, his gentle eyes tracing the lines of your face contorted with an expression of sadness and frustration, still avoiding his gaze. It was clear that you no longer wanted to live in this marriage, to be stuck with a jerk like Brendon. But something was holding you back. Or perhaps, you just hadn’t found anything – or anyone – that could truly pull you out of it.

Heeseung gently removed his hand from atop yours, sliding it beneath to hold it with care. “How can I help you?”

But before either of you could react, the sound of Brendon entering the kitchen shattered the tender moment that had been unfolding between you. His presence filled the room with that grotesque energy only he could bring.

“Why are you taking so long, man?”

Brendon’s voice cut sharply through the air, breaking the fragile moment. Your immediate jolt of surprise made you stumble backward, accidentally knocking over the sugar packet on the edge of the countertop with your elbow as you pulled your hand away from Heeseung’s, sending the white grains scattering across the floor. Brendon’s exasperated voice filled the air instantly.

“Messing everything up as always. Jesus Christ,” Brendon snapped, tone dripping with disdain. The sharpness of it seemed to pierce through the quiet warmth you had shared, and the shift in the atmosphere was palpable.

Heeseung stiffened where he stood, his jaw clenched, knowing it wasn’t the right time or place to confront Brendon, but a part of him wanted to.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” You began, your voice tinged with guilt. 

“You never mean to do anything,” he interrupted and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Go grab something to clean this up. And while you’re at it, buy another packet. Use your money this time since you’re the one who made the fucking mess.”

Heeseung stood on the corner, static, feet rooted to the ground, because if he slipped the built self-control out, he would be the one making fucking messes. His eyes darted from Brendon’s to you a brief second, acknowledging that you seemed to be blaming yourself for such a normal accident.

For a fleeting moment, when your eyes met Heeseung’s, what you saw wasn’t pity, it was fury. Not at you, but for you.

His gaze burned holes into Brendon’s side profile, the muscle in his jaw flexing visibly. If Brendon pushed just a little harder, it was clear that Heeseung’s restraint might shatter entirely. His fists curled tighter at his sides, as though physically grounding himself in order to maintain the calmness. 

He wouldn’t admit out loud, not now, but the thought of you being involved in a possible fight was the primary thing holding him back. He didn’t want you to witness how bad and intensely he would make your husband taste his own blood – alongside that, the fantasy of making Brendon clean the floor with his own tongue was tempting and so hard not to give it a listen.

“And why the hell are you taking so long?” Brendon now turned to Heeseung, still holding an arrogant demeanor. “Bet this bitch didn’t leave cold beer for us, and she was probably making up some excuse for it, right?”

The venom in his words made Heeseung’s stomach twist, as well as his hands that clenched harder. His brows knitted together as he tried to process the sheer audacity of Brendon’s determination to make you feel worse. It was as if his entire worldview was built on finding fault in you, as though your very existence was an inconvenience to him.

“Actually, I–” Heeseung started, his tone low and dangerously even.

“Yeah, that’s right.” You quickly interrupted, your shaky voice expressing how affected and fearful you were. You moved to the fridge and grabbed two cans of beer to offer Heeseung. “I’m sorry. Here.”

Heeseung froze, his gaze softening as he took in your unreadable face. He was confused by your reaction and decision, the realization you were trying to defuse the situation, even at your own expense, made his body heat to increase in pure, raw anger towards Brendon.

The kitchen felt suffocatingly small as Heeseung reached out to take the cans from your trembling hands. His fingers brushed against yours ever so slightly, a light, evanescent touch, that still created a visceral jolt that seemed to resonate between you both.

“Thanks,” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible.

Your hands fell back to your sides awkwardly, but the faint lingering warmth of his touch sent a wave of unfamiliar sensation through your body. You shivered slightly; it had been so long since you’d felt this – a connection, something near to a meaningful acknowledgment of your presence as more than just an object of blame.

Brendon’s loud sigh and mutters about something random shattered whatever serenity the moment would unfold deeper. Heeseung’s grip on the beer cans tightened as he fought the growing urge to speak – or worse, act.

For now, he let the silence swallow his frustration, though his eyes remained locked on you, silently promising that this wasn’t the end.

Heeseung felt like he needed to offer you a kind of safe space, an environment where you would feel comfortable enough to begin opening up completely. 

The encounter in the kitchen was successful, until Brendon stepped in and broke the possibilities away. Ever since, he tried to change his plans of meeting Brendon during moments where you could be with him as well.

Heeseung’s whole plan was... Peculiar. He didn’t just aim to get you out of that toxic relationship, offering you the necessary support to help you leave. He primarily wanted to show you just how deserving you were of wonderful things, and that he wanted to be the one to provide some of that happiness.

It was a decision that might have been premature, with a high chance of leading to a dangerous and frustrating path. Even though Heeseung would use all of his tricks, you could still choose to stay. But he couldn’t control the erratic beating of his heart at the mere thought of having you for himself, nor could he ignore the ache in his chest of you opting not to let go, which demonstrated the intertwining of his emotions with this entire situation.

Heeseung was now seated at the dining table with you and your husband, chewing on the carefully prepared meal he had prepared for that “dinner among friends.”

You looked breathtaking, as always. And Brendon? Spewing casual misogyny and ignorance, as always.

The dinner had been Heeseung’s idea, under the pretense of repaying the countless times he had dropped by your house, consuming snacks and drinks without contributing. It was, on the surface, a friendly gesture. But the real reason behind it was far less innocent, and Heeseung knew you were perceptive enough to catch on.

It was so glaringly obvious what Heeseung’s true intentions were that he tried his best not to make them even more apparent with every glance exchanged between you and him. Fortunately, or perhaps out of sheer ignorance, Brendon was far too naive to notice the way you subtly reacted to Heeseung’s laughter – some of it genuine, some of it forced – as you leaned ever so slightly forward, drawn to his presence.

Heeseung was acutely aware, though. He noticed everything about you – every glance, every small smile.

Ever since Heeseung had started showing up during times when you were also home, the kitchen had become your unspoken sanctuary for a sweet connection. He didn’t force or coax you to speak your soul, rather he would give you a cozy place where you got to share fragments of your personal life amid discussions about nothing in particular – Heeseung treasured them all.

He etched those details into his memory as if they were sacred scriptures, intending to one day prove to you just how deeply he cared – and would keep caring, if you said yes. 

Now, as Brendon lounged lazily at the dining table, and you, standing at the sink, rinsed your plate and Brendon’s, you tried to ignore the flush on your cheeks when Heeseung moved to casually stand beside you while keeping the talk with your husband about soccer or something you didn’t care about.

Heeseung leaned casually against the sink counter, the glass of whiskey in his hand catching the warm light of his kitchen as he took a slow sip. You could feel the weight of his presence, far, but still close, somehow calming and charged with unspoken intention.

“Hey, man,” Brendon broke the rhythm of the conversation suddenly, standing up. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat, suppressing a grin because he had planned that all along – to give enough non-alcoholic drinks to Brendon in order to make him leave for a few in the bathroom, getting at least some minutes alone with you.

With an easy, unaffected demeanor, he answered. “End of the hallway,” and raised his glass slightly to point. “First door on the left.”

Brendon nodded, his movements sluggish, and then casted a half-hearted glance your way.

“Don’t break anything while I’m gone,” he muttered, his tone an awkward attempt at humor.

You felt the corner of your mouth twitch into an usual forced smirk, the one you struggled to maintain as a way to faux express your contentment with his terrible jokes.

Brendon disappeared down the hallway, oblivious to Heeseung’s piercing gaze following as he did so. 

The silence left behind was thick, buzzing with the tension of your now uninterrupted proximity with Heeseung, causing a sensation that got your body wincing without anything happening yet. 

“So,” Heeseung began, his voice low and unhurried. He set his glass down on the counter, the faint clink of it meeting the surface echoing in the quiet room. His eyes found yours quickly, holding a weight that made your breath hitch slightly; he took a sweet notice of your blushing cheeks. 

“So,” you echoed softly, your heart raced in anticipation of whatever was about to unfold, dodging the pull of Heeseung’s intense, yet soft, stare to concentrate back on doing the dishes. 

“How was the dinner?”

Your shy smile grew before the tender question as you finished cleaning, silently asking for a hand drying cloth. Heeseung extended you one immediately, dreamy glistening eyes trailing carefully your every move with quiet devotion. He had his attention precisely torn in between the sound of Brendon coming back and you, the prettiest, kindest and most wonderful woman he ever saw.

“It was amazing,” you complimented with sincerity, resting the back of your hips on the edge of the counter top, glancing up through your eyelashes to meet Heeseung’s affectionate, smoldering gaze. “You did amazing.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and subtle, like a sweet melody meant only for your ears. He shifted his weight forward, his movements deliberate as he positioned himself directly in front of you. His hands rested casually on either side of your body, palms flat against the countertop, effectively caging you in a way that was both daring and exhilarating.

“Can’t compare to yours, but yeah, I tried my best.”

His voice was velvety, laced with a casual teasing warmth that sent a shiver down your spine, as if you were close friends.

Your breath hitched, shallow and uneven, betraying the steady facade you tried to maintain. The rapid rhythm of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, a dissonant tum-tum that matched the electricity crackling in the small space between you.

The proximity between you two felt suffocating in the most thrilling way; his attractive face was so close that you could see the flecks of lust in his deep, big brown eyes. He gazed at you with a tenderness that made your heart stutter, his head tilting slightly as if studying your every micro-expression.

Without realizing it, your hands moved of their own accord, awkwardly, yet hesitantly, until they found a place on Heeseung’s broad shoulders. The texture of his shirt beneath your fingertips grounded you, though the hesitant touch exposed your inner turmoil. Still, the simple gesture was enough to make Heeseung’s composure falter.

He hadn’t expected you to respond so involuntarily open.

“He’ll be back soon...” You whispered, the words barely audible as your lashes fluttered shut for a moment. The nearness of Heeseung, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with his natural warmth, made it impossible to focus on anything else. When, exactly, had Heeseung become your greatest temptation?

You weren’t blind to how he treated you. The way his gaze lingered, a mix of genuine affection and burning desire that ignited something dormant within you. It was undeniable the way he affected you, the way your thoughts would drift to him during the quiet, lonely hours of your life.

You fought against those thoughts with every fiber of your being, reminding yourself of the vows you once made. Yet, Heeseung’s constant presence made that fight infinitely harder, as if he hoped for you to drop everything you once promised, as though he taunted your self-control to its limits in order to make you discover fresh and tempting possibilities alongside him.

He was willing to make you wander a path you never quite give a thought to venture yourself into. 

Heeseung leaned in, his voice dropping an octave, soft and husky, almost a caress against your fuzzed soul.

“I know how much he stresses you out, darling...” The endearment slipped from his lips effortlessly, and you clutched his shirt as though it were the only thing keeping you sane. “Let me take that stress away.”

His hooded eyes wandered over your face, not hurriedly but with a reverence that felt almost sacred, as if he were memorizing every line, every curve. The intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing again, his careful inspection leaving no part of you unseen.

Heeseung deeply saw you, and you started to treasure that. 

The dryness in your throat was swallowed with difficulties, as if the saliva production had purposefully decreased only to make you wet your lips, an action that served to draw Heeseung’s attention to that area.

His gaze, dropping to something darker, held longer than he hoped for, but damn, you were so attractive, with your perfectly kissable lips inches from his, with your pretty eyes deliberately expressing your surrender to his charms.

He had to dig self-control in order not to kiss you right there, his own body wavering knowing he wouldn’t stop on just a brief make out moment; he yearned the urge of taking you as a whole, pleasuring you, worshipping you, giving you what you deserved. 

“He’s a good husband,” you forced out, the words tasting weird, unconvincing as they left your mouth; it was a failed coping mechanism not to break in light of the awareness of how disastrous your marriage had become, one you got used to repeating to yourself over the years.

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he absorbed your words. Your lazy eyes caught the small smirk dancing on his lips, a dry chuckle following just before he murmured with devastating precision.

“Does he fuck you good?”

Heeseung’s previous advances had slowly chipped away at your defenses, now the question landed like a wrecking ball in a crumbling wall – strong, direct, and final, the checkmate that shattered everything your morals once held. 

Your body responded before your mind could, a pulsing ache coiling in your core, leaving you clenching around nothing in a crescent despair that burned your skin. The audacity of his words stunned you, but the way they ignited something deep within left you reeling, dizzy.

Your husband had never aroused you with such ease, and with one simple question, Heeseung had rendered you breathless, nearly falling on your knees.

You met his gaze, your lips parted, however not a single word had strength enough to follow the deep breath you let out. The room seemed to shrink as you took in the intensity of Heeseung’s eyes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

His boldness hung in the thick air, while your principles dangerously split between clinging to the lie you told yourself every day and surrendering to the temptation Heeseung presented so beautifully.

“He provides the house–”

“But does he make you feel good, Y/N?”

He ignored your second attempt of forcing a narrative that both of you knew was just a facade, his inquisitive inspection and daring eyes never leaving yours, pushing you through the edge to fall onto his trap. 

The more he pressed you, the more you felt tempted to give in, almost like an addiction to something you had never experienced before, a painful yearning for the thrilling rush that coursed through your veins in delicious anguish with the thought of... trying.  

You feared that you might enjoy it too much if you gave in to whatever Heeseung was willing to offer.  

“He does, he makes me feel happy…”

“No, he doesn’t, Y/N. We both know that.” He cut you off again, though his voice remained calm and low.  

Heeseung was completely guided by the unconscious voice of his instincts that took control of his actions. He still remembered to respect you, to maintain a safe space, not to cross your boundaries, and, most importantly, not to push you beyond what you could handle. But it was so hard not to give in entirely to your complicit charms.  

You didn’t seem to notice, but your hands were pulling his body closer, your eyes triangulating between his brown irises and his cherry-colored lips, almost like a silent invitation to kiss him. You also had tilted your head slightly to the side, relieving your bare neck in a subtle request for Heeseung to explore that sensitive area.

You presented yourself in such a surrendered way, so open, so... reckless for someone who was working so hard to maintain unnecessary morality. 

Cheating wasn’t beautiful; neither of you believed in that. But why was cheating on your husband with Heeseung so ridiculously tempting?

“He doesn’t deserve you, darling…” Heeseung replied, unaware that this was your biggest inner doubt, daring to approach the prickled flesh of your neck.

The tip of his nose brushed slowly, painfully close, without giving you what you secretly craved, while his hot breath caressed your tingling skin like a deliberate, gentle whisper of a quiet promise. You fluttered your eyes close, the grip on Heeseung’s shirt tightening as he continued. 

“I can help you with that... Just give me the word.”

“Heeseung–”

Your desperate, breathy moan was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. No, you didn’t hear them, but Heeseung was more than aware of Brendon’s return, taking on the job of carefully paying attention to it from the very beginning. 

“Think about it, darling. I can relieve your stress.”

It was the last thing he whispered in your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away to instantly resume his casual, friendly demeanor.  

“Did I take too long?”

Brendon’s voice wasn’t enough to break your trance. You felt your body weak and incredibly light, your flustered face showing a slight confusion and disbelief, with a subtle mix of wanting. 

Heeseung glanced at you with a mild smile for a brief moment before wrapping an arm around Brendon’s shoulders to guide him into the living room, murmuring a hollow response, followed by some lame excuse about showing him something, in order to give you time to recompose yourself. 

After a few minutes in a daze, you found yourself heading to the bathroom, because the interaction with Heeseung hadn’t just left a mark on your chest. No. Your panties were ruined, and you prayed you could hide it from Brendon for the rest of the night.

You had to hide your chaotic emotions for the rest of the following weeks, not just that night.

Brendon was completely unaware of the vast storm of thoughts racing through your mind as you did your household chores, which made it easier to ignore his misogynistic taunts and repulsive complaints throughout the day.

The memory of Heeseung’s soft lips brushing against your neck left an undeniable mark, and from time to time, you found yourself absentmindedly tracing the spot with your fingertips, almost as if you could still feel the warmth of his touch melting into your skin.

It was confusing to be in the position you were in, married on the paper to a jerk with the possibility of going after someone who apparently cared about you.

Sharing the same space with Heeseung had become increasingly difficult. You even started shifting your work schedule, taking days off when you knew he wouldn’t be able to come to your house, even though his visits had become less frequent.

You couldn’t quite figure out what had happened, but it seemed that Brendon and Heeseung had an argument after clashing over something trivial. It was as if Heeseung was finally showing his true colors, shedding the persona he had carefully crafted to get closer to your husband and eventually you, now that he had made his move in the invisible game of chess the two of you had been playing.

Besides your work, Brendon couldn’t control your friendships as well and luckily you had a supportful network that held you with warmth when the stress became overwhelming.

Countless times, your friends tried to show you that Brendon didn’t deserve even a fraction of the incredible woman you were, but as always, you had a well-rehearsed response that failed to mask the disrespect you had to endure with him.

Over time, your friends stopped trying to force you to see what you already knew was true, and in response, you made sure not to bring home issues into your work.

But that time, however, it was impossible to stay silent. Your face clearly showed discomfort and anxiety, but there was also a special sparkle in your eyes that piqued Yunjin’s curiosity.

“What’s got you so deep in thought on such a beautiful day, my lovely Y/N?”

You snuggled into the back hug she gave you, chuckling softly at the way she addressed you, a clear sign that she wouldn’t let up until you answered.

Yunjin was your closest friend, the one who always made sure to check on you and your relationship, occasionally threatening to drag you out of your house by force – but you always shot back, claiming it would probably make things worse.

She also knew about your recent sudden desire to escape, to distance yourself from everything that reminded you of Brendon – something completely new in your shared world, based on past experiences. You always found some lame excuse to cover up such thoughts, rarely letting them slip, and suddenly things had changed; in recent days, you had left numerous hints that something completely different and new was unfolding.

A sigh escaped your lips, followed by your quiet reply. “If I tell you, you might not believe it.”

Yunjin adorably rested her chin on your shoulder, trying to look you in the eyes.

“Humor me, then.”

You bit your lower lip, moving your head to the opposite side so you could hide how your cheeks flushed before you muttered.

“I want to cheat on my husband.”

The small stockroom fell into a deafening silence as the words left your lips, words that had been corroding your mind for days, perhaps even weeks. Saying it out loud felt like giving your desire a tangible form, pulling it from the realm of unreachable fantasy into the tempting, possible reality.

It was a simple statement, yet it unleashed a storm of emotions in your chest and stomach, as if all the anxiety you had been harboring, trying to gather the courage to reach this conclusion, came crashing back in a wave that hit you like a brick wall.

Yunjin’s lack of immediate reaction only made the air feel heavier, stealing the very breath from your lungs. You could sense the tension in her body behind you, but your mind, too clouded by the fear of judgment, twisted it into something entirely different from what she truly felt.

“Don’t judge me, plea–” “Who with?”

Your head snapped to the side, stunned, as you searched your friend’s face. What you found wasn’t judgment or disgust but a spark of curiosity and, oddly enough, pride glimmering in her eyes, as though she had been waiting her whole life for you to say something this bold.

“What?”

Yunjin loosened her back hug only to turn you around to face her, taking both of your hands in hers, which had been awkwardly dangling at your sides.

“Alright, so you’re going to cheat on your husband.” She gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. “With who?”

Her enthusiasm was impossible to miss, and it stirred something strangely exhilarating in you, like a mischievous excitement, as if you were about to hatch a secret plan doomed to fail, yet thrilling precisely because of the forbidden nature of it all.

At the same time, you couldn’t fully process her reaction. Tilting your head slightly, you frowned, skepticism evident on your face.

“What do you mean you're not calling me crazy or immoral? Shouldn’t you be scolding me, telling me I should divorce him instead of choosing to cheat?”

Yunjin let out a soft sigh, a subtle and kind exhale, as a small smile danced on her lightly pink-tinted lips.

“Y/N, my princess... After everything you’ve been through, seeing you reach a point where you’re ready to break free from that awful man, even if it’s not in the ‘right’ way, makes me happy and proud. So, I don’t care if you start this journey with an affair or a murder–”

“I'm not murdering anyone!” You quickly cut her off, widened eyes shooting a warning glance. 

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes playfully, the corner of her lips twitching within a smirk. “Either way, I’ll support and help you, because I know that getting rid of that piece of trash will bring you as much peace and joy as it will bring me.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong, but there was one critical detail she didn’t know yet, one that sent a thrill through you just imagining saying it aloud. For the first time, you realized you could actually put yourself first.

“I’m not cheating on Brendon to get revenge,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’m cheating on Brendon because Heeseung is hot, and I deserve better.”

Your trembling fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, each pounding beat of your heart showing how nervous you were as you stood in front of that door.

It had been a few days since your talk with Yunjin – days made even more painful and exhausting by your husband’s behavior. He had been nothing but a spoiled, petulant child as usual, a true pain in the ass with his petty, insufferable attitude. It felt as though he was deliberately testing your limits, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the moment you would snap.

It was always the same game. He would provoke you until you reached your breaking point, only to paint himself as the victim once you finally exploded. He had done it before, twisting the narrative to label you as the irrational, overly sensitive one, incapable of handling even the smallest criticism. Of course, his idea of “small criticism” was laughably detached from the reality of his hurtful words and actions.

The truth was undeniable: your relationship had long since turned cold, deprived of warmth in every sense of the word. The affection that once tied you together had dissolved after the first year of marriage, slipping away like water into a vast, unyielding ocean of discontent and sorrow.

Over time, you grew used to the scraps, and eventually, to nothing at all. You convinced yourself to accept whatever he offered, clinging to the hollow promise you had made – to love each other no matter the circumstances. But deep down, you knew that love had died a long time ago. You just hadn’t found the courage to bury it.

“Fuck you, Brendon. Go to hell!”

Those were your penultimate words before storming out of the house you once shared, grabbing only the essentials – your keys, your phone, and your bag. The last thing you said when he demanded to know where you were going was a truth laced with a hidden lie, where, in fact, you answered him correctly, only omitting the true intention behind your trip.

“Somewhere far away from you.”

That’s how you ended up here, standing in front of a plain white door that now served as the only barrier between you and the reckless choice you were about to make.

Summoning a fleeting jolt of courage, you raised your hand and pressed the doorbell. The moment the sound echoed, your stomach dropped and the weight of what you were doing crashed down on you like a wave. There was no turning back now.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made your breath hitch. Each passing millisecond felt like an eternity, your uneven breathing exposing the anxiety surging through your body.

You had rehearsed a dozen speeches on your way here – carefully thought-out words that would explain everything, rationalize your decision, maybe even give it some dignity. But the second the door opened and his familiar face came into view, every carefully crafted sentence vanished.

All that remained were the raw, desperate words that spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I wanna relieve my stress, Heeseung.”

Without noticing, your eyes fluttered closed when you blurted out, as if you couldn’t bear to see Heeseung’s reaction to it, extremely embarrassed of how you voiced your inner desire. However, his silence was more than enough to make you hesitantly reopen then, expecting anything but the scenery that blessed your sight, making your throat close and the simple action of breathing extremely hard. 

Heeseung stood there, freshly out of the shower after arriving from a very exhausting day at work. Clearly not expecting company, he had thrown on only a comfortable pair of sweatpants that hung low on his waist, the waistband of his underwear peeking out teasingly. 

His exposed torso was graced with droplets of water that danced slowly through its extension, his mild tanned and flustered skin serving as a beautiful background canvas, giving you a private show you hadn’t requested, yet you were beyond thrilled to witness.

At first, Heeseung was very confused with furrowed brows and lost soft doe eyes scanning you as if trying to resolve a riddle. But then, realization hit in an instant when he pieced the puzzle: you, stress relief, clearly nervous at his door…

“Oh?”

The single word failed to snap you out of your shameless admiration. 

Heeseung had an attractive physique, you already knew it. Tall figure, broad shoulders, waist slightly thinner than his hips, effortlessly strong arms; covered in his usual casual suit he was normally the culprit behind your small, careless mistakes, like burning your finger or miscutting a vegetable because your mind wandered a bit too far.

Now it felt like having access to forbidden footage, something you weren’t supposed to see, although you wanted to. Your gaze had been trailing every inch of his exposed form as if you were reading your favorite book, lingering longer on the defined V-line near to where he was covered, almost like daring you to look lower. 

You almost didn’t notice how he shifted on his feet, body language switching instantly to match your dark eyes devouring his flesh deliberately.

Heeseung took a step closer and leaned on the door frame, his head dropping forward just to try to search for your hungry eyes, the fragrance of his shampoo permeating your senses like a flood.

“So you want my help?”

The question came quiet, yet sultry as ever, and acted as a stronger trigger to pull you out of your daze bubble completely, only now noticing how close he was.

Your cheeks exposed your mortification at being caught, though you didn’t actually want to hide your need and desire – it was more like a moral shame, knowing that as soon as you allowed Heeseung to cross a specific line, there was no turning back.

With your fingers clutching your purse's handle firmly, you bravely nodded, tracking your eyes up and seeing the movement of Heeseung cocking his head to the side, as well as the curve of his lips turning into a smirk.

“Yes, I–I want your help.”

Hearing your consent replaced Heeseung’s mild doubt by an urge to take action, as if your words ignited something darker, deeper, that reflected each nuance of it on his drooping eyes. Something you hadn't seen in years, because the only gaze your husband managed to flash you was the usual disgusted, angry, disappointed one; something tempting, and unafraid, you took the bait.

“Come in, darling.”

Your trembling legs somehow managed to follow Heeseung's lead. He had made the subtle decision to brush his hand lightly against your waist as he guided you to his bedroom, your gaze unfocused barely paying attention to the decor of his apartment.

The only things your mind could fully grasp were the warmth of his fleeting touch on your lower back, the soft, dim light that bathed the cozy interior of his space, and that the outcome that interaction would lead to was implicitly obvious.

It felt oddly familiar, like when you lost your virginity – the weight of the forbidden, the eagerness to start and explore mingled with the fear of disappointment and regret, the realization that there was no turning back and things would change afterward.

It was a confusing, insecure mixture of emotions that left you dizzy, especially since you had always followed the vows of your marriage, promising to cherish, respect, and remain loyal to your partner.

But it was hard to hold onto that promise when you were the only one making an effort. It felt like an empty promise, broken, shattered, where only your side remained intact.

“What happened?”

Your thoughts were so intense and overwhelming that you didn't even realize Heeseung had ushered you to sit at the edge of his soft bed, while he pulled the chair from the pair in the corner of the room and brought it closer to you, sitting directly in front of you.

You raised your sad, lost gaze to Heeseung, finding in his eyes an offer of care and attention. There was an underlying lust simmering beneath the surface, threatening to take over, but he was determined to stay composed, ensuring your consent came first.

Heeseung communicated with you without words, a connection so deep it made your heart race, as if the two of you could read each other effortlessly. A small, shaky sigh escaped your parted lips as your fingers fidgeted with your bag, seeking grounding in something tangible, something solid amidst the chaos in your mind.

You were about to cheat. Not just your husband but the promise you had made, once sacred. It felt like madness.

“You know I’m here, right?” Heeseung’s reassuring voice pulled you out of the whirlwind of your thoughts, anchoring you to the present. And with that, you nodded and began.

“He's been... strange.”

Your eyes avoided Heeseung’s curious gaze as he leaned forward at first, close enough to rest his elbows on his knees while enveloping your hands in his warm, comforting grasp. He gave you a gentle squeeze, encouraging you to continue. You shivered and gathered strength to keep going.

“We’ve been fighting a lot lately, and it feels like… If I was already not enough before, now I’m even worse.”

"You were never ‘not enough,’ Y/N,” Heeseung interjected gently but firmly. You darted your eyes briefly towards him and he was frowning a bit. 

“I know, it’s just…” You swallowed the lump in your throat, holding back tears you didn’t want your husband to deserve. “He’s always put me in this place, and I think I started going there on my own. Like, I’m the incapable one, the one who screws everything up, the one who lost her sex appeal and can’t please him anymore...”

Heeseung listened intently, his thumb softly brushing over the back of your hand like a silent reassurance that he was there for you. It was a comfort unlike anything you had felt in a long time.

“And lately... I think he’s–” You hesitated, your gaze unfocused as it landed on a random spot on the chair behind Heeseung. “He’s been coming home late from work, and honestly, I’m relieved to some extent...” A humorless laugh escaped you. “But with the things he’s been saying, like how he could find something better elsewhere, how I’m dispensable… It’s hard not to think he’s...” You took a trembling breath, the tears you had been holding back falling slowly. “...That he’s cheating on me.”

You weren’t crying in full sobs or breaking down entirely. They were quiet tears of realization, a painful acceptance that everything you had worked to keep standing had already crumbled long ago, now waiting to be buried by you; tears of relief, knowing, somehow, you tried your very best. 

Heeseung waited a few moments before raising your hands, still enveloped by his, to place a soft kiss on them. The following words sounded harsh and weighted contrastingly heavy with how tender his lips brushed your skin as he did so.

“He is.”

You froze, feeling your heart skip a beat and your stomach dropping. Your slightly widened eyes snapped to Heeseung’s, searching for any sign of dishonesty or teasing, but all you found was an expression of empathy, compassion that seemed to hurt him almost as much as it hurt you.

“W-What do you mean?”

Even though your voice came reluctantly and your eyes kept drifting to every inch of Heeseung’s expression, as if you expected for it to be a massive lie he was telling you, that new piece of information had your entire being reacting weirdly, awakening – or intensifying – a stronger desire to maintain your previous plan, morality being thrown out the window. 

Heeseung’s jaw tightened at your expectant, griefing eyes, and for a moment he looked away as though struggling to find the right words, the ones not to hurt you even more. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but steady, and made you wince with a bittersweet feeling.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with someone in finance these past few weeks,” a sudden pang in your heart made your breath hitch. “And… from what I’ve seen, it’s not just friendly. His hand is always on her waist, and the smiles they exchange...” He trailed off, not wanting to add to your pain, especially by how your lips pursed together into a small sad pout. “I caught them kissing the other day. I didn’t confront them– I didn’t even know how to tell you. I didn’t know where you worked, and the only chance I had to see you was at your house.” He gave a small, almost remorseful smile, avoiding your gaze. “And honestly, I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I saw him.”

His tone was apologetic and sincere, giving you enough to ignite a growing anger in your chest. 

If you had doubts before, this was more than a confirmation. Not only about your marriage obviously going down in shambles, but mostly to know you weren’t wrong for searching for Heeseung in the first place.

Your mind was caught in a tug-of-war, split into two opposing forces. One side replayed the vows you had once written for your husband, while the other mercilessly pointed out the everyday moments that made it clear he no longer deserved a single word of those promises.

That latter part desperately sought justification, crafting reasons to convince yourself this wasn’t wrong. He did it first, it whispered. He cheated on you. You have every right to even the score.

But this wasn’t just about revenge. It was something deeper – a mix of fractured morality and raw, unfiltered longing for the man standing before you. A man who had just confessed that he feared losing control if he ever faced your husband.

His words stirred something primal within you, replacing the sting of betrayal with a flicker of desire you couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung, in far less time than your husband had, had proven you were worth it. He showed you that you were someone worth fighting for, someone who deserved more.

The intensity in Heeseung's gaze was palpable, his eyes burning with a heat that made your breath hitch. When your own heavy, searching eyes met his, the air between you thickened, electric and tense. The room felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to make the next move.

Yet, as undeniable as the chemistry was, you were still hurt. The anger bubbling within you was impossible to suppress. Every fiber of your body screamed frustration, the weight of betrayal pounding against your chest like a drumbeat.

There was a fire inside you – a burning rage that demanded release. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to make someone – your husband – feel the same devastation that was ripping through you. It felt like an overwhelming need to break something, to pour all your fury into a physical outlet.

And it was then that you realized you needed to take it out on something. 

Before you could act on the reckless thought of leaning forward to claim Heeseung's kissable lips, he rose from his seat with a quiet confidence, still holding your hands. Gently, he tugged you to stand, leaving you momentarily dazed. Your bag slipped from your shoulder onto the chair he was sitting as he guided your body to turn away from him, positioning your back to his chest.

You shivered when his warm breath fanned over your ear, your composure threatening to crumble entirely. Your legs gave a slight, involuntary tremble, as if warning you that, depending on his next actions, you might find yourself falling face-first on the bed in front of you.

“Can I touch you?”

His voice was soft, almost reverent, and the question sparked a mix of confusion and curiosity spiraling through you. You nodded silently, unable to form a coherent response, and his hands moved to your shoulders, his warm touch both soothing and electrifying.

“I know this is all fucked up," he murmured. "But I can’t let you carry all this tension.”

You let out a small chuckle, your shoulders wiggling slightly as you did, allowing your head to tilt to the side. The gesture opened a new, vulnerable space for him to explore, and the silent invitation didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m tired…” you whispered, your voice fragile. “Frustrated also. But so, so tired of being with him. And now that I know he cheated on me,” your voice wavered, thick with suppressed anger and sorrow, “I–I think– I know I deserve better, but… I don’t even know what better looks like.”

Heeseung’s thumbs pressed into the tense muscles of your upper back right after you spoke. You swore you could feel the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he leaned closer, his breath grazing your ear sweetly, yet sultrily.

“I can show you what better looks like, darling,” he said lowering an octave, his tone both tempting and genuine, but mostly, filthy.

A low, involuntary hum escaped you, uncertain whether it was from the pleasure of his skilled touch kneading away your tension or the raw temptation dripping from his words, words that lingered in the air like a seductive promise, enticing you towards a darker path, leading to a gate of ruins – the kind born of broken vows and desires forbidden.

“Can you?” you shot back, your voice soft but tinged with challenge and curiosity, enough to elicit a low chuckle from Heeseung.

“Yeah. If you let me…” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck and a shiver coursed through you, your body instinctively relaxing under his touch. “I can show you. Just say the word, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, and the now painful, agonizing memories of your dead relationship clouded the course of your next decisions. Not that if you were thinking entirely rationally you would avoid the temptation offered by Heeseung, nor would you shy away from the clear want to have him in a more intimate, more physical way.

Nonetheless, the rising anger towards Brendon, that had dismissed slightly but it hadn’t vanished, was slowly, yet completely taking over your being, controlling your senses and boosting the craving for making a move – a wrong move.

There was an excruciating necessity for feeling the revenge melting deliciously on your tongue, to payback, to be in charge of the trajectory of your life back again.

The morality was long gone.

“Please, Hee.”

You tilted your head back, resting against Heeseung’s shoulder. The chant in your brain yelled for you to stop, to resolve things correctly, how they should be, however your hands had already covered Heeseung’s and deliberately pulled them up, his palms now groping your covered breasts with you inciting it.

“Show me.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, your thoughts failing to keep you away from succumbing to your raw desires – Fuck Brendon, you said to yourself. He is the one to blame.

“Show me what I deserve.”

You were blinded by a mix of desire, lust and anger when Heeseung pulled you closer and began to massage your breasts vigorously, his soft lips kissing the length of your neck, jaw and then, the corner of your mouth, while his fingers varied between pinching your nipples and playing with them.

Your desire to have him was overwhelming and indescribable, your body melted under his slow and gentle touch. But that wasn't what you wanted, no. You wanted more; more intense, more fervent, hotter.

You needed to vent your growing rage, you needed to feel your frustration and pain fading away before you exploded.

“I'm angry, Hee,” you murmured through gritted teeth, your eyes narrowing only so you could turn towards Heeseung and grab him by the neck, the hands that once explored your chest now on your waist. “Don't treat me with care. Not now. Not today.”

And in a frantic movement, you attached your lips to his as if it were the last thing you were doing in your life, not even paying attention to how Heeseung's eyes were darkened and clouded by pure lust.

Heeseung felt struck by lightning when he finally kissed the lips he had dreamed of feeling for so long, but he didn't have time to appreciate a single second of their softness because you soon sought to deepen the touch, exploring his mouth with your tongue, searching for his so you could embark on a messy and needy kiss.

Your hands tugged at his hair lightly, occasionally trailing down to his bare, warm shoulder, shivering under your touch. Your heads moved in an unsynchronized rhythm – there was no time to cherish, to appreciate the intimate connection. You just wanted to feel him closer, to feel him deep in you.

When Heeseung's large hands grabbed your ass, you murmured something that sounded like “more”, quickly indicating with your own hand for him to squeeze harder.

The request was swiftly met, your bodies pressing together hungrily to the point where you noticed the erection that was growing under the few cloths that covered Heeseung. You moaned when you felt him hard against you, your breathing hitching.

When you least expected it your back was laid out on Heeseung's bed, with him on top of you, still kissing your lips, your breaths heavy and interrupted, however not enough to break the connection.

But you still wanted more.

“More, Hee. More.” You exhaled at one point, when for a brief moment, your lips parted.

Heeseung had already thrown his sanity out the window. He had intended to treat you with care, affection, and show you how worthy you were, but his plans seemed to differ from yours; you seemed to need an intense and passionate sex, one that he knew he could offer you.

Without much hesitation, he dared to detach his lips from yours just so he could move them down your still covered torso, grazing the fabric of your shirt and stopping at the edge of the waistband of your slacks.

Heeseung guided his gaze upwards, only to find you slightly disheveled, panting, and with swollen lips. The skin around your mouth was reddened from the intensity of the kiss you shared, and he was sure he wasn’t much different himself.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whined and squirmed a little when you realized he was taking too much time to appreciate your expression of desperation instead of using it to make you feel good.

You felt your panties uncomfortably soaked with your arousal and your whole body boiled with lust and need for more.

More, more, more, it was what the chant in your head was screaming now, completely lost in the lustful haze that overwhelmed you agonizingly, mixed with the anger of having been betrayed, been cheated on.

Your hand fit perfectly on top of Heeseung's head when he finally removed your bottoms along with your panties in one go; his beautiful eyes, previously full of attention and affection, now showed pure need for having you naked and exposed.

“Shit, darling…” Heeseung groaned, seeing your wet folds and pulsing hole. “You’re so fucking perfect, so fucking wet,” he kissed your inner thigh and you winced, throwing your head back on the pillow and trying to relax your breathing. “Release your fucking anger on my hair while I make you fucking cum with my mouth, yeah?”

Although you didn’t see, he flashed you a last mischievous glance and a smirk before darting back to stare at your inviting pussy, his own respiration hitching as his mouth watered. 

Wasting no time, Heeseung dipped his flattened tongue all along your extension, sucking at the very end straight on your clit, just to get a preliminary taste but stirring quite a loud moan from you. Your hips waved forward to search for more immediate contact when he briefly leaned away to close his eyes, a phantom of a smile lingering on his lips as he appreciated your flavor melting in his palate.

Your hands pushed his head back down, forcing his face to dive deep into you and he couldn't be happier, even letting out a small giggle with your unashamed eagerness.

It felt amazing to receive an oral that skilled, that warm mouth working perfectly to suck your arousal enthusiastically, big nose nudging in an expert dance against your sensitive bud of nerves and, damn, that tongue assaulting your pulsing hole by entering in and eventually stroking through the other parts, passionately exploring your cunt.

Heeseung was giving you full attention.

Somehow it triggered an urge to cry in between your moans, because you were associating practically everything with your husband – the heated kisses you never really got to receive, the deprivation of sexual interactions where you felt desired, the words that lifted your self esteem.

Brendon had never treated you this way, the right way. He barely even gave you a fraction of the care and attention that Heeseung was now showering upon you, his desire to bring you pleasure evidently being treated as if it was his own, as though having you shaking and pleading for more with your drenching cunt on his mouth riled him up.

Your eyes stung and tears dared to roll down your temples onto the pillow beneath your head, the lump on your throat and a strange feeling filling your chest that only fueled your pain and anger.

Instinctively, your fingers tightened their grip on Heeseung's soft hair, strong enough to make him groan in pain, but not enough to make him complain or ask you to stop. You also forced him down once again, using his face, mouth, tongue, nose, everything to get yourself off and drift the sorrow away.

“F–Fuck–” A whimper escaped your lips when Heeseung entertained your idea instead of backing off, intensifying how he was eating you out deliciously, his own breath growing stronger, ragged within each passing minute he deepened his head between your legs, nearly suffocating himself.

You could feel the foreign knot on your stomach tightening along with the pang in your chest and Heeseung’s grip on your thighs; his hands moved to under them to position on his broad shoulders, skin on skin making you notice how hot both of your bodies were, and, at the same time, serving as a not-so-gentle lucidity reminder of the intimacy you were sharing.

Although the temptation of achieving your release just with Heeseung’s mouth tickled your core, you couldn’t help the sane part of your brain prompting that, perhaps, the ongoing scenario wouldn’t happen even again and you had to live it up the best.

Everything was so confusing. You just had a reckless, frustrated and anger driven decision that led you to have Heeseung buried deep in your pussy, nonetheless you were still married – at least on paper. 

You had a husband. 

The hand that held Heeseung in place was curiously your left one, as if the whole world wanted to remember you were being a cheater; your pretty ring sparkled amidst his dark locks in a beautiful, nearly artistic mess.

A roll of eyes brought you back to the overwhelming sensation of Heeseung’s warmth involving your sensitiveness, snapped you back into the haze of unawareness of your sad reality. He cherished your climax as much as you, and was willingly determined to make you cum just by his mouth. You, on the other hand, had different plans.

“Hee…” You called in a moan and tried to pull him away, your closed eyes making the unleashed tears flow easily. He shook his head and pushed himself down again, oblivious to the turmoil blending with your pleasure. 

He only halted his movements when you added. “Mhm, stop, please–”

A soft kiss within a plop sound was planted on your clit when he stopped, stirring a small shake in your body and a quiet whine. Heeseung lifted his gaze and caught your furrowed brows and bitten-swollen lips, and also noticed your tears.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

His voice carried a hint of concern, unsure if your tears were from pleasure or sadness, especially since you had just asked him to stop, leaving him dealing with mixed signals.

“Nothing's wrong,” you shook your head and smiled, because the man in front of you not only respected your request immediately but also prioritized your well-being over the sex. A rarity in your life.

Even so, Heeseung maneuvered your legs to place them back on the soft mattress and moved to hover comfortably over you, his eyes searching for your still closed ones. You felt a gentle stroke on your cheek, followed by his warm breath fanning your nose and lips, signaling he was closer to you than you had realized.

Your free hand blindly traced the path of his arms to his neck, while the other, still tangled in his hair, pulled him into a kiss with one singular, simple purpose: to drown out all the overthinking that had started to flood your mind.

The tears intensified as your lips moved in sync, and when Heeseung tried to pull back, likely to ask what was wrong, you tugged him down again and silenced the possibility by deepening the kiss.

A terrible feeling began to rise, fighting against the one that had filled the room minutes ago – lust.

You wanted Heeseung as a man. You wanted him to keep touching you as he did moments ago, to give you the pleasure you deserved and wanted, not only because he offered that chance but mainly because you desired it and allowed it.

Yet, it was so messy and confusing. The weight of guilt pressed heavily on your chest, the self-awareness and the realization of cheating beginning to restrict your actions.

And then came the anger.

He betrayed you first. He didn’t treat you right. He didn’t respect you. Maybe, he didn’t even love you.

That marriage had been dead for so long. The façade you had desperately tried to keep intact by scattering beautiful flowers along the path was already thrown in the trash. You deserved better – you deserved a confident, strong, incredible and undeniably attractive gentleman like Heeseung.

Heeseung.

Heeseung, who was right in front of you, so close, kissing you with a slow, addictive heat. Heeseung, who had respected you from the very beginning. Heeseung, who risked parts of his morality, his life, and his values just to get closer to you. Heeseung, who occupied every corner of your mind.

Why was it so hard to accept that you might actually deserve him?

A shaky sigh broke the intoxicating kiss as Heeseung propped himself up on one arm to look into your glossy, reddened eyes. Before any questioning words could escape his swollen lips, you allowed your raw desire to be spoken aloud.

“Fuck me with your fingers,” you demanded, your voice soft, yet firm and serious as your eyes roamed Heeseung’s features. 

His forehead was starting to damp some hairs in sweat, his nostrils moved along his intense breathing and his lips, parted, showed your work of art on them, glistening with your saliva and earlier arousal.

Your hand covered the one that still lingered tenderly on your cheek, grabbing it to drive slowly down to your pussy.

“I want to feel you in every way possible, Hee.”

Heeseung couldn’t deny the confusion of your actions, the sudden cry, the smallest hesitation he caught in between the kiss, and now this. He was in no place to deny such a filthy request though, a request that got his neglected, aching dick throbbing in his boxers, nearly screaming for some relief or space to breathe.

Still, an incomprehensive sensation lingered on the back of his head as he tracked your every face motion.

“Are you sure?” The question itself was just a confirmation you were alright, you were still thinking somehow straight and taking decisions you really wanted to live up with.

Cheating wasn’t Heeseung’s game either. He hated the idea of being or having an affair as much as you; infidelity never sounded right to his ears. Nonetheless the situation was so uniquely specific. His true concern was when you would dump that jackass you called a husband, the one who wouldn’t lift a finger to make you happy, the one who, quite the opposite, would be more than thrilled to make you feel worse every passing day.

Selfish as it may be, it was genuine to his intentions. Heeseung had been fully aware of his plan from the start, knowing it wasn’t entirely right to do so, but sounded like the most possible option – to show what you deserve, and how he would willingly give it to you.

Now, he wished he could have stayed loyal to the original intent of this entire thing, where he promised himself to help you out of a toxic relationship without getting personally attached.

But it was you. You, with your charming smile. You, with your pretty expressive eyes. You, with your loving personality. You, with your sincere care for those you loved.

You, taking over his thoughts within every shade of mundanity and profanity, from the most casual to the most profound and intimate area.

Tasting your lips was the first stumble. Venturing in your intimacy was where he fell. 

“Yes, Hee,” you nodded, softened eyes showing your need along with a press of his fingertips into your hole, teasing an intrusion. He moaned with you. “I’m sure.” 

“Fuck,” a curse slipped from his mouth like a grunt, and his lips pressed against yours to kiss you again, because in no world he would miss the opportunity of having you this close, to drink from your whimpers as he circled his finger on your clenching pussy.

Heeseung was skilled in many nuances, you came to realize. But kissing was definitely his most noticeable talent. He knew where and when to move to match your energy, how to use his tongue to grace yours in a deliberate dance that twisted your feelings, leaving you lightheaded and dizzy, craving for more.

You might have taken his supposition of you deserving more a bit too far, because you also noticed Heeseung was apparently tailor-made to provoke your instincts of wanting, of more – it never felt enough.

So when he finally inserted his middle finger, you jolted and gasped mid kiss, without being able to prevent your hips reflexively wiggling to get additional contact, nor your hands tightening around his silky strands, trembling just enough to make your desire noticeable.

“More,” you whispered in a shaky breath, lips brushing against each other before Heeseung’s ones trailed lazily along your cheek, lowering to your neck. You moaned. “Add more, Heeseung–” 

Your spongy interior hugged his following finger in a warm, tempting hug and he didn’t hold back his shameless humping against your leg that matched the pump into you, his cock twitching in despair for release, for freedom. It felt tight; both your pussy and the fabric around his length.

Heeseung panted in between the sloppy kisses he delivered along the extension of your goosebumped skin, loving how needy you sounded and acted by clutching his hair stronger and waving your body forward. 

His fingers worked wonders inside you, palm brushing lightly against your clit and providing a teasing amount of friction, but didn't give enough fulfillment to leave you satisfied. Both of you grew impatient before the silent shared-thought of Heeseung’s cock filling your pussy, replacing his two fingers, so he could feel all of you and hit your every spot.

A displeased whine followed by a quiet surprised gasp jumped out of your mouth when Heeseung removed his hand from you, lewdly licking his fingers clean with an arousing smirk before quickly sneaking it under your penult clothing piece to unclasp your bra.

You helped by arching your back just to give some space, and didn’t hide your shock by how easily he did it with just one hand; the tight tension that held boobs in place soothed as he removed your shirt altogether, making you sigh and wince a little as the room air fanned your, now, completely naked skin.

“Need to fuck you, darling,” he muttered, voice low, velvety and desperate. “Need it so bad.”

Your eyes followed closely how dilated Heeseung’s pupils were, blown with unfiltered, bare hunger dedicated to you. He unashamedly showed his craving by licking his swollen lips at the sight of your perked nipples aching for some attention, and for brief seconds he cupped your breasts with each of his hands and kneaded softly, just to feel the smoothness of them.

Your lazy smirk and hooded eyes demonstrated your enjoyment with the devotion Heeseung was giving you willingly, without asking anything in return as you were used to; your husband always sharply requested something back if you said you wanted him to play with your body and give you something instead of using it for his own pleasure. 

“You’re so fucking hot, darling,” Heeseung complimented with a quiet grin, worshipping your gorgeous body exposed for his eyes, eyes that showered you with want, with genuine interest on what they were seeing.

Such a foreign experience for you.

He grazed his fingertips downwards the fat of your waist and hips as he, himself, lowered all the way on the bed before standing up on his feet. 

“You think so?” You asked shyly, barely audible as you propped yourself in one arm to watch the small show Heeseung was giving you by removing his sweatpants; you couldn’t help your salivation or the pulses in your cunt seeing the shape of his cock, drawn along the fabric, and the big dampened portion indicating his leaking tip that teased the subsequent vision.

When Heeseung finally exposed his length completely, you couldn’t hold back the sigh, the wide-eyed stare, or the dry swallow that slid down your throat.

He was big. Long and flushed, angrily aching, begging for relief. And he was about to be inside you.

“Fuck…” 

Heeseung’s grin stretched with your adorable, yet sultry reaction – the whisper of your curse traveling straight into his ear, flattering his ego; your legs closing and your thighs clenching involuntarily in order to find some satisfaction stirring a throb on his hardened cock. 

“I’m totally sure of it, doll,” the endearment got your needy hole clenching more, and Heeseung seductively hovering on top of you with his piercing eyes locked onto yours didn’t help much. Your breath hitched, eyes gleaming with expectation, but your cheeks warmed after he added. “You’re like a goddess.”

Maybe it wasn’t exactly his words, but how he sustained eye contact while he voiced them. Heeseung had an attitude that got your core bubbling in a rush of excitement, both sexual and… affectionate. 

Effortlessly and shamelessly, he had expressed just how deeply you affected him, simply by being in your presence. The way his body responded to yours with such ease, by nothing more than fleeting touches and exchanged words, with your consent, felt surreal. It was so far from the reality you were used to, so unexpected.

“You make me go insane…” He continued, kissing your neck while positioning himself in between your legs.

Your hands grabbed the sheets beneath you as he pressed the tip on your pussy, his free hand caressing your cheek as the other held his support beside your face.

“Dreamed about you from the very first day…”

The confession sounded raw, voice slowly pronouncing each word with care, but hoarse enough to show the sincerity of it, as if he had let down his guard completely and was letting his deepest thoughts escape without filters. It caused an unfamiliar wave within you, something that both eased your nerves and sparked your curiosity, something that got you clutching the sheets harder and your eyes fluttering close.

“When I found out you were married to that pathetic excuse of a man,” Heeseung maintained his tone low and deliberate, matching the rhythm he started to enter you, face still buried in your neck. “I was so, so pissed.”

Your breath hitched, overwhelmed by the feeling of the weight of his length and how deliciously he was stretching your hole.

On top of that, Heeseung’s unfiltered words didn’t leave an open space for you to add anything else, too flustered, aroused, lost in your pleasure and bafflement under the bare feeling of intimacy, leaving the job of talking entirely for him.

So he kept going, taking your silence and how your brows furrowed into a contorted expression of pleasure as a positive reaction. 

“I saw him talking shit about you every day,” he murmured, already more than halfway inside you, taking his time, savoring the way you clenched around him. Soft and breathy grunts escaped amidst the speech he chose to vent to you. “And I couldn’t do anything, not back then. I had to get closer to him to get closer to you.”

That piece of information was new, though you could easily deduce it by sorting out the fragments you already had. You wished you could fully comprehend it, respond as you wanted, maybe even thank him or whatever, but the way Heeseung deepened his movements, his body pressing against yours, his pelvis in contact with your skin, was clouding your mind.

“I wanted to destroy your marriage, love. I’m not even ashamed to admit it,” he whispered against your ear like telling you a secret, then raised his head to search your gaze. “So, so, so beautiful…” 

You fluttered your lashes, weakly trying to meet his eyes. Your hands, once gripping the sheets, trembled as they found their way to Heeseung's shoulders. He noticed how your eyelids struggled to stay open, feeling the weight of his body on top of yours, knowing that every sensation was pulling you deeper into a space where he believed you truly belonged – completely immersed in raw pleasure.

Your cheeks flushed, and although Heeseung believed it was from the lustful warmth, it was mostly because of his genuine words, the way he told his side of the story, which left you disoriented yet absorbing every sentence.

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said once again, as though expecting you to absorb the compliments. Knowing how unwanted your relationship made you feel, he had a mission to make you understand you were wonderful and he was deeply affected by you. “The prettiest woman I ever laid my eyes on.”

You whimpered quietly when he dared to move an inch away, pulling out his cock a little just to pump into you again. With your body already limp, you gave up on keeping watching his handsome face up-close, the glimpse of a tender smile being your last view before closing your eyes.

Heeseung took your decision as a silent invite for a kiss, hand sneaking in between your hair towards you nape, attaching his mouth on yours in a slow and sensual touch that got you melting even more. He muffled his own grunts as he drank in your beautiful moans.

You couldn’t come up with a proper description about the fluttering in your chest and stomach with such a gentle contact, nor the way his hips moved deliberately, allowing you to not only adjust, but feel his deep thrusts everywhere. 

Somehow, you really felt Heeseung everywhere. 

His tongue twisting softly with yours, sucking your lips with a slow passion that took your breath away. The words, lingering on the back of your head and mixing with the amount of pleasure he was giving you, had your heart beating louder and stronger against your ribcage. 

“You deserve more,” he carried on with his mission of making you feel worthy, stopping the kiss to press his lips on the corner of your mouth. “So much more, darling.”

And although you wanted to enjoy the slow sex he was providing you, the words of devotion he was offering with so much ease and genuineness, your messy thoughts and feelings suppressed it.

It felt like Heeseung’s adoration triggered even harder those reminiscences of your broken marriage. You remembered the times you sacrificed yourself, damaging your mental health for someone that threw everything away to cheat you, to have an affair. 

Regret was an euphemism to begin with what was going through your head. You felt so ridiculous for letting things get to that point. It was an unpleasant blend of blaming your husband and blaming yourself because, even if you tried to see it from the perspective that he never deserved even a fraction of your care and love, there was still the part where you chose to stay.

And why?

You had always brushed aside the possibility of divorce. At times, questioning why you stayed meant entering a limbo without an exit – or one you didn’t want to find. So, you avoided thinking too much about it. You accepted what he gave you.

But why? 

Why did you accept so little?

Your friends had asked you that a few times, but your anger grew at the mere thought of considering the question. Eventually, they stopped asking too.

It was a silent answer you didn’t want to give – acknowledging that the man who had promised you eternal love didn’t love you anymore hurt your ego, hurt your sense of integrity. Instead of leaving, you chose to stay and try to fix it, to make yourself wanted and loved again. But how could you change something immutable?

Anger.

It flared again, thundering in your chest and making you tight your hands into fists. The fingers tangled in Heeseung’s hair gripped a tuft tightly, pulling unconsciously as a way to release your rising rage. He hissed right after, furrowing his brows trying to understand what was happening with you.

Heeseung felt like perceiving your actions and moods with surprising ease after spending quite some time along with you, observing your demeanor and how you changed expressions due to something in particular, either for good or bad. 

However, right at that moment, when he was fucking you nice and slow, kissing you with care and giving you the amount of fondness he felt you deserved, he sensed confusing signals about what you really wanted. Or maybe he was interpreting your needs through his own perspective, assuming you sought love and affection when, in fact, you craved for something tougher.

Heeseung pressed your lips together once more, but now with less delicacy than before as testing the waters. You gave an immediate reaction, gradually loosening your grip on his locks to something teetering the bearable and actually pulling him closer, deepening whatever you could deep while kissing him.

The frustration in your chest dissipated as your tongues clashed aggressively against one another, suppressing your growing moans as he started to thrust faster. Within seconds, Heeseung started to hit a certain spot that got you shivering and letting out a particular loud moan under his strong hold on your body.

He quickly noticed the change in your body language and adapted himself to it. One last tug on your lower lip between his teeth, strong enough to almost leave bloody marks and elicit a groan from your throat, was what told you he was about to change positions.

Heeseung slightly raised his upper body to position himself on his knees and looked at you with a certain fierceness, with hunger, and you, now with your eyes mildly open, saw the bareness of his lust stirring the most profound heated desire carved in your soul, bringing back to life something you didn’t notice you had lost.

“So this is what you wanted, huh?” Heeseung flashed you a devilish grin, his voice low and notably teasing, finding support on your open thighs. 

His pelvis, once slow, began to move with more urgency, gradually increasing the pace together with the smirk that graced the corner of his reddened lips. You winced, feeling dizzy with the sound of his low moans and the slapping skin-on-skin.

Rolling your eyes with a content smile and a quiet nod was your failed attempt to give a proper response, because you felt too lost embracing the sudden switch that got your core throbbing in excitement, at the same time that released your tensed nerves.

“S’good,” you whimpered and arched your back slightly, head being thrown back as you did so. 

Heeseung cooed at the view of your boobs bouncing with each of his deep pounds into you, together with how your hands desperately struggled to find a grounding physical piece as you grabbed everything around you – the sheets, his arms, the pillow.

He had picked up a rhythm that kept you swaying on the edge of your growing release, so extremely close to snapping you into a bliss of pleasure, yet far enough to drive you insane.

He was playing with you like a toy – his favorite. Denying you the climax of your desire – so freaking amazing. 

“Y’could have told me earlier, darling,” he clicked his tongue with faux disappointment, breathing heavy in between his sharp words. “Would be fucking you like this from the very begining.”

You even tried to murmur a soft apology, but it got lost amidst your messy whimpers, your hazed mind, foggy with need making it hard to think of anything other than Heeseung’s cock, Heeseung’s voice, Heeseung’s name. Heeseung.

And you wanted more. Always. Fucking. More.

So with your lips falling open, you were able to only plead.

“More… Please, Hee, more…”

Heeseung was going crazy as much as you. He felt his body becoming exhausted with each passing thrust, however, he had no intention of stopping too soon, not without feeling the amazing clench of your pussy hugging his dick so fucking good as you cummed all over his shaft, not without letting his release fullfill you in a way that you would never forget who fucked you dumb so good like that. 

It felt like a magic spell, drifting him back and forth into reality and insanity, because of how good your cunt were making him feel, allowing his length to go fast, deep and strong into your pulsing hole; spongy interior pressing his hardened cock that ached for an orgasm. 

“Fucking pussy– Fucking tight pussy, makes me insane– Shit–” He panted in between breathy moans, voice coming out low, yet strained as his body faltered forward.

You lost count on how many times your eyes had rolled, not that you were actually trying to number it; the ecstasy Heeseung was providing you was wild, lunatic even. You only noticed his closeness again when his lips brushed your neck, not kissing or anything. He was just… there, as lost in his pleasure as you, muttering a row of curses and your name within gorgeous moans. 

You wanted to cum so, so bad, and somehow you couldn’t let go of it fully, the pressing knot on your lower stomach refusing to unfold into your orgasm. 

“Hee– Mhm–”

Heeseung was in love with how distant and broken you sounded, babbling nonsense as he pounded deeper. In love with how hot and sweaty your skin was in contact with his equal one, showing how intimate you two were. In love with your beautiful noises, that made his balls tight with his near climax. 

“Fuck– You like cheating on your jerk husband with me, don't you?” The breathy question murmured against your earlobe had no purpose of getting an answer, yet you gave one, echoing ‘yes’ like a prayer, hand in fist hitting lightly Heeseung’s broad shoulder as a way to find an anchor. You were so close. “It's okay, darling. It’s okay, yeah?” 

Heeseung kissed your neck, then your lips. 

“You deserve better.”

Heeseung led his fingers to rub your clit, eyes locked on your contorted face. So close.

“I can give you better.”

Heeseung’s body trembled nearly at the same time as yours started to shake uncontrollably. The wave of pleasure that coursed through your body was too much to handle, so you simply let go, relaxing your entire being and allowing it to take control of your movements without thinking deep into it.

You saw the world turning into white for a few seconds, your ears ringing with an annoying, far noise that clouded your mind and numbed your limbs. Heeseung's name escaped your lips, the ones stained due to the long, passionate kisses and delicious bites, like a sob that was both painful and sweet.

You barely heard anything Heeseung cursed through his heavy breath and addictive moans, nor your name being called as he filled you with thick ropes of his warm cum, let alone the kiss he placed on your chin right after or the chuckle he let out when noticing your drool.

The burning sensation in your stomach traveled its path until it reached your cunt, releasing in a squirt as you cried and squirmed. 

You cried, tears dancing on your face as you, slowly yet impactful, went through every possible sensation, but not really feeling all of them. It was weirdly good, an unprecedented experience you didn’t know you needed to have until right at that moment.

You wanted to make it last forever.

After what you decided to define as minutes passed, remotely distant, like a muffed blur, fighting with the dense fog inside your head, you started to hear Heeseung’s voice trying to bring you back to him.

“Hey, darling,” he kissed your cheek softly, brushing his thumb on your lower lip, a contact that contrasted absurdly with the fact that he was still buried deep within you. “I’ve got you, mhm?” 

And he followed to shower you with affectionate sweet words, asking if you were alright, for you to open your eyes, to say some words just to know you were fine. At some random moment you lazily blinked, hardly actually seeing Heeseung due to your tear-drenched eyes. 

“You made me squirt,” you whispered weakly, the lingering touch of Heeseung’s lips on yours still feeling like a ghostly caress, though you felt his body trembling as well as his smile when he chuckled.

“Hell yeah, I did.”

Heeseung slowly searched for air to his exhausted lungs, his body relaxing but making sure not to press your exhausted one. He was worried about your integrity after such a long and hard orgasm. 

“You good, baby?” 

The pet name felt natural, as if for Heeseung, calling you with endearing nicknames was as common as drinking water on a daily basis.

The warmth of his touch – he had let his hand, which had once gently caressed your face and brushed away sweat-drenched strands of hair, travel to your waist – was loving, making you yearn for more while feeling valued.

His gaze, full of care, radiated an aura of calm, like a magical magnet pulling you closer; there was no other explanation for your desperate desire to kiss him, as a way to reciprocate what he offered you freely.

Heeseung made you feel wanted, cherished, and respected in ways you hadn't known in far too long. It was all so new, though not entirely; it was confusing and messy and chaotic, but so, so good.

You gave a small nod in response and pulled him into another kiss, this time slow and gentle. You felt him pull his softened length from you, a small hiss and a frown coming from your side due to your sensitiveness. 

“Sorry,” Heeseung whispered in a genuine apologetic tone before diving back again to keep his tongue brushing deliberately on yours.

He was kissing you with so much feeling, yet in a sensual motion that got your breath caught in your throat, the beats of your heart matching the pace of the subtle pressure of his swollen lips against yours.

You could feel a phantom of a smile coming from Heeseung in between the kiss, as if he was thrilled about what just happened with you two – and to be honest, so were you. He had given you not only an unreal, breathtaking sexual experience that led your body to feel limp and extremely relaxed, but he mostly showed you the possibility beyond your current life.

Heeseung unveiled, somehow, your freedom to quit the confines you were trapped in, a way out of the prison that held you in place, restricting your needs, your wants and, mainly, your love and affection.

He had shown you an escape. Maybe a ruined one, but still an escape. 

Nonetheless, as quickly the sweet moment started, it stopped, when a sudden wave of realization hit Heeseung. The once hazy mind that drove you both into an intense path, leading towards a more serene one, was now reactive and alert.

“Oh, fuck…” Heeseung’s voice was dripping with exasperated concern when he broke the kiss by leaning back from you with widened eyes. 

The moment you saw his expression, you couldn’t help but frown, a confused pout forming on your lips. He started scanning the bed frantically, his gaze darting around as if searching for something if it was used, would be on his… “Shit.” He glanced down to see the obvious. No condom.

His mouth opened and closed, as if the words were stuck somewhere between his brain and his tongue. He exhaled deeply, searching for comfort in your gaze, but, obviously, you wouldn’t be offering a quarter of it to him. Actually, your curious-dumbfounded eyes increased his nervousness.

“We didn’t use protection,” he finally blurted, his voice heavy with anxiety.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the whole soothing atmosphere suddenly fading in a snap as the room seemed to shift, the air growing thick. You felt a shiver running down your spine and instinctively you lifted your body, propping yourself up on your elbows, your eyes widening with a surge of fear. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You glanced back at him, your eyes wide with alarm, completely unaware of how Heeseung’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed dryly. 

His usual calm demeanor faltered before your reaction, and the fear was clear in his current state, with his body tense, pupils blown and dilated, as well as his short bursts of breath that grazed your face, blending with your equally rapid one.

The following question got your chest tightening even stronger, the weight on the room now teetering unbearable. 

“B–But you take your pills… Right..?” His voice wavered, his eyes desperately searched for reassurance in yours, his hand once gently holding you, now gripping quite fiercely on your hips.

Your immediate silence was more than enough of an answer, still you shook your head, denying. A cold spread through your chest when you realized you had made a huge mistake, your body falling back on the bed as you said, voice barely above a whisper as you did so, filled with terror. 

“I stopped taking it when my sex life stopped existing.”

Reading the situation, more specifically when he noticed your eyes brimming with fresh tears before you closed them, Heeseung quickly rushed to change his behavior, and instead of causing you even more pain and suffering, he sought to calm you.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, alright?” He positioned himself on his knees, gently taking your hands to pull you to sit as well. “We always have the option of the plan B pill, right?”

Fluttering your lids open, you sobbed, the view of Heeseung’s disheveled hair blurring due to your watered eyes. 

“But if he finds out–”

“He won’t,” Heeseung immediately interrupted, cupping your face tenderly.

He opted to ignore the pain in his chest because your instant line of thought somehow fueled a wave of realization that, despite his attempt to pull you away from that broken relationship, you might still go back to your husband as if nothing happened.

“I’ll buy it before you leave, okay?”

You let your gaze travel over Heeseung’s caring form as he gently caressed your face and placed random kisses on your lips. Your heart warmed, relief and genuine happiness flowing through every part of your body as you relaxed back, regulating your breathing. He nodded along with you, flashing a small smile that got your heartbeats thumping faster. 

“But just know that if– No. Forget it.” Heeseung started, but then cut himself off with a quiet, mysterious laugh and a shake of head.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him inquisitively with your head cocking to the side.

“Now you have to tell me.”

A sigh escaped his lips when he realized you were unwavering in your demand and decided to speak, avoiding your stare.

“I was going to say that...” He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up. “That I wouldn’t mind you carrying a child of ours.”

If it weren’t for the quietness of his room, you probably wouldn’t be able to hear a word of what he had said. Unfortunately – or not –, you heard each single part of it and your reaction was to freeze.

Heeseung immediately noticed how you tensed, the grip on his hand tightening since he hadn’t let go of one of your hands. He blushed in a deep shade of crimson, feeling mortified for saying something so outrageous, but… He freaked out. He wanted to make you feel comfortable and secure, offering you a safe place with options for any possible outcome due to both of your irresponsibility. However, he made it worse.

“Sorry. I– We don’t know each other well enough for me to say that, but... You’re special, amazing, beautiful, smart... A child of yours would be a blessing, that’s what I meant.”

He tried to explain himself and he couldn’t pinpoint if it made the situation worse. The words caught in your throat because you hadn’t prepared for such a raw declaration after such intense and wonderful sex.

Heeseung was proving to you, once again, that you deserved more and better, even in between stumbled sentences of a rambled speech.

“In any case...” He continued, gulping. “I wouldn’t want a child of ours– Yours. Mine?” He giggled, embarrassed. “To be conceived in… Y’know…”

Your stomach dropped with the realization of what you just did. Yeah. A cheating sex. You cheated on your husband. Yes, you had a husband to start with.

How had you forgotten?

Once again, you found yourself torn in between your chaotic feelings, unable to make proper decisions due to your sensitive mind. You just had an amazing moment with Heeseung and would be willing to extend for some more encounters. On the other hand, there was still so much you needed to work through – both internally and externally – and it involved another person as well. 

The one who was supposed to be the love of your life, just as the promises of youth had once told you.

But those promises now felt like distant echoes, fading against the weight of reality. The life you imagined with Brendon had been clouded by too many unanswered questions, too many unsaid things throughout plenty of years. It crashed down now, like a tide that dragged you towards the deep, profound ocean of uncertainty. 

The connection that was supposed to bring comfort now seemed like a distant and extremely painful memory, because, afterall, he betrayed you first.

Lost in your reminiscences and confusing mind, you didn’t notice when Heeseung laid you back down on the mattress, cleaning you gently while leaving you to your thoughts. He was aware of the necessity of you having to think. He couldn’t even imagine what was going on in your mind and, honestly, he didn’t know if you wanted to share with him.

Especially with him.

Heeseung was not only an acquaintance of your husband anymore. He was the man that helped you to cheat. He was your affair, the wrong side of your life, the lack of morality, of honesty, of loyalty. He would be associated with that for the rest of your days, and strangely enough, he had no regrets.

Heeseung was aware that despite all the wrong decisions made that night, in the end, you got what you deserved: affection and the feeling of being cared for.

That was what you deserved, forever; to be desired, to be adored, to be placed on a pedestal as the incredibly wonderful goddess that you were.

Brendon didn’t deserve the heart-shaped sandwiches or the love notes you worked so hard to make every day, nor the meticulous care you put into the home he lived in, even though you worked as much as he did.

He didn’t deserve the way you looked at him with fondness, although most of the time it was a pretense, hiding the real layer of what you had felt for so long and refused to accept.

He didn’t deserve to hear your beautiful voice excitedly talking about a new flower arrangement you made or the new recipe you learned and nailed on the first try. He didn’t deserve to hear your laughter while watching comedy films or when something went wrong and you giggled, embarrassed.

Heeseung didn’t know if he, himself, deserved any of that, but he wanted to make you realize that you were so much more than just a facade of a wife.

You were so much more… To him.

“How do I go back to my house now?” You asked quietly after a while, your voice breaking the silence of the room like an anvil falling into a glass-floor. 

The question, however, wasn’t exactly directed to anyone in particular, you didn’t even notice you said aloud.

Heeseung’s response caught you off guard. 

“Do you want me to take you?”

You sighed, looking at him. As said before, you had laid back on the bed and he was right by your side, caressing you while you spent your last minutes thinking about your life and your future decisions. 

Heeseung driving you back to your house would make things worse, though you wanted to see how Brendon would react to that.

Brendon. Why does his reaction still mattered to you? He literally chose the same path you did tonight, but way before you and keeping his cool, as if he wasn’t throwing his whole marriage into the thrash for some random chick at his work.

“No.” You answered after a brief, yet close inspection. “I need some time alone.”

And Heeseung’s chest tightened in pain. You could still choose to stay with your husband after everything, it has always been one of the options when everything first started.

He swallowed the urge to try to convince you of his… Love? He couldn’t even name it yet, but something was definitely blooming into his heart and you, with your beautiful presence, was the big picture in that scenario. 

“Okay,” he whispered, agreeing with you.

And although you, yourself, weren’t sure of much, Heeseung was of one thing. 

It was more than worth it. 

When you got back home, the silence and the darkness of your house greeted you, embracing your confused and broken self with something bittersweet – your home was supposed to be your comfort spot, however it felt wrong. 

Everything felt misplaced, even though nothing had moved out of position. 

You scanned every corner of the living room, and yet, despite its familiarity, it felt foreign, like you didn’t belong there anymore. Perhaps you never did.

The walls were adorned with photos of you and Brendon, frozen moments from a life that now felt distant. The blanket draped over the couch was in your favorite color, a choice you had made once. On the coffee table sat an empty beer bottle, a quiet marker of your husband’s absence.

There were traces of you both scattered throughout the room, but more of you – too much of you, as if you had been trying to compensate for something. It felt forced, a desperate attempt to fit into a space that no longer welcomed you, if it ever had.

The realization clawed at your chest, leaving a dull ache behind. How had you gone so long without seeing it? Was it Heeseung – his touch, his words – that finally broke through the carefully constructed denial? Had he been the catalyst for you noticing just how distant you had become, not only from your marriage but from yourself?

You felt like an afterthought, an appendage to someone else’s story, shaped and reshaped to fit a mold that was never meant for you. When had you started losing yourself? How had it come to this?

Those questions lingered as you retreated to the guest bedroom that night, claiming it as your sanctuary. For the first time in years, you felt the stirrings of autonomy, fragile but liberating. The divorce was inevitable now, and though the thought of it was daunting, it also carried a bittersweet promise of freedom.

Years of effort and devotion would be discarded, left behind like relics of a life you no longer wanted. But there was still so much ahead of you – a chance to rediscover who you were, to seek experiences that might lead you closer to the version of yourself you once dreamed of becoming.

Heeseung had shown you that in such a short time.

And there he was again, invading your mind without warning, his presence haunting you in ways you couldn’t shake. You still feared that you might not be able to untangle your motives, whether they were born from the rage of betrayal and the years wasted on Brendon or from the fleeting warmth Heeseung had offered you with such tenderness and sincerity.

It felt good to be wanted, cherished even, but a painful truth gnawed at the edges of your resolve: you couldn’t just leap from one branch to another. It was your life, not Brendon’s, not Heeseung’s. Yours.

In the bittersweet goodbye that had left a knot in your throat and tears threatening to spill, Heeseung had told you he would wait, that there was something he felt for you that went beyond how your relationship had begun, tangled in raw desire and masked in the shadow of infidelity.

But no matter how grateful you were for him, you knew there was a path you had to walk alone first.

It was with that conviction, and Yunjin’s steady hand gripping yours, that you signed the divorce papers the following week after an argument tinged with sorrow, regret and truths being yelled out.

None of the words Brendon said to you would be forgotten. The contempt, the look of disgust, the bitterness as he harshly verbalized that you were never good enough for him. Yet, you would keep them in a special box, as a poignant reminder that you went through the worst, that you overcame the heaviest moment of your life.

You wouldn’t forget the hatred he made you feel for yourself, because it was through it that you allowed yourself to start loving you again.

Your chest tightened, anxiety and anticipation intertwining as you faced the blank slate of what came next. You had no idea where this journey would take you – but for the first time in years, it was entirely yours.

A first date.

You vaguely remembered the last time your body felt this nervous at the thought of meeting someone. It definitely hadn’t been with your now ex-husband, but it had been long enough to leave you sweating under your arms.

After a few encouraging words with Yunjin through your phone and a “good luck” text from your mom – who had been thrilled to hear about your divorce and provided immense physical and emotional support during those first few weeks – you stepped outside your apartment.

You had saved enough money to maintain yourself, still working at the flower shop on weekends as a hobby, after landing a job at a photography studio specializing in model shoots.

It was a passion that had been crushed when your ex made you believe your work was inferior and lame, forcing you to shrink yourself to fit into his impossible standards by leaving your best sides outside.

Now, freedom was your closest companion. You went out for coffee by yourself, enjoyed lunches at pleasant restaurants in your own company, and never felt sad or shaken by being alone – because you were alone, but you didn’t feel lonely.

The autonomy surrounding you was intoxicating, filling you with radiance to push forward with your days, even in the face of difficulties.

A quick greeting with the doorman snapped you back to reality as you headed to the restaurant that would be graced by your presence tonight. The difference this time was that you wouldn’t be dining alone.

The soft door noise indicated your entrance at the place, and instinctively your fierce eyes swerved through the small crowd looking out for someone. The way your heart raced made it feel like it might burst out of your chest the moment you saw his broad, unforgettable shoulders.

“Hee?”

He was standing, his tall figure casually leaning on the countertop chatting with someone at the little open bar in the corner of the restaurant. When he heard your angelic voice calling him, it took him seconds to turn and face you.

“Y/N.”

Your name left his kissable lips like a relieved sigh. And truly, he was relieved. Not that he thought you would stand him up, but after receiving an anonymous message – followed by the revelation that it was from you, a year after everything that had happened between you two –, asking for a meeting, it was hard for him to think positively about anything.

The walk as you approached felt as if the world had blurred into nothingness. The background music softened until it became a distant echo, your eyes fixed on Heeseung like he was the main subject through the lens of your camera, with everything else fading into obscurity.

Even in your daze, you caught the hesitant twitch of his hand, as though he wanted to reach for you but feared you might vanish the moment he did. The thought of him yearning for you as much as you desired him made your heart pound harder, stronger, and the flutter in your stomach increased.

In the past year, your mind often wandered back to how he made you feel in every nuance, from both physically and emotionally. It was undeniable that the heated night you shared replayed in your head like an irresistible, delicious film, tempting your urge to give up completely on your healing plan and run towards him.

But you couldn’t let yourself act in such a way, not when you promised you would be sure of your decisions from now on, and Heeseung was still a fragile subject back then. 

His height difference was striking enough to make you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, a movement that made you feel shyly adorable, and before Heeseung could help himself, a compliment slipped from his lips.

“You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks burned with fluster, unprepared for such an open and genuine remark. But it was Heeseung – effortlessly charming, naturally disarming. “Thank you,” you muttered, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You look amazing, as always.”

Your compliment wasn’t just polite – he truly did look gorgeous. He looked delectable, dressed in casual all-black attire. His button-up shirt was left slightly undone, teasing you with a glimpse of his sun-kissed chest adorned with a golden chain that only added to his allure.

And then there was his brand new haircut. Heeseung had gone for an undercut, a style that veered away from his usual office persona but perfectly captured his seductive, magnetic charm. At least to you, it worked far too well.

On the other hand, Heeseung had to actively remind himself of how to keep air in and out of his lungs, otherwise he would pass out before your alluring, enticing, beautiful, provocative, goddess-like, unreal figure.

You had changed a lot, for better; not that you were anything other than stunning and attractive before, but you now carried your presence with confidence, you had a special glow that shone brighter than any chandelier in that fancy dinner place, enough to make Heeseung struggle to keep his cool, relaxed demeanor.

He could feel his self-control faltering, slipping through his fingers like sand, utterly unable to think straight as you quietly, yet intensely analyzed his features with your pretty eyes. 

“I reserved a table for us,” he managed to voice out, although it sounded slightly hushed. 

You giggled with his unexpected nervous behavior, clutching your bag strap as you nodded. “Bet you did.”

And with that, Heeseung guided you towards the mentioned table, placed far enough from the general crowd to grant you both a bit of privacy, with his hand touching your lower back. The area heated enough to leave you tense, yet thrilled with the fact that the atmosphere was slowly loosening. 

The conversation that followed felt awkward at first – unsurprisingly, considering your last encounter had been chaotic, brimmed with lust, guilt, and anger over circumstances neither of you could fully control. And, of course, it had all unfolded under the veil of cheating.

But as the initial tension began to dissipate, you found the exchange becoming more fluid. Heeseung’s responses gradually eased your nerves, just as your candidness gave him obvious clues about your intentions.

He admitted he wasn’t seeing anyone. In fact, since your last encounter, he had gone on a handful of dates, none of which, he confessed with a shy chuckle, had left him remotely satisfied. This revelation only came after he relaxed enough to let it slip, his words hesitant yet genuine.

If you had to describe him in one word, it would be anxious. And he was, in fact, very anxious about the outcome of the night, about the new details of your life, about what might unfold beyond this dinner.

There was a distinct tension lingering in the air between you, a silent but undeniable pull. It was as if the thought of your lips attaching together was a shared, unspoken desire – loud enough to keep ringing in your minds, connected by the lustful want of being each other’s.

It made its way subtly through the playful banter, through your soft laughter over his silly jokes, and mostly, through the fleeting touches on your shoulders and thighs.

“Y’know, after the whole thing we did, I was afraid I might back out with the divorce,” you blurted suddenly, after relaxing on the small couch they used as seats for that table.

Heeseung was sitting on your side, after you asked him to do so, instead of taking the seat in front of you. The minimal seconds with him were enough to make you crave more – Heeseung’s natural effect on you –, and you were glad he embarked on your request, even placing his arm on the back of your headset. 

This was the first time you mentioned the occurrence, though.

Heeseung wasn’t sure about it, but throughout the night he eventually figured out there was no way you would be acting this happy and sincere, beaming with your achievements and living an apparent good life, if you were still with that jerk.

Either way, hearing you speak brought the weight of reality – the weight that you were finally away from that shitty man, and even if it sparked a small flame of hope that maybe you might let him care for you the way he had wanted, his relief was already established by knowing you were no longer trapped in a burden relationship that aimed to destroy your beautiful soul.

He sipped on his drink before muttering, eyes never once glancing away from yours. You felt seen. 

“And what made you keep with it?” 

For a moment, a brief feeling of embarrassment flushed through you, although you didn’t let it take over your following response, sounding firm and, somehow, determined. 

“You.”

After you answered with such a soft tone, you tracked the movement of Heeseung’s Adam’s apple moving as he gulped, but he didn’t show any signal of hesitation when he smirked and leaned slightly forward as his brightened gaze wandered through your face, deliberately taking in your beautiful, serene expression.

He was offering you such a breathtaking visage, his demeanor finally at ease, yet magnetically pulling you to react to an unspokenly demand.

His lips were covered with a layer of his drink from the last sip, gleaming under the dim light that hovered you both, taunting your need of having them pressed on yours. His iris slightly dilated as they followed the movements of your eyelashes fluttering open and close in a slow dance, just to drift back to your lipstick colored lips, as if silently asking you for a kiss.

As if automatically, your faces began to slowly lean closer, breaths blending together with a mix of alcohol from your side and a strawberry flavor from Heesegun’s. 

But just as quickly as the atmosphere shifted into something more charged, it disappeared, as a waiter suddenly appeared to serve the dessert you had ordered. Embarrassed, you both pulled back briefly, sharing a subtle laugh and looked up to acknowledge the waiter, but Heeseung immediately cut in.

“Thank–”

“That can’t be real.”

A sharp pang in your stomach, your heart racing, and your throat immediately drying out. These were the initial reactions, before your hands began to tremble and a rush of heat spread through your body, making you feel utterly reactive.

“Brendon?” You whispered, disbelief making your voice shake as you processed that, after a year, you were seeing him during a sweet evening with Heeseung.

You had done everything to avoid him, taking every precaution to keep him out of your life,  even deleting your social media, afraid of what he might do. There had never been a physical threat, but after the breakup, you feared he might become volatile, wanting to take his anger out on you.

Thankfully, none of your friends had ever known about him, and you had never bothered to find out about him either.

But now, here he was, standing right in front of you two, his expression in complete disdain, his eyes seething with fury.

“You piece of shit,” was the first thing he spat out, as he saw the situation unfold – his ex-wife, now with what he considered his former friend. Betrayal.

You didn’t even notice how tightly he gripped the metal tray at his side. You also didn’t realize that Heeseung, who had been sitting at the edge of the couch, had already risen to his feet, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burning with rage.

He was ready to strike.

“So, it was for him that you left me, you whore?”

He barely managed to finish the slur because Heeseung moved too quickly. The collective gasp from the surrounding people was what made you realize exactly what had just happened.

You saw Heeseung throw a powerful punch, landing accurately on Brendon's face. Brendon staggered back, dropping the metal tray before quickly retaliating with a weak jab to Heeseung’s cheek.

Heeseung’s expression hardened after a stunned moment in place, processing the impact that got the area tingling, but the subsequent pain was far from being his main concern.

He smirked dryly and then grabbed Brendon by the shoulders to shove him back with force, sending him crashing into a nearby chair. Brendon struggled to regain his footing, but Heeseung advanced, his eyes burning with rage, and with a swift move, he knocked Brendon to the ground with another punch, leaving him unable to fight back.

The men around you quickly rushed in, trying to break up the fight. But you didn’t care about them, you shoved anyone who tried to intervene, the ones attempting to cling to Heeseung, trying to drag him back, or at least seeking comfort in the chaos that was unraveling within you.

“Hee–”

Your weak, tearful voice was cut off. Heeseung instinctively wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace, not even realizing what he was doing as he pointed a finger at Brendon, who had managed to get back on his feet with help from the others.

“Shut the fuck up before you say a word about Y/N, you piece of shit,” he growled, his vision distorted by the boiling rage in his chest. He had been waiting for this moment from the very beginning, the moment to unleash all his frustration, all the hatred he had toward that man. “You’re useless. A worthless bastard who couldn’t recognize the fucking queen you had in your life.”

Heeseung’s large hands tightened around your waist, almost unconsciously, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your face as it pressed into him. Tears slowly started to coat your cheeks, your trembling body finding support in Heeseung’s tensed one.

“I hope you fucking burn in hell and get torn apart in the worst way. You don’t deserve a single ounce of the love Y/N gave you, and you had the fucking audacity to cheat on her.”

Brendon spat out blood, his lip split from Heeseung’s earlier punch. He smirked sarcastically, looking around the crowd that watched the scene.

“She cheated on me too,” he muttered, his voice weak but laced with venom.

Heeseung scoffed, almost rolling his eyes and nearly advancing on Brendon again; you felt the sudden attempt that immediately stopped when you whispered a quiet, hurtful “No…” 

You looked up, your eyes glossy with tears, finding Heeseung’s now worried ones. He softened before your pouty, scared expression.

He caressed your face tenderly, holding you closer as a way to keep you under his protection, although he knew Brendon wouldn’t have the guts to try anything else. After, he drove his attention back to the asshole standing weakly in front of him. 

“You didn’t even have the decency to give her the bare minimum, you worthless cunt,” he spat, words full of rage. “Let alone decent fucking sex. Of course she would cheat on you.”

That triggered a jolt from Brendon to charge at Heeseung, but it was quickly stopped by those holding him back, his ego riled up by the insult.

Heeseung let out a humorless laugh. “She searched out for someone who could give her what she truly deserves,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. His expression softened into a gentle smile, one that was genuine but sharp in contrast to the situation. “And if she'll allow me, I’ll keep being that man for her.”

Your eyes widened at his abrupt and sincere confession. Heeseung didn’t expect a response, honestly, so he turned his attention back to Brendon, his warning clear in every word.

“Get near her again, and I’ll make sure there’s no one around to stop you from getting your ass kicked, you little shit.”

He began pulling you towards the exit of the restaurant, but as he passed Brendon, he leaned in close to murmur just loud enough for him to hear.

“Just so you know, she cheated on you long after you did… And, oh, I’m sure you don’t know that, but she looks fucking gorgeous when she's squirting.”

Until you settled into the passenger seat of Heeseung’s car, everything felt like a blur, robbing you of the awareness to even notice he had paid for dinner before driving off. His voice had broken through just once, a soft “Are you okay?” before he retreated into an oppressive silence.

At first, you welcomed the break from words, needing time to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you. There was anger, because Brendon had crashed your date. Sadness, for having to relive that chapter of your life all over again. Gratitude, since Heeseung had defended you without hesitation. And then... there was desire, because he had looked absurdly damn good while doing it.

God dammit, you cursed silently in your head, shrinking into your seat and glancing away from Heeseung. You felt like a teenager stealing glances at a crush and pretending you weren’t staring when caught.

Worse, you felt like a dog in heat, your thoughts obsessing over how ridiculously attractive he was. His clenched jaw, hands tightening and relaxing on the steering wheel in an effort to calm himself, the slight cut on his lip, and the faint bruise forming on his cheek – likely from a ring Brendon had been wearing – all combined to give him an effortlessly rugged, devastating appeal.

The wound wasn’t deep, nothing to be overly concerned about, but it added an edge to his already striking features. You knew you would take care of it the moment you got to his apartment, but until then, you had to deal with the mixture of lust and a bunch of other things bubbling in your core.

Heeseung, however, was a bit different from you.

Seeing you so broken and tearful had hit him like a bullet to the chest. He never wanted the night to end like this, but there was no regret in the brutal way he had taken out his frustration on Brendon.

Heeseung’s mind raced, tangled with worry and anticipation over how you would react once the adrenaline wore off and you were in a comfortable space to properly talk things through.

He couldn’t get a read on you – not only because his eyes were mostly fixed on the road, but because you kept stealing glances at him and quickly looking away whenever he dared to glance back. Your behavior gave him no clear hint of what was truly going through your mind.

A flicker of anxiety sparked within him. Maybe you were nervous – possibly even considering ditching him altogether and ending whatever it was between you before it could truly begin. The mere thought gnawed at him, amplifying his own anxiety.

The fact that you had suggested going to his apartment instead of your own had caught him off guard. It was enough to confuse him even more, given the contrast with your otherwise unreadable demeanor.

Still, he opted to keep the quietness over the air, since he needed a time to think deeply about his actions. 

He acted out of impulse, for sure, but he wanted to make sure you understood he had absolutely no regrets and he would do it again, and again, and again.

To protect your integrity, he would settle a war if necessary. 

The moment you two reached the place you had visited once before, a sense of an odd nostalgia crept up your spine. Without even realizing it, you were both walking towards the elevator directed to Heeseung’s apartment’s floor. 

Your eyes were glued on your feet as a way to hide your fluster, struggling to fight the urge of jumping into that handsome man standing on your side. Your head was spinning with the most lascivious, filthy thoughts about how you would kneel right at that moment and give Heeseung the head of his life in order to pay back his earlier demeanor.

So. Fucking. Hot.

And contrastingly enough, there was Heeseung, frustrated with himself for making you witness such violent acts. 

He leaned his back and head against the cold metal walls of the elevator, eyes closing as a shaky breath escaped his lips. After a long moment, he finally spoke, carrying off a guilt you didn’t understand at first.

“I'm sorry you had to go through that,” he said, his voice gentle, yet filled with regret. You turned to face him, catching the movement of his beautiful neck exposed for you. You gulped. “I’m sorry you had to witness all of that. And I’m sorry for being a bit of a dick at the end... I got carried away.” He then opened his eyes to look at you, his expression almost vulnerable, his cheeks with a faint blush exposing his embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to objectify y–”

Before he could finish, you cut him off, practically throwing yourself into his body to attach your mouths together. Your lips collided with his bruised ones in a kiss that tasted of longing, and something metallic, like blood, and your fingers crawled their way towards his nape. 

Heeseung let out a pained groan, but didn’t stop you at all. Actually, he held you by the waist to press your chest on his torso. 

However, you immediately pulled back, your eyes wide with worry as your hands held his face delicately. 

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Hee…” you gasped, looking at him in alarm.

He chuckled, the sound deep, sensual, and made your heart flutter despite your current state of concern.

“You're good,” he said, shaking his head slightly with a teasing grin adorning his features. He didn’t care about any pain if that meant having your tongue swirling with his in that addictive motion he once got to try. 

With a tilt of head, he murmured. “Come here, mhm?”

“But your lip–” you tried to counter his words, but Heeseung’s hands seemed unwilling to let you go so easily.

“Shh,” he shushed softly, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. “I heard kisses heal wounds.”

A giggle escaped you, light and fleeting, before it melted into the moment, swept away by the kiss that happened subsequently. It began slowly, unhurried, as if both of you were savoring every second together.

His lips moved against yours with a sensual, deliberate rhythm, one that carried not just desire but something deeper – affection, yearning, a tenderness that spoke volumes.

It was as if Heeseung feared breaking you with his touch, or perhaps losing you altogether. You could feel it in the way his hands cradled your face, in the way his thumbs brushed softly against your skin. And you, in return, clung to him like he was your lifeline, your own quiet fear mirrored in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

The metallic tang of blood on his lips barely registered; it was overshadowed by the warmth and electricity of the moment. His tongue traced the shape of your lips, a gentle request you didn’t hesitate to grant, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

His tongue caressed yours with a languid, intoxicating ease, exploring, coaxing, as if he wanted to memorize the taste of you.

Your breath hitched, heart racing in a chaotic rhythm that matched the way his hand slid down your side, fingers possessively holding your waist, as the air grew heavier within each passing second. You wondered for a moment when would the elevator stop, barely noticing the opened door. 

Heeseung broke the kiss briefly and realized the open door, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and shallow as it mingled with your own.

“Inside,” he rasped simply, tone dropping an octave, thick with desire that dripped from his beautiful swollen lips. 

You nodded, unaware of what exactly he meant, leaving the mission of being guided completely at his hands as you pulled him back into another kiss, this time urgent and rushed. 

Heeseung frowned and moaned against your mouth, the collision of his bruised area stirring his thristness, awakening his most profound hunger for you; elicited an immediate reaction that got him stumbling with his own legs as you pushed him into his apartment.

A fleeting moment of clarity pierced through the haze in your mind as Heeseung groaned in pain once again, this time caused by your teeth accidentally grazing his injured lip in the heat of the moment.

“Hee–” you murmured, trying to pull back from the kiss, but he didn’t let you go easily. Only when you gently pushed against his chest did he finally retract, his dark eyes clouded with lust as they bore into yours.

“Let me take care of this first, please?” You whispered, your voice tinged with a teasing whine, paired with the kind of faux-innocent eyes that made him melt on the spot.

His firm resolve faltered instantly, and his temptation only seemed to deepen because of that very expression.

With a faint smirk, Heeseung pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before stepping away. He disappeared into the bathroom to grab a first-aid kit, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the living room with your heart still hammering.

He wasn’t gone for long, but by the time he returned, you had already settled yourself on the sofa. Without a word, he joined you, sitting close by as you carefully tended to his wound.

A sharp hiss escaped his lips as the antiseptic made contact, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly, murmuring a soft apology.

His gaze never wavered from you, watching with an almost disarming tenderness, his large hand resting casually on your thigh as if to ground himself.

And when you finished, you lingered, your eyes tracing his features. Damn it, how did this man manage to look impossibly hotter even when roughed up?

“Stop looking at me with those eyes,” Heeseung broke the silence, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl.

Your gaze, which had shamelessly held contact on his lips – not because of the injury, but because you craved them – snapped up to meet him properly.

“What eyes?” you challenged softly, your voice laced with subtle mischief that matched nothing with your small pout and frown. 

Heeseung’s hand shifted from your thigh to your jaw, his touch firm and gentle as he tilted your face closer to his.

“Like you want me to fuck you,” he murmured, his words hitting like a jolt of euphoria. 

A sly smile crept onto your lips, your eyelids growing heavier as the air between you thickened with tension. “You know that I do,” you replied, biting your bottom lip as your fingers traced a slow, invisible pattern over his chest.

A thought crossed your mind, bold and unbidden, and you let it spill.

“Y’know, last time I came to your apartment…”

“Yeah?” Heeseung prompted, his voice soft but loaded, his hands effortlessly guiding you to settle in his lap. You obliged with a grace that didn’t break the magnetic pull of your eyes locked on his, though they flickered occasionally to his kiss-bruised lips.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Hee.”

His lips curved into a soft smile, relief flickering across his features as your words unintentionally reassured him in ways you couldn’t have known he needed. His hands traced a comforting path along your hips, keeping you steady in his lap.

“I’m glad to hear that, darling.”

The term of endearment may have been simple to anyone else, but to you, it meant so much more. It sent your heart stumbling over its rhythm, your body instinctively leaning closer to his warmth. It made your breath hitch, especially when he leaned in as well, his words brushing against your lips like a gentle breeze.

“Let me remind you what you deserve,” his tone was intoxicatingly soft yet laced with a darker edge that tempted you to fall head-first into it. “How does that sound?”

Your lips quirked into a smirk as you cupped his face with deliberate tenderness, careful to avoid hurting him further.

“I know what I deserve, Hee,” you shot back, your voice daring as you teased his lips with a featherlight graze of your own. “And I also know what I want.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched as he teetered on the edge of self-control, your provocations pushing him closer to the brink. But he played along, matching your game, because he loved your game.

“And what do you want, darling?” He asked back, a question that was dripping with anticipation.

Your eyes softened briefly with a mix of affection and unrelenting desire before you let the fire in your gaze take over.

“More.”

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 2 (first part here)

1.6k words m!troll x f!reader, sfw but later parts will be nsfw

It’s the first morning in your new home with your new husband and nothing is like your old life in your human kingdom, not even breakfast.

————

Sounds of a crackling hearth and cooking woke you up, still self swaddled in blankets and furs in the middle of the bed. You were upset but not surprised to find everything had not just been a nightmare.

Zen’jan was sitting on the ground by the hearth, a pot was bubbling away over the fire while he delicately skewered a few small fish. He looked over to you when he saw you stir, watching you for a few moments before going back to what he was doing without saying a word.

It was quiet, weirdly quiet, at least to you. There should have been the bustle of servants helping you dress, bringing you breakfast or escorting you down to the main hall. Instead it was just Zen’jan, someone supposedly pretty important, sitting on the floor cooking breakfast himself.

Without looking up at you he spoke, “Bira told me you did not eat last night, you really should come and eat breakfast”.

The room was bright and warm with the early morning sun streaming through the windows in the front of the house and the fire going, warm enough to make hiding under the blankets a bit uncomfortable. You shuffled out from under your security blankets, dragging one with you so you could keep feeling of having a barrier.

Sitting opposite of him at the hearth you watched as he finished cooking; some sort of porridge simmered away in the pot, skewered fish roasting over low coals, and a platter of fruits, some familiar and some not, sat to the side.

Zen’jan handed you a bowl of the porridge and pushed a few small dishes, spices and honey by the look of it, towards you. Tentatively you gave the bowl a sniff and scowled over its sour smell.

“You can sweeten it, if you want” he said, barely looking in your direction.

Immediately you dumped the whole dish of honey into your porridge, though a sour, fermented flavor still persisted under the honey.

He handed you one of the fish, entirely intact with fins and head included, which you took and just stared at. You looked to him to see what he was doing, and you watched him carefully remove the meat from the bones with ease on his. Even with your smaller hands and extra fingers you were just making a mess of yours, accidentally mashing the soft meat instead of removing it as you tried to get through the skin.

He reached back out and gently took the skewer from you and set it aside, instead grabbing a fresh one and quickly getting to work and pulling the meat off and setting into a dish before handing it to you.

“Thank you” you muttered.

He only gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

Curiously you watched him as you ate your fish as he picked up a large green fruit and dug his thumb into it to peel it, ripping the peel off to reveal segments of bright green insides.

Sitting your fish aside you tried to mimic his fruit peeling technique, pressing your thumb into one of the same fruit to no avail, unable to tear through the peel. Annoyed, you jammed your thumb into it with more force, sending your finger clean through the peel and rupturing a few of the segments inside, making a sticky mess of things as the juice dripped down your hands.

Zen’jan sighed and took the massacred fruit from you and handed you his cleanly peeled one instead.

The two of you ate in silence for a while, neither making eye contact or even looking the other’s way.

“You washed the markings off last night before I got back” he interjected flatly, still not looking at you.

“Yeah? Did you just expect me to stay like that?” you snapped at him, “And I don’t really want to ask, but it was blood, wasn’t it?”

“It was, but I was supposed to wash your face and arms”.

“Well, you’re the one who sent me off right after and didn’t say anything, so I really don’t know what you expected. And I wasn’t going to just sit here for hours covered in blood just waiting around for you anyways! That’s disgusting!”

“It is not disgusting” he snapped back, “It is just blood! And it was mine anyways, it is fine!”

You glared at him, feeling nauseous now knowing for certain that it was blood you were painted with yesterday. You were not feeling particularly warm towards him before and this certainly was not helping. “It’s not a big deal that I washed myself off” you added.

“It is. I was supposed to do that for you” any anger in his voice had faded, he just looked sad now, “It was supposed to be my first act of service to you” he trailed off.

Finally you looked up at him across the hearth. He was looking down at the fruit in his hand and fidgeting with it, looking defeated. Part of you wanted to feel pity for him, he was clearly really distraught over this, but it did not change the fact he was getting annoyed with you for something you were never told.

“Well, I didn’t know, so it’s not like I’m offended that you didn’t do it. It’s fine” you relented. You were not sure why you were trying to comfort him, but it just did not feel right to kick him while he was down.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you” he apologized, “That was no way to talk to my wife, there is never any excuse for that”.

For someone eight and a half feet tall he looked small sitting there with his shoulders hunched over and head down.

How quick he was to apologize caught you off guard. As far as you remembered, you could not recall your father ever apologizing to your mother for snapping at her or getting cross over something. You were not willing to forgive him for snapping at you and expecting you to read his mind, but you could at least accept that he was truly sorry about it.

By now your anger had fizzled out for the most part, “It is what it is” you acknowledged his apology.

“Can I have a do over?” he asked.

“Of what?”

“Washing your arms and face, I mean. I know there is nothing to clean off, but I would still like to make the gesture, if you would allow me”.

Particularly, you did not want him to touch you still, but his request was reasonable and seeing how guilty he was over it all was eating at you more than you cared to admit.

“Fine” you agreed.

He gave you a weak smile before getting up and padding to the bathroom, returning shortly with a bowl of water, washcloth, and towel to sit by you.

“May I?” he asked.

You offered your arm to him and he took your hand, he dipped the washcloth into the bowl and slowly began to wipe off your arm. He was meticulous with his cleaning despite there being nothing to actually clean off, periodically pausing to look up to check your facial expression, seemingly making sure you were still alright.

Every time you caught his gaze he was looking at you with such deference. With the exception of him snapping at you he had been extremely respectful, and as different and monstrous as he appeared he did seem to be a decent person.

“The other, please” he requested once he finished with the first. He repeated the process in its entirety, inspecting your skin carefully to make sure it really was clean just as if he was really was wiping the blood off.

“So,” you broke the silence, “Why blood?”

“There is power in blood, and the eyes of my people and our gods you are my blood now. Your face, please” he paused and reached to place his hand under your chin, you still flinched back instinctively.

“I woke up early yesterday morning and visited my gods, spoke to them, prayed and made offerings, and gave them my blood to bless so that I may pass their blessings to you. You wore their marks and the marks of my tribe, in my blood, so now we are bound”.

He was so delicate with your face, his touch was soft as he slowly wiped down your forehead and nose. He was also much closer now to see what he was doing.

Up close his eyes were so vivid, a shade of green you had never seen on a human and you could really see all the carvings on his tusks, all the elaborate patterns and runes.

“You said this was supposed to be your first act of service” you broke the silence that hung in the air, feeling awkward and uncomfortable with how close he was, “What did you mean by that?”

“A spouse should always do what they can to make their partner’s life better, anything they can do to help. Washing the blood from your partner is traditionally viewed as the first act of service, it reinforces that promise. It is something small that someone can do on their own, but it represents that just because something can be done alone it does not mean it must be done alone. That no matter how small, I will be there to help you, and I have done a poor job of that”.

Once he finished with you face he scooted back away from you, giving you your space once more.

“I am not a fool. I know there is no love here, and I do not ever expect it, neither of us wanted this. But maybe one day you will not flinch when I move, and maybe one day we can talk as friends at least”.

Part 3

[sukunas-wife]

Chapter 7

Ch.1 - Ch.6

“Yuji..” I smiled softly, seeing him there before I cringed, pulling my outer robe off and throwing it over his lap as I hugged him. “What happened? Are you okay?” I sniffled wondering what exactly had happened, I pulled back, holding Yuji by the shoulders, “I thought…” he only smiled, closing his eyes as he tilted his head.

”I’m okay! Nothings wrong.” I nodded, stepping back, curious how Yuji could recover so quickly. “Alright then.” I turned to Gojo as he started to talk to Yuji. Explaining how the odds were it was a plan to have him killed, and that it would be for the best to keep Yuji hidden away practising controlling his energy output for now. I was iffy about the situation, even more when he said no one could know his location, but it also meant I wouldn’t be able to stay on the campus now that Yuji was supposedly dead, the higher ups wouldn’t be obligated to house me.

“That’s no problem, but my concern is where are you going to keep Yuji…” I watched as Gojo seemed to think about it, the mortuary being on the first basement floor gave way to privacy as he explained about private rooms that no one used because they were long forgotten after remodelling and the fact students and staff were sparse there was never need to use them. I nodded along as the other man who was panicking earlier came back with a set of clothes. “Thank you Ijichi” I did my best to remember his name after hearing Gojo say it. Yuji started to get dressed as the rest of us were turned away listening to Gojo elaborate more on his plan.

It wasn’t long before Morí and I were in the room setting things up for Yuji. It was a melancholic feeling asI swept up dirt and dust setting up a bed and making sure everything was clean before I would have to leave for who knows how long. I hummed clasping my hands in front of my chest, fidgeting slightly as I looked around one last time with a nod. “We’re done, I should tell him bye before we leave…” Morí from beside me gave a solemn nod in agreement. “I’ll be by your side every step of the way Lady Y/N.” I nodded, swallowing as we took the stairs to leave the room, ending up on the basement floor hallways, making our way to the room where we left Yuji with the others. I opened the door, he was there smiling and nodding along with Gojo, he turned to me with a bright smile and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Everything’s ready.”

The short walk back to the room felt strange, Gojo was leading the way, Yuji was beside me bent in a weird angle to rest his head on my shoulder as we walked. I smiled, shaking my head as we got to the room, I let him go in after Gojo before I followed. I listened as Gojo explained everything to Yuji now that he was able to pay attention. At the end of the conversation I managed to zone back in, turning to Yuji who was sitting on the sofa holding a weird green plushie. “Yuji.” I called his name looking at him with a soft smile, he turned to me and smiled back, “I’ll be leaving soon, so I suppose this means I wont see you for a while.” I moved closer, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back with a soft smile, “Be good, and don’t be too reckless alright?” I saw how he looked confused before he looked up at me. I saw for a second that same child I dropped off in kindergarten, big innocent brown eyes as he asked, “What do you mean you won't see me for a while…?” I ran my hand through his hair again with a hum, “to keep you hidden away, people are going to think you’re dead, so I wont be here anymore, if you were dead that means I don’t have a place here anymore. So I'll be leaving until Gojo decides when’s a good time for you to come out of hiding.” I watched his downcast eyes, the slight pout on his face as he looked down in thought, “You won't forget me?” I smiled, shaking lightly as I laughed, “You said that same thing when I first left you in kindergarten, you know.” He smiled as I hugged him by my side, “Call me if you need anything alright?” He nodded leaning into my side, “I love you.” I rubbed his arm and shoulder offering comfort, he nodded along, mumbling back, “I love you too.” I smiled as I pulled away, “Be good then.” He smiled nodding as I turned to Gojo, “Take care of my Yuji.” Gojo just smiled holding up a hand the other tucked behind his back. “Of course Miss.L/N, I'll make sure he’s better than you left him.” I nodded turning to Morí, he closed his eyes nodding, “Lead the way Lady Y/n” I started to walk out ready to pack up and leave, but a part of me wanted to stay, leaving now would mean, leaving my son and my husband. I swallowed, feeling the weight on my chest, ignoring it as I pushed myself to go. I pulled my Kimono tighter as we walked to the small house where we had been staying. I passed the two kids, Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki, who were sitting on the steps of the building. I turned to Morí who looked at them also, he turned his face away knowing it wasn’t our place to say anything. We took the further steps, passing them to not interrupt whatever conversation they could be having.

We made it to the house, packing what few things we had brought. Time passed slowly as we made progress until there was a knock at the door. I looked at the door not sensing anything unfamiliar as I slid it open. There was Fushiguro Megumi. I was concerned to see him staring straight down at the floor with a dead expression, before I spoke up. “Fushiguro Megumi.” He looked up, almost sympathetic, it was then I understood what it was about. I nodded along to the silence. “There was nothing you could have done, there are times where fate cant be altered, you shouldn’t hold yourself to fault, I hold no anger against you Fushiguro Megumi, nor against Satoru Gojo.” The silence hung heavy as I watched him clench his jaw and fists. The distress was clear over his face as I took a breath, to think of what I should do or say, I settled for the only way I knew how, I pulled him into a hug, using hand to guide his head to rest against my shoulder and chest holding him there, my other hand on his back as I whispered, “Forgive me Fushiguro Megumi, I can heal the body, but I can't repair a broken heart.”

I felt how he held onto my Kimono. I stood there. I had learned long ago with Yuji when he was a child, when someone desperately needs to be held, especially children, you should never pull away until they let go when they feel more stable. I patted and rubbed his back in circles, consoling him as he held on in silence. Time passed and I watched the sky slowly fade to orange, when he pulled away, I put my hands on his shoulders as he avoided looking at my face. I brought one hand to his chin, lifting his face, holding his cheek in one hand. I looked at him with a soft smile running my thumb over his cheek. “You will be alright in time.”

—- —- —- —- —-

The days were long and quiet as I spent the days in the temple working miracles and healing people. Donations flooding in by gratitude by those who’ve been suffering and finally found healing. I hummed, running my hands over a pregnant woman’s stomach, “Ah your sons so lively, I can feel him kicking.” She smiled “this is the first time in a while he’s been really moving.” I hummed with a soft smile, using my reverse cursed technique, I could sense where the muscles around her womb were tearing, carefully mending the muscles back together I hummed content hearing her sigh in relief. “It really feels like the stress and burning in my stomach has calmed down, do you know what it was?” I nodded slowly moving my hands off her stomach, ‘I’m not sure how your doctor didn’t catch it, but I’m assuming you’ve had a surgery where they needed to cut through muscle, where they mended the muscled was tearing open, its what was causing so much pain, the burning sensation was where the muscle was pulling and tearing bit by bit.” I watched her eyes widen, I smiled sympathetically nodding, “It’s all better now, you’ll be fine, even with time it shouldn’t raise up any problem”

I left the room after she thanked me, I walked around the back halls, lost in thought, not to be caught up in the day, I passed it healing people, until a certain man walked right into the private chambers.

I turned, it was obvious alone by his cursed energy, I watched him as he smiled, eyes closed and hands tucked into his sleeves. He pulled a hand out waving, I watched him, not too interested, but more concerned how he made it in without being stopped.

”Y/n.” His voice was smooth and unsettling just as any other life, “Kenjaku” we stared at one another, his head tilted down, he looked at me with lidded eyes, I could feel the heat of my emotion rising. “What are you doing here?”

”Well, I’m pretty sure it's obvious, it wouldn’t be the first time we cross paths now would it? Now, if I'm not wrong I'm pretty sure somewhere along the line we had a conversation similar to this, are you still so set on doing things your way?”

I watched how you stood there, thinking of what to say, “I’m not siding with your ideals, I could never support someone who could do things as vile as you did when you were experimenting with humans. We stand on uneven ground, there will never be a day we see eye to eye, there will never be a day where I would even think of standing on your level”

The room wasn’t tense, we both knew where we stood, we both knew the other couldn’t be swayed, there was no reason to argue or get hostile.

”hmm” I listened intently, not willing to let anything slip by, “Well, if you're so set in your decision I suppose I'll only be generous to make my offer once everything moves closer to the end line.”

I swallowed, nodding, “I doubt I’ll take your offer even then, we'll just have to see who stands where.”

The silence in the room remained the same, we stood there staring at the other, a silent conversation, where everything that needed to be said was said, I watched a wicked grin move over his lips head tilting forward slightly, “Well then, we will just have to stand back and see how everything plays out then.”

—- —- —- —- —-

Once again the days passed slowly, I knelt at the shrine in my room at the temple, lighting incense as I mumbled in vain, Sukuna would never be able to hear me this way, but it brought a sense of comfort as I bowed my head to an old painting i had set on the shrine table. “Ryomen…, please, please, if at any point in time, you hear these words please, I beg whatever plans you have with Kenjaku, don’t see them through.”

I begged internally, feeling my heart shaking in my chest, “Please.”

I stood up, turning to go on with the day, the day was just as slow as any other, until I felt a stab in my ribs, I tensed up, Morí who was with me didn’t let it go by unmentioned as he was quick to drop everything. “LADY Y/N! Are you alright?!” I leaned onto him feeling the stinging pain subside before it came back again. “We need to go, I need to see Itadori”

Mori looked up at me confused as he supported my side, “Lady Y/n Satoru Gojo said we shou-MORI,” I looked at him in desperation, “Please, I know something is wrong, this is just like last time, Please.”

The silence that settled between us wasn’t tense, but we knew the decision was made. It was quick work of Mori grasping his hands together and giving me a weary look before he spoke a small chant activating his technique.

It was an instant of standing behind the school, there was Satoru gojo and others looking at a veil, I didn’t bother to stay around immediately setting off to find Yuji, this isn’t about anyone else if not my son. Mori was right behind me as we made haste tracking Sukuna’s faint cursed energy in Yuji.

We made it to the dead forest, a tall grey curse with a bloom on its shoulder, I didn’t see Yuji, I held up a hand ready to unleash an attack until something came crashing down knocking it out the way.

“Yuji!” There was a moment of silence, that’s when everything came into place, the special grade curse, Yuji standing to side, a more built man beside him, the veil darkened sky starting to drop when I felt the attack coming, I rushed over to Yuji shielding him as a purple wave rammed through everything clearing a path.

I held on tight to Yuji, keeping him close to my chest until it completely passed. I let him go, stepping back to look at him as I held him by his shoulders at arms length. “Yuji! Are you okay?” I felt my heart still racing as I looked over at him, he smiled rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah! I’m fine mom!” I sighed relieved, “Yuji, thank goodness you're okay, I was SO SCARED, I turned to look at the other guy who was standing not to far off, he seemed proud as he stood by watching, before he squinted at me looking uneasy as he asked, “Who are you?”

I felt my brows drop slightly as I let go of Yuji turning to the boy, “I should be asking who you are.” He seemed amused as he laughed, closing his eyes as he brought a hand to his chin as if he were thinking. “What an excitable woman.” I made a face shaking my head no as I turned to Yuji, he smiled. “This is Toudo.” I nodded along, “I see.”

I nodded along, turning back to Toudo, “well, it's nice to meet you Toudo, but don’t call me an excitable woman, I'm not too sure my husband would appreciate that. But, my name is L/n F/n, I’m Yuji’s mother.”

I watched as Toudo opened his eyes, a smile on his face, “My brothers, mother.” I nodded slowly thinking over what he had said. “Brothers….mother.. brother?” I turned to Yuji curious, “What’s this about?”

Yuji perked up, “Oh, it's kinda confusing, Toudo actually helped me understand a few things I’ve been struggling with, he says we’re brothers…”

I nodded along, “I see…”

—- —- —- —- —-

Authors Note

I really wanted to go with the Canon time line, but the more I type the more I realize it would be ridiculously long. So- time to create alternate time line so everyone can be happy 🥹

also Sukuna is very much Husband material after I read the last chapter

—- —- —- —- —-

@needsleep3000 @lunafrisk303999 @ang3lz-lov3 @dl-yum @yumieis @bellinghambby22 @amitiel-truth @kundere20000000 @r0ckst4rjk @maybe-a-bi-witch @kouyoumarryme @wannabewolf @futureittomainn @raiiny-night @t4naiis @blkmystery @the2ndl @too-pretty-to-live @v-sh @officialjellydoughnut @f1uveryysblog @wsp1st @ivysenpai3 @babyqueen17 @lupita97lm @oh-gods-its-a-dragon @avyannasstuff @nameless-mushroom-warrior r @fullwriterpoem @nanamisbigassschlong @queen-luna-007 @pupbistro @clxvrs @dangerous-girls-world @saiyara05 @honeybachira @sizzlingsongblaze-blog @theirbitxch @bluusugar @itszzmoon @venus-seeks @abdce12345

[llxferim]

a/n: first post! i have a lot of ideas rn so i’ll prolly post ton of fics and then make a small masterlist! please excuse my english, its not my first language😭. (this is not proofread) (this fic is actual shit😃)

pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x reader

Summary: after a long day with Diego, you go back to the Hargreeves mansion, only to find Klaus passed out drunk. you help him get cleaned up, as always.

Genre: fluff/comfort (maybe angst?)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, Klaus is drunk or high or both, idk, gender neutral reader, no y/n used, he/they Klaus.

Word Count: 1.2k

You and Diego had been out looking for the Two people who kidnapped Klaus and murdered Patch to no avail. you gave up and returned to the mansion since it was getting dark. Diego dropped you off at the house, but he said he would keep looking for a little while and drove off.

you were worried about Klaus, getting kidnapped and tortured isn’t easy to deal with, even for him. everyone thinks since he is so unserious all the time, these things don’t bother him, but you were the closest thing to him growing up, and he is as emotional as a little kid.

you didn’t even have a chance to talk to him when he escaped the kidnappers, since Diego dragged you away right when he got back.

you open the front door to the Hargreeves mansion. it was dark and quiet, as always. so you thought everybody else was out doing god knows what.

you take off your coat, leaving the warmth behind with it and started walking to the bathroom to wash up and finally get some rest.

you were just about to open the door when your foot hit something- no someone, you look down to check, and there he was, with his smudged eyeliner and wet hair. “Klaus!?”

you crouched to his eye level, getting the hair out of his face “heyy it’s my favorite personn!” he slurred, you could hear how drunk he was. “How long have you been here? are you okay? where are the-“ you start panicking before a hand comes up to your mouth, silencing you. “too loud” he whispers.

“you reek of alcohol, Klaus. how much did you drink?” you say getting their hand off your mouth but forgetting to let go. “about.. 4” he blurts out “Four what, Klaus?” “bottles..” he says.

“fucking hell… come on” you say as you pinch the bridge of your nose. you put their left arm over your shoulders for support and pull him to his feet. “where are we going?” he groaned, the last thing he wanted right now was to walk. “we..” you let out a breath, he definitely wasn't lightweight. “..are going to clean you up”

“call out when you’re done” you say as you close the bathroom door behind you and sit down in the same spot Klaus was sitting minutes ago.

taking care of him after they relapsed or got too drunk wasn’t new to you. the others eventually got tired of him coming back to the house barely alive every night, that they stopped caring.

you never did though, you always took care of him, no matter how many times he came back high. you supported him when he was trying to stay clean, and comforted him when he relapsed. it was tiring, yes, but you cared about him, a lot.

you remember the day Reggie brought you from your parents, you were just 10 years old and scared shitless, your parents had just sold you to a strange man.

when you first arrived at the Umbrella Academy, everyone ignored you, they all had jobs to do.

but Klaus, with his big stupid smile, came up to you, and put his arm over your shoulder. “wanna see my room?”. it wasn’t really a question since he immediately started dragging you upstairs, supposedly to their room.

when Reggie forced you to practice your powers every night instead of sleeping, Klaus was the one that helped you. he slipped a sleeping pill in Reggie’s Coffee, giving you time to escape with him. after that, where there was Klaus, so were you.

after you all grew up, you and Klaus still stayed in touch but not as much as you did when you were kids, but, Reginald’s death brought you all back together.

“can you walk?” you asked Klaus, who was now dressed and clean, but still a little wobbly. “i think so” he replied but almost fell after taking the very first step. “okay, no i can’t walk” he groaned as he leaned onto you for support. “yeah, thought so. you’re like a toddler taking his first steps.” you chuckled. then, you feel a little pinch on your shoulder “hey! what was that for?” you protest “my misery is not funny!” they teased, trying his best to look angry. “oh, shut up” you muttered and pushed them a little with your hip.

You helped Klaus to his room, the door creaking open as you both stepped inside. The room, dimly lit by a bedside lamp, was a mess of discarded clothes and scattered posters that were supposed to be hanging on the wall.

Klaus staggered slightly, but you guided him to his bed, where he collapsed with a groan of relief. “oh, my sweet bed, how i have missed you” You sat down next to him, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders.

“are the others here?” you asked, your worry not quite fading. “no idea” Klaus replied, his voice muffled. “you didn’t even check if they were here? they could have helped you, you know” you said, frustration seeping into your voice. You still couldn’t shake the worry that something terrible might have happened.

“i’m fine aren’t i? you got here on time.” he sat up to face you. “Well, what if I hadn’t?” you countered. “You’re not immortal, Klaus! What would I have done if something happened to you?” hiding your face with your hands out of frustration.

Klaus’s eyes softened, and he reached out, gently pulling your hands away. “Hey, hey, I’m fine, okay? I’m sorry, I should have at least called someone. But I swear, I’m fine.” they tried to calm you down, if anyone, he was the one that could.

You felt your eyes tearing up. “Shit—” you tried to laugh it off and wipe away the tears, when suddenly you felt a pair of lips against yours. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, as if Klaus was unsure whether it was the right thing to do. But the warmth of his touch and the sincerity behind it made your heart race.

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness, but soon you melted into the kiss, your lips responding to his with equal tenderness. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you.

then you pulled away, Klaus looked at your puzzled face “i’m, uh i’m sorry-“

But you cut him off with a reassuring smile. “No—no, don’t apologize.” You chuckled softly, your eyes sparkling with affection. “As much as I want to enjoy this moment, Klaus, you’re still drunk.”

Before you could say more, he suddenly pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with warmth. The faint smell of alcohol lingered, but you didn’t mind.

“You still reek of alcohol, you know,” you teased, a playful grin on your face.

“Shut up,” Klaus murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “We’re having a moment here.”

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 11

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 2.8k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | AAAAND WE'RE BACK! it's been a month since the last update! consider this as a new season for mc and tae :)) u might find this chapter a little fast-paced or not idk.. let me know ur thoughts! enjoy reading <;3 ps. sorry for the errors!

main masterlist | series masterlist

A couple of years passed, two to be exact, and a lot of things happened. The bakery became more crowded. It was renovated and had a larger space instead of moving the entire bakery to another place. They began hiring extra help, usually part-time working students who used to be customers in the shop too. 

Also, turns out that Jimin has a kid. Taehyung met Jihoon just a week after his best friend learned about his existence. Jihoon is a carbon copy of his dad, Taehyung thought. His eyes disappear when he smiles. Now, they have a little baker running around the kitchen usually on weekends.

Aside from those changes, Taehyung now lives in a studio apartment just a five-minute walk away from the bakery. He moved in just weeks after you left. The said apartment is not that big, just enough for him to rest in after work. Jimin commented that he treats that place like a hotel since Taehyung didn’t really personalize it to make the ambiance like a home. The whole place was plain, not even considered minimalist. Just plain. The walls were untouched. It was off-white when Taehyung came and it remains the same now. He didn’t really bother to invest anything in the place.

The house you two bought and lived in is still being taken care of. By him. Taehyung cleans up there once a week, just in case you reach out to visit home again and maybe talk about what to do with it. And when he feels like it, which is almost rare, he sleeps on the couch in the living room. He never really entered the guest room, which became your bedroom after the accident, except the time he got home after Jisoo and Namjoon’s wedding. That room was spotless, just like how you left it. The only things you left that night were on your vanity table; your house keys, the vintage pearl ring he bought you back in the flea market, and a folded paper.

The letter says, “Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.”

He never painted the walls with another color as he found the shade of blue that spreads around the house perfect. He never bought any furniture and still kept the same ones you had. He thought it fit the theme of the house and his preference. And yes, the picture frames show the same photos they originally had. It felt home that way for him. But he chose to move to the apartment because he always felt like he was missing something. The house is cozy and comfortable. But whenever he tries to lie on supposedly his bed, it feels empty. Once, he tried playing jazz music around the house, but it just got lonelier so he turned it off and just continued cleaning.

But he did try to keep up and look back at the things he forgot through his friends and the things he found at the house. Jimin, Namjoon, and sometimes Jisoo were patient with his questions. Jisoo, your best friend, was understandably distant from him at first after you went away. But she adds details to the stories Namjoon tells and later, became amiable with him. Jimin’s mom still looks after him and brings him food when she visits the city. There were a few times she mentioned Taehyung’s mother but he didn’t really care about her. So he ignores it.

“You know, you’re a handsome man. Don’t you have any lady?”

One of their common customer, a man in his seventies once asked him. It was not the first time someone asked him such a thing. He always shakes his head with a smile as an answer. It would lead later with an offer to meet someone they know. Taehyung would shyly and kindly decline these offers, saying he really doesn’t feel like dating for now. It’s true. The idea of him dating someone else felt wrong. It was like his own body rejected the idea as he felt uneasy with that thought.

“So, it’s that time of the year.”

Taehyung was pulling his third pan of cheesecake out of the hot oven with his oven gloves when he heard Ava, their longtime part-time staff, say that. She sounded amused but not surprised. He looked up and saw her leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. She had a smug smile on her face. 

“I swear, you should just declare this particular day as Cheesecake and Banana Bread Day just to make it official,” she added, teasing.

Taehyung looked at her, unimpressed, “It’s selling. In fact, my cheesecakes are one of our best sellers here… What are you doing here anyway? Go back to the front.”

He scolds her, she just rolled her eyes, unbothered.  Ava was one of the students who knew Taehyung even before his accident. She went from being a loyal customer to a reliable staff of the shop. She has been enjoying the pastries in the shop ever since she was twelve and now, sixteen, she also enjoys getting into small banters with her older bosses. She is usually candid, and not shy to share her thoughts. Taehyung sees her as a little sister most time.

Given that she began working here after you left, Ava doesn’t really have an idea why Taehyung bakes a few batches of cheesecake and banana loaves on this specific date. She doesn’t know you and that you are celebrating your birthday today. Taehyung learned about that fact after his phone notified him weeks after you went. Since then, he has baked your favorites on your special day. 

It’s the third time now. It’s probably a slim chance but he hoped to see you around the bakeshop, enjoying pastries. But so far, he hasn’t seen you around. In fact, he hadn’t even heard from you ever since that night. He thought he saw you a year ago in the subway when he came to Incheon to go sightseeing, but he lost you before he could take a second glance. He didn’t know where you moved since he respects your space but he wondered if you really moved that far. He wonders about you every now and then. 

Jisoo posted a short clip in her Instagram Stories months ago. It’s just a clip of a long trail and he swore he heard you in the background noise of that clip, telling your best friend how tired you are from hiking. Then, the clip ended.

“Not because it’s best selling you would make a ton of it. It’s something about demand and supply– I don’t know,” she conceded, breaking Taehyung’s train of thought. “Anyway, I’m here because someone called on the phone, asking for you.”

Taehyung’s heart stopped for a second. His hopes almost blasted out of his soul but he tried to stay calm before asking Ava, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a woman. They said they want to specifically talk to you.” she replied, unaware that the man in front of him was holding his breath. She continued, “They are actually waiting on call right now.”

Taehyung almost sprinted to the front desk of the shop. Still in his mint green oven gloves, he reached for the telephone. His heart is beating fast while his gut is twisting tight. He paused when he realized he had nothing to say. He doesn’t know what to say if it’s you. Are you going to talk about the house? Should he greet you with Happy Birthday first and offer you your favorite cheesecake? Maybe you won’t like– Stop.

Taehyung took a deep breath before exhaling. He spoke, “Hello, this is Kim Taehyung, co-owner of The Sweet Spot. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi.” 

His heart dropped. Okay, relax. He told himself. It’s not you.

There were nights when Taehyung would find himself awake. And tonight is one of those nights. He just lay on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He always had trouble falling asleep, maybe a side effect of his accident. He doesn’t know anymore. But he knows that it makes his head go crazy with random thoughts when times like this happen. And now, he thought of something.

That’s when he picked up his phone and keys, along with his coat. He drove away from his apartment. 

The bell above the door rang when he entered the convenience store to pick up a few beers and chips. His cold hands stayed in his coat’s pockets as he looked around the store, waiting for the clerk to scan his stuff. Just when the worker was about to say the prince, the bell clung again.

“No, wait. I’m just really hungry. Wait for me… Yes, I have money here.”

Everything went quiet and suddenly all that he could hear was that voice. Your voice. He’s sure of that. He looked back and saw a woman’s back going into one of the aisles. His heart raced once again. You’re here?

“Dude, you okay?” the tired clerk asked, looking at him with heavy bags under his eyes.

Taehyung looked at him, and broke out of his headspace, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

He pulled out his cash and paid. He can still hear your voice like you were talking with someone on your phone.

“Do you want anything– Oh, the honey-butter chips I want ran out of stock.”

Taehyung looked at the chips in his hand. He looked at the clerk who also looked at him like they understood each other without saying anything. Taehyung placed the chip back on the counter.

“Just give this to the girl,” he whispered before turning his back.

He didn’t look back. A cool blow of wind brushed on his face when he walked out the door. For a second, he inhaled and exhaled again to calm his nerves. He got in his car, putting the pack of beer on the other seat. As he started the car, his eyes landed on the side mirror. 

Yes, it’s you. Definitely.

You just walked out of the same store, still on your phone, as you walked away grinning with your honey butter chips. You walked on the other end of the pathwalk. Taehyung pursed his lips and drove away.

His lips remained sealed but his head was exploding with questions. That was the closest he had seen you since the night you said goodbye. How are you? Why are you in the city? Did you live around here? It can’t be. Jisoo told him you left the hospital you used to work at. 

Instead of driving back to his apartment, Taehyung ended up parking in front of your deserted house. He had his beer with him as he turned the key on the doorknob. He stepped into the said home feeling colder even though he still hadn’t removed his coat.  He placed the drink on the center table in the living room and plugged in the TV for background noise. He put on a random show, which happens to be FRIENDS. 

Opening a can, he sat on the couch, pulling a couple of books he left under the same table. Photo albums and scrapbooks. You never told him such things exist in here, he just found them after cleaning around the house. It was personalized by you and him. He could tell by the design and handwritten captions. 

Almost everything was documented through photos and other knick knacks like receipts from a movie you two saw together. Browsing through the pages of it, it felt like looking at other people’s relationships even though he was in the photos himself. In one of the photos, he saw himself with a camera. He didn’t even know he had one. He tried searching around the house for it but he never found it. 

You had more solo portraits in the said books than him. He figured out why. Maybe he really loved capturing you as his subject. You looked the same in every picture: happy and in love. Most of your pictures were candid, taken without you knowing. Then, a handwritten date by him will be seen below it. Each photo was adorable. Some are just random ones. You were brushing your teeth or showing off your colorful scrubs (which was written in the caption: BOUGHT HER YELLOW DUCKIES SCRUBS I THINK SHE LIKES IT).

Taehyung spend his sleepless nights like this, looking back at what he missed. He read through articles before that the possibility of getting his memories back is a hit or miss. So he learned to just go on and maybe accept how things became. He tries to move forward at the same time he tries to look back. It’s quite confusing sometimes.

IT’S HER… I’M SURE 

That was the caption in one photo of you dating just weeks after you two moved into this house. In the picture, your back was turned as you sat in front of your vanity table. You can be seen fixing your hair while looking at your reflection. Taehyung’s eyebrow raised with the caption. He wondered what it meant. He turned the page to the next one but was greeted with nothing but a blank page. Turns out, that was the most recent one.

“The main branch of their restaurant is somewhere in Incheon. I’ll send you the address after the call.” 

Taehyung listened to Jimin through a loudspeaker call. His hair is still damp from a shower. Standing in front of the mirror, he compares two coats that would suit the rest of his outfit. He felt the need to look presentable tonight.

“You will meet the owner herself, Ashley. She said you can just introduce yourself to the host and he’ll lead you to your table… Ava kept the samples in the shop. She said she put them in different Tupperware so you can spot it right away.” Jimin instructed.

“Okay, okay.”

He heard his best friend sigh on the other line, “I’m sorry for the short notice, Tae. I totally forgot Jihoon will be staying with me tonight.”

Tonight, Taehyung will be meeting a special client. It’s the one who called a couple of weeks ago, during your birthday. it‘s a big restaurant that is planning to put the bakeshop’s products on their menu for dessert. Specifically, the cakes. The head chef was the one who brought up their product to the owner, whom he will meet now. Jimin initially agreed to meet the said client but his co-parenting schedule had some shifts. Just an hour ago, Taehyung learned he’d be the one meeting the client. It’s not like he had plans anyway. So, he immediately prepared himself.

After picking the clothes, Taehyung blow-dried and brushed his hair. His best friend sent the main address minutes later and so he left his apartment. He first drove by the shop, which closed a little earlier today. A lot of cakes were made for sample. It includes Jimin’s Carrot Cake, his own cheesecake, and six other more. Taehyung left with a brown bag of the samples.

His fingers tapped with the beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove his way to the restaurant. It was a peaceful night on the road. 

This will be the first time Taehyung will be going back to Incheon since that time he went sightseeing. He stayed there for just three days before, it was days after his phone notified him about your supposedly fifth anniversary. His emotions were all over the place because of the aftermath and the demanding work in the bakeshop around that time. So he asked Jimin for a very short break. He still hasn’t got a car then so he took the subway throughout the whole time. It was during his last day there when he saw a glimpse of you in the crowded subways of that city. He remembered you were in your scrubs, your hair was cleanly kept in a low bun, and you were walking opposite of his direction. Then, he blinked. You were gone in the crowded place.

“Good evening, sir.”

Almost forty minutes later, Taehyung arrived at the restaurant, Starry Night. He was greeted by the host as he entered the elegant place. It has a great ambiance, romantic. It is a fine-dining restaurant and seems like a perfect spot for dinner dates. 

He said his name when he was asked.  And while the man looked down at his guest list, Taehyung’s eyes traveled around the place. And not even a minute in, his eyes stopped at someone who he felt had been staring at him.

His eyes widened at the sight. A stunning woman, clad in a black dress, stares back at him with surprise. His mouth ran dry, he had to gulp. Now, he’s sure. He’s sure.

It’s you.

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[noxturnals-void]

My Dearest Shadow

Jason Voorhees x GN! Reader

Pt. 1

(It might lean fem at times but I’m going to try my best to keep it neutral for everyone!)

I don’t know how many parts there will be so just hold on for the ride. ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Tw: stalking, anxiety, paranoia, jason shenanigans

2,311 words below the cut

You had renovated a little house your father had told you about, one you didn't even know existed two years ago. You spent lots of time fixing it up, lots of money, and tireless days doing the work by hand, and still, you weren't done. Thankfully, most of the difficult, labor-intensive parts were handled with the help of a few hired people.

Supposedly, the house lying on the outskirts of a small town in New Jersey had been abandoned for the past 20 years, belonging to some old couple before they moved into another state and left the place to rot when no one wanted to buy the house because of some superstition about the land. It went up on the market after they died and sold for 50,000. It was a concerningly low price that your house-flipping father had taken advantage of.

He hadn't even visited the property in the years he had owned it, let alone told you about it until you mentioned wanting to set up a little getaway spot on the east coast. He had told you the details, and you decided it was exactly what you needed—a new project to focus your energy on. But you were woefully unprepared for the beast of a job you'd just signed yourself up for.

A year and a half was much longer than you had intended to spend fixing this 1000-square-foot cabin cottage, but it was well worth it. It was a beautiful location, nestled right into a vast landscape of dense, private forest with a breathtaking lake view partially in the kitchen and living room windows- a 10-minute walk away. When the sun hit just right in the mornings, it was like a fairytale. A golden bath of warm, welcoming rays wakes you up better than any cup of coffee could ever.

You'd finally gotten in all of the furniture you wanted, having to space out the hauls between a few months at a time. The house was built for one or a singular couple. There was a small porch, redone with fresh wood and a chair set on the front for guilty pleasure moments outside in the late morning or early evenings. Walking into the cabin, you were put immediately into the living room- two chairs positioned apart and pointing toward a smaller flat-screen television tucked away in the corner of the room on a low shelf for your collection of films.

Even with just you living there, the two different chairs were comforting- one more rough, textured, and firm and the other plush and soft, letting you choose depending on what you'd rather sit on to binge a show or movie for the night. To the other side of the room was the entryway to the kitchen, an open-concept attempt at a cozy space. The bedroom was on the other side of the living room wall, housing your queen-sized mattress and more personal furniture and belongings. There was a short hallway leading to the utility closet with the newer models of washers and dryers, which you could get your hands on for less money, and your newly renovated bathroom.

Lots of the house seemed to have gone with age. Things like the kitchen and bathroom floors had to be pulled up and replaced, everything deep cleaned twice over for good measure, and lots of rounds with exterminators and pest control; the first few months paid off in the long run. Admittedly, you felt bad for killing the tiny creatures. They were just trying to find shelter in the large ecosystem at your doorstep.

You'd managed to get a shower and bathtub combo in the more narrow bathroom; glad to have both options when you felt like it. The house already had surprisingly high ceilings, and you didn't mind that the shower head was a bit out of reach because of its design. A little color coordination here and there and most of the cottage was done up in shades of deep, calming, and comforting greens and blues with lighter accenting greys to keep it not so claustrophobic.

Most of your focus went to the outside of the house now. Finished with most of the inside work, you could now turn your detail-oriented self to the withered outside. With some much-needed love and care, you hoped to fix the paint job into a lovely grey blue and pick up some new windows to replace the old and cracked ones you'd been having trouble with.

Really, it should have occurred to you sooner to repair them, but you'd gotten yourself too busy with too many things at once staring out, and you'd put it off for far too long. Last winter had been a nightmare because of those stupid cracked panes, and you were definitely not about to live through that mistake again.

You'd just gotten the garden sorted out. It was something you'd planned for since the beginning, but you had to put a lot of elbow grease into making it work. You had picked up the bulk of the materials last week, including the young plants and seeds you'd needed, along with the mulch and moist dirt.

Now, you were on your knees, elbow-deep in fresh, damp dirt, making shallow holes for the seeds. You sat back, breathing in and sighing out.

It was a lovely day today despite getting a later start than you wanted. The air was crisp and cool, about 60 degrees out today. It was supposed to get chilly the next few weeks and then warm back up before the end of fall. Then came all the rain and possible snow.

You weren't used to the weather of New Jersey yet, but honestly, it was a nice change from California. It didn't really get cold until January, and summers could get pretty hot, but it rained, and the rain was always welcome, in your opinion. It was nice to get snowy Christmases, too. It reminded you of northern Cali, so tree-populated and the air so intensely fresh, that you had to admit it was nice to get away from the city life for a while.

This little adventure had opened your eyes to many things you were missing- yourself included. You'd never spent so much time alone, at least not since childhood. You'd always had friends, roommates, and a busy college life or cityscape to keep you preoccupied. Out here, it was just you, the weekly check-in from your father, the homely woods, the picturesque lake, and... whoever had been living around here watching you.

You'd seen the shape of someone lingering around a few times. At first, you brushed it off. Working hard every day had its downsides, and you thought you were just way too tired to see it properly. It was probably just a deer or something, you convinced yourself.

But after the first month, you couldn't ignore it anymore—the feeling of eyes on you when you walked past some windows, the other presence as you walked through some of the nearby woods. It was always quiet, though, and truthfully, you'd never seen whoever it was close enough to convince yourself fully.

When you'd mentioned it to your father about six months into living here, he'd told you that you must have been paranoid. There was no way anyone lived that far away from the tight-knit town, which was 30 minutes away. The whole forest, including the old camp he had never mentioned before, had been abandoned for years.

You took it upon yourself the next day to walk to Camp Crystal Lake. It took a while, and again, you felt eyes scanning you, searching you for something, or maybe just dissecting you under its gaze. You tried to shake it off, but it didn't help to ignore it. You often scanned through the trees to find the owner of the eyes, but each time, you found nothing. You began to worry that maybe the isolation had been affecting you differently than you thought. Perhaps you had been paranoid over nothing. Maybe you'd been alone out here too long.

You didn't spend long at the neglected campsite. Honestly, it felt wrong to be trespassing in the first place, especially when you had no reason to be there besides foolish curiosity. Many of the cabins looked incredibly run down, the wood rotting and falling away and the forest taking over much of the paths and steps of the place. You had your fill of satisfied curiosity after just an hour of poking around, finding strange things you didn't expect. Notably, some belongings that were from probable teenagers who'd visited. It wasn't surprising to think kids would dare each other to spend the night since it looked so creepy in the first place.

You should've gone straight home, but you felt drawn to the lake. Admittedly, you hadn't visited as much as you wanted. You went down to the pier of the lake, walking out to the far end and taking in the clearer view of the lake against the beginnings of a sunset. It was beautiful, and you almost thought about watching the sun go down but decided against it when you realized you had no light to try to walk back to the house. That and the idea of walking through those woods with those unwavering eyes still on you the entire way made a chill go up your spine.

You got home soon after that, just before dark, yet even in your own house, it was hard to shake the feeling of being watched. Not just by windows anymore, all the time... The second you stepped outside, the eyes followed your every move. It made it hard to live normally until winter came. The feeling of being observed 24/7 stopped completely for the few weeks it got into the tens and twenties, which was an even more unsettling thought.

Maybe it had been a real person, and it was just too cold for them to linger and creep on you. You hadn't forgotten about the campsite or the eyes that stuck to you for a while afterward. But it still made it unsettling when the feeling started up again in early spring.

Part of you was weirded out that you never felt entirely alone, but as the weeks went on, it was almost more of a... comfort. Whatever it was- whoever it was had never harmed you, and the stare it gave off didn't feel dangerous. It almost felt curious, maybe protective? Something out there in the woods was watching you, yes, but it was also watching over you.

You'd had the odd few occasions of falling asleep in random places and waking up in entirely different places. It only happened twice, and you were careful that it wouldn't happen again. You’d been dreadfully tired that particular week, and the physical labor of building a deck by hand had taken its toll on you. You'd fallen asleep outside on the halfway constructed porch drinking tea the first time, trying to keep yourself awake long enough not to mess up your sleep schedule. It didn’t work. You later awoke in your living room, a thin blanket pulled over your legs.

It freaked you out at first—the idea that someone had moved you and been inside your house. But after a thorough, slightly panicked search through the cottage and realizing no one was around and nothing was touched besides, well, you—and your now cold cup of tea—you calmed down. You mulled over it for the rest of the week, not understanding why whoever it was had decided to take care of you like that.

The second time wasn't as much of an accident; you'd fallen asleep outside again a little more intentionally than before. You simply tested if it were to happen again. It did. You woke up again on the chair with a blanket, the same as before, but this time, you were noticeably less clean than when you’d fallen asleep.

Whoever it was left fingerprints of dirt on your waist and thighs where they had picked you up and carried you. Most of your clothing on one side was significantly grime-coated, and that was enough to make you decide not to try it again.

You wiped your brow with the back of your arm and finished up planting all of the seeds you wanted. You were saving some to plant next spring in case these didn't make it through the winter, just to be safe. You got to your feet, wiping your hands down your dirt-covered jeans and huffed, stretching out your sore back. As you did, a twig snapped, and you froze in place, wondering whether or not to turn around toward the tree line behind you.

In normal circumstances, you would have checked immediately, figuring it might have been an animal. But you felt those eyes on you, those same eyes that had followed your every move for the last year and a half. Your paranoia got the better of you now, and the idea of seeing whoever had been watching you this entire time made your stomach turn to mush.

Your eagerness got the better of you, and you turned around despite the loud thumping in your chest. There was nothing at first as you searched through the closest trees. A figure quickly moved to the side at the edge of your vision- a very large figure. You gulped, scanning the tree line and focusing on a thick tree trunk hiding the person well. Whoever they were, they were most definitely right there, and to your knowledge, this was the closest encounter you'd had with them while awake.

You tried to think of something to say, pondering if you should have said anything at all in this tense moment.

What were you supposed to do…?

[blu3b3rrymuffins]

Oranges and Starlight

What Could go Wrong?

Azriel was sipping coffee at the River House, keeping an eye in Nyx as the baby ate his breakfast next to him. The mess of bananas and yogurt on his face was enough to make Azriel chuckle. With Rhys and Feyre in the Winter Court for a meeting with the High Lords and Nesta and Cassian on a honeymoon of sorts, it was Azriel who was the one tasked with watching Nyx. At first he had protested as it was always his priority to aid and protect his High Lord and Lady. But Mor was the one with connections with the Winter Court, Elain went as an emissary to the human realm, standing in for Nesta and while Amren loved Nyx, she was still learning how to nurture him.

Azriel stood up to wipe the mess from Nyx’s face, using his shadows to distract the baby as Azriel cleaned up the kitchen a bit. He was growing so fast, learning at a quick rate that Azriel attributed to his parents. He picked Nyx up and made their way over to the sitting room where Nyx’s toys were set up. Sitting down with him, Azriel made sure that Nyx wouldn’t fall back.

“Now, I know that Uncle Cass wants you to say his name first,” Azriel said seriously to the toddler sitting in front of him. “But you and I both know you’re going to say ‘Az’ first, huh?” In response, Nyx babbled a bit and clapped his little hands which was good enough for Azriel.

They spent the late morning and afternoon playing in the sitting room and going out into the garden for a bit of sun. Azrie’s shadows made several appearances, peeking out if only to hear Nyx giggle. His shadows had quickly learned to love the little princling, working hard to keep the tears away and smiles present. It warmed the Shadowsinger’s heart to see how fearless Nyx had grown towards those shadows. Where most people shied away, Nyx looked for them whenever Azriel was present, seeking them out when they were away.

Just as Azriel was bringing Nyx inside, the distinct fluttering noise of winnowing sounded in the hall followed by the sound of Feyre’s voice echoing through the room.

“ We don’t even know where to begin, Rhys,” Feyre said with a sigh as they entered the sitting room. Nyx squealed happily at the sound of his mother’s voice and squealed a second time at the sight of his parents, his little wings flapping with excitement. “Hi, baby,” She greeted with a smile, picking him up from the Shadowsinger’s arms as the others shuffled into the room.

“Tarquin supposedly has something up his sleeve, but we will weather the storm, darling. We always do,” Rhysand answered, coming over to say hello to Nyx, stroking his hair lovingly. Standing up, Azriel asked,

“Are you going to fill me in on what happened or just talk about it amongst yourselves?”

“Yes, yes, we will get to it, boy. Don’t get your wings in a twist,” Amren grumbled as she slumped down in a chair.

Mor snorted as she too entered the room with Elain in tow, the latter stopping to greet Nyx quietly.

“We have a bit of a problem,” Rhysand said, causing Mor to snort again.

“A bit?” Mor asked, helping herself to the pitcher of rosemary lemonade that was set out.

“Yes, a bit. We have survived worse,” Rhysand insisted, shooting her a small glare. Azriel stood back, watching his friends and waiting for one of them to say exactly what the meeting was about.

“I don’t think that Bryallin and Hybern compare to Koschei,” Amren deadpanned.

“Koschei?” Azriel asked, looking at Amren.

“Yes, Koschei,” She retorted, shooting Azriel a glare with those silver eyes of hers.

“Have you not heard anything from the continent?”

“No, there has been nothing unusual,” Azriel answered simply, wondering where this was going and slowly putting something together in his mind about the peace treaty they only recently got Vallahan to sign.

”And from the human territories, past the border?” Feyre chimed in, bouncing Nyx on her hip. That changed his train of thought. Other than one of their queen’s taking up residence there, what did the human realms below Prythian have to do with the continent? Unless Vassa had something to do with the meeting that the High Lords and Ladies went to last night. Perhaps Vassa was there, that she knew something important and urgent enough to warrant such a quick assembly.

“Nothing,” He replied to his High Lady.

"Well, what are your spies good for then?” Amren asked, rolling her eyes.

“Amren-” Feyre sighed, attempting to play mediator.

“Vassa is missing,” Rhysand finally said, stopping a fight between his mate and a grumpy Amren before it started.

“What do you mean missing?” Azriel asked scenarios of how and why the queen would disappear playing in his head.

Assuming that was what the meeting was about, what could the High Lord know about such an important person’s disappearance?

“Lucien said it was Koschei, that it was Koschei’s doing that caused her disappearance. Lucien has called for aid to find Vassa. He is frightened for her,” Feyre explained with a frown.

Azriel stole a look at Elain at the mention of her mate. She was standing off to the side of the room now, not making eye contact with anyone and instead looking out the window and into the distance. He wondered if she cared that Lucien was so shaken up by the disappearance of Vassa. If it bothered her at all.

“And Tarquin?” Azriel asked, wondering what the High Lord of Summer could provide for aid. Or who Tarquin had in mind. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He says that he knows someone who might have to help. That was all he said, that she could help, whatever that entails.” Rhysand explained, running a hand through his hair. A list of names appeared in Azriel’s mind. A list of people who could aid in this upcoming conflict but there was barely a handful of people from the Summer Court that came to mind.

“Well, I can see what my spies have heard on the continent and in the mortal territories. Now that I know what we are looking for, my spies might be more useful,” Azriel said, pointing a small smirk at Amren who waved him off.

“Mor, I want to send you back to Vallahan to see if they have heard anything about Koschei’s whereabouts,” Rhysand said, turning to the blonde who lounged next to Amren, still sipping her lemonade.

“If you think it will help,” She responded sarcastically, sounding like she did not think it would help at all.

“It could help,” Rhysand said, sounding more like a confused puppy than a High Lord.

“Sure it could,” Azriel assured.

After all, what could go wrong?

[periprose]

Florence - Chapter Two

Despite your attempts to keep a healthy amount of distance between you and Peter, you end up growing closer together (a bit fast for your own tastes) as you experience the joys of air travel. MJ seems to be having wedding troubles when you get there, so it's up to you and Peter to cheer her up.

Becoming friends again, mild flirting, banter, mutual pining, Peter not understanding his own feelings, air travel stuff, lots of going on about how beautiful Italy is

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You’re surprised how fast the month goes after that. It’s July 15th, and tomorrow, you’ll be on the flight to Italy.

You pack every Sunday- just putting away all your cute, summery clothes, your swimsuits, and other nice dresses that might be needed for special events. MJ is supposedly bringing a whole bunch of extra outfits for everyone, which was notably given to her from Dior’s fashion house.

The mental bill you’re calculating for the whole thing is getting really high.

Ever since Peter moved back into his house, you’ve been catching him doing silly things through his room window- brushing his teeth while dancing, waking up shirtless (you averted your eyes so quickly), and today playing with a tennis ball, accidentally throwing it through his open window and hitting your window with it, looking sheepish about it- but it started a conversation between the two of you.

Hey. Peter mouths, and then he waves at you.

You blink, and then wave back. 

What’s up? He mouths, and you shrug.

You lift up a pile of clothing. Just packing.

Same. Peter holds up a ratty sweater- and your eyes widen with recognition.

You open up your room window, and Peter finally smiles, because he’s gotten you to talk to him.

“Is that-?” You point to it, and then start laughing. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you still have the Mathematics Club sweater!”

“I can’t believe you’re admitting you got rid of such a cherished memory. So casually, too, Howlett.” Peter sighs, as if he’s actually defeated by such an idea. 

“Wait.” You hold up your finger, and Peter does wait as you rummage around in your room, until finally, you pick up a raggedy old cloth. You hold it up to him.

It is your ninth grade sweater- at least, it’s a piece of fabric with the same emblem- and it’s just clearly being used as a rag to clean things up. 

Peter scoffs. “Jesus, Howlett. That thing looks rancid.”

“It’s for cleaning!” You’re indignant, but Peter is laughing at you, and you jokingly huff. “Okay, whatever. Pack a sweater that won’t fit you, I don’t care. I’m not wearing it.”

“Okay, mom.” Peter tosses it on his bed, and you feel such familiarity towards him suddenly. It’s hard not to smile- but you remind yourself that Peter just wants friendship, and he’s just trying to be on good terms with you.

You shake your head, letting your smile falter a little, and continue packing in mutual silence with Peter. 

/

You wake up really late by accident. Like, 4 AM, and the red-eye flight (it’s a fast one that will get you there in 4 hours, courtesy of Harry) is at 5:30 AM, and you need at least two hours to go through all the bullshit at the airport before you can get to your gate.

Logan is snoring downstairs- he’s fallen asleep on the couch by accident. If your dad didn’t weigh like 300 pounds of pure muscle (you don’t know how a teacher could be so buff) you’d lift him up out of the living room.

But you decide to just get ready for the airport. You shower really fast- brush your teeth- and throw all the extra stuff like makeup, skincare, and perfume into your mini backpack, where your phone, passport, and wallet are already in. Airport clothes are a comfy pair of green Adidas running shorts, a loose gray muscle tee, sneakers, and your hair pulled back in a claw clip.

Logan is very slow as you try to push him out the door.

“Dad- C’mon- We’re gonna be late-!” You’re shoving against him, with your suitcase and bag and all of your might, and Logan is just so. Damn. Slow.

He grumbles, scratches his face, and then makes his way out the door, with one shitty duffel bag and a pair of sandals that you don’t think will last the walk to the car. Logan is never prepared for shit.

As you’re walking out, in the very dark early morning, Peter, May and Ben are all inside their car, and Logan suddenly groans.

“I forgot to fill up the tank yesterday.” He yawns, and you look at him with the most irritated, pissed off look you can muster.

Years of doing that still have no effect on Logan. He just rolls his eyes.

“Fuck off, Lettie. We’ll call a cab.” He says, but Ben, who’s at the wheel of the Parker car, immediately waves at you two.

“We’ve got room- if you don’t mind stuffing your bag in the back seat.” Ben points to Logan’s duffle bag, and he sighs and tells you that he’s still sitting in the front.

Leaving you to put your own suitcase into the trunk, and then awkwardly clamber into the back seat, where you’re wedged in between Peter and May.

May touches your arm with a fond warmth- and it immediately makes you feel guilty that you’ve pushed away this family. They never did anything to you, you were just being extraordinarily selfish.

Peter’s bare leg is touching yours, and you snicker at how prickly it is.

“What?”

“Your leg is so… hairy.” You joke, and Peter’s eyes narrow. 

“It’s called being a man.” He leans back in his seat, and you try not to laugh at just how lanky and tall Peter looks sometimes. He’s wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts combo, which looks like his pajamas- it would not surprise you if it was.

“It’s 2023, Pete. Doesn’t hurt to be gender non-conforming now and then.” You retort.

“Let’s not pretend you care about woke-isms now, Howlett. You just want to be comfortable.” He responds without missing a beat. And if anything, he pushes his leg against yours a little harder.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. 

“What the hell are you guys going on about?” Logan mumbles in confusion, and you and Peter giggle. Logan rubs his eyes- and then decides to disguise his tired expression with sunglasses.

“Beats me.” Ben pulls out of the driveway, and begins the short drive to JFK International Airport. “You two better not bicker like children the whole time.”

Logan laughs at that, and you look down at your feet, thinking that you missed bickering with Peter. 

Peter pulls out a phone- evidently his work phone- and May immediately tuts.

“It’s supposed to be a vacation, Peter. You deserve that, at least.” She reprimands him, and crosses her arms. Making you lean even closer to Peter. “No work. Lettie, tell him.”

You meet Peter’s glance- and he has an interesting look on his face. Like he’s daring you to talk to him for real, in a serious way where you care about what he’s doing.

“It’s not really my business, but…” You start, and you can see Peter’s eyes shift ever so slightly- he’s disappointed, you think. “I think you should let yourself have fun.”

“Okay, that’s fair. I’m putting it on silent.” He makes a big motion of pressing the do not disturb button, and then stuffs it into his backpack. “Hey, want a gummy bear?”

You’re taken aback. “Uh, no. It’s probably too early in the morning for that- plus I don’t want to think how long gummy bears have been in your bag for.”

“Your loss.” Peter tosses a handful in his mouth as you gag. “What, c’mon, Howlett. We all need a hearty breakfast to start the day-”

“I’m buying real breakfast at the airport.” You cross your arms, and Peter nods, chowing down on more gummy bears.

“I’m hungry.” He smiles at you, and his teeth are covered in gummy bits, congealed in a disgusting rainbow of colours that has you instantly cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god, dude. You’re gonna get so many cavities.” You’re literally trying not to laugh but Peter is really, really good at stupid faces, and he keeps sneering at you like a little pig, and you shake with laughter as he keeps nudging you.

You’re doing your best to be his buddy, and you feel like it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. If anything, you actually… you like being his friend, even if you can’t have it all. 

You have a small, sheepish smile on your face that you’re desperately trying to get rid of now. Peter side eyes you- and he’s content to see that he’s still got the ability to make you laugh uncontrollably. 

/

The airport is incredibly busy for 4:20 AM.

Families are running- literally jogging with all their bags and new paraphernalia bought from the airport shops- towards their gates, TSA agents are being really touchy about everything today, and the line ups for everything are really, really long.

You don’t need to check in any suitcases, so you skip that. Your passports and tickets are checked by multiple different authoritative people.

It seems to happen in a bit of a rush. You’re pushed through security, and you grimace as they look through your suitcase- for some reason the TSA agent opens the zipper of the clear mesh bag holding all your underwear and lingerie- and he leers at you.

“Going on a special trip? Maybe some yachting?” He asks, grinning, and you know he’s insinuating that you’re one of those girls who “yacht”, as in, providing sexual favours to guests there as a hired hooker.

Your dad’s fist tightens, but you push him forward. “It’s fine, dad. We don’t really have time for this.”

“No, it’s not fine.” Peter speaks up, and he’s scratching the back of his hair, but you can tell Peter has that look on his face- he’s not gonna let this go. He’s a protective, justice-oriented guy, you know that.

“Peter, please… it’s the TSA. You don’t want to get in trouble with them.” You shake your head and peer up at him, and Peter can’t really say no when you’re pleading at him with those big, sad eyes.

The TSA agent doesn’t like that Peter said anything at all. “Sir, I’m gonna need to do a pat-down procedure on you.”

You turn, a level of shock and just awe at the audacity of this guy working it’s way onto your face. “Are you serious? Is it because he said something?”

The agent is silent for a moment. “...Not related.”

You don’t buy it, and you’re about to say something, but Peter squeezes your shoulder.

“Howlett, it’ll just take a second. Otherwise we’re going to hold up the line, and then we’ll be late for our flight. Right?” He whispers, and it’s very Peter to comfort you like this- but you can see in his eyes that by defending him, you did do the right thing, the very thing that he wanted you to from the beginning- that you care.

You do care, even if you tried to act like you didn’t. 

“Okay. Just… stay safe.” You say, and you look back at Peter being ushered into the pat-down booth as you, Logan, Ben and May are allowed to pass through security.

/

You’re waiting in the check in line when Peter finally returns, grinning widely. He’s holding his cheek in a weird way- and you look up at him, looking inquisitive, but Peter sidesteps your almost-question instantly.

“I bought breakfast?” He holds up a bag, and reaches in to hand you a breakfast burrito. You’re too hungry to ask your question and eat at the same time, and Peter beams at you, May, Logan and Ben as you guys eat. Quickly, too, because you’ve only got ten more minutes to check in.

Checking into the flight goes a lot smoother. The check-in lady recognizes that you have first class seats, which are very coveted and basically label you as VIP members of the flight.

You cringe at the level of opulence that Harry seems to be paying for- Peter, too, gives you a look that just reads “yikes.” 

It’s not very growing-up-in-the-poor-suburbs-of-Queens of you, but you’re not gonna say no now.

The airplane seats are large and spacious. You struggle to reach the luggage hold, and Peter wordlessly lifts up your suitcase, puts it in, and then his own, and shuts the hold with a clink. He gives you a funny look- like he’s about to raise his arms and say “no, really, it was my pleasure.”

And he does just that, to your mild surprise. He used to do that all the time when you were kids- if you got too cushy about Peter being your little servant, he would go overboard to make you give him some gratitude.

“Sorry. Thank you, Peter.” You say with as much sincerity as you can muster, because you’re just exhausted at this moment.

“No worries. I’m tired too.” Peter leans back in his seat, which has a metre gap of distance from you. There’s a large flat screen in front of his seat, which is really like a lounge chaise sofa, and a table that is ergonomically designed to also rest his arms on. Everything looks like a futuristic piece of art.

Peter suddenly scowls, and holds his cheek again.

“Hey… you never told me what happened to your face.” You lean forward on the arm rest of Peter’s chair, and gently pull his hand back.

Peter’s face is sheepish as you do. He refuses to meet your glance, even when you gasp.

“Peter! That’s a-” You touch the newly red, freshly bruised skin on his cheek, and he flinches. “A bruise-!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth. “Shut it, I don’t need Aunt May on my case about that.”

You gently pry his hand off of you. “But what happened?”

Peter’s eyes fall to the floor of the cabin.

“Don’t lie to me.” You immediately start, and he sighs with a well known just-my-Parker-luck air.

“Okay, listen. I wasn’t trying to be a hero, or anything like that…” He plays around with his knuckles. “The TSA dude didn’t exactly shut up when he got me into the booth.”

You’re silent, but you’re listening really, really hard, and Peter looks up just to make sure that you are listening. God, he missed the times when you looked at him so intently.

“Well, I don’t know if I should say what he-”

“Say it.” You give him your consent, because you need to know what got Peter so riled up that he would let himself get beat up.

“He… um…” Peter swallows, and he wonders if he should. Because you’re only now just starting to open up- he’s worried that he’ll say the wrong thing and push you aside, and he can’t have that again.

Peter continues anyways. “He made a shitty joke- just some offhand comment about how he could show you a better time than me, I guess?”

You feel your face turn hot at the implication. 

“And… he just wouldn’t stop. I tried, you know, to just ignore it, to respect women and not give into the toxic masculinity bullshit. But that made him more… eager to get a response.” Peter stares at his hands, and he starts getting a bit of a grimace going on. “He started going on about how your body must look- I’m not gonna repeat that, sorry, even if you want me to, I think it’s too much- and I guess he kept saying it was a shame you were wasted on me.”

You hold Peter’s arm, and he looks back up at you.

“That’s when I couldn’t take it. I punched him.” He shrugs, and your eyes widen.

“Peter…”

“I don’t regret it, Howlett. He had it coming- it was so satisfying to watch.” Peter shakes his head. “I know, I know. That’s toxic. And he punched me back, see?”

 “I thought you knew better than getting into fights.” You cross your arms. “Ah, well at least I can rest easy knowing it wasn’t about me.”

“Wasn’t about-” Peter gives you an incredulous glance. “Of course it was about you, moron.”

“Huh?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “C’mon, Peter. You only punched him when he made you feel inadequate.”

“I don’t care about that.” Peter is impatient, but you’re just barely listening now. Already convinced of your own idea. “I care that he thought all of your value was summed up in whether or not he got a hard on. That you exist just to be the receiving object of some idiot’s orgasm.”

“Great visuals as usual, Peter.” You snicker, but he’s entirely serious. “Okay. I’m sorry… I know that you care.” 

You ignore the hollow feeling in your chest as you say that. Maybe Peter was so disgusted, so thrown off by the very idea of you two together, like that, that he would defend your honour in the most purely, platonic way.

You know these thoughts aren’t rational. You’re just too cowardly to really talk to him about it.

Peter doesn’t even really know what threw him off like that, anyways. Of course he was going to defend you- you’re too special to him that he would let anyone talk about you like that. Even a potential boyfriend. 

He shudders internally at that thought for some reason, and then can’t place why. Why beat someone up for you? Why feel threatened by a boyfriend?

He doesn’t love you… right?

Peter’s got a hell of a lot of questions swirling around in his brain now, and they’re not getting any clearer as you start backing away a little. There’s a couple of potential answers, sure, but he’s not going to get a genuine one unless he talks to you.

“I… um… I care about you too.” You say in the most monotone whisper, and Peter cannot tell if you mean that in any way at all, let alone platonically or romantically. 

Damn it, he thinks. She’s pulling away again. Is this what happened last time? I was accidentally displaying too many feelings, and she didn’t know how to reject me?

Peter exhales. He thinks this should be a good thing. You’re at least talking to him- he’s going to be okay with that for now. 

“Okay.” He blinks. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No…” You roll your eyes at your own antics. “Peter, I’m just an overthinking idiot sometimes.”

“I know.”

You hit his shoulder and he laughs. 

“We’re good, right?” You ask, and Peter nods, as if he was insulted that you had to even ask the question. It seems a tad put on, but you take it. 

“Aw… we can’t watch a movie together now.” He tuts, pointing at how individual and faraway your seats and personal screens are. 

“Maybe that’s for the better.” You yawn, stretching and teetering on the arm rest that you’re sitting on. “We should get some sleep?”

Suddenly, a flight attendant walks past you in the aisle with the drink cart, which hits you just hard enough that you fall over the arm rest. You steady yourself, and your face brushes against Peter’s cheek.

He’s unnerved how close you are to him now. It doesn’t help that the relationship between the two of you that was assumed by the TSA agent was so… erotic in nature. 

Peter’s head is swirling with ideas and thoughts that he’s not sure have any valid place in reality- he nearly bites his tongue when he’s possessed by some inane urge to kiss you. He looks down at his legs, and then back at you, feeling guilty when he just said he cares about you as a person. Maybe he sees it both ways? Maybe he likes you so much that it’s truly intertwined in that emotion that one might describe as love?

Peter’s eyes drift towards your own, and then back to your lips. You feel your face warm- and then your stomach flip flops, and you decide to put an end to it before it gets complicated.

“I’m- uh… I’m gonna just-” You get up and motion to your seat, and he nods, unable to talk about what just happened.

/

Peter only wakes you up close to when the flight is over. It’s only the two of you in this cabin, and it’s very dark, so you nearly punch him until you realize who it is.

“Jesus, Peter!” You draw your arm back, and he snickers. “What is it?”

“You fell asleep for most of the flight.”

“So you were watching me, creep?” You blink at him, only half joking.

Peter sighs, and leans forward on the balls of his feet.

“This coming from the girl who would stare at me through the window when I was waking up for elementary school every morning?” Peter raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head, laughing.

“That was perfectly innocent.” You snort. “I was just saying hello to my good friend. You.”

He notices that you sound more okay with being his friend again, and he’s glad. You wave at him, making a mockery of how you used to always say hi, and Peter grabs your hand.

He nudges- well, pushes- you to move over on your absolutely massive seat-bed, which was honestly too much space for just you, anyways. And he sits down next to you.

“So?” You try to ignore how Peter’s body is against your own.

“Here.” He hands you a aluminum foil container, that you’re kind of surprised you didn’t see him holding, and you take it. It’s quite heavy.

“You were knocked out cold for a bit, and the flight attendant really didn’t want to leave you hanging with airplane food.” Peter scratches his face. “I know, right? VIP privileges right there.”

“Yeah. There have been plenty of summers us poors have been forgotten back in the economy seats.” You sniff, and Peter laughs.

“So yeah. It’s just your food.” He nods, but you wonder why he’s sitting next to you, and tell him as much.

“Oh, right.” Peter pulls out his phone. “MJ kept texting me about something… just give me a moment…”

At the sound of her name, you feel your heart plummet rapidly.

You try to remind yourself- it’s been almost a decade, and you’re too old to be caring this much about that- plus these are some of your closest friends.

You resist the urge to push Peter away, and yet, you miss what he’s said entirely.

/

You’re seventeen years old again. You’re sitting outside at a park bench with your friends.

MJ is telling you about how excited she is to go to prom this year- and how she just must find the perfect dress in the most accurate blue-green shade that matches her eyes correctly.

You’re only half listening- you don’t really care all that much about prom. What’s more important is getting into university.

You have your heart set on NYU, and Peter, Empire State. MJ and Har, on the other hand, are leaping headfirst into their careers, MJ with modelling, and Harry taking over a management position at his dad’s company.

You’re not even really thinking about university right now, either. Peter is staring at MJ as she talks to you, her long red tresses of hair bundled into a messy bun, making the perfect halo of copper strands. She looks like a princess of some faraway medieval kingdom- she’s just missing a crown.

Your smile falters as you watch Peter blink, and turn red, unable to tear away his gaze at MJ as she giggles at his not-that-funny joke.

This is so stupid. You think, but your thoughts are barely coherent. I was never even an option for him. Why can’t I just be normal? Why do I have to get upset over every little thing? I just want him to look at me like that. He didn’t do anything wrong…

But you think to yourself that Peter did do something wrong. This whole time, you had started to grow affectionate when he would offer to hold your books, or walk home together from school, or study in the library for finals. He had become exceedingly good looking- no longer wearing his reading glasses, brushing his hair into more of a long, scruffy look, his scrawny teenage body slowly becoming more built into the body of a man- and you find that lately Peter’s brown eyes mean more to you than you used to think. 

Perhaps your only mistake was assuming that anything he did was any different from your usual friendship. 

The thought sobers you from your internal thrashing. Peter hasn’t really led you on at all, you’re just an idiot with too many feelings. 

Peter says something about how MJ’s eyes are more blue than green, and she giggles and widens her eyes so he can take a good look at them and see just how wrong he is. As he leans closer, and closer, his eyes peering into her own as if he’s actually studying the colour and not looking for an excuse to just be near her, you feel sick. 

Sick of being ugly, being the weird best friend, being totally boring and just not as cool as MJ. And sick of the unrequited nature of this fondness you feel for Peter- it’s not anyone’s fault, but you wish it just didn’t happen. It’s like an awful joke.

/

You’re back to the present. Peter has been shaking your shoulder.

“Huh?”

“MJ says she’s really sorry, but she needs to ask us to be at a rehearsal wedding and reception today.” Peter says, and he shows you his phone like it’s nothing. “Something about the Cathedral not being available any other time.”

Like you’re not a creep who wouldn’t immediately check how often he texts MJ.

You take a tiny inhale. Remember how old you are. Remember that Peter does care about you and what’s in the past is in the past. You read the Instagram messages like a normal person.

maryjanewatson: Hey peter!! Can you tell lettie that we’re having the wedding rehearsal today? Like 5 hours after you guys get out the airport

maryjanewatson: So sorry btw, i tried to rearrange it for tmr so u would at least have a day’s rest!! sadly it did not work out.

pbp: yeah that’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell her. We’ll try to be awake :)

You blink. It’s just messages between friends, not even a hint of flirting between them, and then you wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you expected any different. MJ loves Harry- she would never look at another man the same way as she did him- and Peter, regardless of whatever his current feelings were, would always respect that.

“So that’s fine, right?” Peter comments, because you haven’t said anything in a bit and he wonders what you’re zoning out about.

“Yeah, she can’t help that. It’s fine.” You yawn a little. “I wonder what we’ll have to do.”

“Knowing Harry and MJ, it’s going to be a super coordinated affair, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Peter pauses. “At least, I’m sure you’ll be fine. I might trip when walking down the aisle.”

“And who’s arm am I holding?” You nudge him jokingly. “I’ll try to hold you up, Parker.”

Another IG message from MJ pops up before Peter can respond, and you read it before you instinctively tell yourself not to.

maryjanewatson: Oooo, so you guys are tired??? What on EARTH could u two have been doing to be so sleepy, I wonder? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Peter groans, and you- to your credit- start laughing. Cackling, really.

MJ knows how to joke around, so it doesn’t sound nearly as bad in the way she puts it. But you wonder if she’s been teasing Peter a lot, and it makes you feel guilty, that your own silly former crush is making MJ feel the need to play matchmaker.

Peter is amused at your reaction, but he doesn’t know why you’re laughing so hard, and why he cares so much about the reason.

“She doesn’t-” Peter starts, but so do you.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” You nod, and Peter nods in solidarity.

You’re glad you can at least form a union on that.

Peter checks out his reflection in his phone screen. “Shit.”

“Huh?”

“This looks pretty bad.” He points to his face, and you see that the bruise still looks shiny and red. “Howlett, you’ve got makeup or something, right? Can’t imagine what Harry and MJ will do when this ruins their pictures.”

“I’m sure it will heal in a day or two.” You say drily, but you still pull out stuff out of your backpack. “Here’s a cream for burns- it’s not really meant for bruises, but it will help with the pain, if you’re feeling anything.”

Peter takes it, and slathers some on, instantly sighing as the cool sensation relieves the heat of the bruise.

“Oh, you just gotta-” You don’t know how to tell Peter that he needs to rub it in, so you do it for him, your fingers gently patting and rubbing the cream into his cheek.

Peter stares at you, and keeps staring even as you look away into your bag again. Your face is warm again, because you forgot just how close you are to him and MJ’s last message really doesn’t help your thoughts here.

But you also just feel a fondness for him, which is nice. It’s nice to be his friend, and take care of him like this- if Peter would let you, you’d do this for the rest of your life.

“Okay, I know this looks odd, but this will draw attention away from the redness.” You pull out a green colour corrector, and Peter nods.

“Colour theory. Nice.” He says drily as you dab little green spots with the doe foot applicator, and then rub his skin. 

Peter’s eyes drift from your hand, to your face, to your eyes, and then to your mouth again, and you watch his jaw clench- he visibly swallows and lets you keep going.

You stop when the green has melted into his skin, making it look effortlessly clean and peachy like his natural skin tone, as if nothing had happened.

“Better?” You ask, and Peter looks at his reflection again.

“Better.” Peter says in a significantly more husky tone, and you try your best to ignore the shivers down your spine.

/

The airport in Florence is pretty ordinary. A modern building with not much appeal inside of it. You, Peter, Logan, May and Ben arrive there around 2 PM, thanks to the time zone difference. You head inside a cute mini bus after a quick chat with the security agents- Peter doesn’t have to punch this guy, as he’s perfectly polite- and it’s off to drive to where the Villa Cetinale will be waiting for you.

Your dad taps your shoulder, and you turn.

“Smile for the camera, kid?” Logan holds up his Canon camera, and you have to laugh at the fact that he takes photography so seriously. There’s a whole Italy album spanning years worth of funny, heartfelt moments.

You nod, and Peter flashes bunny ears behind you as you smile. The next picture is of you shoving him, and Peter laughing.

The wind coming through the shuttle window is relaxing. You find yourself feeling more relaxed, remembering that this is a vacation, and you are supposed to have fun.

“Darn. We didn’t get any Neapolitan pizza.” Peter says, and you tell him that you’re sure you can get some in Florence.

“Really, Howlett? I thought our years of Neapolitan pizza eating would teach you some well-deserved snobbery.” 

“Is it going to be that different in Florence?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Peter takes a dramatic pause. “...Yes. Don’t you know anything about the regional differences in food here?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot you were Italian. Apparently.”

As you banter, May and Ben smile to themselves. Thinking just how great it is that you two are finally in cahoots with each other again.

/

One hour later, an hour you’ve spent mostly napping, as it is, you arrive to the Villa Cetinale, which is in Siena. Despite MJ saying that it wouldn’t be like Florence, you’re uncultured enough that all of Italy feels the same. Peter wakes you up with a tender grasp on your shoulder, and Logan gives the two of you an inquisitive look- which makes Peter drop his hand immediately.

“Oh my god.” Those are your first words as you walk out of the bus, after you’ve thanked the driver that Harry has apparently paid to drop you right off at the Villa Cetinale.

The first thing you see is a gorgeous, lush garden, full of mossy bushes and trees that are snipped into geometric shapes, perfect square and triangles that you can walk through. There are large, marble sculptures covered in vines, and you assume they must be decades if not centuries old, just based on some of the weathering and rough textures. 

There are massive flowerpots in between the bushes, containing either shrubbery or pretty, delicate yellow flowers. And at the centre of the land, is a beautiful square, boxy building, looking as large as a mansion, in an off white colour contrasted by green window shutters, somehow both cozy and luxurious in it’s scattered brick exterior. A four pillar opening to an inner loggia (an open patio of sorts) and swirling emblems give the impression of an art piece. 

It’s stunning- it looks like a vacation home fit for a royal family. 

It totally makes sense why Harry would rent this place for his wedding. Yes, it’s probably obscenely expensive, but you have to admit- it has that soft touch that MJ probably wanted, and it’s very pretty to look at. 

The air quality is almost sinfully clean, and you feel a wide smile working it’s way onto your face. The sun is shining, the smell of the soil and path around you is familiar- and you turn to smile at Peter.

“I love Italy.” You beam, and he, for whatever reason, looks away for a moment- if Peter was honest, it’s because you were unexpectedly too cute and he could not handle it- but he turns back towards you and says that he agrees.

“I’m glad we’re back.” Peter comments as you motion for him to come along while you pull your suitcase, and walk down the gravel path towards the door. 

It’s kind of a long walk, actually, which tells you how much land this place actually spans. You pass by other smaller buildings- they appear to be sheds, or perhaps homes for the servants of the villa, you can’t be sure- and as you walk, you turn just to take in your surroundings. There’s loads of forest spanning both the front and back of the villa.

When you reach the front gate of the villa, MJ pops out of the front door immediately, swinging through the patio chairs and tables between the pillars. She’s wearing a bright coral sundress that somehow does not clash with her red hair, and she’s also wearing big, white framed sunglasses, which make her look even more famous.

You think she and Harry will raise a great nepo baby someday, just based on the current vibes you’re getting. You wonder if you’ll be an adequate aunt.

“Lettie, Peter! Buongiorno!” She runs towards you guys, and hugs you both. MJ is a pretty firm hugger- you feel squeezed lovingly, and it’s as if she didn’t see you recently- and she pulls back with a gasp.

“We need to talk about your guys’ outfits. It’s too…” She trails off.

“Poor?” You try, and MJ laughs but shakes her head.

“Casual?” Peter attempts, and MJ sort of nods at that, giving him the point of her finger.

“Yes. Casual sounds about right. No worries, we’ve got tons of clothes for you guys to try on here.” MJ takes a moment to hug Logan, and then May and Ben, and then motions for you to follow her.

“MJ’s gonna make us over until we’ve become little signores and signoras she can be proud of.” Peter whispers as you enter through the pillars of the Villa, into a large foyer with sloping ceilings and elaborate tile work. 

“I heard that.” MJ says, cheerfully so. “I don’t mind if you guys want to wear your own clothes- it was just a humble suggestion.”

“That’s coming from you. A total bridezilla?” You ask, only half-joking, and MJ… despite how happy MJ always seems to be, she seems to crack a little here, and then she snorts and laughs loudly.

“I needed that. Needed a laugh. I’m so glad you guys are here. I am so tired of playing up the role of future Mrs. Osborn.” She admits rather candidly, and Logan gets a wary look on his face.

“Don’t mean to intrude, but… isn’t that bad if you’re going to be that for the rest of your life?” He says with nearly no tact, and you gasp, affronted.

“Dad!” You scoff at him, while MJ’s smile trembles a little, as she flinches. “She didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I took it more like, it’s hard to be the lady-in-charge of the Villa and all the wedding planning and stuff, right, MJ?” Peter asks, and she nods a little too eagerly.

“Y-Yeah. Exactly.” MJ sighs, and then tells a servant standing nearby to take your suitcases to your rooms. “I’m sorry… just give me a moment.”

She walks through the main hall, and through the back door, probably into the vast garden of the back.

Peter winces. You glare at Logan.

“What, Lettie?” Logan crosses his arms, getting that grumpy I-know-better-than-you look. “People always need honesty, even if they don’t want to hear it.”

“Not if we don’t know the whole situation, Dad.” You roll your eyes, and Peter doesn’t want to comment on this, but he feels that you’re right. He’s just really bad at coming between you and Logan- he’s afraid of what Logan will say to him, and he really can’t risk losing the hard-earned friendship he’s spent literally decades cultivating with Logan.

Peter just hopes you won’t be annoyed that he’s not defending you in this moment.

“Do we want to go talk to her?” He asks gently, and you hear the usage of we, like a couple, and fail to respond for a moment.

“Let’s give her a minute and then go.”

/

Ben and May are the first to agree with you, kind of- they still have the older mentality of telling it like it is. Still, Ben thinks highly of MJ and Harry, and he tells you as much.

“I always thought those two were on the same page.” Ben tuts, flipping through one of the many books that the main hall offers for you to read. “It’s probably just pre-wedding jitters.”

“Lord knows we had them.” May giggles suddenly, and Ben chuckles at that. “I thought Ben was going to leave me when I started crying about the ring being a little too loose.”

“You just weren’t eating, May.” Ben reminds her. “You must’ve lost… like ten pounds or something like that, it’s no wonder the engagement ring was sliding off.”

The thought that MJ isn’t eating because of nerves, combined with that strict modelling regime needed to stay hot and skinny, strikes you suddenly, and you tug on Peter’s arm.

“We should go talk to her now.” You say, fear becoming apparent in your voice. You’re worried- Peter can see that clearly in your eyes- because you do remember how frazzled MJ seemed to be, just on the edges, throughout your bridesmaid dress appointment, and that lunch where she just picked at a salad… and how often she checked at her phone, with a disappointed glance, which she quickly covered over with a smile.

You feel like the worst friend. You hadn’t really noticed that MJ needed someone, and you need to be there for her now.

It’s easy to be distracted by all the pretty interior design of the villa, and even as you step through the backyard doors, into the outside, there are more beautiful marble statues, two twin staircases that lead to the second floor of the villa, and many more trees and bushes- you think you can see the famed lemon garden here- but you assert yourself to stay focused on MJ.

Peter walks quickly, not just to keep up with you, but because he’s worried, since you are. You have pretty good judgement of most emotional situations- in fact everyone usually comes to you for advice. So Peter knows your opinion is valuable, and he’s really hoping MJ is okay.

She’s sitting on a white garden chair, under an umbrella, in the shade. Her hair looks like a deep auburn- and it just makes her seem more sombre.

MJ’s drinking a lightly iced tea, and you can already guess there’s no sugar in there.

“Hey, Mary Jane…” You touch her shoulder, and she tries her best to smile at you.

“Lettie.” She sighs, a deep sigh embittered with pent up sadness, and you wonder why. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been nicer to you guys… what a horrible start to your vacation.”

“We don’t care about that.” You start, and Peter thinks about the use of we, too, but he quickly brushes that aside. “Just… are you okay to tell us what’s wrong?

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Peter says, and he sits down next to her, and you do, too. 

MJ breathes in. Shuts her eyes. And then squeezes a wedge of lemon into her tea.

“It’s not a big deal, at all. It’s just me being silly, I swear.” She suddenly, violently squishes the lemon, and lemon pulp splatters onto the table. 

You wince, and give Peter a look. He knows what you mean- things are not well.

“Who am I kidding?” MJ scoffs at herself, and her normally pristine complexion is harsh, red with stress. She’s becoming Tomato MJ. “The wedding planning is a lot, yeah. But even worse- someone went behind my back for next year’s New York Fashion Week, and now I might not be able to secure a designer to model for, and Harry isn’t responding to my texts, and I have no idea why because he’s usually always ready to talk to, and it feels like… it feels like… like I’m alone?”

Her voice breaks, and she bursts into tears.

“Oh, MJ…” You hug her, and she cries as she holds onto you, her eyelashes becoming wet with big, fat tears. Her head quickly finds that gap between your shoulder and neck- and it’s as if no time has passed, again, because you feel like that gap was made for this friendship. You remember all the times you’ve hugged her, and you hope you’re still providing the same comfort.

MJ sniffs, and Peter gently pats her back. He feels like you’ve got it covered- he gives you a thumbs up and you give him a sheepish smile.

“It’s just… I’m not mad at anyone, I just wonder why no one is talking to me.” She wipes a tear away as she lets you go, and you listen carefully. “Why no one seems to want to communicate. Like, fuck, how am I supposed to do the right thing if I don’t know what it is?”

MJ’s comment cuts deep, and you feel like you’ve been in that situation a lot. With Peter, you’re never sure where your standing is with him.

“Listen. I know it’s not the best advice, but you just gotta hang in there, okay?” You hold her hand, and MJ nods, wiping her face a little more vigorously. “It’s frustrating, but soon you’ll find out who did what and for what reason. No need to freak about all the unknowns right now, because they’re just unknowns.”

“Okay. That’s true.” MJ agrees, but she’s still got a hint of worry on her face, and Peter can see that.

“And me and Howlett will help with all the wedding stuff. Promise.” He swears, and MJ’s face brightens. “Maybe we can also help you with the New York Fashion Week thing? What exactly happened there?”

“Oh…” MJ plays with the hem of her dress. “Someone sent my usual designer at Dior an email… and they were already doing a huge favour by taking on someone like me, y’know? I’m not very well known in the model space yet. So the email was accusing me of using connections from Harry to be in the model industry… and as far as I know, Dior is looking into it seriously because they don’t take kindly to frauds using their model-in-training funds.”

“But that’s total bullshit!” You exclaim, and MJ and Peter both look towards you as you start talking. “You must have in your proof of records that Harry didn’t do anything like that for you, right? You started off pretty small, I remember, it was for a local show.”

“Howlett’s right.” Peter nods, affirmative. “We can both look into your history- if that’s okay, MJ- and prove to whoever did this that they’re wrong. And you won’t be booted.”

“I don’t know… it does seem kind of suspicious since I’m marrying him and all.” MJ says, but she immediately shakes herself out of it. “No, you guys are right. I worked hard.”

“You did.” You nod, and then MJ takes on a more suspicious, dark look.

“I think it was one of my friends.” She admits, and Peter looks to you, but you don’t know them either, so you give him an unfamiliar glance. “One of the models that will be here on Wednesday. Elektra, Wanda, Kitty, Bucky, or Nat. Nat and Kitty are already on Dior with me, so that leaves Bucky, Elektra, or Wanda. And I’m pretty sure they were on the shortlist to make it for New York Fashion Week.”

Peter grins. “This is easy. Right?”

It takes you a second but you clue in. “Oh my god, yeah. MJ, you wouldn’t happen to still have the email, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“We can trace back the IP address of the email ID that sent it.” Peter squeezes your hand from across the table, and it’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by MJ. “Howlett and I, we’re really good at coding and shit- we’re techie kids and all that, right- so it can’t take more than a day, I swear.”

“I believe you.” MJ smiles. “I’m just wondering when you got all sweet on Lettie, and suddenly decided to hold her hand.”

Peter lets go, kind of dramatically, but his hand twitches for a moment, grazing over your own palm before moving back.

“Can friends not hold hands?” You ask timidly, but MJ gives you such a suggestive look that you’re laughing.

“Okay. No more drama, you guys.” MJ laughs too, shakes her head, and stands up off her chair, into the sunlight. “We should have fun before the rehearsal today. What do you want to do?”

“Whaddya have in mind?” Peter throws right back at her, and she gets another mischievous look on her face. 

/

It’s a very lovely bakery next to the corner store in a teeny village, just a , with loads of different kinds of gelato and ice creams and crepes and tiramisu and biscotti and panna cotta. 

Of course MJ would consider this bad, considering that she’s not allowed to eat anything so unhealthy usually. But she’s excited, she’s saying that she deserves a bit of a break for the wedding. You wholeheartedly agree with her. 

“But guys, I swear, you two need to let loose and party a little. I’m gonna make everyone drink and party like crazy this week- this is definitely not the extent of our festivities.” MJ chirps excitedly, and pays the cashier while telling him to keep the change. 

You sit outside on the patio, looking at a cobblestone street full of Italians and tourists alike.l.

Peter takes a bite of his gelato. It’s a rich, smooth raspberry flavour, and you knew he was going to get it. It’s one of your usual Florentine traditions.

MJ got a new cheesecake tiramisu- apparently sacrilege to the Food Gods of Italy, as the cashier told her he got yelled at by a couple of Nonnas earlier- but she loves it, absolutely grins at the flavours melting on her tongue.

“Better than NYC cheesecake?” You ask, and she nods, taking another massive spoonful. You’re glad to see that MJ is eating, and she definitely seems less stressed.

“Who says tech kids don’t party?” Peter starts, and MJ laughs as he becomes a little offended. “No, really. We might work hard but we still like having fun. Right, Howlett?”

“Is this fun you speak of just between you two?” MJ asks teasingly, but Peter’s face turns red and she lets it go. “Really. This week shouldn’t just be blah blah wedding stuff. I want to make sure we’re all having fun and doing things we want to do.”

You take a bite of your own basil-mint gelato, in a very appealing light green colour. The flavour might not sound good, but it’s really like a refreshing, minty sorbet, not that savoury at all. Just herby.

“Can we choose what to do?” You ask, but MJ is just waving your question away.

“You don’t even have to ask. We’ll try to do anything you guys want.” MJ beams. “And don’t even worry about the other guests- there’s no strict itinerary in place other than our dinner parties, so they probably will want to do other things, and they definitely can.”

“Whoa, whoa, Howlett.” Peter suddenly holds up a finger. “You’ve just got some sprinkles on your face…”

Peter reaches out with a thumb and gently swipes the edge of your lip, and your cheek,and some sprinkles fall off towards the ground. Then, in the most disgustingly lascivious, possibly slutty, kind of perverted way that only Peter could do, he sucks on his thumb.

“Hm. Minty.” He grins, popping his thumb back out, and it takes all of your willpower not to retort back, because Peter has been like this for ages and you refuse to believe that it’s genuine flirting.

MJ looks between the two of you, having trouble believing that you’re both so oblivious.

/ 

When you just make it back to the Villa, there’s a lot of splashing, and some loud Italian electronic music playing in the front yard. MJ rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “That must be Harry.”

MJ waves him down, and Harry swims upward, glad to see a few familiar faces. 

“Lettie, Peter, it’s me!” Harry pulls himself up off the ledge of the pool, and he looks just as rich-boy-tired-but-chic as you’ve always remembered. Those heavy eyebags have never gone away. He’s sopping wet as he hugs you guys, drenching you both in tons of water.

“Ugh- Har, are you serious-”

“Yeah, Harry!” Peter shoves him lightly. “We’re totally wet now.”

“Yeah, but you guys love it.” Harry snickers. “What the hell are you wearing, anyways? Where’s the Italian finery? Do I need to call a maid over to help-”

“Oh, god, don’t get started on that, please.” Peter pinches his brow, with a small smile because he knows his friend. “We’ll change now, okay?”

“In that case-” Harry shoves Peter, who falls and bumps into you, and you both fall into the pool, water immersing you quite quickly. The blue ceramic tiles of the pool fill your vision, and you kick upwards. You resurface, and pull your hair back, panting, and Peter is shaking his hair, trying to get it out of his face.

“You okay?” Peter asks immediately, and you have to fight down the thought that of course that would be the first thing Peter would say, and you nod.

“We just gotta get this clown back for that.” You lean forwards, and tug Harry’s ankle, which causes him to fall in with a splash, too.

“Now you guys are having fun, damn it.” Harry splutters when he resurfaces. “I missed you guys.” 

It’s very touching, but now you have to actually go change and shower when you just wanted to rest a bit before the rehearsal, and that’s a tad bit annoying. Just like Harry usually is- but you can’t help but like him anyways.

Harry tries to hug MJ as you all walk towards the villa- and she rebukes him, holding her hands out and saying that her dress will be ruined if it gets wet. Harry instead places a sopping wet kiss on her forehead, and she groans loudly, but you know she likes it. It still makes you feel a little alone- being a third wheel. 

Well, at least Peter is one, too.

What’s distracting you is how Peter’s shirt seems to cling to his waist when it’s wet, and you can’t help but stare, seeing taut stomach muscles through the damp parts of his shirt. You shake your head and wonder why everyone had to turn hot except for you.

/

When you step out of the shower, just in a white terrycloth towel, MJ is waiting at your bed, and you flinch for a moment.

“Jesus!” You start, and then see her smiling. “Next time just tell me you’re gonna be in here, or knock or something.”

“Will do.” MJ stares at her nails. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the rehearsal?”

“Not really.” 

“It’s a informal-formal affair. I guess semi-formal.” MJ tells you, as you start getting ready for it. “I’ve picked out a few dresses you can wear.”

There’s a few dresses crowded around in the massive wardrobe when you look, but the first one that catches your eyes is a lovely deep yellow, with embroidered white flowers through our the ruched bustier and long skirt, and very teeny spaghetti straps. It matches your bedroom, strangely enough, since the walls are a nice pale yellow hue, and the canopy over your four-pillar bed is a pretty ivory shade. 

When you’ve tried it on, MJ immediately starts clapping.

“Chill out, I’ve barely even tried it on properly!” You say sheepishly, fixing the skirt so it flows out better, and she giggles.

“It just looks beautiful on you.” She asserts, not a hint of irony or wit or any sort of sardonic tone in her voice, and you sigh, knowing that MJ doesn’t lie about fashion.

“Thanks.” You are still bad at taking compliments, and she knows, so she doesn’t take offense.

MJ wordlessly slides a very, very nice weighty gold bangle on your wrist, and before you can express that it’s too much, she gently tells you it’s a special gift for her maid of honour.

“Oh.” You grin. “I wonder if Peter gets anything similar?”

“Depends on if Harry actually tried.” MJ sniffs, somewhat jokingly.

/

After a bit of makeup (MJ tells you that in Italy you only need a sheer, glowy base like a bit of concealer or a skin tint, a lip and cheek tint, and maybe a little more eyeliner and mascara than usual since that’s what the style is here, and you’re wondering if you’ve been secretly Italian this whole time with this extremely natural, less-is-more look) and some small heels because you know you’ll never be able to rock the 6-inch heels that MJ does as a model, you’re now waiting downstairs.

MJ is wearing a corset sundress, with more elaborate ribbon straps tying the dress tightly across her waist, and the pattern reminds you of those blue-and-white china plates. She looks amazing, of course, and she’s donned a practice veil, apparently not the real thing.

MJ is explaining something about what you’re supposed to do as you walk in the church, but you’re not really listening, because Peter has just walked down the steps from his side of the Villa, towards the main hall. Where you and MJ are sitting on one of the couches.

He’s absentmindedly fixing his hair, not really paying attention to where he’s walking, and he just looks unfairly good. Like MJ-level modelesque, and you feel your breath catch in your throat for a moment. Peter’s wearing a basil green button up top, and casual khaki dress pants, and even though you always teased him for getting sunburned easily as you grew up together, somehow these colours are matching his complexion perfectly, making his skin have a golden hue that you swear you’ve never noticed before.

You bite your lip and look at the ground, unable to really look at him.

“Hey. Is the car here yet?” Peter asks, and you shake your head. MJ has a laugh deep in her throat, just threatening to come out. 

You wish you weren’t so obvious.

“Anyways. Like I was trying to say, except Lettie really wasn’t listening.” MJ taps her acrylics against the little side table next to her, and Peter nods, listening.

He’s a little distracted, too- that shade of yellow somehow complements your complexion exactly, and something about you looks glowy and ethereal in a way that Peter doesn’t think you looked like back in NYC, but then he feels weirdly defensive and wants to think that you’ve always looked pretty, and then he internally fumes at the idea that he has always been attracted to you, and is only noticing now, apparently? That can’t be true, right? He’s not that dumb, right?

He decides he’s just going to blame something in Italy’s air.

The car honks outside, and you stand up, ready to go. Peter stands up a little too quickly too- and he bumps into you, and you fall a teeny bit forward, and Peter’s hand grasps around your wrist, steadying you.

“Thanks.” You smile up at him, and Peter feels a disgusting amount of affection.

/

The wedding rehearsal goes on pretty easily, if not for the fact that everyone seems to be distracted by how beautiful the Florence Cathedral is. You tell Peter as much, and he looks wistfully up to the tall domed ceiling, and down back at you, holding your gaze for a little too long, and agrees that it is beautiful.

You have no idea why every conversation with Peter seems to make you feel soft.

MJ’s mother, Madeline, and Harry’s mother, Emily, both walk down the aisle first, and they do so easily- you hadn’t seen them when you arrived, but it turns out they were out shopping all day, so here they are now. It is crazy how much Madeline you can see in MJ’s face. Harry, on the other hand, must take after his father.

Then it’s Harry’s father, Norman, the absolutely intimidating CEO who you really hope isn’t as terrifying as all your colleague buddies have said. Everyone’s who’s ever interviewed at Oscorp knows what they mean. He’s not here in Italy yet, obviously on important Oscorp business, so you breathe a teeny sigh of relief for that.

After that, it’s Harry, who walks down with a bit more of a strut than necessary… the priest side eyes him.

Then it’s time for the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. Gayle, MJ’s sister, isn’t here, and neither is Gwen, Betty, or the groomsmen- it seems that they’ll all be here Tuesday, with MJ’s model friends as well. You feel a bit bad for her, because so far it only seems like you and Peter’s families are the only extended people really cared to show up at this point, but that’s what happens with destination weddings sometimes. Not everyone can take time off, just like that.

Then it’s time for you and Peter to walk down the aisle. He raises his arm for you to hold onto, and walks at a pace that’s pretty slow, which is what MJ wanted so photographers could take good pictures of everyone. It’s kind of funny- you feel like a kid again, when you and Peter would have to pose at Logan’s insistence for pictures.

Even now, Logan is snapping pictures as he sits in a pew, and it feels like a long walk until you reach the front of the altar, where everyone else is. 

Peter is warm, and he smells good- some kind of citrusy soap that makes you think of the lemon gardens in front of the Villa. 

“Hey, Howlett.” Peter whispers from gritted teeth. “Nice bracelet. Did that cost half your paycheque, or what?”

“Uh, no. MJ got it for me.” You snort under your breath as you walk, and Peter nods with an approving look.

“I guess we’re matching. Harry did the same thing.” Peter tugs his sleeve slightly, and shows off his own gold chain bracelet. Whereas yours looks feminine and dainty, delicate in how it hangs on your wrist, Peter’s is significantly more masculine, with chain links and a more rugged detail running through them. Still, it does scream matching, and you have to think MJ and Harry did it on purpose.

You tell yourself it’s just a friendship thing. Or a maid of honour-best man thing.

Peter feels soft, reliable to hold onto- you don’t want to let go when you’ve reached the altar. But you do, because you have to go to the side where the bridesmaids are supposed to be standing.

As you make your standing there, Peter does a tiny little wave at you, and smiles, and you do, too. 

You watch as MJ sashays down the aisle with her father- he’s been napping all day- but you wonder if the bride should be acting like a model, exactly? It’s not that she doesn’t look amazing, it’s just not very churchlike.

MJ stops herself halfway down, looking somewhat irritated at herself. “Wait- nope, I’m starting over. Sorry, daddy.” 

She begins again, holding onto her father’s arm, and this time, it’s a slow walk that demonstrates what a shy, blushing bride MJ can be, and you know if she really wanted to, she could be an actress.

You catch Harry looking at her, with a wistful smile- but Peter looks rather fond of her too, and you can’t decide if it’s just friendship, or if he wishes she was his.

You wonder if anyone will ever look at you like that. Just as you look away, Peter shoots a glance at you, hoping that you notice.

[medea10]

My Review of Rurouni Kenshin (2023)

If you grew up in the 1990s and early 2000s, chances are you’ve come across this title.

Rurouni Kenshin’s original anime aired in Japan from 1996-1998. It managed to make it out west with being licensed by Media Blasters and aired on Cartoon Network’s Toonami block in the early 2000s. With 95 episodes to its name, Rurouni Kenshin was pretty popular everywhere. In later years, a couple of OVA’s were released. One of them was a prequel that was never seen outside of the manga. The second one was a sequel to the main series that goes in a different route from the manga. And the third was a retelling of one of the series best moments.

And just laying it out there, yes, this series is sadly also known as “Samurai X”. I say “sadly” due to what was done to the series with that name. What with the bastardization of people’s names and what have you! The name of the series is Rurouni Kenshin. If you see that other name, turn around and don’t look back.

Now, does this series live up to the hype? Yes and no. While this was one of Japan’s most rewatched animes of all time, the series could have been better. Pretty much everything after what is known as the Kyoto Arc is seen as garbage to many. In some cases, they’re not wrong. It’s just a sea of fillers until the series ended in 1998. I guess some of the blame could be that they changed studio hands during the run of the original anime. Studio Deen has such a lousy reputation for messing with a good thing.

Case and point, Rozen Maiden 2013!

It’s just that when Kenshin gets into the swing of things, it’s a thrill to watch. So, having a retelling of the story and have it be faithful to the manga is welcoming for long-time fans and curious newbies.

Just. One. Thing. Though.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM: Nobuhiro Watsuki is the creator of Rurouni Kenshin. Back in late 2017 while he was releasing more Rurouni Kenshin in manga form, it was discovered that he was in possession of child pornography. This news alone is an immediate red flag, drop everything, cancel this bro right stat now kind of thing. What happened was he was arrested, paid a fine, and went back to releasing his manga after a several-month hiatus.

Obviously, everything about the story is disgusting. I’m not sure how much child porn was removed from this man’s place but I feel like it was somewhere between what Jared Fogle had and a fuck-ton. And now every fan is having this moral dilemma of watching this anime if it’s supporting this man. When it comes to me, fuck yeah, I’m still watching it. Do you have any idea how many things I still watch where the original creator is a fuck-bucket? And don’t lie, you probably do the same. Ren and Stimpy, The Loud House, Rick & Morty, Earthworm Jim, all of these and more are the product of some sick ass-banana. Just keep that in mind before tossing stones. You all know who you are and you all aren’t squeaky clean in what you watch. None of us are.

In the end, it’s your call to make on watching this or reading anything else that comes from Watsuki. Certain companies have made their call already when it comes to Rurouni Kenshin. Weekly Shounen Jump still prints whatever Watsuki puts out. Viz Media however has put an end to the latest Rurouni Kenshin manga that’s been put out in the last few years, but has kept the original manga up.

OKAY, NOW LET’S ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT THE ANIME: I know it’s a lot to go over, I just felt it necessary to do the frank discussion before I talk about the anime. This anime is a full reboot. That means, it’ll be a different studio animating it, it will supposedly take after the manga instead of diverting into a different path like the original series, and yes, the cast will be different. Which cast? All of them!

Rurouni Kenshin goes like this. It has been well over a decade since the end of a brutal war. With the entering of the Meiji era, peace was assumed as weapons like swords are banned. Of course, that won’t stop people from killing. And the never-ending fight with the government can cause this peaceful time…it was never really peaceful. Kenshin Himura is a wandering rurouni. He carries with him a double-edged sword despite the sword ban law put in place. Prior to this moment, Kenshin was known as “Hitokiri Battosai”, a ruthless killer. But after certain events, Kenshin swears to never kill again.

One day, he meets a young girl named Kaoru Kamiya. She’s the owner of a dojo that specializes in a certain style. At first, she confronts Kenshin thinking he is the dreaded Hitokiri Battosai. Most of it was a misunderstanding because yes, Kenshin is that, but he’s not the one using the name in vain and using Kaoru’s fighting style. After several incidents between the characters, Kenshin decided to set up shop and stay with Kaoru at her dojo. Eventually, two other characters join along. Yahiko, an orphaned boy who is training to be a great swordsman one day. And Sano, who once served during the brutal war is now a bit of a drifter. But he’ll have Kenshin’s back when they’re in a battle.

BETWEEN THE NEW SUB AND THE NEW DUB…AND EVERYTHING ELSE: I’ve gone on in length about the dubs to Rurouni Kenshin in the past. Prior to the 2023 remake, there were a total of three English dubs. The first one was for the original television run featuring Richard Cansino, Dorothy Elias-Fahn, and Wendee Lee. This was dubbed by Media Blasters. The second one consisted of the OVA’s featuring folks like Shannon Weaver, Gray Haddock, and Katherine Catmull. These were dubbed by ADV films and later Sentai Filmworks. And as for the third dub, that would be Sony’s sad attempt at redubbing Rurouni Kenshin filled with bastard names, a bastard name title, and new voices.

In the beginning, I was hoping for the absolute best-case scenario when it came to an English dub for this retelling. When it comes to me, I will always pick the first dub and that is for one big freakin’ thing. Steven Blum voicing Makoto Shishio. That and I always thought Richard Cansino was the best Kenshin. I’ve already been disappointed when Sentai didn’t reunite the original cast when retelling the Kyoto Arc several years ago and that’s why my skepticism is in play here. Plus, I’m pretty sure some of the original dub cast has already retired from voice acting. Sadly, the original voice for Misao (Philece Sampler) passed away in 2021. Much to my dismay, there was a new cast alright. Who they are was the bigger question.

Crunchyroll dropped the episodes without warning three months after the premier and without stating who would be in the cast. That’s certainly out of character for them. They get chatty when showering the masses who is going to be in an English dub cast everywhere they can including all social media platforms. I would have chalked it up to the SAG-AFTRA strike. But then I remembered, Crunchyroll has a conniption when it comes to that certain union. Plus, it never stopped them before as they’ve been whoring other English lists that same week this dropped. So, the obvious reason has got to be fear of having the audience badger the cast for being in Rurouni Kenshin after what the creator did. Only Kenshin’s voice actor came forward a week after the actor’s strike. The rest, most of us had to guess. Except for Yahiko, he just sounded like an angrier Gon. So, it’s Erica Mendez.

Just so you know, Aniplex had a live festival with seiyuus promoting the shows they’re on back in September of 2023. And what do you know, Souma Saitou and Rie Takahashi were on stage promoting Rurouni Kenshin. Out and about, no one getting doxxed, threatened, hate-mailed, or anything of the sort. I have a few scattered thoughts here. First of all, if there’s any bad-mouthing of Rie Takahashi of any kind, you and I are going to have a problem. Second of all, American fan-bases are fucking toxic and would harass the voice actors relentlessly to the point of no return. And third, why couldn’t they just come up with some fake-ass alias names for the English cast? On the other hand, I’ve seen how people on social media has harassed voice actors over trivial bullshit and it’s only getting worse. So, I kinda understand why this happened.

As for the sub, yes, the voices here have changed. So, when I originally watched Rurouni Kenshin, I watched nearly everything dubbed. It wasn’t until much later when I stumbled upon the sub, I discovered that Kenshin was voiced by a woman. Now, I’m getting another case of whiplash as I’m getting used to hearing Kenshin having more of a manlier voice. With all of that said, here’s the cast of Rurouni Kenshin 2023!

JAPANESE CAST: *Kenshin is now played by Souma Saitou (known for Diavolo on Jojo’s Pt. 5, Yamaguchi on Haikyuu, Kain on Rinne, and Miyano on Sasaki to Miyano)

*Kaoru is now played by Rie Takahashi (known for Ai on Oshi no Ko, Megumin on Konosuba, Emilia on Re:Zero, Sumi on Rent-A-Girlfriend, Ena on Laid-Back Camp, Mash on Fate/Grand Order, and Tomo on Tomo-chan is a Girl)

*Yahiko is now played by Makoto Koichi (known for Elza on Interspecies Reviewers, Young Jun on Tomo-chan is a Girl, Sumika on Yuri is my Job, and Sakura on Lycoris Recoil)

*Sanosuke is now played by Taku Yashiro (known for Friede on Pokemon Horizons, Natsuo on Domestic Girlfriend, Kouichi on Horimiya, Vulcan on Fire Force, and Arai on Chainsaw Man)

ENGLISH CAST: *Kenshin is now played by Howard Wang (known for Piers on Pokemon Journeys, Anastasia on Jojo’s Pt. 6, Kokonoi on Tokyo Revengers, Atsushi on Lovely Complex, Goshiki on Haikyuu, and Chuusaku on Komi-san)

*Kaoru is now played by Risa Mei (known for Futaba on My Senpai is Annoying)

*Yahiko is now played by Erica Mendez (known for Gon on Hunter x Hunter, Haruka/Uranus on Sailor Moon [redub], Ryuko on Kill la Kill, Raphtalia on Shield Hero, Retsuko on Aggretsuko, and Megumin on Konosuba)

*Sanosuke is now played by Darius Johnson

SHIPPING: Can I delve into this topic without going off the deep end and bringing up spoilers?

No, not really. These spoilers are over 30 years old. Deal with it.

Kenshin x Kaoru is a ship that has set sailed into the sea. No matter how much sex appeal Megumi can throw at it! Trust me on the matter, it’s a signed deal. I know that it almost seems one-sided in these 24 episodes, but that’s how it is.

WHAT TO COVER: In a reboot, you’ve gotta see what this version kept and what they didn’t and if it’s all in the right part of the story. Of course, we get the stories everyone is used to with this series like Kaoru being duped by that old creep and the debuts of Sano and Yahiko. Near the halfway mark, we’re already introduced to Aoshi and watched Kenshin and Sano take on the drug lords that were using Megumi. There have been a couple of episodes dedicated to some familiar storylines like Sano’s old comrade and the young lad Yutarou who wound up on the wrong side of the blade. Meanwhile, I’m squirming around in my seat waiting to hear something from a certain awesome villain. I have made no secret to loving the Kyoto arc and its main villain, Makoto Shishio.

Come episode 19, I heard his name uttered and know that it’s coming up.

Wait a sec! There are only 5 episodes left in the season. If this studio dares to even cram the whole Kyoto arc in that short amount of time, I’m throwing this entire media out the window. There’s gotta be a second season. Even if it’s only like 12 episodes that covers the span of the Kyoto arc, it’s better than the worst-case scenario. Thankfully, they did not cram the entire Kyoto arc into an episode. No mad man would ever do…Studio Deen would do that.

Case and point, Rozen Maiden 2013!

I am now being informed that I have already insulted Studio Deen’s attempt with Rozen Maiden twice now in this review. Let me get back to what I was saying. Thank the great good lord those guys are not in charge of Rurouni Kenshin again.

Actually, two of these episodes were a flashback episode that was originally an extra chapter to the manga. And if you’re wondering if this flashback episode contains Kenshin back when he was the legendary manslayer, it does not. It’s a story of Kenshin a couple of months prior to meeting Kaoru and the rest. For Kenshin’s past…just watch the OVA’s from 30 years ago.

The final episodes of the season set the stage up for the Kyoto arc with the introduction to Hajime Saito. Ten years prior, he was a bit of a rival to Kenshin back when he was the noted manslayer. Now, Hajime is part of the Shinsengumi. Kenshin and Hajime end up facing off like back in the day and he wound up reverting back to his manslayer mode.

Apparently, Kenshin can turn off that mode with a punch in the face.

As one does! The last time Kenshin was in that mode was when Kaoru was kidnapped earlier in the series. This time, Kaoru’s voice had no effect. This moment leads to Kenshin’s crucial decision at the end of the season. After the spar, he is confronted by Okubo Toshimichi, the man who has been trying to make the Meiji era a more peaceful time. He asks Kenshin for help of taking out a certain someone. Yes, it’s Makoto Shishio. Also known as, the man who just won’t die. Case and point, he’s been stabbed, knocked unconscious, and even set on fire. He’s still standing! Hell, he’s even known as the new Hitokiri Battosai manslayer. Kenshin gave this a lot of thought as he wants to remain peaceful and never kill again. Unfortunately, he’s given no choice when Okubo…well, he…

He fucked around and found out!

One of Shishio’s commrades (Soujiro Seta) murdered Okubo and sent a stark warning to Kenshin about going forward with anything brash. Kenshin truly wants for a peaceful nation and doesn’t want to kill again. In the final moments, we see him have a few precious moments with Kaoru before proceeding to leave her.

DON’T CRY, FANS! HE AIN’T GONE FOREVER! But a season two must, must, must, must, MUST COME!

Thankfully, two days after the finale we get the announcement that Rurouni Kenshin is indeed getting a sequel in 2024. Unknown to when in 2024, if the same studio will be doing it, how many episodes it’s going to be, or if Steven Blum is going to return as the voice of Shishio. Seeing as NO ONE from the original English cast has returned to do this project, I’ll shut up about it...

For now.

Was this a great reboot? That’s your call to make. For me, it’s too early to tell as there’s only been 24 episodes and none of them are the classic Kyoto arc. It’s too preliminary to call it a masterpiece or trash. Manga readers are somewhat split as they will always find fault with everything. Not every anime adaptation is going to do everything by the book and that’s their conniption. I read the manga too and I wasn’t picky about the adaptation. It’s not like they skipped 50 chapters and went right into unknown territory.

And before you say, “Oh, there goes Medea again bashing Rozen Maiden 2013”. NO! I was actually poking at The Promised Neverland this time.

Thankfully, Rurouni Kenshin was done well. The art was beautiful. LIDENFILMS did a spectacular job. If you’re not familiar with the studio, they have recently done Call of the Night and Tokyo Revengers. The music was great. Every opening and ending were bangers. Reol was the real stand-out star in that department. They kept the language Kenshin uses when he speaks, that they did. I’m satisfied. I know more fans would want to see some more footage of Kenshin back when he was the notorious Battosai. I’m just going to say to be patient. You’ll see some stuff soon enough. And if you’re an impatient fuck, the OVA’s are around. Trust & Betrayal will give you what you want.

Can I recommend this? Not without having a giant elephant sitting on my shoulders.

For now, Crunchyroll has Rurouni Kenshin 2023 available for streaming.

Now then, for those who are looking for the original series, OVA, and even the live-action movies, here’s where to find them.

The original 96-episode series is currently on Hulu. The recent live-action movies are currently available on Netflix. All of the OVA’s (Trust & Betrayal, Reflections, and Kyoto-arc retelling), I can’t seem to find them streaming wise. Also, unsure if the hard copies are out of print or not.

[sugarfluffandallthatgoodstuff]

To the Floor, From the rat

Sukuna x Reader crack

@kmayafk and @ari-tart-3114 helped out with this

By: 3 crackheads (HAHA! YOU THOUGHT IT WAS ONE BUTS ITS ACTUALLY dio- i mean THREE 👹)

Disclaimer: dangerous amounts of crack ahead. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED hehehe 👹. totally scary topics like rats with…penis??

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Summary: you are Sukuna’s maid and you’re paid to clean his enormous penthouse (and maybe something ELSE enormous but who really knows 👀). 

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Good god not the floors again!

Why does Master Sukuna always have me clean the floors?! Like, I could be cleaning literally anything else, but it’s always the floors *cries*. 

Maybe he just wants to see my non-existent ass? Who fucking knows at this point.

I rarely see the guy too. It's always a little rear glimpse here and maybe a sliver of hair there

He only tells me these things via text too, like I’ve never heard his voice. The other maids are starting to spread rumors around him. 

Some say he’s like ultra hot but an absolute dick but also that he’s like incredibly smart and doesn’t fuck around (his bedsheets really do beg to differ though, like good god the amount of cum stains on his bedspread)

He’s been having female visitors and it always ends with the woman crying and running away (coward). 

Some of the maids say his female visitors run away purely from seeing how enormous his cock is. Some even say it's because he continues till the visitor faints, even after they say no. 

Another says they run away from his expectations and are only there for their own pleasure

So now he just goes to hotels and such because why bring those women to his house and waste his time

Oh geez, thinking about Master Sukuna made me go toward his room.

Though I know he isn’t home and he didn’t ask me to clean up his room but hey what could be the harm though there’s still flooring in there so technically…

So now I find myself in his room with my jaw hitting the floor with how large it is. I look around more and find a wall full of pictures of women with “x” marks on them. 

Is he “thank you next” ing them?!?!

Before I can process, I see a small stash of pictures of the maids.

Oh no, oh no. He isn't-

“And who gave you permission to enter my room?”

I turn around and see him.

Sukuna.

“The floor gang!” I shouted at the strange unfamiliar man, supposedly the master of this house. It was almost as if a quest to get fired popped up.

Sukuna closed his eyes and sighs. He grabs a cigarette and proceeds to smoke. I look at him, wondering if he is going to fire me, or worse. 

It was then a tiny little furball scampered across the room. It seemed to be a screaming kitten that appears to have fallen into a trashcan as he was covered in trash. 

“QUICK GET THAT RAT” Sukuna screamed, causing me to jolt. 

“But master Sukuna why would you have a cat and not see it as such?”I chased the supposed kitten, now fearing for my life.

 As I tried to pounce on it, the kitten screamed out a weird noise. “SHEEEEEEESHH”

“Jeez you can’t even catch a small cat, what the fuck did I hire you for again?!?!”

“To make vegan eggs”

“Oh yes. You do make a pretty bussin vegan omlette”

Sukuna laughs, but then realizes something.  “Wait…What even the fuck is a vegan omlette?”

“A spicy version of connect 4” I answered snarkily.

“i-I what?”

Sukuna begins to look at me confused, but proceeds to keep his composure. 

“Don’t change the subject. Why were you in my room?”

“Well you see…” I looked around the room for an excuse and for a moment I didn’t have one

But catching sight of a statue on the floor that was clearly soiled. “That. I had to clean that, it’s clearly a biohazard.” “This?” Sukuna picks up the statue, showing some sort of mythical creature, a groundhog perhaps? No. A rat. Some will say it is a rat penis. 

“Y-yes sir it looked like it made a mess everywhere sir” 

“There is no need.” He quickly pocketed the questionable statue. “But since you’re here, I have a favor to ask of you…”

Ooooooh is it finally happening?!?! The moment all of us maids have been waiting for?!?!

“Can you draw what exactly a rat penis is??”

OH WHAT THE HECK??

Before I can even say anything, the world around me begins to fade away. My eyes start to feel exhausted. 

“Why am I feeling so… sleepy?”

“I see the drug is finally taking its effect on you”

I look at him, and gasp in shock. No way, how in tarnation was he able to drug me while we talked about the rat penis?

“WHEN DID YOU HAVE TIME TO DRUG ME WHAT THE FUCK?”

“By the very statue that led you here. It was diffusing sleep powder into the air that only works on scrubs like yourself.” Sukuna grinned over my collapsed form on the ground. 

I start to feel very dizzy. The last thing i see is Sukuna’s smirking face. 

“You shouldn’t have come in here naughty pet”

“Now put these on” He held out a headband with some strange animal ears along with a long pink tail clip thing. 

Funny how he thinks I have the strength to do so

LE TIMESKIP

I wake up, for some reason, very sore, 

My neck.

My back.

WHY AM I SORE. AND WAIT A MINUTE….

AM I WEARING A RAT COSTUME??

AND TIED UP TO THE BED?!?!?

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

AM I A RAT OR AM I A LADY?!? 

I notice a piece of paper next to the bed lamp. The paper said. 

Once a rat, always a rat.

I fume in anger. 

“Ah, it seems you’ve finally awakened” The monster I've come to know as Sukuna walks in, with the most punchable look on his face. If only I wasn’t tied up like this, I’d send this jerk flying. 

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MAN. I WAS DRUGGED AND YOU DO THIS TO ME? AND WHY IS MY BACK SORE?”

“It’s not my fault you hit the ground too hard.” {hehe you thought us 3 did something there} He walks over with an intense stare especially at the rat costume. 

I close my eyes. I look at the handcuffs, and rip it from the bed. 

“You really thought this was going to contain me?” mistake number 1 as I would later find out

“This is what it means to go even further beyond!” I charge at Sukuna, not caring for the consequences. “PLUS ULTRA” I swung as hard as I could, but at the last second my back gave out and I became like a worm on the floor writhing in pain. And he dodged it 

“Pathetic. Did you expect me to praise you?”

I look at him and give him a matching grin

“No, but look what I have”

I grab the same drug he used on me. His eyes go wide

“Wait-”

I spray it on him and he immediately goes to sleep. 

I make sure that he is asleep and immediately run out of the room. I grab my things from the servant quarters and run for it. Various maids looked on as I ran, I realized that I am still wearing the rat costume (AHHH SHIIIIIT).  

I then realize that I am like all those other women he fucks with, except dressed like a rat. I cannot be in a room with that… monster.

But is it cowardly to quit? Maybe. Is it the best option for the time being? Yes.

It truly is a shame he’s hot. During our encounter I noticed many MMA awards on his walls on that luscious deep red paint coat.

“I see the rat has found my awards” It was as if Sukuna had teleported behind me. 

I jump. HOW THE FUCK WAS HE AWAKE AND I HAD CRASHED?!

“Using my very own rat penis against me… Perhaps you are the one I’ve always been searching for.” With a swift grasp, he grabbed me like a potato sack, but more like a rat sack…

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MAN” I fought against him, pulling his hair like a child.

He pulled me into an embrace, not letting me go. 

“You really gotta tone down the rat fetish man”

Sukuna’s grin only widened. “You sure are feisty. I think I’ll keep you, my little rat.” He isn’t fazed in the slightest by my attacks. 

I try to think of a smart remark to say back, but I can’t. This weird feeling I am having cannot be described in words. 

“You can keep me, but the rats gotta go,” I blurted out without thinking.

“...”

“So you’re saying I can keep you?” Sukuna’s eyes glistened mischievously. Surely he was plotting something to get his way, after all he firmly believed in his favorite quote: “Once a rat, always a rat”.

“NO GET YOUR STUPID RAT PENIS OUT OF MY FACE”

He grabs me by the waist and carries me bridal style (insert wedding music)

Afraid of falling, I instinctively clutched onto him, which caused Sukuna to have the most annoying grin on his face. At this point, I’d much rather be dropped. Afterall the floor is basically my home in this accursed place. 

“So my little rat…” Sukuna looked down at me, “Where to next?”

I look at Sukuna.

“The Floor, you dumb rat”

“Who’s the rat now?” I cackle.

The end fool.

Or not 👀.

69 likes and it could happen.

The retuuuuurn of the raaat

[confettiepup]

I can’t wait to move out with my mom and have our dream appartement and my dream littlespace room 🥺💕 I’ll make a post soon on my future projects about it!

Tw vent: Abusive behaviour/gaslighting dad

My mom and I wants to leave the house as soon as possible because of how abusive my dad is. We can’t go now because my grandma is dependent to my mom because of her bad health so we have to stay there for her. A neighbour is supposedly leaving this Summer which means we could have a chance if it’s true. But the chances are low :( I’m also disabled and can’t live alone for now, so moving with my mom is the most realistic thing that can be done for now.

Until then my mom and I keep this dream in mind and try to avoid my dad as most as possible and ignore his tantrums. I really don’t feel safe home. It’s not our home but his home. He’s constantly gaslighting us, have no patience, is purposely creating fights and looking for something to complain about every day and I skip lots of triggering stuff. I can’t focus on healing when I constantly feel like walking on eggs at home. We have to constantly watch out for what we’re going to say because he may take it badly and explode.

I’m constantly stressed when he’s home, even at night when he’s sleeping because he might get up and go in my room to complain. I can’t be myself at all. All my projects are down for now because I’m too drained. Even therapy is about how to deal with him now. Even when I’m sick he have no pity, it’s all about him. Little me cannot take it anymore but the only thing that makes us happy is the idea of getting away.

Getting little stuff without being judged

Not having to hide my littlespace gear

Being free to walk around the house, being in a room other than my room and feel free

Be able to make a « mess » by doing activities outside of my room like coloring on the kitchen table, doing crafts playing on the floor in the living room while watching TV without feeling the urge to clean up and gtf out of the room to stop bothering

Playing music in the house, any volume we want without complains and be told to turn it off

Having karaoke nights with my mom without complains

Playing videogames together without being told that we’re annoying

Watching our types of movies and series without being judged

Talking about what we want together, laugh without him telling us to shut up because he’s trying to focus on his game

Not being afraid to eat in front of him without being scared to be judged

Going out and not him calling her to get back because it’s been too long and he wants to get his dinner, chores done and will have a tantrum back home and make her feel like shit for coming home « so late » (she have NO social life because of him)

Not being called crazy when we speak up about whats wrong

Simply living without him, too much could be added

My mom and I are literally praying to get out as soon as possible, my dad is just getting more and more worst. We’ll need to get money as most as we can, I might start to open drawing commissions soon because I’m currently not having a job because of therapy and my disability :(. We will work so hard to get out of here.

[thmgau]

CHAPTER 27 - ERRANDS, CHORES, & OTHER VARIOUS JOBS [wattpad]

---

“But you said you were gonna take me back to the Castle today!” “I know, but I’m busy today..”

To Juniper’s surprise, Alph had gotten back to them relatively quickly, & they had gotten the job. Juniper felt lucky, since most employers don’t really hire that quickly. Maybe it was because Juniper & Alph already knew each other, from the theater incident. Either way, Juniper was grateful for it.

“Maybe one of the others can get you there.” Juniper said, putting on xyr shoes. “Ughhh,” Juno groaned. “I guess so.” “I’m sorry, bud.”

Juno huffed. Juniper could tell she was upset, especially since voi said voi would take her to the Castle yesterday. It sucked to not be able to fulfill Juno’s request, but Juno was lying. Juniper hoped he didn't suspect anything.

“See ya later.” xae said, grabbing xaer backpack. “Tomorrow. I promise.” “You said that yesterday!”

Ignoring Juno, Juniper made pheir way out of the dorm room & out to the bus stop. She still hadn't told the rest of the group about the job at the puppet shop yet. The whole Juno business was more important than that.

The bus drove up to the stop. Juniper hopped on the bus & sat in a random empty spot. As they got comfortable, the bus started driving again.

Juniper popped in aer earbuds & put on the music to make the ride go faster. It wasn't anything much, just Missed the Friction by sElf.

Vae sighed, looking out of the window. Kalani had stopped by the day before to give xym a letter, supposedly from the Celestials. The letter referred to them as “Flexibility,” which they were choosing to ignore, but the letter also mentioned that Juno planned on destroying the Sands of Time.

What were the Sands of Time? Why were they so important? The letter said that the Sands of Time being destroyed caused a danger to everybody, but why? Juniper was desperate for answers.

The bus rolled to a stop. Juniper looked up, noticing ey were at eir stop.

Thanking the bus driver, Juniper hopped off the bus & walked the rest of the way to work. As previously mentioned, it was a janitorial job. All Juniper had to do was clean. That was easy! Ze could do that! The prospect of Sotry being one of vivs coworkers was.. not very exciting, but Juniper was sure vivs first day would go fine.

-

Picking up trash in the park wasn't necessarily Nora or Kalani’s first choice, but someone’s gotta do it. Besides, they needed something to keep them busy, & it was on the schedule Cherry sent in the group chat.

“So is Sorrel getting a job too?” “Uh.. maybe? I’d have to ask.” “They should. It’d help out a lot, especially if they're gonna be living with you for a while.”

Nora picked up a few candy wrappers with her trash grabber. “I know they had a part-time job back in Cali, but they probably had to quit to move back here.” “That makes sense.” Kalani shrugged, using her trash picker to grab an empty, crushed soda can.

“By the way, that letter we got.. it said something about having to freeze Juno, right?” “That.. is correct. If the Auction House isn't completely destroyed, I was thinking we could do it there.” “God, the Auction House. Almost forgot that place existed. Who let that building stay up for as long as it did?” “Beats me. Guess the Cincinnati government didn't care about the human freezer in the Auction House.”

Nora & Kalani put the trash in their respective trash bags as a small gust of wind whooshed by them.

“So if we’re using the Auction House’s freezer.. how are we gonna get Juno in there?” “I.. actually don't know. We should plan this out sometime.” “Well, we better plan it out soon then! How about Friday, at Arby’s?” “Sounds good to me. I’ll text the others once I get the chance.”

-

Dog-walking wasn’t that bad. It was actually quite good for keeping Cherry’s stamina up. What sucked about it is the fact that these dogs had a specific path for their walks.

Leashes in one hand, map in the other.. not the most effective way to walk a dog, but Cherry needed the cash. She took a right turn down the sidewalk, making sure the dogs didn't start straying from the path. Who knew dog-walking could be so exhausting?

Cherry had no music to listen to during their walk, so the best they could get right now was their thoughts. These thoughts currently drifted toward her mother.

The way most people would describe Sienna Russell was influential, powerful, & modest. Cherry would describe her as a giant pain in the ass. As the eldest child, Cherry was always expected to be a role model, to be the example. Also as the eldest child, her mother critiqued every single thing about Cherry.

It was always “Your dress isn't long enough,” or “Don’t wear your hair down,” or “You should wear more makeup.” Things of that nature. Cherry just wanted to wear what she wanted, & do what she wanted, with no snarky remarks from her mother.

When college finally came around, Cherry thought that this would give her the freedom she had been craving all her life. Even though her mother expected her to wear dresses & act all high & mighty at college, Cherry knew they could get away with not doing it. It wasn't like she’d find out or anything.

Except, she did, when Poppy & Carmine told her mother about the mall. For the past few years, Cherry had been coasting off of the rent payments & occasional checks from their mother, but now.. that was gone.

In a sense, that also meant Cherry's mom was gone from her life as well. If her kid isn’t going to uphold the family standards, then why bother?

This gave Cherry an idea. She knew exactly what she was going to do once she returned back to her dorm room.

-

“So what's it like to work at Dollar General?”

Leslie stood next to the Dollar General register, talking to none other than Natalie. Since Leslie had applied for a job at Dollar General, Natalie seemed like a safe bet to talk about what it's like there.

“Ah.. it sucks? It’s just like any other job, really.” Natalie shrugged. “I'm usually on register duty, so I get the worst of it. Stocking items is alright though.” “I see, I see..” Leslie hummed, writing down notes in a tiny notepad. “I don't plan on working at Dollar General forever, so.. don't get used to it?” “Alright.. I can do that.” “My real dream is to be a big Twitch streamer!” Natalie proclaimed. “Unfortunately.. that doesn't quite pay the bills just yet.” “Oh!”

Leslie seemed quite surprised by this. This was the first time Natalie had ever mentioned livestreaming.

“This is news to me! You stream on Twitch?” it asked, interested. “Well- Occasionally, yes,” Natalie replied, fidgeting with her hands. “I'm not that big. I've only got, like, 20 concurrent viewers.” “20’s pretty good! I’m sure you'll get there eventually! Just keep at it!”

Natalie smiled, her face blushing light red at Leslie's comment.

“..Thanks, Les.”

-

“So, how’re you likin’ the job so far?” “Oh, it’s great!”

Juniper was currently on his lunch break, & so he was eating a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. Alph decided to join phem with an Italian sandwich of his own. Work had actually been quite nice so far, if Juniper just ignored Sotry glaring at aem the whole time.

Speaking of Sotry, Juniper was curious as to how he even ended up working at the puppet shop after the incident at the theater.

“So, ah..” Juniper started, taking a bite out of purrs sandwich. “If I may ask, how.. did Sotry end up working here?”

“Oh, funny you mention that! That's the first time anyone's ever asked!” “Really?” “Yeah!” Alph nodded. “You remember that little ‘president of the world’ schtick Sotry tried ‘ta pull, right?” “How could I forget? He tried to stab me.”

“Well, I had a talkin’ with him that night, after all that stuff at the theater happened. As it turns out, I had indeed accidentally given ‘im sentience! Can't believe it took me months to figure that out, heh. Anyways, after chattin’ with him for a little while ‘bout some things, we decided to come up with a little proposition. As long as he doesn't try anything like what he did at the theater again, he can work at the shop!”

Juniper nodded along, paying attention to every word Alph was telling him.

“& what happened to the other puppets?” Juniper asked, taking another bite out of dews sandwich. “I.. haven’t quite figured out what to do with ‘em yet.” Alph shrugged. “They’re currently sittin’ in the back, turned off completely. I was considerin’ making them employees too, but.. they’re not like Sotry.”

Not like Sotry? What did Alph mean by that? Juniper remembered something Sotry had said during their battle at the theater, about him programming “false sentience” into the other 4 puppets. Maybe that was it.

Or maybe, it was because Sotry was supposed to be the star of the show. It was both Alph & Sotry’s intention for Sotry to rise to fame, even if their methods.. differed. Even if Sotry tried to take over the world, it was still Alph’s creation. She probably cares a lot about Sotry if she was willing to keep him around.

An alarm on Alph's phone rang as Juniper took the last bite out of zyr sandwich.

“Oh! Break time’s over!” Alph said, finishing off his sandwich. “Back to work we go!” “Yup.. back to work indeed.”

-

It was a bright new day for Nora. Thursday the 23rd, around 6 days until rent was due. She had applied to a few different places, but none of them had gotten back to her yet, which was unfortunate.

She didn't let it get to her, though! Nora was confident she’d get the money needed in time, especially with Sorrel around.

Speaking of Sorrel, they had attempted to make pancakes this morning. The pancakes were a tad bit overcooked, & there was a little bit too much egg in them, but it was the thought that counted.

“Thanks for the pancakes,” she said, taking a bite of her food.

“Least I could do.” Sorrel shrugged, eating their own pancakes as well. “The job hunt can be hard. It took me forever to get that job back in Cali.”

“Yeah. & on the topic of jobs, you should try & get one too.”

Sorrel raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure about that?” “Of course! It'd help with rent, & if you're planning on moving out eventually, you'll need money for your own place.” “Huh. I guess so.”

They took another bite out of their pancakes, thinking about Nora’s suggestion.

Nora continued to eat her own food as well, now thinking about why Sorrel was so apprehensive toward the idea of getting a new job. She knew their parents still didn't know about Sorrel dropping out. If Sorrel got a job somewhere their parents were likely to go, they’d be in hot water. So..

“I know exactly where you should get a job.”

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” “Of course!”

Kalani had brought Leslie along to break into the (now shut-down) Auction House. He wanted to see if that freezer was still in there, & if it still worked.

The door to the Auction House, along with its windows, was boarded up, due to its closure. The duo assumed it was gonna go up for sale soon, but the freezer that turns people into statues would probably have to be removed first.

“Well..” Leslie sighed. “Let’s get these boards down!”

Kalani & Leslie grasped onto the boards nailed over the entrance of the Auction House & started tearing at them with all of their might. No matter how much they pulled & tugged at the boards, they would not budge.

“Jeez, whoever put these boards up nailed ‘em pretty tight.” “Yeah.. guess we’ve gotta do this the fast way.” “Guess so. Let’s do it.”

As it turns out, Leslie & Kalani had vastly different visions for what “the fast way” was. Leslie tugged on their necklace & transformed into Hero Mode while Kalani was preparing to ram into the wooden boards.

“Kalani- Kalani, wait! What are you doing?!” “Huh? I was gonna bust the boards down!” “Why?! We can just use our weapons!” “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

Kalani transformed into Hero Mode as well, summoning her wand.

“Let’s do this!”

Using the wand, Kalani bursted a few magic shots into the wooden boards, making some holes. Leslie used its scythes to rip the boards off, allowing for an easy entrance.

They started heading into the Auction House, Kalani stepping inside first as Leslie followed. The place looked totally different from the last time they were here. The lights were all out, the only source of it being from the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Tables were knocked over, vases were shattered, & surprisingly, the door down to the basement was opened up.

“The basement door is open? Strange..” “At least we don’t have to bust it open.” “True.”

Walking carefully & being sure not to step or trip on anything, the duo made it down to the basement, which was not in any better shape than the upstairs. Unlike upstairs, the basement had no light source whatsoever, meaning Kalani & Leslie weren’t able to see anything.

“Don’t worry! This is easily solvable!”

Transforming out of Hero Mode, Kalani grabbed his phone from his pocket & turned on the flashlight. Now with a source of light, the duo could continue their expedition.

The hallway right after the stairs stretched in both directions, & Kalani couldn’t remember which way the freezer was, so she & Leslie started heading toward the right. The flashlight from Kalani’s phone illuminated the dark hallway just enough for the two of them to walk through it.

“Hey, ‘Lani?” “‘Sup, Les?” “Doesn’t this hallway feel... longer to you than it did before?” “A little bit. Maybe this isn’t the right way..”

As the duo continued down the hall, they came across a room with a sign upon the door, which read “DO NOT ENTER (unless you’re Puck)” written on it in purple marker.

“..Puck? Who’s Puck?” “Huh.. I’m not sure. Based on all the purple though... I’d be willing to guess that ‘Puck’ is The Auctioneer’s real name.” “They have a real name?” “I guess so? We won’t find out unless we get into this room.”

Kalani grabbed a hold of the doorknob & turned it open. To her surprise, the door was unlocked. Both of them stepped carefully into the room. Kalani shone the flashlight around to see what it was like inside of the room.

It was unnervingly neat, unlike the rest of the now-abandoned Auction House. Old, dusty pictures, photo albums, & even a diary were in this room. There was no lightswitch on the wall, but rather a pull-chain that hung below a ceiling light. Leslie pulled on the chain. The light flickered on for a few seconds, & then it powered off again.

“Ah, darn. Light doesn’t work.” “Unfortunate.”

Due to the lack of a functional ceiling light, Kalani opted to just use his phone flashlight to look around.

“Hey, ‘Lani? Can you shine your light over here?” Leslie asked.

Kalani turned over to shine the light over at Leslie, & whatever they were holding. It was an old photo of 3 kids, none of which Leslie or Kalani immediately recognized.

One of them was a ginger kid, wearing a green dress & their curly hair was tied up in pigtails. The next was a kid with brown hair, wearing a blue tank top & a pink skirt. The final one was a kid with short, black hair, wearing a purple t-shirt with a star on it.

All three of them were posing in the photo, with the kid in the purple shirt in the middle. There were words written in childish handwriting on the photo in Sharpie. It read “Best Friends 4ever!”, & all of the kids had signed their names. Quinn, Brooklyn, &... Puck.

“Was this.. was this The Auctioneer when he was younger?” “I think so..” “So they used to be human, just like us..” “Huh... do you remember what The Auctioneer said during our battle? He mentioned that he had been stuck in a freezer for about a year or so. Maybe that’s what made them all.. blue.”

Setting the old photo down, Leslie continued looking around the room with the help of Kalani’s flashlight shining the way. A lot of the items in this room consisted of photos similar to the one they had just looked at.

“Yo, Les! Check this out!”

Kalani had found a diary with a purple cover sitting upon a shelf, surrounded by various books & manuals on the art of auctioning.

“This must be their diary..!” “Looks old.. like everything else in this room.”

He took the diary out of its place on the shelf & opened it up. The first entry was dated back to early 2019, & it went into great detail on how The Auctioneer ended up getting into auctioneering in the first place, how it was his life goal to own an auction house, & much more. Some of the entries after that talked mainly about how their days have been & some obscure auctioning facts.

“Kalani, I don't think we should be looking through this diary..” “I mean, what are the chances they're gonna find out?” “Probably low, but.. aren't we supposed to be looking for the freezer?” “Oh, shit- The freezer! You're so right, Les!”

Kalani closed the diary shut. “He probably wouldn't mind if I took this to read in my free time, would he?” “I'm sure he would mind if he ever found out, but.. there’s a reason they left it here.” “Yeah. Let's go, uh, find that freezer now.”

-

Work was quite slow today.

Maybe nobody wanted to buy any puppets today, or maybe people were just busy. Either way, the shop was nearly empty, which left Juniper a lot of room to sweep & dust around. Ey had eir headphones on listening to music while cleaning, which ey were grateful for. Any other job probably wouldn't have allowed Juniper to listen to music on the clock.

As Juniper finished up sweeping the aisles, he took a look around & noticed that it was just him & Sotry inside the shop. Alph must've gone out to get some supplies, Juniper thought.

For the past day & a half Juniper had been working at the puppet shop so far, Sotry had been avoiding conversation with xym. Juniper was fine with that, considering their history together.

“Juniper.”

It was Sotry who had said that. Juniper could tell, even with their music on.

“What's up?” Juniper asked, taking zir headphones off. “Come over here.” “..why?” “Just do it.”

Juniper was not about to argue with the puppet that nearly stabbed her, so she obliged & walked closer to the register.

“Alph has told me to apologize to you for the.. incident at the theater. Unfortunately for him, I am not very sorry, & will not be doing that.” “Oh, ah-” “If Alph asks, you tell her I apologized to you. Got it?” “Uhh, yeah.. no, I’m not doing that.” Juniper shrugged.

Sotry didn't seem very surprised about Juniper’s denial.

“I should have expected this.” it groaned. “You're quite stubborn, after all.” “That I am, my friend! But, like, seriously? Maybe stop lying to Alph.” “Why should I?”

Juniper sighed. “Alph kept you around for a reason, Sotry. She cares about you, whether you like it or not. The least you could do is to stop hiding things from him.”

Sotry fell silent, pondering this. Before either of them could say much more, though, the door to the shop opened up as Alph returned with some new supplies in hand.

“Howdy, y’all!” “Oh, Alph! Welcome back!” “..greetings.”

“Aw, look at you two gettin’ along!” Alph smiled. “Knew y'all would get to bein’ friends eventually!”

“Friends” is not the term that Juniper would have to currently describe zaer relationship with Sotry, & based on the conversation they just had, Sotry wouldn't use that term either.

Acquaintances seemed more befitting. They knew each other, sure, but they certainly were not friends. Juniper hoped that maybe one day, Sotry would stop being so sour.

Today was not that day, though.

[god-complex-12]

Cigarettes

——

Pairing: [Joker] Jack Naiper x reader

Pronouns: he/him

Fandom: DC

Quote: “Call me Joker.”

Description: Y/n gets a new housemate.

Disclaimer: Boring story, the story and Joker is just completely based on Chaz frome When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris. The chapter is called The House. Great book. Recommend, but this story is almost exactly like that.Joker comes off creepy. It doesn’t really clarify if y/n really likes Joker. Joker is referred to as Jack. And cigarettes.

Master list

——

An old building, it was. An old building, but y/n found it homey. An old building, filled with crazy people, and cluttered with antiques. It was more of just a big house. Y/n has lived there for awhile, it wasn’t the best place, but he couldn’t complain. He usually kept to himself, not talking with anyone that much.

He did know the drama. For instance, he knew that a student was moving out to go to college. He also knew someone was moving in. A guy named Jack, and y/n so happened to see him in the hall. No, he wasn’t moving in, he was just renting the room. He wasn’t to stay permanently, at least, that’s what y/n thought.

“You wanna help?” He asked.

Y/n didn’t talk much to him, he kinda just examined the man. He was slender, and handsome. He looked perfect, so y/n started to try and focus on his flaws. He has freakishly pale skin. His yellow teeth. But if you asked y/n, he found those things more appealing.

“You looking for something?” Jack asked, he had a cheeky smile.

Y/n didn’t respond. He just went on talking about something else. Jack wasn’t the nicest. He was pretty rude.

“Anyways, I don’t have to chit-chat.” And then he walked away.

He liked to do that. Leave the conversation early, like he wasn’t the one to start it. It was kind of annoying, but y/n couldn’t do anything about it.

Before Jack, everything was quiet. Now, the day consists of old 90’s rock music. It’s not that bad, it’s good music, but all day? It was annoying. Sometimes, Jack would come to see y/n. Knocking on his door asking for a cigarette. Y/n would cave in, handing him one, and Jack would stand there and smoke it. Y/n had to stand at his doorway and watch. Jack would complain about y/n’s room. Y/n didn’t think anything was wrong with his room. It’s clean. It’s neat. But Jack didn’t think so.

The longer Jack lived there, the more things y/n started to notice. Jack lost his job, supposedly because he was too good for it. Y/n doesn’t really know if he got another one.

Jack began to knock on y/n’s door more often. He had no care in the world for the time. He’d always have so many stories or some stupid conversation to say. Y/n tiredly listen.

Jack wasn’t the most stable person, and they came more apparent when he’d angrily throw stuff out his window, or break something and spread all of the pieces around staring at it. Sometimes you’d see him with a beat up face, he’ll say he got in a fight and won, other’s say he got jumped.

A lot of times when y/n would open the door, Jack would drag y/n out of the wrong, by aggressively grabbing his arms. Jack would control each of his limbs as a puppet. That was when it clicked something was seriously wrong with this guy. Y/n didn’t notice as fast as he’d like, maybe he thought someone so good and clean looking could be so lost.

Jack would even go as far as shoving notes under y/n’s door. They were creepy and unsettling. “I can die and be born again on the same day.” or “You’re my favorite, I’d keep you.” The writing was if it was written from blood. The dark red ink (If it was ink) was off putting. Y/n heard he didn’t to someone else in the house too, but it wasn’t as bad. That was when the landlord told him to leave. Jack had no choice but to agree.

Someone had come by to get his stuff and had said he was put into a mental institution. Said that he was schizophrenic. y/n wasn’t shocked, in fact he felt a little sympathetic, and even went to see him one time. “I knew you loved me. That’s why you were my favorite.” He’d say.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep it to yourself, Jack.” Y/n grumbled.

“Call me Joker.” He said and it seemed more of a threat than a request.

——

[schroedingers-dylan]

I feel like we as a fandom don’t take advantage of Kaitlyn and Jacob being childhood friends enough so drop any amount of headcanons for them growing up.

I’ll start:

-They live in the same street and their parents are close friends. They both grew up as the only child in the household so they’d always play with each other when they were little.

-They’ve known each other since they were in diapers and have about a bazillion embarrassing childhood photos of the other. Favorites include: child Jacob hanging upside down from the fridge in a Spider-Man costume (and the aftermath of him lying on the floor when he fell off), the time kid Kaitlyn tried to look cool in front of Jacob’s extended family but ended up falling into his pool fully clothed and the time they messed around with water colors and ended up covered in them top to bottom. Also those including several different sets of animal pajamas.

-They’ve had approximately a million sleepovers growing up, and sleeping in bed next to each other is just the most normal thing ever for them.

-Kaitlyn is super messy and Jacob is the tidiest person ever so this drives him crazy. When he’s over at her house he always starts cleaning up her room and it drives her crazy because there (supposedly) is a system to her chaos and if he cleans up she can’t find her stuff anymore. I can’t even explain why but this is just a vibe I’m getting from them.

-When they were younger, Kaitlyn was the taller one. Jacob was a super scrawny kid. After his growth spurt, it took ages for the rest of his features to catch up.

-Jacob was the first person Kaitlyn came out to as bi.

-People have been assuming they’re dating since they were twelve.

-Surprisingly, them making out in freshman year did not help these rumors.

-Jacob has called Kaitlyn in the middle of the night several times to ask her to come get a spider out of his room. She usually obliges but always teases him relentlessly about it.

-Jacob is on their high school football team. Kaitlyn goes to every game but consistently pretends she doesn’t know/understand the rules because it annoys the shit out of him.

-As much as Kaitlyn teases Jacob, the second anyone tries to put him down for being an emotional person because that’s “girly” or something equally stupid they get verbally obliterated. One of the guys she did it to hasn’t even dared to look in Jacob’s general direction for years.

-Kaitlyn is super bad at putting herself first. She’s the kind of group mom that makes sure everyone else is well-rested and has eaten and then collapses because she’s slept three hours over the last two days. Jacob knows her well enough to recognize the signs and sits her the fuck down to make sure she’s okay too because she herself sure as hell won’t do it.

-They have each other‘s stuff all over their rooms, a combination of intentionally stored and forgotten there over the years.

-Kaitlyn is an absolute menace when it comes to food. She will try anything and everything. The type to order Creole Tomato at an ice cream parlor. Has been trying to bait Jacob into getting one of her weird flavors for years. He keeps rejecting her in favor of ordering chocolate for the millionth time.

-Despite his extreme and very vocal loathing for Kaitlyn’s taste in food, he still makes sure they have flaming hot dill pickle chips whenever they have a movie night. He’s a good best friend like that.

-They ended up in different crowds in high school due to him being on the football team and her being in the robotics club. They still always made time for each other and are each other’s number one person to go to when they’re excited about something or need to vent.

-Neither of them is a morning person. Jacob isn’t a morning person in the sense that his brain doesn’t function properly, Kaitlyn isn’t a morning person in the sense that heads will roll at the slightest inconvenience. They take turns driving to school and paying for coffee.

-Their taste in music is totally incompatible. Instead of compromising and making a playlist with each of them picking half the songs, they made one together titled “favorites of yours that don’t make me want to rip my ears off.”

-They have Disney movie nights regularly. Jacob started that tradition when they were kids and they’ve kept it up since with very few exceptions. They’ve already agreed to keep them up when at college (either in person or via video call depending on which colleges they end up with).

-Being camp counselors was Kaitlyn’s idea, an opportunity to spend one last summer together before they go off to college. They’ve both been camping before (separately and also together) and really enjoyed it and Jacob loves kids (he has a bunch of younger cousins, maybe a baby brother too, haven’t decided yet) so it being a good time was basically a given.

-Jacob teased her relentlessly for picking scheduling, out of all the jobs she could’ve done at camp.

-They drove to camp together, taking Kaitlyn’s car. Jacob loaded their stuff into the trunk and organized it because *spacial awareness* and Kaitlyn told him he’s being ridiculous since they only had like maybe four bags total but let him do it anyway.

[stressisakiller]

Enter Sandman

Tony Stark x OFC Soulmate AU

(Metallica Really? Part 1)

Summary: Tony Stark doesn’t believe in soulmates. Yes, he could admit that everyone gained a tattoo on their 18th birthday that supposedly led them to the perfect person for them but he refused to accept it. This mainly stemmed from the fact that when he turned 18 nothing showed up. Was he so unlikeable that not even the universe could find someone who would deal with him? So he did what any heartbroken person would do, he threw himself into his work and into the girls that he surrounded himself with.

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Beginning of Tony's installment of the Hello Sunflower universe. This is going to be a slloooowww burn, at least that's the plan and what the characters called for. Oh and some of the soulmarks don't make an appearance for a while... Hope yall like it! Can be read as Tony x Reader but the main character is given a name but no real description.

Next

Masterlist

You have been working for Tony Stark for the last 10 years as his PA along with Pepper Potts. Pepper focused on all of his work-related issues while you dealt with his personal day-to-day life, including most of the charity events he attends. You love working with Pepper. She has become like a sister to you which is a blessing considering all of the time you spend together. Tony on the other hand does an amazing job of getting on your nerves and being totally endearing at the same time which also gets on your nerves.

Waking up to a text from Tony after a late night of attending one of his award ceremonies that he didn’t even have the decency to attend was not how you wanted to start your day. Especially when the text is at 5 am and is asking you to take care of the woman that is currently warming his bed. Sighing you pull yourself away from the comfort of your bed and get dressed for the day. Grabbing some coffee you make your way to Tony’s house. Apparently, he and his friend didn’t even make it to the bedroom before getting undressed so luckily for you the maids had already sent the reporter's clothes to the dry cleaners. Walking into the dry cleaners you greet the woman working with a smile and ask her how her family is, she talks your ears off about her new grandbaby and you happily listen. Without asking she hands you Tony and the reporter’s clothes and you give her a gracious smile and a large tip, Tony wouldn’t mind.

Tony’s house in your opinion is too large and too clean. There isn’t enough personality to it and it feels sterile. His workshop on the other hand you love, it's dirty and loud and actually feels lived in unlike the rest of the house. As you step through the foyer into the living room you hear Jarvis telling the reporter that something is off-limits. Of course, she would try snooping around, what type of journalist would she be if she didn’t take every opportunity to get the inside scoop. Squaring your shoulders for the imminent confrontation you take a deep breath and paste a smile on your face.

“Good morning don’t worry about the voice, that’s Jarvis he runs the house, I have your dress here from the dry cleaners and there is a car outside that will take you wherever you need to go.” You speak calmly to her while holding her clothes and taking a sip of your coffee, you are already over the day and don't care how rude it may seem.

“Oh yes, of course, you must be the famous Liza Martin, or are you Ms. Potts?” she asks a small smirk gracing her face. You keep yourself from rolling your eyes at her tone and instead answer the mostly rhetorical question, she knows exactly who you are.

“My name is Elizabeth only Mr. Stark calls me Liza, is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?” Your voice stays level as you speak, you don't allow your annoyance to show.

“All this time and he still has you getting the dry cleaning.” her smug tone is blatant but you just smile at her weighing your next words before thinking fuck it and speaking.

“I do anything Mr. Stark requires including occasionally taking out the trash. Please try not to trip on your way out.” You don’t let your smile fall until you are out of sight heading down the stairs to speak with Tony.

“Jarvis please make sure she leaves, get Happy to walk her out if needs must.”

“Yes, Ms. Martin.”

“You picked a real peach with that one Mr. Stark.” You state as you walk through the door. Pepper would never say anything like that to Tony but you lost most of your filter concerning him a long time ago, and honestly, he found it very refreshing.

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Tony, Liza?” you huff out a small laugh before answering.

“As many times as I have to tell you to stop calling me Liza, Mr. Stark.” He stares at you for a moment before smiling widely and chuckling.

“You love it, and someone's a little testy this morning. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" The glare sent his way does nothing to deter him.

“5 am Mr. Stark. You woke me up at 5 in the morning to deal with a woman that you decided to take to bed. Did you sleep at all last night? I know for a fact that Rhodey had to pull you out of a casino around 1 am. Speaking of Rhodey, you are supposed to be halfway across the world right now!” you keep your voice surprisingly level but can't hide the heat of your words.

“You have plans today? it seems like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“As a matter of fact I do, it’s Pepper’s birthday and we have plans to go out.” You can see the mild panic in his eyes before he composes himself, it wouldn’t have been noticeable to most people, except you and maybe Pepper.

“Did I get her something nice?” He asks still ignoring your earlier rant.

“Yes, Mr. Stark it was very nice, very tasteful. Now go get your ass on that plane before Rhodey gets even more pissed off at me.” smiling at the shock on his face at your words you head out calling out to Jarvis as you go. “Jarvis, make sure he stops working and gets to the airport.”

“Yes, Ms. Martin.”

“Thanks, J,” you say heading out to your girls' day with Pepper.

You are woken up the next morning by your phone ringing off the hook, you look to see it's Rhodey. “Rhodey, it’s 3 in the morning, what the hell?” your voice is croaky with sleep and your eyes are struggling to stay open as you wait for his reply.

“Our caravan was attacked, they took Tony.” You sit straight up in bed wide awake,

“What?” your voice cracks, “What do you mean this has to be a mistake” you are starting to hyperventilate, as much as he annoys you, you really do care for Tony. You can vaguely hear Rhodey’s reply on the other side of the line but you aren’t able to comprehend the words that are being said. You aren’t able to fall back asleep and spend the rest of the day in a haze trying to find ways to fill your days without Tony around.

Three months Tony is gone for three months before there is a lead somewhere in the middle of the desert. You spend that time working for Stark industries in any way that you can in order to make ends meet, the bastards refuse to pay you otherwise since Tony isn’t there. You end up living with Sarah; she worked hand-in-hand with Tony before his disappearance and her subsequent firing by Obadiah, which never sat right with you. She is young but you enjoy her company and she helps to get your mind off of your worry for Tony. She is like a little sister to you now and you take care of each other. Rhodey is the one to call you and let you know that they found Tony, that they are heading back to the states, that he is ok. You are at the airport with Pepper and Obediah when he arrives. He jokes around with Pepper and Obie before turning to you.

“There is my favorite girl, have you been doing alright without your favorite person?” he sounds the same as ever but you see past his facade, you can tell he is hurting but you decided to go along with his act.You playfully roll your eyes at him,

“Who says you’re my favorite person? I’m rather fond of my new roommate Sarah, she may have knocked you down a couple of pegs. At least she doesn’t scare me by almost dying and then disappearing for 3 months.” Your voice is playful but he can hear the undertone of worry that you are trying so hard to hide.

“Touche." He gives you a soft smile before looking around at all the people gathered, a look of concern crossing his features. "Where is Sara, I half expected her to be here?”

You clear your throat taking a moment to contemplate your words. “I think she was wary about being around Obadiah since he fired her pretty quickly after you left.” You murmur not wanting the man in question to hear you, something about him makes you nervous.

“Wait what? Rehire her immediately and raise her salary as an apology.” At his words you smile, a real smile this time.

“Yes, Mr. Stark. Right away.” You hear him calling out to Pepper as you start typing away on your Stark pad to get the paperwork for Sarah’s rehiring.

“Pepper, call a conference and Happy take me to get a cheeseburger before we head that way.”

The conference is a disaster but you can’t help but be proud of Tony for making a stand for something he believes in, even if it does majorly affect his whole empire. You don’t tell him as much but you do find little ways to make sure he knows you're on his side. Such as making sure he had his favorite drinks and snacks stocked in his garage, and baking his favorite dessert as a welcome home gift. You also decide not to tell him about how you were treated while he was gone, he has enough on his plate without your problems, although if you asked Tony he would disagree.

You are in the middle of updating Tony’s calendar to coincide with the one that Pepper just sent you when you hear Tony calling for you over the house speaker.

“Liza, how big are your hands?”

“What?” you can’t help the tone of your voice as you answer, what a strange question.

“Your hands, how big are they?” you blanch a little bit at the repeated question, your brow furrowed as you try to decide how to answer.

“I don’t under..”

“Get down here I need you.” You roll your eyes at his demand before closing out the program on your tablet allowing it to take over, you would double-check everything later, before heading down the steps to Tony’s lair.

“What the hell are you doing?” is the first thing out of your mouth when you step into the room. Tony is sitting with his shirt off, medical equipment strewn all around him.

“I need your help switching this out for the new version, Dumee here doesn’t have small enough fingers.” Your head fills with questions most of which you decide to keep to yourself.

“You want me to put my hand into your chest and take out the one thing keeping you alive? Correct?” You raise your eyebrow at him in question, waiting for him to prove you wrong… no such luck.

“You’ll put a new one in” he says defensively. You walk up to him and take a deep breath muttering under your breath, “I need a raise for the shit you make me do." before speaking normally for him to hear, "Why exactly do you need me to do this?”

“There is an exposed wire under this device and it’s contacting the socket wall and causing a bit of a short, so I need you to reach in and take the wire out.” His voice is calm as he speaks and you can’t help but let out a small laugh, holy shit you need a raise.

“I really hate you right now.” You state as you take the arc reactor out and reach into the socket to pull out the wire. “This is the grossest thing you have ever made me do.” You gag a little bit at the feeling of what you can only describe as puss, while you feel around for the wire. “What the everloving fuck makes you think that I am qualified to do this?”

“You’re fine, you are the most capable, qualified, trustworthy person I have ever met, you are going to do great,” he states, the lack of sarcasm or condescension takes you aback, but you turn your focus back to the task at hand.

“Ok I found it, what do I do?”

“Just gently pull it out without touching the side walls.” There is a buzzing and a screech from Tony as you accidentally do exactly that.

“Fuck sorry,” you pause for a second before starting to pull it out again as Tony starts to speak.

“Just, as you're doing that there is a magnet at the end, don’t pull it out” He barely gets the chance to finish talking as you accidentally pull it out, “And you just yanked it out,” you panic and start to lower it back in, his voice stopping you. “Don’t put it back in!” He is taking deep breaths as you place it to the side as he mumbles something about having a heart attack and you yanking the magnet out like a trout before he tells you to plug in the new arc reactor.

“Don’t you ever make me do anything like that again,” you state as soon as the new reactor is in its proper place and you no longer have a dying Tony sitting in front of you.

“Who else would I ask?” You look at him for a long moment after he says that, noting the honesty in his expression, before he claps his hands and breaks the moment.

“Ok, so what do you want me to do with the old one?” you ask while picking it up and turning towards him.

“Get rid of it, incinerate it, I don't care.” He’s back to his usual brisk attitude acting as if the last 30 minutes didn’t happen.

“You mean you don’t want to keep it?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I have been called many things Liza, nostalgic is not one of them.”

You just sigh as you turn and leave the room, old arc reactor in hand. He may not be nostalgic but you are, you are also a bit petty, so instead of destroying it, you put it into a display case with the words ‘Proof that Tony Stark has a heart.’ and leave it wrapped up in the garage for him to see.