#also made me think of like. the full fallen au

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part 7

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Six Summary: Lori and Sy are alone again and Lori must make a decision.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 4k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Six Warnings: Smut, mostly kissing, touching and the implication of more, angst, fluff.

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne. Finally some smut for you all, but please don't hate me, I had to!

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Six Part Eight

Lori

I felt pleasantly full from the pizza and beer, but waiting for Sy to come back had me on edge and my tummy kept flipping making me feel nauseous with anticipation.

I flicked through the channels while I waited and tried to settle my tapping foot and thumping heart. I settled on watching music videos, a best of the 70s countdown. It didn’t calm me completely, but at least I had a beat to bounce my foot to.

As excited as I was for Sy to come back, spending time with all the Brothers today was really enjoyable and I was a little disappointed when they left. I felt comfortable and safe with the four of them and despite how different they were, I felt equally drawn to each of them.

Mike was… Mike. He made me laugh and made me feel free in the simplest of ways. He was fun and welcoming and I could totally see myself having a great time with him. If I had met him in college, I would have dated him in a heartbeat. Marshall puzzled me, he was shut down in many ways, but every now and again he’d smile, or his eyes would flash with anger and I’d see the rivers of emotion beneath his exterior and I wanted in. Geralt was even more mysterious to me, but I liked being around him because he reminded me of the old school bikers I knew before things had changed. He seemed wise, calm and cool, and being near him gave me an overwhelming sense of home and comfort, even when an occasional shyness overtook me. 

And August… he made me burn. Something about him stoked a raging bonfire in my gut, both from fear and lust. He seemed dangerous, always on the edge of humanity and while I was scared of him, I couldn’t deny my attraction.

And Sy, my God, Sy. He was everything rolled into one. Playful, deep, calming and dangerous, yet also sweet and compassionate. One moment he made me laugh, the next minute he made me cinch my thighs together and sink my teeth into my lip. 

I was still thinking of Sy when I heard the door open and I sat up expectantly as he came back inside. He looked incredible as he paused, framed by the doorway. His thick black jeans fit snugly around his waist and his black faded Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt was stretched to its limits around the shirt and revealed his solid, inked forearms.

He closed the door and toed off his boots before walking to the foot of the bed. I expected that he would climb up the bed to lay over me, or maybe even finish undressing, but he didn’t. He crossed his arms and smiled at me, staring at me unmoving for so long I decided to take matters into my own hands.

“So,” I said, letting my legs fall open a little in invitation, “are you just going to stare at me or are you going to finish what you started this morning?”

Sy chuckled and dropped his arms. He shook his head at me as he walked around the bed, took the remote control from my hand and turned the music up. It was a slow rock song, I wasn't sure of the name of the band, but it was soft and the singer's southern twang was full of angst and yearning.

He held his hand out. “Dance with me?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

I tentatively put my hand in his and he rolled his eyes. 

“C’mon,” he said.

I laughed softly as I climbed off the bed and Sy pulled me close to himself with a jerk. I let out a grunt as I crashed and nearly bounced off his hard body.

“Asshole,” I muttered.

Sy hummed, amused, as his arms encircled my waist. His scent cut into senses like a hot knife through butter. He smelled faintly of beer, mixed with the smokey smell of his tobacco while the skin on his neck smelled of leather and fuel, and below it all was a deep musk that was entirely male and potent.

He raised his hand to my neck, his palm pressed gently against my throat. His hands were warm and the cold metal of his rings made shiver as he ran his fingers over my skin. He smirked as he felt my reaction and his throat rumbled softly. Then his thumb lifted my chin higher and he dropped his head into my neck, his bearded cheek resting against mine.

My muscles went lax, my whole body felt like jello and I reached for his shirt to hold myself up. His arm went around my back drawing me closer, rocking us softly in time with the music, our bare feet on the carpet, he didn't seem to mind when I stood on his toes.

“Cat gotcha tongue baby?” Sy’s low words seeped like honey into my ears while his lips ghosted over my skin and the balmy heat in my gut burst into a raging fire.

“Didn’t figure you as much of a dancer,” I whispered.

He shrugged. “When I feel like it.”

“And you feel like it now?”

“That's right,” he murmured. “Seems to me you get me thinkin’ about doin’ lotsa things I don’t normally think of doin’.”

“Like what?”

There was a long pause before he lifted his head. “Sugar, I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Sounds ominous,” I said, feeling my body stiffen as if bracing for an impact.

“It ain’t bad, I just gotta tell you something before this goes any further.” I opened my mouth to say something but he shook his head and talked over me. “Just listen, baby. When we get back, I have to leave on another job,”

I raised my eyebrows, “But I thought…”

“I know baby, I don’t wanna go but it’s gotta be me.”

“Why?” Sy hesitated so I added sullenly, “You can’t tell me, don’t worry I get it.” 

“It’s a logistics job, transportation across borders,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, I truly did not expect him to answer. “Did you know? That you’d be going?”

“Walker told me this morning,” 

“How long?”

“A few days, a week?” Sy shrugged. “Depends what I find when I get there.”

Quiet moved in and we stood in each other's arms until the song ended and a faster, poppier one came on and the moment vanished. I moved out of his ambrace and he let me go looking at me expectantly. 

“I get it,” I said flatly, “it's the life.”

“Baby…”

“No it’s fine,” I said, but it hurt. It really fucking hurt. I don’t know why I expected him to be any different.

He looked at me with such a pained expression I almost believed I really meant something to him. I turned away, turning the tv off and bringing my bag onto my bed to look for my PJs. I didn’t want to look at him because my disappointment was too hard to hide. I was not going to cry again.

“I was Army, Special Forces.” Sy said and I froze. “I was trained in transporting people and goods undetected across enemy lines. That’s why it’s gotta be me.”

I swallowed. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

“I wanted to,” he said, softly. I felt the heat of his body behind me, felt the back of his fingers skim down my arm. “I don’t wanna hide who I am. Not from you.” 

“I’ll miss you,” I said, the words falling from my lips before I could stop them.

“I know.”

I huffed, not sure if it was true.

“‘Cause I’ll be missin’ you too,” Sy said, solemnly.

I turned back to him and tried to gauge his sincerity. “So how did you end up in an MC?” I asked to test him. I wanted to see how open he was prepared to be and I was not entirely convinced I would get an answer.

“A long series of events. Startin’ with a mission that went sideways and got some of my men killed and as a result I met Walker. Then we both met Geralt and later, Geralt brought Marshall in. And after finding we had similar grievances, it ended with us deciding to use our skills for ourselves instead of the government.”

“My men?”

“I was an Officer.” 

“What skills? Were the others Special Forces too?”

“No, they… I'll let them tell you their stories.”

“What about Mike?”

“Mike, well, he's different,” Sy grinned. “Dumb kid just fell in with us.”

I searched his features for a sign that he was being deceitful, but despite his smile all I could see was the honesty I had noticed from the first time I laid eyes on him. Somehow I knew in the deepest marrow of my bones, that I could trust him. Even when he was being evasive, he wasn't lying to me. I ran my fingers over his lips, tracing the curve of his smile. His grin suddenly faded and he grew serious and I removed my hand. 

Grimacing, he sniffed and turned his head towards the door. His jaw jutted forward as he spoke slowly and carefully. “The Brothers… They care about you.”

My face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“They care about you. Just like I do.”

My eyes widened, what was he saying?

He brought his attention back to me and the expression he wore was stoic. “And I know you have a kinda feelin’ towards them… the same as you do for me.”

He knew.

My blood ran cold and my stomach felt like it was shrinking in on itself. I looked away, I wanted to deny it, tell him it’s not true, but I couldn’t. I wanted to be sick.

“It’s ok,” Sy said, gently. “Believe me. It’s ok.” 

I wasn’t so sure. The men I knew, the bikers I knew, they were territorial. One wrong glance from an old lady to another man could result in a beating, and in some cases not just for the other guy. Toxicity and violence was sewn into the fabric of the life, another reason why being here with Sy and entertaining my attraction to the rest of the Brothers was so momumentally stupid of me.

Sy’s hand was under my jaw again, lifting my gaze to his. He kissed me, his lips a gentle caress on mine but I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him back.

“Baby?”

“What must you think of me?”

“I think the world of you.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know enough to know that I’m one lucky son of a bitch,”

“Sy…” I chided softly, feeling my cheeks heat. I tried to look away but he held me firmly in place.

“I mean it.”

For a few beats there was silence as the heat of his gaze radiated through me. His breath started getting harder and tension grew in his body. 

“Still want me to finish what I started this mornin’?” he asked, huskily.

The Memento Mori tattoo across his neck caught my eye and I raised my fingers to trace the lettering. Knowing now how close to death Sy had been in his life made the tattoo seem like more than just a vague sentiment. Remember you must die were words not written to stir feelings of dread, but instead to inspire you to seize the day, to do what you can while you live, because your time in this life was fragile and finite.

I thought of my mother, wondered what she would think of me in this moment, here with a guy like Sy. Would she think me a fool, or would she understand that the heart wants what the heart wants? Although they were divorced, my father and mother still loved each other. I think perhaps they had been spending nights with each other, unable to stay away from each other for long and it had ultimately cost her her life. Would she make that choice again if she knew what was coming?

Knowing my mother, she would make the same choices and she would understand mine.

I wanted Sy. I wanted to see where the connection between us went. I wanted to see if it was real. And I wanted to live in this moment, to take the chance that maybe he and the Brothers are more than what I assumed they would be.

I slid my hand around to the nape of his neck and standing on my toes, I kissed his neck and felt him swallow as my tongue swept over his throat.

“Jesus, woman,” Sy said, his voice a gravelly groan. His hand slid into my hair and his hips pressed against mine.

I kept kissing his neck as I slid my hands under his shirt and into the coarse hair on his abdomen, following the dip between the gentle peaks and valleys of his abs until my fingers reached the slightly softer hair that lay across his chest.

His hand gripped my ass, sliding into the back pockets of my kevlar jeans, his fingers digging deep into my flesh drawing me closer until I could barely take a breath. Bending his knees, he slipped his leg between mine and dragged my core across his thick thigh. I dropped my head into his shoulder and muffled my moan into his piquant shirt as the friction made me realise just how damp my panties were getting.

My fingers inched across his chest, drawn as if by a gravitational pull to the piercing in his nipple. I ran my finger around the hairy skin that surrounded it until curiosity got the better of me and I gently slid my nail over it, pulling it down briefly before it sprang back into place. Sy groaned and the hand in my hair tightened into a fist.

I backed off, not sure if I had hurt him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t stop,” he growled, “touch me however you want. Anywhere you want. You won’t hurt me.”

I swallowed hard and licked my lips as I took the hem of his shirt in my hands and lifted. He took over, quickly pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor. His hands moved to my hips, his touch softer this time, gentle even and he drew me closer again.

“Don’t stop,” he repeated, this time his voice was almost a whispered plea as lowered his head to mine. 

My hands continued their exploration as my eyes catalogued his ink, including the DILLIGAF tattoo in large gothic script arching over his navel. It seemed like a lie when he held me; I couldn’t reconcile the tattoo with the man. He seemed to care about everything, his brothers, his club, me. 

A change in the texture of his skin made my brow furrow. A large but old scar marred the side of his ribs, one of many I had noticed on his face and arms, but this one looked like it had been serious. They were all sewn up nicely, not like a lot of the backyard jobs I’d seen on some of the guys in my brother’s club. Perhaps it had been from his army days.

I wondered if I would ever know how he got it and found I wanted to know badly. I wanted to ask him more about his past, I wanted to know everything about him. Maybe if I was patient, he’d tell me more one day. For now though, I wanted to see more of him.

This time when his fingers lifted my jaw and his lips brushed mine, I kissed him back, opening myself to the warmth of his mouth and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across mine like satin. Pressing my body against his, I put my hands on his arms and felt the dense, rigid and strained muscles beneath his skin. My hands ran up to his thick shoulders as his made their way around my back and under my shirt before resting flat against my skin. His hands were scorching hot, burning me like a branding iron, except for where the cool metal of his rings slid over me.

My hands drifted over him, over his back, his neck, his short bristly hair and his soft thick beard and all the while he kissed me. Breathing hard into my mouth, he let me explore, sketching his features by touch, until my hands made their way down his stomach to his belt. He caught my hands in his and guided me onto my knees in the centre of the bed. He followed climbing onto the bed with a grin before he cupped my cheek and lowered his mouth to mine.

“You’re holding back,” I accused teasingly before our lips could meet.

He nodded, and said huskily, “It’s taking everything I’ve got not to rip your clothes off and take you.”

I whimpered, it’s the only way I can describe the sound that came from my mouth.

“Ah, you’d like that?” Sy asked, roguishly. “And here I was tryna be gentle.”

He ran his thumb over my mouth, slipping it between my lips. Instinctively my tongue flicked against his calloused pad, the texture of his hardened skin made me draw my legs together in anticipation. Then his mouth was on mine, his kiss light, tender, probing, but somehow still lustful and controlling. It made me shiver as goosebumps broke across my arms.

“Hmmm, but you like that too,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above mine. 

Nodding, I lifted my mouth to his and he pulled away with a smirk. I tried again to chase his mouth but he moved again.

“What are you doing?” I whined. 

“I like the way your lips look when you’re about to kiss,” he said, pulling his head away as I tried to kiss him again.

Frustrated, I said the first dirty thing I could think of. “Want to see how they��d look wrapped around your cock?”

Sy captured my jaw in his hand, his smirk growing wider. “You say the sweetest things, baby.”

Sy made a low noise deep in his throat as he kissed, his tongue sliding over my lips urging me to open for him. I did, meeting his with mine, lapping at the welcomed invasion. He sucked on my lower lip, his teeth scraping the delicate skin and my body pressed against his. 

With a soft growl he pulled my shirt off over my head, returning his mouth to mine as he groped for my bra. He slipped it off quickly, his hands immediately on my breasts, groaning into my mouth. He dropped low, his hands holding me still as he took my nipple into his mouth. My hips rocked, the warmth of his mouth radiated through my nerves, each lap of his tongue was like a lick of flames heating and stoking the rapidly accelerating need that burned between my legs.

While his touch grew firmer and more urgent as he moved across my chest. “Your skin is so soft.”

Fuck me, he was so vocal; every kiss came with a soft rumble in his throat. By the time his mouth reached my neck I was trembling and my breath was bursting from my lungs in hard, short pants. He paused long enough to lay his forehead on mine, and stared at me. His eyes were lust blown yet laser focused and his breath ragged and rough as he palmed my breasts. My nipples tightened into small buds as they slipped between his fingers and he gave them a soft pinch that turned my blood into molten fire.

“God, I want inside of you,” he said suddenly.

He wrapped an arm around my back and swept my legs out from beneath me and laid me on the bed as I squealed then giggled as I covered my swaying breasts. He stayed on his knees and his hands were at my jeans, winking as he tugged on my jeans. I lifted my hips to help him then drew my legs up in the air while he yanked them from my body and he threw the clothes behind him. As my legs dropped he caught them and split them around his hulking frame. Then he was still, not moving except for his eyes and one hand that skimmed its way softly up the inside of my thighs.

“Sy, I—”

“Let me look at you a minute,” he said hoarsely. 

His hand continued its slow climb, and he gripped my hip for a moment while his other hand mirrored his actions. His eyes wandered, his blue eyes were nearly black as he continued his appraisal. He studied me for so long I started to get nervous. I wasn’t ashamed of my body, but under his close inspection I started to wonder if he noticed the thin silver stretch marks on my hips, or the scar on my ribs from where I had fallen off my pushbike as a kid, or how one breast was slightly larger than the other.

Sy seemed to sense my discomfort and he caught my eyes, his gaze was so heated it felt nuclear.

“You’re just about the most beautiful thing I ever saw,” he said so earnestly I couldn’t doubt him.

As he lowered himself onto me, my legs opened further, parting until they nearly hit the mattress to accommodate his immense size. Although he was supporting most of his weight on his elbow he was so deliciously heavy on top of me as his lower half pinned me and his hips kept my legs open. He kissed me again, a little more demanding and I parted my lips in invitation which he accepted greedily. He filled my mouth with his velveteen tongue, moving it inside me until I felt like there was no part of me he hadn’t explored and claimed. 

His hands continued to stroke my side, rising slowly until his fingers ghosted over my cheeks and down my neck before he wrapped his hand around my throat possessively, yet so gently it was soothing. I whimpered into his mouth as he pressed himself against my core; I could feel him, hard and ready through his jeans, and the rough cotton rubbed against me as he rutted slowly.

I was a wet, throbbing, undulating, mess as I kissed him back. My hips worked with him, crudely urging him for more, but he remained rock solid and in control as he kissed down my neck, his kisses going lower and lower until he reached the small triangle of hair on my mound and raised his eyes.

I trembled in anticipation. Knowing how perfectly rough, silky and warm his tongue felt in my mouth, all I wanted in the world was to feel it on my clit. 

He kissed lower. And lower. And lower. His eyes narrowed as mine grew wider and his beard brushed over the engorged skin between my legs. My hips jerked, and I let out a long shuddering breath.

Sy licked his lips as his fingers brushed over me, his eyes closing as I felt him part me and slide over my slick centre.

“Shit,” he drawled, elongating the words so long it almost was like he sang it. “You’re so fuckin' wet. So fuckin' wet for me.”

His breath tickled my clit, his humid exhale sent my nerves into overdrive while my brain simply shut down. My body strained to meet him, desperately seeking some contact or friction, anything to release the pent up tension in my quivering limbs.

“Relax baby,” Sy said, softly kissing the insides of my thighs, “I’ll get you there. I’m just enjoyin’ myself for a li’l bit first.”

“You’re teasing me,” I whined pathetically.

Sy smirked and shrugged a little, “Feels good though don’t it?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, it does,” his fingers slid over my swollen slick skin again, and I gasped, “Yeah, you’re feelin’ real good ain’tcha?”

It was a rhetorical question, but I nodded emphatically.

“Gonna make ya feel even better,” he murmured against my thigh, his eyes locking onto mine as the tips of his fingers were poised at my entrance, “You just gotta be a good girl for me and lay back and keep these pretty li’l legs open.”

[kiame-sama]

Do you think you could write Phantom x male omega one day? I really love that series❤️❤️

Male reader version of the story I posted earlier. Feast, my lovies!

Warnings; yandere, abo au, omega reader, my omegaverse au, almost entirely nsfw, harem/ reverse-harem style relationship, NSFW teasing, orgasm denial, threeway, foursome, oral (male and female receiving), anal, tears, light spanking, light bondage, knotting, alpha behavior, threats (not towards reader), sex toys, mention of murder, possessive behavior, fluff at the end, male reader, male omegas can get pregnant too in my au, male omegas also create their own internal lube, 

~~~~~~~~

You panted and whined as you gripped the fallen pillar in front of you, feeling such a large and firm length pushing into you with near bruising force. The knot that formed at the base of that length made the sounds of your copulation seem even louder, apparent squishing and squelching noises clear even with the volume you whined and moaned at. Your alpha- Chrollo- continued to pound away into you, the loose pants you wore lay pooled around your knees and allowed the alpha complete access to your tight ass.

The warmth radiating off of the alpha had you mewling and toes curling from the pleasure that burned through you. There was no need for you to muffle your whining moans as the only ones who could hear you were currently enjoying the sound of you being pounded into the smooth marble surface. Chrollo had waited a surprisingly long time before he decided to actually mate you and officially make you the Troupe's omega, having the right to mate you first as he was lead alpha of the troupe.

By no uncertain terms did the Troupe ever plan on losing you for any reason, every member nearly chomping at the bit to get their turn to mate you. The hierarchy within the Troupe would become apparent to you based off of who gets to mate you in what order. Of course, Chrollo was the top of the pack and was the apex alpha of the group so he had the right to mate you whenever he felt like it and when the Troupe spread out after a heist you would be with Chrollo or at least two other members. You faintly wondered who would be the second to claim you and mark you once Chrollo had his fill.

"Please... Please..! Alpha, I- fuck!"

"Good omega. That's my good boy... Tell me how much you want my knot, how much you NEED it to stuff you full."

"I need- I need it, alpha..! Please! I need your knot-!"

"Never forget who the alpha of the Troupe is, who your alpha is."

"Yes- Yes, alpha..!"

The low chuckle that hummed through his chest made your eyes roll back, feeling that hum through your body. You knew you would be sore after Chrollo was finished mating you for the time being, hoping that the Troupe would be able to curb their enthusiasm to let you rest before mating you as well. For now you only felt the thick and long length that was stuffed inside of you, feeling the knot at the base swell up even more with every thrust.

Once it felt almost too big was when Chrollo finally shoved the entirety of his length into you, the knot locking you both in place as each spurt of cum splashed into you. Your body responded to the large knot by scrambling your brain with bliss, shoving you directly into your fourth and strongest orgasm as your cum splashed onto the fallen pillar. The way you wailed and mewled from the sensation was sweeter than any music the Troupe had ever heard, loving the sound of their omega in absolute bliss.

Whereas Chrollo decided to take you to a more concealed location in the abandoned building to mate you, the Troupe was still able to hear every little noise you made and your scent was beginning to drive them feral. Pakunoda and Uvogin in particular felt a rather intense desire to mate you as soon as Chrollo was done, their alpha instincts desperately wanting to claim you for themselves or to mark up your soft body. The other Troupe members desired you to a similar level, everyone wanting to feel your wonderful omega body so pliant beneath their own.

"Which do you think is better, Machi, the one with an inflatable knot or the vibrating one?"

Shizuku sat looking at the assortment of strap-on dildos she and Machi had gathered, being the only two who did not have cocks to fuck you with but wanting the chance to do it all the same. Machi felt more along the lines of riding you, but she was willing to use whatever you wanted to fuck you senseless. Even beyond just the strap-on selection, there were countless other items made specifically to pleasure an omega. Sure, stealing a whole shipment of sex toys wasn't what they anticipated doing, but they weren't just going to toss the toys out without at least trying them on their lovely omega first.

"This one that has an inflatable knot, vibrates, and is dual sided."

"Oh! I forgot we had that one. What colors does it come in?"

"Sparkling pink, sparkling blue, and sparkling purple."

"Wait, what are we talking about again?"

As the two continued to look around the assortment of sex toys, your whining moans started up again, Chrollo likely putting you through another round of mating. Uvogin growled in vague impatience, wanting to storm up and snatch you away but knowing better than to interrupt Chrollo. Still, didn't mean he liked having to wait.

"If the Boss keeps this up, we won't be able to mate him for a few days!"

Despite his grumbling, he was still excited over the prospect of getting to have an omega at all. Nobunaga- as always- was the calming voice of reason for the large alpha, talking in a relaxed drawl as he waited among the others.

"And? You know how the Boss is, besides, (y/n)'s an omega. I don't know about you, Uvo, but I'm thinking we're all going to want to mate him several times. It's probably going to take a while for all of us to get a chance with him."

The large alpha only hummed in acknowledgement to the Gamma's words, knowing it was truth but still irritated all the same with the situation. All of the present Troupe members felt that want inside of them, eager to indulge in the rarity that was mating an omega. Even before Chrollo had taken you away to mate, they had agreed on where each member would put their mating mark on your soft skin. Those marks would bind you to the Troupe and the Troupe to you.

~~~~~~~~

"Mhmph-!"

Your whines were muffled due to the warm cock that currently took up most of the space in your mouth. Beneath you, Uvogin lay with his head between your legs and had been sucking harshly on you all while toying with your tight ass for at least two orgasms so far, refusing to release your hips to allow you the ability to stand. The sensation of his slightly rough hands pulling your hips in a thrusting motion made you mewl oh so sweetly for the pair, moaning around Nobunaga's cock.

They had both agreed what their roles would be in this interaction long before actually mating you, working together to make you a senseless moaning mess. Each time your voice cracked or you whined around Nobunaga's cock, the black haired man couldn't help but moan as well, your scent working the two males into a near frenzy state of pleasure. They both understood now why Chrollo had taken his time with you, the pheromones you let out making them want you even more and filling both males with the intense desire of making you delirious with pleasure.

As the second strongest alpha of the group, Uvogin and his usual gamma accomplice- Nobunaga- were the two allowed to mate you after Chrollo. Naturally, both were enamored by your scent and by you in general, wanting to mainly make you happy and relaxed among the two of them. Beyond just having you be comfortable with them, they wanted you to like them and enjoy mating with them.

"Fuck... (Y/n), you look so damn good like this... Just taking my cock so well..!"

Nobunaga couldn't help but pant and was nearly drooling at the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around his throbbing length. The sight paired with the sound of Uvogin sloppily slurping at your hard cock was almost enough to make him cum then and there, but with the sensation of you sucking so sweetly on him he was ready to fill your soft omega stomach with his seed. He felt his balls tighten as he shot his load down your throat, impulsively gripping the sides of your head and pushing as deep as your throat would allow him to go. The sensation of your throat hugging and massaging his cock as you slightly gagged had him reeling in bliss.

As soon as he felt that last spurt of cum leave his body, he was quick to pull back and let you breathe without his cock getting in the way. Sure, it felt heavenly to feel his cock so deep in your throat, but he wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you or push you too far while he sought to get himself off with your help.

Uvogin moaned beneath you as the sensation of Nobunaga cumming made you cum as well, just spurting into Uvogin's waiting throat which he happily drank down with an intense fervor. The large alpha's cock stood stiffly and almost seemed painful with how swollen and flushed it was, his knot already starting to form as he ached for your gentle touch and the warm embrace of your insides squeezing down on him. He was clearly excited and in desperate need for you, but the way he worked you over with his mouth made it clear he had no intention of letting you get up until he has had his fill.

~~~~~~~~

You cuddled close to the warm and soft chest of the female alpha, completely relaxed in the gentle embrace even as you whined softly from the stimulation between your soft thighs. Shizuku was quite happy to continue to lap at your slowly stiffening cock and slightly sore ass, the gamma contentedly soothed you after the rather rough pounding from the blond female alpha's cock. There was little on your mind other than the relaxed feeling of laying in Pakunoda's arms and allowing the forgetful gamma to lap up both your cum and the alpha's cum from your shaking thighs.

Occasionally you felt when Shizuku lost focus or seemed to forget what she was doing, but the slight lull in pleasure only for her to return to her task rather vigorously kept you a melted puddle of pleasure. The absolute comfort of letting the women care for you was just one perk of your decision to take the whole Troupe on as mates, knowing that you would always be satisfied regardless of which members you may be with.

"Here," Pakunoda hummed gently and held up a glass of water to your lips, helping you tilt it for a proper drink, "your throat must be dry after all of that moaning."

She chuckled softly as your face burned slightly from embarrassment, completely aware that the entire Troupe found your moans to be rather sweet music to listen to. It did come as a bit of a surprise to you to realize just how affectionate such dangerous individuals could be. You weren't kept in the dark about what the Troupe often did and how many the Troupe killed, but you also knew that there was not a single member that would try to harm you in any capacity.

It was soothing to your inner omega to know that the Troupe would never allow anything to happen to you, and even if it did they would die to get you back. Some part of you had expected their behavior to be rather protective, but even you realized that they were far past just being protective of you. If you ever wondered where you stood with the troupe, you would only need to talk to realize their complete adoration for you in how you immediately had their attention.

Even though they were all going to be your mates, you knew who your primary mate was simply for the fact he had the ability to chose who would mate you while you are in heat. It was decided rather easily as none of the others would dare oppose the apex alpha when he claimed the privilege of choosing to keep you by his side when the Troupe needed to split or who you would go with. It just wouldn't be safe to have you in heat around so many different ranks and in a densely populated city, your scent alone would be able to draw in every alpha in the city limits. You would have to be kept somewhere secure and away from large groups, so the apex alpha was the one to choose your ideal protector and mates during such times.

"You taste so good!"

Shizuku giggled in amusement, her glasses up on the top of her head like a hair-band keeping her dark black locks pushed back out of her face. Clearly she was happy tasting and teasing you as Pakunoda slowly and gently massaged your shaking thighs, enjoying the sight of the gamma sucking almost aggressively at your cock.

"Good omega... Our good little omega..."

~~~~~~~~

You were panting in complete bliss, trying to regain your breath even though the delta had yet to stop stimulating your now soft length, wringing several whining moans from you. Your hands gripped at the bright pink hair of the delta as you mewled, arching your back as she gently worked you over with precise strokes on your hardening cock and small tongue flicks over your tip. Everything Machi did only added to the immense pleasure you felt, wanting as much as she would give you.

"Such a handsome little omega... So cute and affectionate for me."

Machi slowly withdrew her fingers before she lay back against the many pillows and blankets that had been gathered by the troupe for the sole purpose of cushioning while mating you. She lightly tugged at the thin chain leash that connected to the collar the spiders had put on you, calling you over until you were between her legs. Her intelligent eyes never left your figure for a second as the corners of her mouth quirked up into a slight smirk.

"Be a good boy and enjoy your treat," she hummed, opening her legs to give you a clear view of her completely soaked pussy, "make sure you lick it all up."

It was clear what she wanted as she gave a gentle tug to the leash, licking her lips as you settled on your front with your mouth level to her warm sex. You slowly started with light licks, testing her reactions and getting a small taste of her slick before relaxing into the motions of long strokes of your tongue through her folds. Machi gently rest her hand on the back of your head, moving her hips in time with your mouth as you began to lave and slurp at her soft pussy.

"Fuck..! That's it... Good boy~! Such a good boy..!"

You moaned and whined into her heat, feeling the way your length stood stiffly and pressed against your thighs as you became more worked up. Machi was quite sweet now that you two were alone, doing what she could to pleasure you however possible. Her eyes were half-lidded and filled with pleasure, occasionally giving a light tug at the leash whenever you did something she particularly enjoyed.

"Look at me."

Her hand gently stroked over your cheek as you glanced up into her adoring gaze, listening to her moan from how obedient you were being. She rest her hand on the back of your head and pushed you into her folds, practically making you tongue fuck her as you both moaned and whined. The careful way she manipulated your head yet still let you breathe was endearing, knowing she wanted no harm to come to you despite also wanting pleasure from you.

Her touch was quite gentle, especially in comparison to others of the Troupe and that gentleness was quite soothing to you. It seemed as if she truly wanted to treat you as if you were delicate or fragile, almost like she was happy just having someone she could be soft with. You had initially thought she was going to be far more demanding like Pakunoda had been, but Machi seemed truly content with simply adoring you as you nuzzled between her warm folds.

"Do you want me to calm your frustrated cock, my sweet omega (y/n)?"

You made a noise of affirmation into her soft body and she smiled, enamored with the way you answered her without pulling away from her slick heat. She moved a hand beneath your jaw and slowly tried to lift you from your position between her legs, but a whining complaint from you made her laugh, cupping your cheeks with her hands.

"If you want me to help the both of us, you need to sit up for me."

Despite your want to remain where you were between her thighs, you allowed the pink-haired phantom to lead you into a sitting position, her legs spreading and her fingers spreading her warm folds. She pulled you close, fingers giving your soft ass a squeeze as she moved you so your cock slid through her warmth. Your slight yelp of surprise was followed by a sweet chuckle, feeling your stiff need pressed up against her soft pussy.

A slow roll of her hips made your tip slip inside of her, a satisfying warmth running through your body with surprising speed as you sank fully inside of her. Machi's hands, which had yet to leave your plush flesh made you move with her in a rather relaxed pace, moaning gently from the sensation. Eventually she didn't have to move you as you began to buck your hips on your own, seeking the warm sparks of pleasure that shot through you with your slightly clumsy hip movements.

"So precious..."

Machi hummed softly, matching whatever pace you set and allowing you to explore her unfamiliar and warm walls which squeezed and almost seemed to pulse around you. She doubted that Shizuku had done something similar, as the other woman had been more interested in sucking you off or in Pakunoda taking care of the both of you. It was almost a kind of additional pleasure that ran through her mind as she thought about being the first to see such cute and hesitant behavior from you in such a position. Omegas were used to being fucked, not usually the ones doing the fucking.

You leaned forward with your hands gripping her hips, catching one of her warm breasts in your mouth and muffling your sounds. Each quiet moan was near musical to Machi as she hummed with an enamored smile, taking in the sight with no small amount of pleasure. The way you gasped breathlessly around her soft breast and allowed the sensation to flood your body was just too much for your mate to handle.

With a startled yelp, you found yourself laying on your back with Machi's legs on either side of your hips. She straddled your body and continued moving her soaking heat to pump your cock, caressing your chest with a tender and kind touch. The pleasure began to build up as you got closer and closer to your climax, mewling and gasping to beg the delta to continue giving you what you needed so desperately.

Machi wasn't about to stop anyway, but she did find your whimpers and whining tones to be oh so sweet. She had been rather excited to be able to have you all to herself, seeing as the Troupe intentionally tried to group up as their rank and temper would dictate. As a delta, Machi was allowed to remain outside of a group given the natural tendency for deltas to not get along with other ranks very often.

"Please-! So close..! Fuck, please!"

"So cute."

She gently teased, only increasing her pace and roughly pushing you both over into complete bliss. You shivered and gasped, body tensing and relaxing as the waves of pleasure washed over you completely. The sensation of filling her up left you breathless on top of the delta who chuckled when she saw your tired expression.

"Want to rest, or keep going?"

~~~~~~~~

To say you were vaguely intimidated would be an understatement.

Franklin was not a small man and similarly his sturdy length was just as big as the rest of his body. Uvogin was a large alpha and you were able to take him well enough, but Franklin was just as big and even thicker. You could certainly take him, but there was going to be one hell of a stretch that vaguely distressed you.

As a delta, he was quiet and preferred to mate alone without any company. His quiet behavior was slightly unsettling but to your surprise he was very gentle every time he caressed your soft skin. You could feel he was trying to soothe your vague distress by being extra gentle while preparing you to take his large cock.

The way he slowly pumped his fingers into you was fairly soothing and certainly helped calm you down, his more gentle movements soothed you greatly. He certainly looked rather intimidating in size and general demeanor, so the relaxed way he interacted with you managed to keep your fear of him rather low. It also seemed like he was well aware of his size and the potentially negative impact it could have on you during mating, evident for the fact that he had three rather thick fingers inside of you at this point.

You moaned softly, letting the large delta move you and manipulate your body as he removed his fingers from your tender hole. He gently pulled at your hips and lifted you so you sat straddling his lap, his very eager length prodding at you as it twitched with his heartbeat. A soft whimper escaped your lips and Franklin hummed, rubbing your back soothingly and letting you control the speed at which he sank into you.

You were right in that it was one hell of a stretch, feeling the way your body had to strain just to fit the tip of his cock into you. A faint worry that you would be hurt if you went any further buzzed in the back of your mind, but you did your best to ignore that feeling. Your body was built to stretch and withstand quite a lot, seeing as every rank you encountered would be keen to mate you, so you should technically be able to take all of him.

With your hands resting on his chest, you continued to let yourself sink down onto the stiff length. Occasionally, your nails would bite down reflexively from stress and you would have to pause to calm yourself before continuing. It took some time, but eventually he was completely sheathed inside of your warm walls.

The both of you had to take a moment to simply adjust to the feeling, you adjusting to the stretch and Franklin adjusting to the embrace of your body. His cheeks were dusted a deep red and his eyes were half-lidded in pleasure, his pupils blown wide as he stared adoringly at you. You could feel the ample natural lubricant your body produced soothing any pain you would have felt from the stretch, able to see the way your stomach distended to show where he was inside of you.

Ever concerned about frightening or upsetting you, Franklin kept his hands resting on your hips and fought his desire to move even a little bit as you relaxed. He would let you go at your pace. If you wanted any friction from the rather snug fit, you would have to get it yourself.

The both of you let out a moan as you lifted up and let gravity pull you back down, his moan deeper and quieter compared to your exuberant high whine. You continued this motion until you fell into an easy rhythm, any stress you felt disappearing from your mind as it was replaced with pleasure. Franklin slowly began to move his hips up to meet you, helping lift you up and down when you began to tire.

It was then Franklin realized something rather obvious. Truly, the body of an omega was a wonderful thing. Omegas in general are wonderful.

You are wonderful.

~~~~~~~~

"Fuck..!"

You whined loudly as the delta above you hissed through his teeth, moving his hips at a relaxed and rolling pace that was near torturous to you. It made sense he would do something like that, Feitan was the primary torturer of the troupe and he clearly had keen interest in torturing himself with how slowly he was going as he caressed your soft body. Each slow thrust into you made you mewl beneath the delta as you pressed your hips back into the thrust, letting out a yelp at the light smack on your exposed ass.

"Told you, I decide the pace. Only me."

You whimpered loudly in an almost begging tone to the delta, staying as still as you could to not earn another swat. It didn't hurt or even burn, but you also knew you shouldn't push the temperamental delta if you could help it. Feitan had told you from the start that you could beg and whine as much as you wanted, but he was going to make the decision in how he wanted to breed you.

"Ple-please..!" You whined, wanting the delta to just spear into you and give you the blissful release you desired, "I need it..! Please..!"

"Begging? I fuck you how I want."

For a man who spoke very little, Feitan certainly managed to get you whining and mewling for him with the few words he did say. Though he spoke in incomplete or improper sentences, you understood him and what he wanted perfectly. When it was his turn to mate you, he was quick to put you on your hands and knees in the most common position to breed an omega in.

So far he had been very sparing in what little he gave you, but what he did do had you harder than stone and begging with cute little whimpers for more attention. The slow and relaxed pace he pushed into you made you mewl so sweetly and you began to realize why he was the last of the deltas to mate you. He truly seemed to have a difficult time being gentle so the only way he could mate you was after you've already been mated several times and had the chance to adjust to the sensation. Not to mention the fact that he had more 'adventurous' kinks, hence the fact that your wrists were cuffed together by a comfortable yet sturdy pair of handcuffs.

Even with the bondage or the way he worked you up, he tried to make sure you were comfortable and used a padded pair of fuzzy handcuffs from the stolen shipment of sex toys instead of the real cuffs he used to torture captives. The cuffs were gentle on your wrists but kept a clear power imbalance in place where Feitan got to make most- if not all- decisions.

You were whining loudly at this point, your pleading whimpers akin to the sound of an almost pained squeak given how desperate you were for more than the slow pace. The whines only gained in volume and intensity the longer the delta continued to go at such a slow pace, your nails digging into the soft mattress beneath you. You tried begging several more times but the delta continued to slowly and agonizingly tease you to the point that tears began to stream down your cheeks.

"Feitan."

A low and almost threatening tone broke through your whimpers as you recognized the voice of the apex alpha of the troupe. You honestly felt some surprise that the alpha was interrupting when he had been fairly passive up until that point. Feitan let out a low and menacing growl though it was likely driven more from instinct than from honest aggression.

"... Yeah, Boss?"

"It seems I need to remind you that mating (y/n) is a privilege. If you cause him more distress than pleasure, that privilege will be removed."

"He's fine."

"He's sobbing."

Feitan seemed to respond with honest surprise as if he hadn't even realized how much his teasing was actually impacting you. You whimpered and shivered slightly, your cheeks glistening with tears as you whined from the complete loss of friction when you so desperately wanted it. Every pant was followed by a sniffling whine that seemed to legitimately bother both the delta and apex alpha.

"Damn it," Feitan hissed, seeming to finally realize that you were very upset due to his relentless teasing, "shh..."

"If you cannot treat our omega properly, you will not be permitted to mate him again."

"Not usually gentle. Mates all fight and struggle, too much effort to keep alive before. Forgot (y/n) needs gentle mating."

"Well, make sure you don't forget again."

"Yes, Boss."

~~~~~~~~

You looked up at the male in front of you as you continued to use your mouth to pleasure him. Phinks slowly thrust his hips as you bobbed your head back and forth, hollowing your cheeks as you let your tongue massage the firm cock in your mouth. Clearly the blond was greatly enjoying the sensation of your warm mouth so soothingly working him over.

Either hand was wrapped around the cocks of the other two betas, Kortopi and Bonolenov, letting them thrust their hips and make their own friction. Beneath you, Shalnark held you up by your hips and frantically thrust up into you as he puffed out short moans from the sensation. The three betas and one gamma finally got their chance to mate you, feeling vaguely jealous they were the last of the Troupe to finally get to have you.

The order of mates made it clear to you what the pack hierarchy was. Naturally, Chrollo was the apex alpha so he was the leader of the pack. Next were the lower ranking alphas of the group, Uvogin and Pakunoda, along with their chosen gammas. Then the three deltas, Machi, Franklin, and Feitan, had their individual access to you. Finally were the three betas, Phinks, Bonolenov, and Kortopi, along with the last of the three gammas, Shalnark.

Where Nobunaga and Shizuku got to mate you before the betas, it was primarily due to the fact they had close ties with either of the two alphas who got to mate you after Chrollo. Shalnark didn't have an alpha out of the two that he was particularly close with, so he was put in a group with the three betas instead. He didn't seem all too bothered with the arrangement however, as he quite happily drilled himself up into you while you took care of the three betas.

Phinks let out long moans, louder than the other two betas, but they were moaning as well from your actions. Kortopi whined along with his moans as he panted and stared with lustful eyes. Bonolenov was the quietest of the trio of betas but he was clearly enjoying himself as well, his head tilted back and eyes closed in bliss.

Their increased pulses were easy to feel and you could tell they were getting close to cumming, from the way that the two betas thrust faster into your hands, to the way Shalnark seemed to wildly bury himself inside of you, even to how Phinks bucked his hips. The four males seemed to be consumed by their own pleasure and sought to reach their release, absolutely enamored with you and your actions.

"Fuck yes," Phinks moaned as he finally reached his climax, "swallow it all. Fuck... That's so damn sexy. Was it good? Tell me how good I taste."

"Tastes so good," you whined, licking your lips, "more, please."

Your words, paired with the way you let your mouth hang open and slightly stuck out your tongue, proved to be too much for the other two betas as they both groaned harshly with their own climaxes. The white cum speckled your hands, arms, and cheeks, almost immediately followed by your own release splattering your stomach at the hands of Shalnark. He happily emptied his aching cock into you and seemed to shiver in bliss as he tried to regain some sense of control.

"Let's switch places."

~~~~~~~~

You lay curled up with the apex alpha of the group, tired but satisfied after running the gauntlet that was mating the entire Troupe. There was only one member of the Troupe that you had not mated and that was simply because he never arrived or even showed up when the group met. The absence shouldn't have bothered you simply because he was supposedly always absent, but your sensitive omega brain took it as an insult.

Naturally, your sadness was enough of a motivator for Chrollo that he issued an order to the entire Troupe to make sure the absent member showed up. If any of the Troupe were to see this absentee member, they would make it clear that he was expected to show himself next time they were to meet for a heist. Of course, they wouldn't tell him exactly why he was expected, only that he needed to be present for that gathering.

It seemed like some of the Troupe didn't want him to show up, not overly keen on sharing you in any capacity even with this mysterious member. Part of you wondered if he was really one of the Troupe or if he was just some drifter. You also wondered if his absent behavior would change upon realizing that he was missing out on having an omega as a mate.

Until you meet that person, all you could do was wait and enjoy being the mate of such an attentive pack. With the warm hand of Chrollo rubbing your back and the undoubted affection you got from the Troupe, you figured that you would be rather content. They ensured you were happy and made sure to keep you protected all while you ensured to stay by their sides.

The arrangement was a win-win for all of you, and you couldn't be happier to give your coveted affection to those who rescued you from a terrible fate. All you truly wanted now was to stay with your mates and enjoy the life you would have been deprived of.

[goldenhypen]

## — enha hyung line reaction to holding your baby for the first time ❣︎

genre. fluff, dad!au, domestic!au, established relationship!au, time skip!au // warnings. like one mention of being in a hospital, i think that’s it? // wc. 0.8k // requested

a/n. hiii i’m back! ig it’s not like i’ve really been gone lol. but hmu and tell me about your day or smth, i missed you guys!

⋅— lee heeseung.

with you on the hospital bed, your baby laying in your arms, resting against your chest, heeseung looked at you with watery eyes, a few unwilling tears rolling down his cheeks

he was so proud of and grateful for you

he was still also very overwhelmed

and laying eyes on your baby for the first time, he could barely believe this moment was real

when it was his turn to hold his child, he was so careful and treated the infant so delicately

as it was one of the first times he heard the baby’s voice, heeseung cried

it was such a special moment

he looked down at his child that he held in his arms

and he cried joyful tears, smiling at how tiny his baby looked in his arms

it was like holding a mini you and him as small as his forearm

it was incredible to him

with a shaky voice and dewy eyes, heeseung whispered softly to the baby in his arms, “i love you”

⋅— park jay.

when jay got to hold your baby in his arms for the first time—even at first contact—he was the definition of awestruck

he almost couldn’t move; the moment and the fact that he got to finally see and hold his baby was a surreal feeling and it was so new to him

he held the newborn preciously within his arms

he stared down lovingly, adoration (and tears) in his eyes

jay was sitting beside you and told you to sleep as he took care of your child

while still cradled in his arms, jay lifted the baby up, closer to his face

he closed his eyes and rested his forehead ever so gently on his newborn’s, feeling the soft, tiny breaths fanning against his skin

jay pulled away and caressed the infant’s plump, smooth, soft cheeks with the back of his finger, very gently

with the pads of his fingers, he rubbed the surface of his baby’s face soothingly

and seconds before you woke up, jay left a soft yet tender kiss on his child’s forehead, more grateful than ever to you for bringing his baby into this world

⋅— sim jake.

just minutes after entering the world, your baby was still crying, causing you and jake to do the same, overwhelming emotions filling your souls

once you were able to hold your child in your arms, skin against skin, the wails were soothed

with your arms full, jake took his fingers and swiped them gently across your cheeks, erasing the fallen tears after removing his own

he smiled tenderly at the sight of you with his child, still blown away by the fact that this was real

after many minutes of not wanting to give your newborn up, the strong desire to hold your baby forever in your arms, you handed your child over to jake who was eagerly waiting for a turn

he happily received the infant, smiling at the child before making funny faces in attempts to amuse the baby whose eyes were actually closed

still excited, jake left many quick yet delicate kisses on the baby’s head

he was holding a tiny version of himself and you, and he couldn’t be more ecstatic

he smiled widely, tears escaping his eyes once more

this time, you brought your hands up to jake’s cheeks, wiping away the emotion-filled tears

he sat beside you on the hospital bed, letting you leave a kiss on the baby’s forehead as well

jake rested his head on yours as you both couldn’t take your eyes off of your baby in his arms

⋅— park sunghoon.

seeing your baby lay against your chest, both you and the baby crying, he tried his best to stop his own tears from falling

and he was successful in doing this, until it was his turn to hold his child

when the baby met his arms, he broke down in overwhelming tears of joy

he was so incredibly proud of you

he made eye contact with you and smiled as you looked at him and your baby adoringly

he cradled and held the baby to his chest, gently yet secure, wanting to protect the infant from all the terrible things in this world

he just stared down astonishedly at the newborn whose eyes were closed, falling asleep in sunghoon’s arms

he was experiencing emotions out of this world

for the first time in his life, he was finally a father

and it was surreal to him, in the best ways possible

he leaned down, pressing a delicate kiss to your baby’s forehead softly, so excited for what the future held for the beginnings of your growing family

a/n. thank you for reading! lmk how y’all liked this one! likes, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated <3 thank you! stay safe, take frequent breaks, drink lots of water, and take care of yourselves! <3

taglist (open!). @rein-deer-stuffs @herasalvatore @enhasfever @heelariously @en-ternity @mika-monalisa @jungwoniics @all4haru @aleinasstuff @wanlore @ddeonubaby @sheepgardenenha @jungwonseyebrowsonflick @strqyverse @clarakyunisageek @liliansun @02liz @niikipuff @jiheonity @squiishymeow @wccycc @w3bqrl @luvvwonie @linoragi @miminyuu [those in bold could not be tagged]

[maulish]

Rings of Power: Episodes 1 & 2

I honestly couldn’t find it in me to simply sit through it as if I wasn’t compiling a mental checklist of all of the offences. And the offences are many. It’s just my first watch so I’m sure I missed a lot of finer details. It’s hard comparing certain things to anything because it’s all just made up by the showrunners and the timeline is at this point irrelevant because this whole thing is some weird AU.

I also mostly don’t comment on the acting because although it’s of exceptionally inconsistent quality from actor to actor, and it’s obvious that some of them have not managed to get into character, I find more fault with the writing. Had the writing been better I’m sure that the actors’ deliveries would have felt more natural. With that said...

Episode 1:

Even the opening scenes of baby Galadriel playing with other children like a bunch of little gremlins who appear of accurate age to their physical development doesn’t sit right with me. Elves mature much slower than Humans physically, but develop much faster mentally. According to The Nature of Middle-earth they reach puberty only at over 200 years old. Which means that an Elven child that looks 7 might instead be over 100 years old and has lived for what would be for a Human a whole lifetime or more. To portray Elven children as comparable to Humans in their speech and manners is absurd.

In the first few minutes of the episode Galadriel is portrayed consecutively by two actresses whose accents are cardinally different and it stands out.

The timeline is such a disaster, that much is obvious before the first 10 minutes.

Galadriel’s history lesson in the beginning could have had a much better effect if they took any notes from the prologue to The Fellowship of the Ring. Controlling the pace and emphasis, even modifying Cate Blanchett’s voice achieved an effect that has been carved into our minds permanently. Morfydd Clark’s delivery falls face first into mud. It’s just dull, monotone and unfeeling.

Obvious makeup. Very meh.

I honestly think the use of this weird font to mark location on screen looks really cheap and like as if their graphics department couldn’t find the original font so they just used the papyrus one instead. Like what is that? (I know I’m a design snob but seriously.)

The dialogue is just stiff, awkward and unelegant.

The fight scene with the troll is just terrible. Galadriel singlehandedly takes down a massive troll with almost no help and without a hair out of place. Complete with entirely unnecessary sword flourishes. It’s embarrassing to watch honestly. Seems also like Galadriel’s entire company is purely decorative as she does all the fighting, is always right and does everything on her own while others try to keep up with her. Mary Sue down to a T.

The Harfoots are a travesty. Irish cosplay, but make it primitive. The moment you take a closer look at their setup it’s hard to believe they’re nomadic. So much seems decorative, rather than functional to them. And that’s before we get to the characters. They’re just made to look pointedly primitive. 

They’ve also deisgned the Lindon set without being able to decide whether it’s fall or summer. Because it’s both at the same time. It’s seemingly fall where they walk among yellow trees (canonically there are NO mellyrn outside of Lorien; Gil-Galad had the seeds, but none grew in Lindon) and on layers of fallen, yellowed leaves. At the same time the surrounding hills are in full greenery as are all the other plants surrounding them. Like there’s no biological consistency to the living environment and the result is that Elves almost look removed from nature, rather than in utter harmony with their environment as they’re meant to be.

And what the hell is it with those Roman civic crowns everywhere.

The dialogue is... it’s to Tolkien what Aliexpress is to haute couture.

And speaking of the costumes. Aliexpress sale bin.

They’re importing present-day social issues into Middle-earth as if it didn’t have enough of to go around already. On top of that it feels forced and shoehorned, which it didn’t have to be if they had chosen to make the xenophobia contextually authentic to Middle-earth. Like fear of the unknown peoples and lands, which wouldn’t be much of a stretch. Rather than synthesising anti-Elf racism to show how one black Elf in particular is the victim of this, as if this then wouldn’t apply to all the other Elves somehow. So is it about the ears or is it about his skin color because there are no other black Elves on record and none appear in the series besides him? Make it make sense.

The short hair on Elven men is so weird. WTF is this? The Witcher?

Also the way Galadriel’s memory of her conversation with her brother is overlayed the scene feels terrible because the audio is too similar to those speaking on screen and there’s not enough of an echo or some other sound effct to distinguish it. So it sounds like director’s commentary.

They are all way too unphased by a giant fireball falling from the skies. Plus the way everything is on fire, but somehow his loincloth is unharmed. Right. There would have been so many other ways of dealing with that for the sake of modesty which would have been a lot less laughable.

Episode 2:

The Harfoots are supposed to be way more archaic than their Hobbit descendants. And they are made to look the part visually, but their dialogue has been bothering me since the beginning because it’s way more contemporary than that of Hobbits in LOTR, and it stood out since episode 1. It’s only stylized to the extent of using ‘unrefined’ language so to speak. The manner of speaking doesn’t feel authentic to bygone times. And neither does their acting, manners etc. Which again makes it feel even more like Irish cosplay.

Looking at the set decorations in Eregion reveals that apparently they just went thrift-shopping in Camden market or something. It’s more of an eclectic mix of 19th century European furniture and neo-styles with some accent decorations from Italy and Morocco than anything I’d associate with Elves of any Age. It’s not even Art Nouveau and Arts & Crafts dominant. And I swear one of those lanterns is painted plastic and not even made of metal. WTF is this Disneyland giftshop shit? I’m not seeing the millions in anything but VFX.

All of the Dwarven costumes are a massive downgrade. I feel like all of the effort was put into prosthetic noses and that’s the extent of it. Meanwhile the culture is shown to be brutish above everything else, to the point that it makes me question how they could possibly create such fine things. There’s a major disconnect there. 

Plus this one sure feels like Scottish cosplay. Remember groundskeeper Willie from The Simposons. Yeah.

Also I feel like everything to do with Durin is essentially everything criticized about the Hobbit trilogy and more. Plus this domestic scenery (which is pulled out of their asses) completely breaks the decorum characteristic to Tolkien. It’s just awkward to watch.

The breaking of decorum gets its own bulltepoint. Because it’s just that big of an offence. Would Elrond really call a Dwarven princess by her first name even though they just met? Really?

With all the gold, mithril and jewels under the mountains. And they still made Disa’s jewelry out of old hubcaps. 

Galadriel still remains a foot too short. She’s towered over by literally everyone and she’s supposed to be the TALLEST WOMAN IN ALL OF ARDA.

[maatryoshkaa]

the chance of love | bang chan

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Red pen, empty classrooms, and an overheard phone call:

The one where you’re determined to find one flaw about your seemingly picture-perfect class president, and he’s determined to make sure you pass the class—no matter how hard you’re trying to fail.

✑ PAIRING: student council president!bang chan x troublemaker!reader

✑ GENRE: high society/private school!au, retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, enemies-to-lovers, angst 

✑ WORD COUNT: 13.8k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying & family conflict themes, mentions of drugs/illicit activity. endless petty shenanigans (mostly from mc). y/n also has a bad relationship with her parents and a hard time facing her feelings in general (don’t we all). fortunately, chan’s patience—and tendency to use bad math pickup lines—could help with that.

disclaimer: levanter high is a private school only in this au. all the characters’ roles have stayed the same.

“F. Again.”

Snickers erupted around the classroom as your teacher flipped the mock exam paper onto your desk, shaking her head. Sure enough, scrawled across the front page in ruthless red ink, was your latest score—a solid 29/100. Shrugging, you rolled up the test papers before stuffing them into your backpack like a dejected morning newspaper.

“See me after class, Miss L/n.” Your teacher clicked her tongue in disappointment. Whispers from the back of the class began pricking at your ears.

“Isn’t she the eldest daughter of the Yuhan family? The first in line to inherit a multimillion dollar business.”

“The spring exams are right around the corner. If she flunks those, she won’t even graduate—let alone inherit a whole company!”

Their giggles died down the moment you turned around, the huddle of kids scrambling back to their seats and burying their noses in their books. One girl even flashed you an innocent smile.

If she flunks, she won’t even graduate—let alone inherit the company! 

Despite their scornful tone, the words made you smile. Clasping your hands behind your head lazily, you leaned back in your chair and let your eyes fall shut.

Well. That’s the plan.  

“I don’t understand.” 

Mrs. Koh was pacing back and forth the empty classroom while you sat, jiggling your leg up and down in your chair. Her dotted white dress and perpetually pursed lips made her look vaguely like a chicken—what with the way she kept clucking her tongue—and you stifled a giggle as she turned around.

“You graduated middle school with an awards list a mile long. Then you were at the top of your class—no, all of Levanter High—for the last three years. People even speculated you’d graduate early. Now—” she rifled through the stack of your test papers, “maths. English. All the sciences—the lowest scores in your grade! So—stop bouncing your leg like that, for heaven’s sake—what happened to you?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. It was the same rant every time, and the same words left unspoken: You come from one of the most influential families in Levanter Hills. You were supposed to be a prodigy. “Maybe I’ve fallen in with a bad crowd,” you deadpanned, dropping your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Doing scary...delinquent things with scary delinquent friends.”

“You don’t have any friends, Miss L/n,” Mrs. Koh sighed, massaging her temples. Despite her blunt words, there was no contempt in her voice—since that bit was true. As the most prestigious private school in the city, Levanter High admitted only the children of the elites—and it was chock full of people so two-faced you’d nearly given up on making friends entirely. Some were down-to-earth and sweet enough—like that freshman, Yang Jeongin, who nobody could really hate, or Lee Felix, the cute art kid you’d had a fleeting crush on—but rumours flew faster than test scores fluctuated, and the more people speculated about your parentage, the more they seemed to keep their distance from you.  

“I don’t think you understand the severity of this situation, Miss L/n,” Mrs. Koh continued. “If you don’t pass the final exams, not only will you be held back from graduating—you’ll be expelled from Levanter High, and transferred to the city’s...public school.” She shivered then, as though she’d uttered a curse. “Imagine the shame you would bring your poor family!”

You scowled at that. “There’s probably more personality in one of those students than all of our class combined,” you muttered under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, ma’am. May I go?”

She sighed, clicking her tongue again. Chicken. “Fortunately for you, we’ve come up with a plan. It’s a guaranteed way to ensure you graduate, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“What—”

“We’ve arranged a tutor for you.” Mrs. Koh’s eyes glinted behind her spectacles, as if pleased with her own brilliance. “One of our best in Levanter High, a star pupil.”

Your eyes narrowed immediately, nearly knocking your chair over as you jumped up in protest. “But— “

Mrs. Koh’s eyes were stern. “You start tomorrow—right after school, instead of your usual study hall period. Room 302, three-thirty sharp.” 

Mouth opening and closing in indignation, you finally sat back down with a glower. “Who even let you get all up in my business?”

She gave you a tight smile then. “Your parents.”

 “Thank you for calling Yuhan Group. Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. To leave a message…”

You sighed, jamming your finger into the End Call button before flipping your phone shut. Just like always. You didn’t know what you had expected—it wasn’t like your parents usually answered your calls anyway, always brushing it off as being “too busy.” As a matter of fact, they’d never even bothered to give you their personal numbers, leaving you with nothing but the company’s phonebook instead.

Swinging your legs lightly, you leaned back against the bleachers, their cool metal soothing your sun-warmed skin. The sky was darkening, the horizon thinning into a sliver of molten gold. Across the football field, you could spot Hwang Hyunjin and his teammates shooting hoops in the basketball court, loyal cheerleaders and lovestruck freshmen cheering by the chain-link fence. Reluctantly, you hopped down to begin the trudge home.

It hadn’t always been this way between you and your parents. Once, you’d been more than eager to win their approval in whatever you did—from letting them micromanage every aspect of your life to playing the model daughter whenever they paraded you around company dinners like a prize pony. It wasn’t until they’d forgotten your birthday the third year in a row that something in you had finally clicked. And now here you were—determined to flunk every class you’d once aced. 

Maybe it was plain spite. Or maybe it was something more complicated that you had yet to muster the courage to properly unpack. Either way, you weren’t ready to confront it right now. 

A couple of detours later, you turned onto a street you’d grown familiar with—on the narrower side and crooked like a nervous smile, the concrete caved in and pockmarked with potholes. Tortoise Alley—where the buildings looked like shoeboxes that had been packed haphazardly together, unlike the Upper End of Levanter Hills, with its academies and business firms lined up as neat as Monopoly pieces. 

Street signs flickered to life as minimum wage workers awoke and headed to their night shifts. Despite the drastic change in scenery, though, you felt yourself relaxing. Here, you didn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone that knew you. After all—to people like your parents—Tortoise Alley was the poorest, most unsightly part of the city—and being seen around here would be nothing short of embarrassing. 

“Hey, Pippi,” you called out to one of the scraggly kittens dozing on the steps of the corner store. “Sylvester, Bowie!” You dropped into a squat as you greeted the stray cats one by one, feeling the first genuine smile today spread freely across your lips. “Shall I treat you guys to a fish sausage?”

They blinked back at you expectantly, Bowie giving a long, lazy yowl, and you giggled.

“I told ya, kid, your card got declined. ‘Ain’t nothin’ I can do about that.”

You looked up at the sound of the cashier’s muffled voice, and immediately ducked when you realized who he had been talking to.

Bang Chan. Student council president, head prefect, and probably future mayor of Levanter Hills if he kept at it, you thought, blinking in disbelief. He was unmistakable—his curly dark hair spilling over his downturned eyes, gray blazer pressed to perfection. 

What on earth was he, of all people, doing in a place like this?

Two packages of instant noodles sat on the counter: a thick packet of hearty beef stew boasting flavour and sliced sausages (which Bang Chan was eyeing so longingly you feared he might ask for its hand in marriage any minute now), and beside it, a dismal package of spicy cup noodles—the cheapest brand on the shelf.

Bang Chan sighed. “I’ll take this one, then.” He slid the cheaper option forward, digging out a coin from his wallet and handing it to the cashier. He tore off the packaging and filled the cup at the hot water station, propping a math textbook up against the glass of a window seat. 

You rolled your eyes. Goody-two-shoes. Pushing open the doors, you ducked in between the aisles before Chan could spot you. So his card had been declined—it wasn’t uncommon for spoiled kids to get their credit cards frozen by their parents after splurging ridiculous amounts on shopping trips and spontaneous vacations. Still, the thought of picture-perfect Bang Chan getting scolded by his parents after a scandalous night out made you smirk.

Fish sausage for Pippi, chicken for Bowie and Syl. Humming, your fingers flitted over the rows of deli meat, but the sound of muffled sniffling and heavy breathing made you stop. Peeking over the shelf curiously, you were met with the sight of the class president trying in vain to wolf the cheap noodles down, ears growing redder than the scarlet packaging itself. 

Bang Chan. You knew a decent amount about him—an over-achiever, friendly to a fault, and apparently, someone with a spice tolerance lower than your worst grade. You’d heard of him, of course—guys and girls alike couldn’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths. Bang Chan, cookie-cut from perfection. Bang Chan, the golden-all rounder. Bang Chan, the son-in-law your parents would like more than they liked you.

He’s smart, sweet, and genuine, your classmates had gushed. And ridiculously cute!  

You, on the other hand, had rolled your eyes. Genuine, my ass. Anyone with that many merits was bound to have a fatal flaw stashed away somewhere. You’d seen it firsthand, amongst inner business circles, in extortion and backdoor deals signed with warm handshakes and sweet smiles. You’d seen it with your own parents—both hailed business geniuses, hiding their torrid affairs from each other even though they both knew exactly what was going on. And so, the longer the praises got, the dirtier you were willing to bet Bang Chan’s secret was. 

Watching him wince with every bite, though, was making you fight back a laugh.

The high-pitched trill of a phone ringer nearly made you knock over the entire shelf, and you turned away as Bang Chan fished his cell out of his bag. 

“Hello? Yep, I’m on the way home, I just—what?” Worry immediately flooded his voice. “How did she scrape her knee? I’ll be back asap, just…”

Flinging the half-eaten noodles into the trash can and his books into his bag, Chan practically flew out of the door before you even had the chance to blink. You only realized you were staring after him when the cashier cleared his throat, and you snapped out of your bewildered stupor.

“D’you know that kid?” The cashier asked as he scanned your sausage packets. “He dropped his wallet on the way out. Might wanna return it to him.”

You stared at the worn tawny wallet as he slid it towards you. It didn’t take a look inside to tell it held no cash—Bang Chan really had been dead broke. Whatever he’d done, his parents were doing a fantastic job of grounding him. 

“O-oh, yeah, no problem.” 

Then a thought hit you, and you nodded at the package of ramen he’d been eyeing before. “How, uh, much is that?”

 “Hey, Prez.”

Bang Chan whipped around, catching the wallet you tossed at him just in time. His eyes widened as they darted from you to the wallet, then back to you again. 

“Relax, I didn’t take anything.” Not like there’s anything in there, you wanted to add, but you held yourself back. He hadn’t gotten too far—and there weren’t many roads that lead out of Tortoise Alley—so you’d caught up with him in no time.

“I—thank you.” His face broke into a stunned smile. “Y/n, right?” Both his warm expression and your name on his lips caught you off guard. Slowing his pace slightly, Chan stuck out a hand. 

You eyed him up and down warily. Immediately, you could tell why people liked Bang Chan so much—the boy exuded a sincerity and openness that drew you towards him like a magnet. But it was this same crescent-eyed, toothy-grinned facade you’d seen on countless other adults and classmates—before they turned around and spread rumours about you—that made you roll your eyes and thrust the packet of beef noodles into his outstretched hand instead.

If Chan knew your name, he had doubtless heard the rumours about you, and you didn’t need  to find out any more than that.

“You don’t come here often, do you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going the wrong way, y’know.” You jerked your head in the other direction. “The Upper End’s that way.”

Not waiting for him to answer, you headed back up the alleyway, counting the sausages you’d bought for the cats. Bang Chan watched you carelessly skip over the cracked concrete, nearly wincing every time he thought you were about to land in a pothole and twist your ankle. 

He shook his head, chuckling. And though you would sooner slap yourself before acknowledging it, the same expression was spreading across your face, too.

 “Did you hear? They’re giving Y/n one-on-one tutoring now.”

“The Yuhan girl? Some people really get their whole life handed to them and still aren’t grateful...”

You sighed, cranking up the volume on your Walkman as you pushed past the gossiping crowd huddled in the stairwell.

“I would’ve given up on her already, the attention-seeking brat.”

“Third floor,” you muttered, spotting the classroom Mrs. Koh had directed you to at the end of the hall. Room 302. You could feel the eyes digging into your back as you stopped in front of the empty classroom door. 

“First and last time,” you grit your teeth. Your words sounded more like a prayer. 

Operation: Terrorize the tutor so badly, he’ll never have the courage to approach you again. The way Mrs. Koh described him had made him sound like the typical timid bookworm, so a few raunchy innuendos would probably do it.

Just as you placed your hand on the knob, a force from the other side yanked the door wide open and you toppled forward with a surprised yelp. Flailing your arms with the grace of a dying swan, you collided into a rather solid...person standing on the other side. A burst of laughter echoed from the corridor—the girls from the stairwell had followed you out of meddlesome curiosity, you realised. Then, one of them made a muffled gasp—and as you peeled your face away from the chest of the person you were clumsily pressed flush against, you knew why everyone had suddenly fallen silent. 

Nose nearly brushing yours—and smelling vaguely of vanilla—the boy blinking back at you with a surprised smile was none other than Bang Chan himself. 

Eyes widening in horror, you immediately shoved him away. A glower settled on your features as you rapidly carded your hands through your hair. Why the hell is he here? You had been expecting stoic nurse’s aide Kim Seungmin, or even the student librarian, Lee Minho—and instead, you’d gotten the student council president himself. Stupid, smiling, infinitely patient— 

“Bang Chan?” The awed whispers behind you finished your horrified thoughts for you. “That lucky bitch—I want him to tutor me, too!”

“Look at the way she practically threw herself onto him. Doesn’t she have any shame?”

“D-don’t tell me,” you stammered in disbelief, “you’re the tutor?”

“Your tutor,” he confirmed, “at your service.” Chan leaned forward with a wink, and you took another instinctive step back. 

If you’d known it was going to be him, you would have never returned that damned wallet—let alone bought him that cursed ramen, for heaven’s sake. Terrorize the tutor? All your plans might as well have had lit themselves on fire and thrown themselves out the window. 

You heard Chan clear his throat as he pulled out a chair at a desk by the window. Reluctantly, you took a seat. 

“Can I see your mock exams first? We can figure out where to go from there.”

With each crumpled test package you fished from your knapsack, you could sense Chan’s eyes widening more and more. 44 percent. 20 points out of 90. And… 

“0/150?” He read aloud in disbelief, turning over your Advanced Functions paper as though looking for the missing points himself. X-marks littered the papers like a swarm of fire ants, and Chan raised an eyebrow at a question where you had scrawled, ‘It is against my religion to solve this equation.’ 

You could imagine what he was thinking—a year ago, the sight of anything less than a 90%, let alone an entire stack of failed tests, would have made you feel sick. Now, though, you felt strangely detached, watching with mild amusement as Chan perused your papers. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he furrowed his brow, one hand propping up his pale chin. Realising you were staring, you quickly diverted your attention to the window just as Chan stacked the tests into a neater pile.

“We’ve got lots of work to do, but it won’t be an impossible task.” He slid one of the mock exams towards you—the Advanced Functions paper, 0/150 emblazoned across the front.

Just you wait, you thought drily, tapping your fingers in a show of boredom.

“Let’s start with functions, yeah? Since it’s your lowest mark right now. Curve sketching and optimization, finding the asymptotes of a function.” You heard him flip open his textbook and prop it up. “To put it simply, you’re finding the derivative of the original function to solve for its limits.”

You peered out the window. “Why?”

“Well, it can tell you a lot about the graph of a function—if it increases, decreases, or stays constant on a given interval.” You could hear him sketching something on your test paper, voice low from concentration. “It’s important to identify extreme values by finding all the points where the derivative equals zero, and where it doesn’t exist.”

One of the girls that had sneered at you in class was standing on the field outside, and you quickly moved away from the window. “Why?”

“Because you’ll get a better sense of the bigger picture—especially in some special cases, like vertical and horizontal asymptotes that won’t even have limits.”

“Why?”

“Well...” You could hear the amused smile in his voice. If Chan had caught onto what you were doing, he didn’t say anything, only giving your bag a gentle pat. “Why don’t you get your notebook out and write all this down first, so you can remember it better?”

“Didn’t bring it.”

“You don’t bring a notebook to school?”

“Mhm.”

He cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at you, and for a second you thought you’d won—that maybe Bang Chan was capable of losing his temper, and you had succeeded in driving him to his breaking point. But to your dismay, he just chuckled and pulled out a lined notebook from his own bag. “You can have mine, then. It’s new.”

Taken aback, you accidentally made eye contact with Chan for the first time since crashing unceremoniously into him in the doorway.The downturned corners of his eyes gave him the semblance of a puppy—but unlike you’d initially assumed, they were completely rid of any naiveté or gullibility. Instead, there was nothing besides a calm, amused glint that seemed to pin you in place—like a flashlight that had trapped a thief red-handed.  

Bang Chan had definitely caught onto you. 

And yet he hadn’t made a move to accuse you of anything—but somehow, that made you feel even more exposed. 

Doing anything to break the tension in the room, you snatched the notebook from him and quickly flipped to a blank page. Sliding a pencil into your hand, Chan began explaining the concepts again. The session dragged on like an endless game of cat and mouse, both of you chasing the façade out of the other—and every time you thought you’d gained the upper hand, a lighthearted laugh from Chan reduced your efforts to smithereens. 

Vertical and horizontal asymptotes be damned—it was Bang Chan’s patience that seemed to have no limits.

By the end of the session, Chan had managed to wriggle three completed problems out of you, while you had gleaned absolutely nothing from him. If anything, he looked even more refreshed than before, and that frustrated you to no end.

“With that look on your face, people are gonna think you’ve lost a fight or something.” Chan closed his textbook as the clock hit 5:00 P.M. sharp, his eyes glimmering with a hidden laugh. 

You rolled your eyes, grumbling, “Yeah, right. You look like you couldn't throw a punch to save your life, Bang Chan.” 

He quirked an eyebrow again. You suddenly grew conscious of just how close together you were sitting—Chan resting his forearms over the closed books now, his bangs mere inches from brushing against your face. If you leaned in right now, a voice at the back of your head piped up mutinously, you’d be kis—

Chan leaned forward and you froze, eyes instinctively squeezing shut. After a few seconds of pitch-black darkness and your heart hammering in your throat, you heard the class president clear his throat. 

“What are you doing?”

Eyes fluttering open, you saw that Chan had been reaching for your knapsack behind you, and was now helping you tuck your papers and books back inside.

Oh.

Feeling the blood rush mercilessly to your face, you snatched your bag back, muttering, “J-just—a reflex.”

A wicked twitch of his lips. “Reflex?”

“Felt like the right thing to do. Y’know, when something scary suddenly moves at you?” You mumbled helplessly. Just let this damn day be over. 

“Hm? You’re the one who said I couldn’t throw a punch, and now I’m the scary one—where’s your fighting spirit now, Miss L/n?”

“We’re not in a fight, for heaven’s sake,” you threw up your hands, practically kicking the chair into place as you stood up. You had no idea why his words were making your face heat up so much, but Bang Chan sure had a way of making your blood boil. 

“Maybe not. But if it was, I have the feeling today’s score would be 1-0…” he leaned forward again, making your heart leap back into your throat. “Me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Big Nose,” you bit back sarcastically. For the first time today, Chan’s eyes widened in stunned indignation, and you took the chance to turn on your heel and march out the door. 

“1 - 1,” you called back, feeling a satisfied smile spread across your lips.

Beep.

Beep.

Be— 

The call connected right as you were about to hit End, and you were so surprised you nearly forgot all the words you’d mustered up the courage to say.

“Hello?”

“Uh—Mother?” The word felt foreign in your mouth, and your mind immediately went blank.

The other end was silent before she finally replied. “So now our daughter remembers to call?”

“I wouldn’t if I had the choice,” you muttered, kicking at the dirt at the edge of the field. The tutoring session with Chan had ended nearly an hour ago, but you never started to head home until the sun began to go down—when you absolutely had to.

You heard her give a condescending laugh. “We had to find out about all your failed tests through the principal, too. Do you have any idea how humiliated your father and I were? How long it took to cover it all up from the press? Not to mention the lengths we went through to make sure that Chan boy agreed to be your designated tutor.”

At this, your feet stalled their swinging. “You what?”

“They wouldn’t let us fake your damned spring exams, like all the others used to do—some new progressive policy about academic integrity, and all that. Naturally, we threatened to sue, but they insisted on finding you a foolproof tutor to make sure you pass.”

Your stomach churned unpleasantly. “So you and...Father agreed on him?”

You could hear the condescending smile in her voice. “Of course. You never appreciate anything we do for you, do you?”

You forced yourself to ignore her passive aggressive remarks, pushing down a biting reply. “Why Bang Chan, then?”

“They told us he was the perfect student—5.0 GPA with honours and awards, student council president, and star of the track team. Being your tutor is a prestigious position, you know, and we wouldn’t settle for less.”

Each word that came out of her mouth made it harder to resist the urge to roll your eyes, but a small spark lit up in the back of your head. “What if...he isn’t as perfect as they claim?” You began, choosing your words carefully. “The guy’s just another high schooler—and you never know what kids could get up to these days.”

Your mother chuckled. “We’ll have him disposed of immediately, of course. We won’t have any of that nonsense near the company name. But why—” 

That was all you needed. You clasped the phone shut, cutting off your mother’s lofty voice. 

Well, you had a new line of attack. 

You didn’t have to make Chan give up on you—and if today was any indication, that might as well have been a Herculean task in itself. You just had to stall his progress—long enough for you to dig up something on the seemingly picture-perfect class president that your high-and-mighty parents disapproved of. Hopping off the bleachers with a newfound determination, you dusted your hands off on your skirt and grinned. 

Time to get digging.

 “The equations aren’t going to solve themselves, you know.”

Chan was watching you in mild amusement, one hand propped up against his cheek. You only crossed your arms stubbornly, the page of math problems he’d written out for you still blank. 

“You can’t just sit there forever,” he continued, chuckling.

“Watch me.”

“As much as I’m having fun doing just that, I was given instructions not to let you go until you’ve completed some practice.” Chan glanced up at the clock on the wall. It had been at least a half hour since the school bell had rung, and the school was nearly emptied out by now. The blinds were half down, letting only a warm, dim glow filter into the classroom.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me, then,” you answered drily, spinning a pencil in your hand. “Poor you.”

Chan felt his lip quirk as you began doodling on the corner of the page. It wasn’t his first time tutoring someone, and he’d certainly seen his fair share of girls who played dumb in hopes of spending more time with him. But if there was one thing in the world Bang Chan disliked, it was two-faced people—and he’d always felt that their batting eyelashes and extravagant dates stemmed from an idolized image of himself that demanded more than Chan could offer. 

Fake or not, though, he still treated everyone the same—it was in his nature—but no one had ever quite caught his attention like you.

Whether it was the indifference you seemed to emanate with every step, or the quick-witted sarcasm coating your scathing words, there was something about you that set you starkly apart from everyone else at Levanter Hills. For the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the city—and the heir to a conglomerate business, no less—you were one of the most genuine people he’d ever met, and your unapologetic attitude left Chan helplessly chasing after more. He had a feeling you were far from stupid, but he had yet to find out why you were so dead-set on acting like it. And each curveball you threw him just felt like another layer to an equation he was determined to solve. 

With a pace akin to that of pulling teeth, you finally finished two questions. As much as you hated to admit it, Bang Chan was a phenomenal tutor, and he made it nearly impossible for you to make the same mistakes twice. The two of you were engaged in a simultaneous race against time—Chan’s valiant efforts to finish tutoring you before the spring exams rolled around, and you searching high and low for any information you could use as leverage against him with your parents. 

You were running out of excuses. And the only thing really distracting you were those stupid dimples of his every time you failed to get on his nerves. 

Damn it, Y/N, focus.

Before you knew it, a month had flown by, alongside several more units. And you hadn’t found anything, no matter how hard you’d tried. From tracking him down in the hallways to eavesdropping on your classmates’ mind-numbing gossip, all your efforts had been fruitless.

The ‘bag of weed and pills’ you’d spotted Seo Changbin giving him one morning had turned out to be nothing but herbal teas and vitamin supplements. 

Chan had turned down the invites to all of Hwang Hyunjin’s wild parties with an apologetic smile.

And no matter how many times you watched him misplace his tattered wallet and go hungry during lunch, he’d never even stolen a single cookie from the cafeteria.

Even on the evenings after your tutoring sessions, when all the other student council members pulled out fake IDs to hit the snooker lounges and clubs downtown, Chan headed to the school garden to read instead.

“He’s literally a robot, Minho,” you groaned, burying your head in a pile of checked-in books. “I’m failing my mission, big-time.” The student librarian patted your back sympathetically, but you could sense his amused smile without even looking at his face. 

Besides Tortoise Alley and the football bleachers, the library was one of your go-to-places to linger after school: first, because the students there were usually too busy to pay you any attention, and second, because the only person that hadn’t stopped being friends with you after you’d sent your grades plummeting was the student librarian. Lee Minho didn’t pick sides or give away secrets, and that was precisely why he was the sole person you’d been confiding in.

“You lost the moment they set you up with the president,” he laughed, clasping a binder shut and filing it away. “That guy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”

“I know,” you mumbled glumly. “I need to figure out a plan. The exams are in three weeks.”

“I wish you weren’t so adamant about failing.” Minho was smiling, but his voice was sad. That was what you found refreshing about him—Minho was honest, but he never tried to force his opinions on you. “I’m going to miss you wreaking havoc in class.”

You snorted. “They won’t.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, and you nodded in the direction of the jam-packed corridor. A gaggle of cheerleaders and upperclassmen excitedly waved for Minho to come outside before casting you looks of thinly concealed disdain. The student librarian sighed, waving them away with a polite smile.

“I have to say, though—you haven’t been searching as hard these days,” Minho remarked.

“What d’you mean? There’s nothing left to find.”

He shook his head. “You used to snoop around at every chance you got. Practically gave the FBI a run for their money. Now it feels...halfhearted, and all you do is mope around at lunch.”

It was true—you used to leap at every lead you got, scribbling wild theories in your notebook and forcing the amused librarian to listen. Then, the tutoring sessions had grown longer and longer, and you had felt the motivation slowly seep out of you.

“Well, I’m not exactly eager to ruin his reputation,” you finally muttered sheepishly. 

Minho had a strange glint in his catlike eyes. “Weren’t you, though? You used to be ruthless to anyone who tried to get in your way. So what makes Bang Chan different?”

“Because—” you gesticulated wildly, trying to unscramble the thoughts in your head, “if I fail now, they’ll punish him too, and the thought of that...” Somehow, the thought of that’s become more unbearable than my parents’ iron grip on my life. 

You stopped yourself before blurting out the rest, but there was a knowing grin spreading across Minho’s face nonetheless. Before you could reach over to smack him, he jumped to his feet, calling, “Library’s closing!” 

You pinched him and he yelped, laughing. “See ya, asshole.”

Truth be told, underneath the back-and-forth quips and playful sarcasm, being with Bang Chan had become one of the few safe places you had left in this city. Maybe it was because when the school bell rang, you no longer wandered the streets aimlessly until the setting sun eventually forced you to head home. Maybe it was because—despite his firm lectures and lessons—Chan had never forced any expectations on you. for once in your life, you didn’t feel like your reputation preceded you. Chan had never brought up the rumours that flew, but he’d never treated you differently, either. And in fleeting moments like these, when you reached the empty classroom and were greeted with Chan waiting expectantly against the doorway—dimpled smile and all—you felt yourself wanting to freeze time forever.  

“How was the probability test?” He asked, closing the door and pulling out a chair for you.

“Awful,” you declared dramatically as you plopped yourself down, and he laughed. The sound made something in your chest ache. “I didn’t understand a single thing.”

Chan didn’t reply, his smile faltering. His brow was furrowed, and before you could ask him what was wrong, you felt his hand gingerly reach behind you and peel something off the back of your jacket. 

Two pieces of torn lined paper fluttered onto the desk. SPOILED BITCH was scrawled across one in cursive red ink, FUGLY SLUT following closely on the other.

Oh. Your ears reddened, images of the whispering girls who you always squeezed past in the stairwell flashing through your mind. How long had they been stuck on your back?

Chan’s expression had darkened, and you nudged him lightly to ease the sudden tension that had gripped the room. “I—wish they’d come up with something more original sometimes. They’re just from—some of the people I used to be friends with, before all the, um—” you gestured to the pile of assessments, shrugging. “It happens all the time. It’s okay.”

The look on Chan’s face said otherwise. A part of you ached to tell him the real reason behind the botched exams—about your parents’ sky-high expectations, the suffocating feeling of having the public’s eyes on your every move; about the corporate world you both despised and were in line to inherit. Chan was watching you with eyes so soft you instinctively tore your eyes away, throat tight and face burning hot. Your hands quickly fumbled in your bag, pulling out your test papers.

“That’s the probability test, if you want to look through it,” you said, trying to change the subject. Chan eyed you skeptically as you handed it to him, and scanned the mark in disbelief.

“You finished all the worksheets perfectly. The questions here are practically the same. And yet…”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. The two of you had sped through five units in a week, but you didn’t have the heart to tell Chan that the only reason why you did all the questions so diligently now was to make sure you knew how to answer them incorrectly later on. And so, with every session you left with perfectly answered worksheets, you brought back more failed tests to a completely dumbfounded Bang Chan.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to review this unit again?” Chan asked uncertainly. You beamed at him.

“Nuh-uh. The exams are in two weeks. Just teach me the next one.” 

“As you wish.” He leafed through the pages, one hand sliding a pencil out from his front pocket. Flipping your test so the blank side was facing up, he quickly sketched two overlapping circles as you watched in confusion. After a moment, you realized that Chan was drawing a venn diagram.  

“Let’s compromise, because there’s one important probability review I think you need.” He tapped at the left circle, eyes studying yours. “Let’s say this is you—Event A.” Then he pointed at the right circle. “And that’s Event B. That can be—your classmates. Teachers. Parents.” He paused. “Ex-friends.”

He was still thinking about the notes, you thought, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure what he was getting at.

“You’re what probability theorists would call...mutually exclusive events. There are zero outcomes in common, because the events are independent of each other.” He lightly shaded in each side, leaving the overlapping centre blank. “Nothing one does—” Chan firmly scratched out Event B, “should ever affect the outcomes of the other.” Tapping Event A, which you noticed he’d labelled ‘Y/n.’ He pushed the diagram towards you now, a small smile on his lips. “You are your own phenomenon, no matter what the others try to make of you, see?”

You stared back at him, a thousand different thoughts coursing through your mind. 

It was incredibly stupid. Ridiculously cheesy. The metaphor barely made sense. 

And yet it was the cutest thing you had ever heard.

“You’re smiling,” Chan declared triumphantly, and your expression immediately soured.

“No, I’m not.”

“So you did understand it! And my metaphor worked. You’re my star pupil.”

Your cheeks flared redder than the markings on the paper. My star pupil. “No, I didn’t. It made zero sense. That was the nerdiest—”

Chan’s laughter made you slowly trail off, and you felt a stubborn smile tug at your lips, chest relaxing as you reluctantly broke into laughter, too. 

Yes—it was moments like these when you found yourself wishing you could stop time.

“One week left until the spring exams! Take out your textbooks, we’ll be drilling some review problems…”

Time was ticking, and your search had grown more frantic than ever. If you didn’t find some viable excuse to have Chan dismissed as your tutor, you only had two options left—and you were no longer sure which one was worse.

If you still failed the exams, your parents would undoubtedly find a way to punish Chan instead. 

And if you passed the exams, you would be stepping onto a path that would seal the rest of your life in a world you wanted nothing to do with.

“There has to be something,” you muttered helplessly. You were bouncing your notebook up and down your lap anxiously, the page you’d titled Operation Bang Chan riddled with countless crossed-out ideas. Drugs? Nope. Theft? Nope. Party animal? Never in a thousand years. 

The doors of one of the school entrances swung open, boisterous laughter breaking through the still afternoon air. 

“You sure you don’t want to head downtown with us today? Loosen up a little before exam week.”

“I’ve got plans today.” Chan’s voice made you duck for cover, peering through the slats of the bleachers. It was the student council, having just disbanded their weekly meeting. 

His answer had roused a few whistles from the boys, and you could spot some girls’ jealous expressions from yards away. “No way,” a blonde girl exclaimed, “are you taking someone out?”

Another boy gasped theatrically. “Is it that girl you’ve been tutoring? She’s old money, you know—you’d be filthy rich if you scored.” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

Your heart skipped a beat, but Chan waved him off, shaking his head as they let him go. You didn’t realise how hard you had clenched your fists around your notebook until you felt the sharp sting of a papercut. Old money, spoiled brat, entitled bitch—you thought you’d long since grown used to the labels people liked to slap on your name, but hearing them thrown around Bang Chan somehow felt like ripping off a fresh bandage again. 

Shoving your books back into your bag, you carefully hopped down and started after Chan, hiding on the other side of the chain-link fence so he wouldn’t spot you. All the other sports practices had ended, leaving only a few stragglers batting on the baseball diamond or shooting hoops in the basketball court. Soon enough, though, you had stepped off campus and were weaving in and out of golf trails, still tailing him. Only as you passed stretches of freshly cut park fields and pruned flower gardens did you realize that Chan was heading in the direction of Tortoise Alley. 

Sure enough, he made a sharp detour—and you stepped onto paved concrete again, the familiar crooked road opening up before you. 

You lingered by the corner of the street, staring after the raven-haired boy curiously. Where on earth is he going? 

A mewl came from your feet where Pippi and Jimi had slinked over, and you shushed the cats, petting them distractedly. When you looked up again, Chan had disappeared. Frowning, you squinted down both ends of the alleyway before spotting him behind the windows of the corner store again. Another packet of cheap instant ramen was clutched in his hand, and you snorted incredulously.

If eating nothing but junk was a capital crime, you’d have hit the jackpot.

Chan emerged from the store, breaking into a light run to catch a crossing light. As if on cue, his wallet tumbled out of his back pocket and back onto the corner store steps. 

Sighing, you dusted your knees off—despite the cats nipping at your shoelaces in protest—and jogged over to the corner store to pick the tattered wallet up. Empty again, besides his cards, IDs, and numerous receipts—all for the same brand of cheap instant noodles.You shook your head in disbelief. With all that ramen, he’ll die of a stroke before he finishes exam week.

“Can I get two sandwiches?” You called over to the cashier, digging out your own wallet. You quickly slid the change over the counter, eyes not moving from Chan’s dwindling figure in the distance. “Two sandwiches, some sausages...and an iced tea, for good measure.”

Muttering a quick thank-you, you grabbed the items and dashed out of the store to catch up. Chan was heading in the same direction as the first day you’d bumped into him—where the roads slowly began cracking open so badly they became more packed dirt than paved concrete. The buildings, too, seemed to sag with every turn of the block—brick walls worn through until the scaffolding was exposed, and tangled telephone wires hanging low above your head like dozens of thin black snakes.

You finally reached the end of the uneven sidewalk, where Chan walked up to what could only be described as the most dilapidated house on the street. The yellowed lawn was littered with shingles, torn from the roof from spring thunderstorms and wear. The windows were so packed with grime you couldn’t see a single thing inside. Broken furniture and debris were piled in the driveway.

What was Chan, of all people, doing in a neighbourhood like this?

Crouching behind a stack of discarded lumber, you squinted across the darkening street. Chan pulled out a ring of house keys from his pocket, and your eyes widened.

Bang Chan lived here?

The screen door unlocked with a shrill squeak. Inside, you could hear children’s voices—younger siblings—shriek in delight, and a toddler tackled Chan’s knees from behind the door. He chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair just as another small girl jumped out from behind the door.

There’s no way. If Chan’s family came from one of the poorest neighbourhoods in the city, then how on earth did he afford to attend Levanter High?

Your body seemed to react faster than your bewildered mind, hands scrabbling for your cell phone. Flipping it open and fumbling for the camera function, you snapped a photo—instantly feeling a rush of guilt and self-loathing wash over you with each click of the button. It’ll be better than my parents threatening to ruin his life if I fail, you reminded yourself, gritting your teeth. But your reasoning did little to stop you from feeling as though you had stumbled across something forbidden. Somehow, this felt even more illicit than any of the wild ideas you’d written in your notebook, and you could feel your fingers trembling around the flip phone. Get yourself together, y/n. You forced yourself to poise the phone again, clicking the button—and froze when a bright flash burst forth from the camera. 

You instantly slapped a hand over the light as the street fell silent. Heart racing, you lowered the phone—and stopped dead when you realized Chan had turned around. 

He was now staring straight at you.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart plummeting into your gut. He was already ushering the children back inside, a thousand emotions flickering across his face visible even from across the road. He slammed the front door shut, leaving only the two of you standing on the darkening street.

Your mind was racing. Run. Stay. Hide. Walk towards him. Explain everything. Lie your way out. 

Once again, your body responded first, pulling you up and feet stiffly dragging you forward. Still, you kept your gaze trained on the crumbled concrete, knees burning from squatting for so long. When you had reached the steps to his house, you couldn’t bring yourself to move any closer, and instead, your eyes wandered up slightly, fixing on the toes of Chan’s shoes. They were clean but overworn, you realized numbly—to the point where even the tread on the sides looked smooth. Why hadn’t you ever noticed before?

Of course, you knew the answer to that question—it had simply never occurred to you. Everything that drew you to Bang Chan had always been beyond the surface, from the mischievous light in his eyes when he laughed at your stubbornness, or the way his soft smiles could feel like home.

Nothing, though, like the frigid stare he was fixing on you now.

“Have you been following me?” The unfamiliar flatness in his voice made you shrink back. 

“I-I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” The words seemed to jumble on your tongue. I got lost? That was my flashlight? I was just trying to ruin my own life, not expose yours? You could smell the lies in your words from a mile away, and judging from the look you could feel Chan giving you, he wasn’t impressed, either.

“I doubt you came all this way just to ask me about your homework.” Your eyes darted up to his face, and you almost flinched at how stony his expression had become. His piercing gaze was moving between the phone in your right hand, and his wallet in your left. Anyone could see that you had absolutely no reason to be in this neighbourhood—let alone with your cell phone out, camera poised and flashing.

This was definitely enough for your parents to demand a tutor change. You’d gotten what you wanted. So why did you feel like absolute crap?

“You live here?” You finally asked, your wavering voice making you wince.

He crossed his arms. “So what if I do?”

The obvious answer hung suspended in the suffocating air. Like all elite schools, Levanter Hills only admitted children from families with high-earning incomes or illustrious bloodlines. It was one of the many reasons why you despised its system to its core. Only a select few from “subpar” socioeconomic backgrounds were let in on merit-based scholarships that worked them to the bone—if they were lucky. Those kids either hid their backgrounds or else they wouldn’t last—tormented by the others to the point of dropping out. So you’re not supposed to be here.

“Delete that photo.” Chan’s sharp voice cut through your thoughts. “Now.”

“Chan, I—”

“Save it,” he growled. “So everything was true? What they all say about you?” You recoiled, and he gave an incredulous laugh. “You really don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself, do you?” He motioned towards the phone in your hand. “After all, everything’s just a punchline for you to use. And I thought you were different.”

Feeling a lump forming in your throat, your shaking eyes met his narrowed ones, and suddenly everything made sense. The long afternoons tutoring you without a single complaint. Why he could put up with every tedious trick you pulled with the patience of a saint.

“Give me the phone.”

“What if I sent it to everyone?” You demanded, striding up the steps defiantly until you were practically nose to nose.

“Don’t you dare—”

“Why?” You shot back. “Because you don’t want everyone to know you’re here on a scholarship?” 

Chan’s eyes widened as if he’d been slapped, and you huffed an incredulous laugh. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were just tutoring me to keep your scholarship?”

“Y/N—” 

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, and the hand Chan had instinctively reached towards you stiffened. “All that—phenomenon crap and stupid mutually exclusive events—that was all just sweet talk, too, then?” A dry laugh forced itself out of your throat as you muttered, “You’re just like everyone else. Playing any role if it gets you what you want.”

“Play?” Chan spat. You wanted to hit a nerve, Y/N. Congrats, you did it. “Maybe this is all a game to people like you—from your grades to your parents’ money to the people trying to help you—but I’m not playing along. I can’t afford to.”

You could feel the hurt and anger rising in your chest now—that same, horrible, childish anger you’d harboured against your parents, classmates, and life for so long. It was from this anger that you’d crafted a mask of spite, stopping at nothing until the day you could tear the expectations the world had tied you down with to shreds. But with anger soon came tears, and the last thing you wanted today was for Chan to see you cry. 

Biting your bottom lip to keep it from trembling, you shoved his wallet—along with the bulging bag of food—into Chan’s chest so hard he nearly stumbled back. Jamming your hands into your pockets, you turned on your heel and stormed back up the street before Chan could open his mouth again.

An overwhelming silence seemed to swallow Chan the moment you disappeared from his sight, and he felt his fists clenching involuntarily. A timid click behind him made him turn around, his baby brother opening the door a crack and peering at him worriedly. 

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about me. Take—here.” He quickly opened the plastic bag, but his fingers stalled when he saw its contents. Huge deli sandwiches, sausage sticks, a full flask of iced tea—food he’d only been able to stare longingly at before, not daring to overspend even trivial savings on simple luxuries. He never even thought you’d noticed.

“You’ll do it, won’t you?”

The principal peered at Chan expectantly over his glasses. Before Chan could reply, the older man added, “It’s just a tutoring job, and I’ve noticed your extracurriculars have been lacking lately. You do remember you’re here on scholarship, and all?” There was a sly edge to his voice that gave his kindly gaze a sour twist.

Chan swallowed hard. “O-of course. But who…?”

“Y/n L/n.” The principal looked smug with Chan’s answer. “Her parents own the leading retail business in the country, and she’ll need a clean academic record to inherit that company without any complaints from its stakeholders. She’s bright, of course, but her marks have been falling drastically as of late. Nobody knows why, but that’s not the concern—your job is just to make sure she passes the spring exams, understood?”

Chan nodded absently as the principal prattled on, snippets of his words jumping out at him. Born into a million-dollar family. Used to be a prodigy, but now she seems determined to be a delinquent, instead. Everything about you should have put him off, but he’d spotted you around his neighbourhood. The first time, he had been astonished—there was no reason for someone like you to be in a place like that—and yet Chan had never seen someone look so at ease. He had seen the way you hand-fed scraps of sausages to the strays every day, and called each kitten by name. In those moments, you looked unguarded—tranquil, but unmistakably lonely, completely unlike the ugly rumours attached to your name. 

“If she fails, she’ll be dropped to the public school.” The principal fixed Chan with a knowing look, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the air between them. And you’ll follow her there. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Staring into the principal’s condescending eyes, Chan felt his stomach churn. He might not have known what it was like to be born into a million-dollar family, but he knew better than anyone how it felt to be held to suffocating expectations wherever he went. The reputation he’d carefully built was immaculate but fragile, and just looking at the principal was a constant reminder that the shadows of the life he’d been born into would precede him no matter how hard he worked.

You’re just like everyone else. Hell, maybe he was. Chan hadn’t missed the way your lips had quivered before you’d quickly turned away, and he’d fought the urge to pull you back. You don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself, do you? 

His mind flickered back to the scholarship the principal dangled above him like a tantalizing dog bone. 

And why it felt like he had just lost something much, much more.

It had been nearly a week since your encounter on Chan’s doorstep. 

You’d missed all your tutoring sessions since, ignoring Mrs. Koh’s harping calls after you as you stalked out of last period every day. Every time Chan spotted you in the hallways, you immediately made a sharp turn into the closest corridor, letting the other students drown you in their sea of pressed gray uniforms.

Why did it bother him so much? No rumours about him had surfaced. Even so, he found his mind wandering more towards you than the photos you’d taken of him that day.

“This is your last practice test before the spring exams,” his homeroom teacher called out, clapping her hands. “As usual, your rankings will be posted on the bulletin outside…”

He filled in the test absentmindedly, perking up when the sound of two teachers whispering worriedly in the hallway reached his ears.

“I don’t know how they could’ve gotten in! An answer sheet for yesterday’s test is gone!”

“Are you sure it was stolen?”

“Positive. I could’ve sworn I left it in the copy room...who would’ve done something like this?”

Chan was out the door the moment the bell rang, gut instincts propelling him down the hallways and up the two flights of stairs until he reached the third floor. Heart racing, he threw open the door to the tutoring classroom. For the first time in the past week, your bag was lying on the desk as if you’d intended to sit down, but you were nowhere to be seen. And sure enough—sticking out shamelessly from the front pocket, in broad daylight—was a crisp answer sheet, and one wrinkled test. 

Feeling the blood rush to his face, Chan snatched the papers out of your bag with a breath of disbelief. I knew it. He had to have been a fool for worrying about you all this time, for wondering if his words had been too harsh. Just as he thought—you had been making fun of him all along. Never had he ever thought you would stoop this low, but this was the final straw. As he turned over the papers, hands trembling with anger, Chan spotted something that made him stop. Furrowing his brow, he took a long, hard look at your test—then back at the stolen answer sheets in disbelief. 

You had purposely filled in all the opposite answers.

That was why you had stolen the answer sheet? That’s...unheard of. It can’t be. Dumbfounded, he shook your bag lightly, but nothing else fell out except for a chipped No.2 pencil and the black composition notebook he had given you. The pages flopped open, revealing a well-thumbed page riddled with pen marks and scribbles. Operation Bang Chan had been scrawled across the top, and Chan squinted curiously, trying to decipher  the scratched-out notes.

Operation Bang Chan, you had written in block letters, find out what he’s hiding!!!

Maybe he sells drugs? was crossed out furiously, followed by goes to HHJ’s wild parties? The crossed-out list went on, and the conspiratorial notes slowly turned into shorter, more miscellaneous ones: 

Takes way too many caffeine pills!! *Note: Tell him to sleep more. 

Does he ever stop reading?

Likes beef noodles. (flaw: eats too much instant ramen?)

Forgetful AF!! Gotta staple his wallet to the back of his pants sometime.

Despite himself, Chan chuckled. Finally, at the bottom of the page, he caught sight of a few barely-legible lines that hadn’t yet been scribbled out.

Mom says they’ll stop making him tutor me if he’s not as perfect as they say. Gotta get rid of him before they start blaming him, too.

He frowned, setting the notebook down carefully as words from his meeting with the principal rang in his head. She used to be a prodigy, but now she’s hell-bent on being a delinquent instead. All you need to do is make sure she graduates, understood? 

Chan glanced from your latest failed test to the notebook, mind wandering to all the ways you had tried to worm your way out of each tutoring session. He thought back to the night he’d caught you with your flashing phone camera, and the way you had looked like the ground had been yanked out from beneath your feet. You—someone who he’d known to always have a quick, witty response to anything he said, unable to form a single explanation.   

You had been purposely trying to fail, and you wanted him gone—that much was clear. But why? He scanned the empty classroom again. And where on earth could she have gone?

Chan dashed into the hallways, peering into classroom windows from door to door. A group of girls lit up and tried to stop him, but Chan brushed right past, search growing more and more frantic. After ten minutes of futile searching, he had reached the end of the last emptied corridor, and was about to give up when a strange sound made him stop.

Halting in his tracks, he pressed his back against the door he had heard it coming from. He was at the very end of the hall, everything silent besides the pounding of Chan’s heart—and, if he held his breath, the unmistakable sound of someone sniffling. Before he could debate whether or not to knock, a shrill voice he didn’t recognize pierced his ears—tinny and crackling, as though coming from a cell phone.

“Ungrateful brat—say that one more time, I dare you.”  

“I said,” the sound of your voice made Chan turn his head in surprise, peering through the tiny crack the wooden door had left open, “it’s not the tutor’s fault. I won’t pass, no matter what you try.”

You were standing with your back pressed against a desk, phone in hand. Your voice was remarkably steady, but Chan caught the way your bottom lip quivered violently.

“You stop your ridiculous whining right this instant—”

“It’s not whining,” you breathed a laugh, throat tight with frustrated tears, “it’s crying. But I guess you’ve never been around whenever I cried as a kid, so you wouldn’t know.”

“Why are you spouting all this nonsense now?”

Your free hand was clamped onto the edge of the desk, knuckles white from how hard you were clenching your fist. “Maybe I’m sick of you guys making every single decision for me. Maybe because it’s been s-suffocating me, and I just want you to listen for a change. And it’s not nonsense—I’m being completely serious.” You paused, trying to stop your breath from trembling. “But you’ve never taken me seriously, either, have you?”  

The older woman on the other end of the phone—your mother, Chan realised—huffed indignantly. “You don’t want us making the decisions for you? As if you could ever amount to anything if it weren’t for our help! Kids like you shouldn’t be making adult decisions.” She sneered, adding, “Without us, where would you even be? With those dregs in the public schools and slums, who’ll never accomplish even a fraction of what you could! Don’t get smart with me, young lady.” 

“A kid from those neighbourhoods has already done much more than I ever could at this damned school.” Chan’s head snapped up then, heart leaping into his throat as you continued furiously. “Yes—everything I have is because of you. Because of you, the only people who want to be my friend are people who want my money or social circles. Because you’re s-so great, everyone sees the power of your names before they care to find out who I am as a person.” You inhaled shakily, ignoring your parents’ protests on the other end of the line. “You want to know the truth? I envy those kids from those neighbourhoods, Mother. At least they can say they worked hard for what they have.”

There was a long sigh from the other end, and the sound of your mother shushing your father’s angry shouts in the background. “We just want you to be the best, sweetheart—we only want the best for you, see?” The fake sympathy in her voice made Chan’s stomach twist. “We want you to succeed, to lead the company like you were born to do—”

“But have you ever asked me what I want?”

A long silence fell, save for the sniffling you were trying desperately to muffle, and Chan’s heartbeat roaring in his ears. 

“What?” Your father demanded angrily.

“How could you possibly want anything else?” Your mother laughed, sounding genuinely confused.

“Stop calling me already,” you whispered. “You only call me when you want something from me. But you’re never on the line during the holidays, and you never call me on my birthday, either. You never wanted a daughter—you wanted a damn trophy.”

Your father sputtered angrily, “Who—who taught you to say all this? Get back here this instant, or we’ll call the school. You can’t just keep running away from this, you—”

There was a clattering crash as you threw your phone across the classroom, and you sank to the floor in an exhausted heap. Why were you doing all this? It was a question that had been thrown at you since you’d first let your marks drop, and now you knew the answer better than ever. Because it was the only way you knew how to shatter the mold you had been born in, to get back at the endless expectations your parents tied you down with like a tightening leash.

As you finally let the tears flow, shoulders heaving from the force of each muffled sob, Chan was hit with the sudden realization that somehow, you were just as trapped as he had always felt himself. By some sick twist of fate, you—a girl from Levanter Hills, a neighbourhood he both despised and longed after—had no more control over your own life than he did.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the classroom door open slightly. The creak made you jump like a startled cat, your tear-filled eyes widening. You instantly shrank away when Chan took a step forward, and he felt his heart break.

“What?” You muttered, flustered gaze falling on the answer sheets he still clutched in one hand. “You here to s-scold me, too?” 

Glancing down at the papers, Chan folded them quietly before stuffing them into his back pocket.

You were wiping at your tears furiously. “Fucking—hell. Damn it all,” you cursed, but no matter how hard you tried, they wouldn’t stop falling—and so you resorted to turning your back to him. “Go away, Bang Chan. I hate it when people see me cry.”

“I won’t look, then,” Chan promised earnestly. You were now burrowed underneath one of the desks, and he sat himself down, facing away from you. You could feel his back brush against yours slightly with every inhale he took, the warmth radiating from his palms next to yours on the polished floor, and inexplicably felt another sob threatening to give way.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chan asked quietly. You didn’t have to ask to know he was talking about the phone call. So he heard everything.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” you shrugged, exhaling slowly. “Besides, you didn’t need to know. Who c-cares why a spoiled brat with everything handed to her wants to fail her exams?”

There was a beat of silence. Then came his soft reply. “I do.”

You turned your head at that, heart leaping into your throat. He really wasn’t looking at you, you realized—his knees were tucked in, mirroring you and staring at the other end of the classroom. Bang Chan, always a man of his word. You almost wanted to smile. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, y’know.”

At that, Chan did turn around, and you nearly flinched back at how close his face was to yours. “I’m not.” You looked away immediately, still trying to stop the damned tears from spilling down your cheeks.

“Alright,” you muttered, “now stop looking at me. You promised.”

You could sense a small smile on his face as he turned away again. His back was directly pressed against yours now.

“You didn’t tell anyone about the pictures,” Chan finally said after a couple beats of silence, and you scoffed. 

“Why would I?” Chan raised an eyebrow as you sighed. “Everyone has things they’d rather the world not know. It’s not like you did anything wrong, anyways. Not like me.” You mumbled the last part sheepishly, painfully aware of the photos still sitting in your battered phone.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you heard him reply, and before you could roll your eyes, Chan continued, “Well technically, you never did anything with the pictures. I’ll just assume that you were so...dazzled by my charms you were dying to snap a few photos of me, yeah?”

“N-no! I—” you wheeled around in protest, but gave up when you saw the mischievous grin on his lips. You sighed, settling for a light smack on his arm. Despite the heat rushing to your ears, you felt yourself relaxing. Sitting there in a quiet classroom and watching the sun begin to set outside the half-closed windows felt like a rare kind of intimacy—not the tales of intimacy from jocks and cheerleaders against locker room walls, or the intoxicated kind you used to hear your ‘friends’ boasting about after Hyunjin’s parties. It was an intimacy that demanded stripping off prejudices instead of clothes, one that washed away the fake bravado you had been using as a crutch for so long. You wanted to lean into Chan’s warmth, his steadying presence dissolving the tension that had seized up your body the moment your parents had called you.

“None of what they said was true, you know?” Chan spoke again, more softly this time. “All that crap about—never being able to get anywhere without their help, I mean. None of those marks from previous years were a scam, which means all your talents and accomplishments—must’ve come from up here.” He lightly tapped the back of your hair, then added thoughtfully, “You’re mutually exclusive events, after all. A phenomenon that—”

“Shut up, you big-nosed sap, just—shut up,” you cut him off, but there was no venom in your words—not even a hint of your trademark, biting cynicism, and Chan broke into a grin. “And don’t smile like that.”

He looked bemused. “Why not?” 

Your eyes flickered down to his lips only for the fraction of a second, but the words were already tumbling out of your mouth.

“It makes me want to kiss you.”

You half-expected Chan to laugh it off, or even roll his eyes like he usually did whenever you teased him. What you certainly hadn’t expected, though, was for him to cock an eyebrow at you, unflinching. “Then do it.”

His gaze was piercing—challenging, almost, any trace of the goody-two-shoes you’d teased relentlessly completely gone. Flustered, you tore your gaze away.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finally mumbled. You could tell Chan hadn’t anticipated this question, his expression turning pensive. I gave you hell during all those tutoring sessions. I filled in all the questions wrong on purpose. I spent all my free time trying to bring down your reputation.

Chan could guess all your unspoken words without even glancing at your face. He would have been lying if he said the same question hadn’t crossed his mind multiple times before. But the truth was, Chan had always seen in you what you didn’t see in yourself. 

Why are you being so nice to me?

“Because you deserve it,” he replied simply, and when you made an unconvinced noise, he continued. “Because I’ve seen the way you fight off the bullies for some of the freshmen. And the way you stop by Tortoise Alley every evening to take care of the abandoned cats on your way home. Because, despite all your biting words and bravado, you’re the only person I’ve ever seen not retaliate against the people who torment you every day.”

And when his eyes met yours for a split second, Chan finally found the courage to confess the last reason—the one that had trumped all the rest.

“Because—somewhere along the way, I think I ended up falling in love with you, too.” 

Your eyes widened, but Chan’s gaze was as soft as it was steady, holding you firmly in place as you felt your heartbeat quickening erratically.

“Are you blushing?” He nudged you teasingly, making you sputter in protest.

“Leave me alone!”

“But I like seeing you flustered.”

“It’s only because I’m embarrassed by your lame attempt at being cute,” you grumbled, the blatant lie making your voice sound pitchier than usual. No doubt Chan had picked up on this, because his grin had grown wider than ever.

“Mm. So you think I’m cute?”

“Speak for yourself. Prim and proper Bang Chan’s fallen for the heretic of the school,” you declared in a sing-song voice, smirking when his face glowed bright pink. Laughing, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, feeling his hair brush against your cheek when he did the same.

“You’ll be rid of me soon,” you finally reassured him. “I’ll just steal the answer sheets again so they expel me for cheating or something. Then they won’t be able to blame you f—”

Before you knew it, Chan’s hands had locked around your wrists, forcing you to turn around and face him. His furrowed brow made your heart skip a beat, and you fell silent. In the warm shade, his dark pupils had dilated with a look so intense you almost thought he was angry—or was it because of something else? 

“Wh-what?” You stammered indignantly, trying to yank yourself free, but Chan didn’t budge—only sighing, and forcing you to look at him again.

“You know, there’s another way to get back at your parents without screwing up your own life.”

You were trying to to give him a skeptical look, but Chan watched your pupils dart nervously between his face and down to the floor. You had never liked attention, he noticed, but that had never stopped his eyes from instinctively searching for you amidst crowded classrooms and bustling hallways every chance that he got. He could focus throughout four-hour exams, monotonous council meetings, and he’d mastered every studying tactic in the book—but the moment Chan thought of you, his mind went all over the place. He couldn’t help it—there had just always been something else beneath the nonchalant façade you put on that drew him to you. Maybe you had never liked attention, but it just so happened that Bang Chan only ever had eyes for you.

“How?”

He didn’t reply, eyes only flickering down to your lips for a split second, and before you knew it, Chan was kissing you. 

Your mouth parted in surprise, and he pulled back slightly with the panic of one suddenly awakening from a dream, apology already tumbling from his lips. But your hands found his lapels before your head could make sense of it all, pulling him back down with a desperation you didn’t know you had. His lips crashed against yours like the final answer to an unsolved equation, a silent response to the question you’d asked moments before. When you tangled your fingers at the nape of his neck, you felt Chan’s self-control shatter, and he began kissing you back, harder than before, the kind of kiss that left your skin burning and all your nerves alight with a thousand tremors. One of his strong arms found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer into him as his other hand tilted your chin up to give his lips better access. Your teeth brushed against his lower lip and he groaned softly, low in his throat, mouth parting—and a jarring clang sent your eyes fluttering back open. Chan cried out in pain, and it took you a second to realize he had knocked his head against the bottom of the desk you were both curled up under.

There were a few beats of dead silence before the two of your burst into peals of laughter, Chan burying his face in your shoulder in embarrassment. You playfully rubbed the crown of his head.

“I think,” you began, still catching your breath, “I think I may like this plan of yours much better than my old one.”

Chan gave you a wicked smirk. “Well,” he murmured, nose brushing against yours, “we’d better get to it, then, hm?”

The flustered look on your face was the only confirmation Chan needed before he pulled you in for another—and much lengthier—kiss.

 “Congratulations, congratulations!”

There was a chorus of echoed praises and applause as the numerous guests your parents had invited over to their house took turns greeting them.

“Our own Y/n—the highest exam scores in the country!” A woman exclaimed, clapping her gloved hands giddily, and your mother simpered.

“That Bang Chan boy must be a fantastic tutor, too,” another gushed, before dropping their voice to a furtive whisper. “But I hear he comes from a rather...shameful disposition.”

Several gasps were elicited from the gathered crowd, one of them murmuring, “Yes, so I’ve heard…his family’s from the Lower End, no?”

“Parents work minimum wage, too...how he got into Levanter, quite frankly, is beyond me!”

Your father cleared his throat irritably. Spotting you across the dining hall, he bellowed, “Y/n!”

You immediately cringed, trying to hide in the sea of other networking business families, but your mother was already waving you over. You had hated parties like these ever since you could remember, but your parents had insisted on throwing one to “commemorate” your graduation and the end-of-year exams. Everyone looked like a walking mannequin—all spouting the same smalltalk, their polite smiles hiding backhanded compliments, but you kept your head up like you’d been taught and forced a smile of your own just the same.

“There she is! My lovely daughter,” your father cried, hands clamping down on your shoulders like a vice the moment you reached him, and you resisted the overwhelming urge to shove them away. “We really thought she had no hope, you know—teenagers these days! But she turned it all around in the end, just like I knew she would.”

“A born genius, I’d say—just like her father, with her mother’s looks!” One older businessman chortled, raising his glass of champagne, and everyone made sounds of agreement. The man’s hand had found its way to the small of your back and you grit your teeth, remembering another one of the many reasons why you despised the company your parents insisted on keeping around them. Still, you willed yourself to stay put, knowing that there was a reason why you had agreed to it all so readily. 

“Ah, that’s right—we did say you could invite some of your friends today, didn’t we, honey?” Your mother chirped at you before craning her head around the room expectantly. “Where are they? Did you ask Jia? Or perhaps that Suho boy…” she went on, dropping the names of other socialite children, and you resisted the urge to laugh.

“I did, Mother.” You spotted a familiar head bobbing in the crowded hallway and immediately began to relax. “He’s right—there!”

Your parents’ colleagues chittered in anticipation, the crowd parting with gasps and murmurs, and you felt a genuine smile spread across your face as Bang Chan walked in. 

When you’d told him about the party, Chan had immediately begun searching for a black suit and tie before you’d insisted that he dressed comfortably instead. So here he was—practically parting a sea of socialites dressed to the nines, wearing simple black jeans and a loose dress shirt with the collar undone.

Even so, he was still the most captivating person in the room.

You could sense the horror on your parents’ faces before you even turned back to look at them. “Ah,” your mother managed, throat sounding tight.

“Your—friend, yes?” Your father asked, his tone sounding more like a plead than a question.

You beamed up at Chan before looping your arm tightly in his. “My boyfriend.” 

You could practically see the smoke billowing out of your father’s ears as you rested your head on Chan’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Chan had given the man who had touched you earlier a glare you’d never even thought he was capable of, and now everyone stood a good foot away from the two of you.

All the other guests were frantically reassuring your parents, who were slowly turning purple. “You know how high school sweethearts are,” one lady crooned, and the rest parroted along.

“They won’t last long, I’m sure...she’ll come to her senses soon...just let them be young...”

“Which university have you selected, Miss Y/n?” One of them asked you, trying to lighten the atmosphere by changing the subject.

“Miroh Heights,” you replied, and they gasped in delight, glancing nervously back at your parents.

“But—but that’s all the way across the world!”

“Well, she can take over the company once she’s done her studies all the same,” your father said gruffly, and the crowd chimed in agreement.

“Such a prestigious school, too!”

“If only my boys were as gifted.”

Your parents nodded in pride, slowly beginning to calm down, and the woman turned to Chan.

“What about you, er—young man?”

 He smiled. “Miroh Heights.”

Another deafening silence swept through the room. Chan’s fingers lightly intertwined with yours, squeezing reassuringly. This might as well have been your parents’ worst nightmare—as far as they knew, Bang Chan was the suitor from hell, eloping with their prized daughter—and the fact that the pauper had won the exact same opportunities as the trophy princess they’d spent a lifetime trying to perfect was enough to make your parents look completely stupified. 

You squeezed his hand back. Mission successful. “Thank you for coming, everyone—enjoy your night!” You flashed them all your most dazzling smile before making a beeline for the nearest door. Pulling Chan along the winding corridors, you finally made it outside, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool night air hit your flushed skin.

“I—thought your mother was going to flay me alive with those nails of hers,” Chan gasped, holding onto his knees as he caught his breath.

“I can’t believe you really self-sabotaged yourself in the end,” you mused, “spreading all those rumours about yourself.”

He grinned. Despite having helped him comb back his hair, a few stubborn curls still fell into his bright hazel eyes. “Worked like a charm, didn’t it? Word travels fast in tight social circles.” Chan cast a doubtful look behind him, where guests were still milling in and out of the extravagant manor. “Don’t you want to stay, though? It’s your party, after all.”

You sighed, kicking off your heels. “That’s just the excuse my parents like to use to show off their most recent triumphs. They couldn’t care less—especially after all that.” You threw a devilish smirk back at Chan before pulling out the pins in your hair. “Bloody hell, this shit’s uncomfortable.”

Chan watched as the locks fell around your face again, hands carding messily through them. To any of the other guests, you might have looked like a madwoman. But to him, you were nothing short of stunning.  

“You’re gawking, lover boy.” You elbowed him, feeling your cheeks heat up under his soft gaze. Chan just chuckled, shaking his head and pulling you towards the gates—where an impatient Seo Changbin was waiting, his beat-up Harley humming against the curb.

“Back in my garage, 6 AM sharp,” the dark-haired boy grumbled, chucking the keys for Chan to catch. He gave you a small nod, adding thoughtfully, “And use protection, lovebirds.”

“Changbin,” Chan warned, and he held up two gloved hands in mock surrender, stepping back and eventually disappearing around the curb.

“Since when does the respectable student council president know how to ride a motorcycle?” You quipped, amused.

“Since Seo Changbin dragged one back from the junkyard, and I had to make sure the kid didn’t kill himself learning how to work one,” Chan muttered. Before you could respond, he’d hoisted you onto the back of the bike princess-style, and you giggled.

“So,” he began, “I have one last probability question for you.”

“Go for it.”

“What are the chances that...I can take you out tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, fighting the smile that was tugging at your lips. “Depends on what we’re having for dinner, because all they gave me was bad champagne.”

Chan looked genuinely worried then, bottom lip catching on his teeth. “Well, if you want to eat around the Upper End, I’m sure I could—”

“I want ramen, Prez.” You snuggled against his back, knotting your fists around his waist. “Ramen.”

His dimples appeared. “Ramen it is.” 

Chan started the engine, speeding towards the familiar haphazard lights of Tortoise Alley, and you pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck as you murmured a quiet answer to his question.

“One hundred percent, by the way.”

[ganyuslily]

as your high school sweetheart — genshin headcanons

characters: albedo, childe, diluc, kazuha, xiao

category/extra notes: modern!au, high school!au, fluff, at some parts its very cliche im sorry KDJDJS

a little summary: how would they be like in a modern relationship?

a/n: IM ACTUALLY VERY PROUD OF THIS,, i dont think it had been done before but :00 this was fun o make i have more modern!aus in my drafts ( @xiaophobic psst here are one of the modern!au hcs i have, and kazuhas kinda based off of what u sent in today )

albedo

it starts out as a lab project that you two were supposed to work on together, and even though you werent too keen on working with a guy that always seemed a little pretentious when he spoke, you decided to suck it up for the sake of a good grade. but as you work along side him, it turns out hes not so full of himself as you thought at first. you can see hes awkward and he doesnt know what to do and how to act, but under this seemingly emotionless persona, he cares. you can see it in the way he takes care of his younger sister klee, in the way he helps sucrose organize her notes, in the way he starts to check up on you even after the project is done. you notice the subtle stares and small details. the way he stays up to help you finish that late assignment, or how he helps you catch up in classes. hes always around when you need him and you dont even notice youre falling in love until uve already fallen deep. the confession is messy and clumsy, “i love u” spilled under the moonlight and gentle smiles passed in the corridors between classes. its so natural, loving him.

childe

hes that one guy everyone tells u to keep a distance from; but how can you, when his smiles are so bright and warm, when he loops his hand around your arm and intertwines your fingers when hes around you. how can you do that when hes the one that finds you crying after an exam goes wrong and tries his best to cheer you up or when the guy that made you uncomfortable yesterday now seems to be scared to even come near you. you dont know how or when you got close to him, when everything about him screamed “trouble” but to you he only meant love and adoration. he holds your hand and kisses you on the cheek before every lesson and sneaks cheesy letters into your locker. he treats you as if you were made out of glass, always gentle and patient. you dont know what you did to deserve him, but you stay with him, even when he comes to you with cuts and bruises and a black eye every other day. you only sigh and whisper “oh, ajax” and he kisses you, telling you that hes sorry.

diluc

its so gentle; no one really knows the two of you are dating. hell, even the both of you arent sure of that. but the way he treats you, walking you to your class and taking you home everyday, buying you food when you forget to take it from home in stress or buying you coffee or tea based on your mood, you think youre dating. but none of you ever made the final move to ask the other one out, so you hold yourself. you hold yourself from the urge to kiss him goodbye or hold his hands while walking around. you hold yourself from saying “i love you”, even though its at the end of your tongue. you dont have the courage to risk ruining what you already have. when he takes you stargazing, you know you should be looking at the night sky, at the twnikling lights, but how can you when the brightest one is right next to you. so when you accidentally say that hes so pretty, he looks at you with surprise and warm cheeks, as if he didnt believe what he heard. he looks at you with oh so much fondness and when you kiss you feel more happy than you ever were before.

kazuha

when you see him for the first time, you think your eyes are deceiving you; he looks like an angel with his white hair and the sunlight dancing on his skin. hes holding a brush in his hand, paint smeared on his face and hair slipping out of his ponytail. he doesnt even notice you at first, too immersed in his own work. he only looks at you when you stumble over your own feet, almost falling into him. when you catch your balance, he only smiles at you and you think your heart stops. he quietly asks if you need anything, and you say you have an art project to do. he offers to help and you shyly nod. you dont really talk a lot, especially in the beginning, but you slowly open up to each other. he speaks in short sentences, getting right to the point, but its not aggressive or rough, his voice sounding like a gentle melody. you usually sit in silence and work together in the art room after classes and thats how your relationship blooms. slipping into a relationship comes easily, it comes naturally, no one feels the need to even ask. its obvious, especially in the way you look at each other and how everyone else can always see you together. its easy. being with him is easy.

xiao

you bump into him by accident in the corridor and muster a quick “sorry”, before running to your next class. you dont even notice who he is, not realizing its the guy that attends the classes u do too. but for some reason you keep bumping into him, your books and papers flying everywhere and your face red from embarrassment. he doesnt seem to mind; he always helps you out without a word and then you part your ways. you dont talk until the moment when you meet again, and surprisingly this time hes the one bumping into you. before he manages to slip away, you quickly ask if he wants to go to the coffee shop later, my treat for you helping me out all this time, you add. and how can he say no when hes been looking for the opportunity to do the same, but he always backed out in fear of rejection. your relationship smells of coffee, his black and yours with way too much sugar and milk in, of qingqins and books from your study dates. he cares for you and you care for him. your first kiss happens also accidentally, neither of you getting rid of the habit of stil bumping into each other in the hallways. so when your lips crash and you back out, whispering a string of sorries in panic, he only cups your face and shyly asks if he can kiss you again.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hi! I wondered if you maybe have a list or guide of your fics? Idk what they’re about or where to start

Hello hello!

Sure no problem. List under the cut😌

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A good place to start I guess would be my first fic (sorry in advance, it was the first fic I'd ever written and it shows, but I swear I think I've gotten better 😅)

City of Angels au - This has been her routine for over two years. Every Monday, Thursday and Saturday she’d sit quietly, unseen by the world, and watch the most beautiful human she’d ever encountered enjoy her pre thirteen-hour-hospital-shift coffee and pastry. Not that Lexa didn’t see her other times as well, but these particular mornings felt different somehow. It was relaxing in a way. While her fellow angels tended to enjoy sunrises cresting over the waves of the Pacific, she had grown to prefer watching the first morning rays tangle themselves in perfect strands of honey wheat blonde.

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City of Angels au, Lexa's an angel who has fallen madly in love with a crass, sarcastic, curses like a sailor blonde pediatrics doctor. Doesn't follow the movie!

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This story also comes with three mini series additions that are purely for cuteness-

CoA: Meeting Mama Griffin

CoA: Just A Little Doped Up

CoA: Trick or Treat

____________________________________________

Next is its sister story, Demon!Lexa au, which I loosely suggest reading after CoA because it has tie-ins to the original story, but it's not like you'll be lost or shouldn't enjoy it if you read it first.

The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To (Is When I'm Alone With You) - So what if Lexa's skin always had a slight glow to it, the kind that made her seem young and bright, yet effortlessly timeless all at once? Who cared if the pencil skirts she wore hugged the curve of her hips in ways that made Clarke rethink every item in her wardrobe? Or if suits looked just as sinfully good on her trim frame, always complete with tight fitting vests that managed to accentuate the lushness of her deceptively round and full assets…

None of that mattered.

Lexa couldn't be trusted.

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Demon!Lexa AU where Clarke rides a fine line between wanting to tear her coworker limb from limb, and simply wanting to tear her clothes off.

Fair warning, don't read in public if you don't have a stone face

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Everything else on AO3 are stories independent from each other, so all those can be read in no particular order. My suggested order?

meet me in moonlight, under the old willow tree - Canon divergent au set a few weeks after 307. Clarke and Lexa meet in secret in the dead of night (give it a try even if canon isn't usually your thing, I promise it's not what you think)

Teach Me - professor/student au, Lexa is a 41 year old art professor and Clarke is her 39 year old student who just returned to college following her divorce. No ick factor

Medusa and The Blind Woman - A woman scorned and cursed with a crown of snakes, banished to the rocky cliffs of a desolate island by the wrath of the gods themselves. Medusa lives an existence of solitude, of self righteous resilience. Resigned to live out eternity on her serpentine throne.

That is, until Clarke crashes in.

~~~~◇~~~~◇~~~~

Lexa is Medusa. Clarke, an unwilling assassin. A new spin on the myth

Cruel intentions au - Doesn't follow the movie

My Best Friend's Wedding - Doesn't follow the movie

Romeo + Juliet Clexa au (not depressing I promise lol)

Vamp au

Witchy au

Everything else is just like little stories so, yeah

There's a couple that are only on here, but I mark ~everything~ with specific tags that you should (🤞🏻) be able to follow. Thank you!

[dragonmuse]

I had so much fun with your scenario in which Izzy becomes a writer! Do you think there's any chance of a universe somewhere where he'd become a professional chef? Maybe one that makes a name for himself making food that's both gourmet and allergen-free... I love all these possible AUs that you write, by the way <3

( Thank you so much! <3.

soooo this one became a full on fic. no bulleted list. Because of that, there was no place to put it, but Eddy in this timeline comes out in her teens and is already out when she meets Izzy. CW: There is an old-fashioned Izzy allergy attack in this one. Brief mention of a hospital, but no one stays there.

Let's call this one 'bottle of red, bottle of white' )

“Boss?”  Fang appeared at Eddy’s elbow. They were trying to sort out the reservation system that Hornigold had foisted on them last week. It was a fucking mess. 

“What?” Eddy snapped. 

“There’s an emergency.” 

Eddy whirled on Fang, who did have a wild look about him. 

“What kind?” 

“Ivan already called 911. It’s Izzy.” 

“Did he stab someone?” Eddy asked with a groan, heading back towards the kitchen.

“No, boss-” 

The kitchen was silent. The kitchen was never silent. It was a place of flames, banging pots and yelling. If Hornigold was back there (rarer and rarer these days) than it was even worse, with barks of ‘yes, chef!’ following his shouted order. 

No Hornigold today. But also no banging, no leaping cascades of fire. The rapid ‘clack clack clack’ of knives had fallen off. The entire staff seemed frozen, eyes glued to the floor. Eddy looked down and there was Izzy, sitting on an overturned bucket. Izzy who rarely let anyone touch him, had Ivan’s hand on his back, as he tried to draw in air. 

“Iz,” Eddy dropped into a squat, fear seizing her. Israel Hands didn’t sit during meal prep. He was a shark from 4pm until midnight, moving from spot to spot to ward off death.  

Izzy didn’t look up. His hands were planted to his knees and his breath was staggered. The hands were covered in furious red bumps. 

“Did he get burned?” Eddy demanded. 

“No, boss,” Blue Toby was looming over them. “All of a sudden he started wheezing.” 

“Ambulance is on it’s way,” Ivan provided. 

“Fuck,” Eddy closed their eyes, sucked in a breath than nodded sharply. “Ivan, stay on the phone. The rest of you, get the fuck back to work. Dinner service is still dinner service.  Iz...Izzy, can you hear me?” 

A slow faint nod. 

“Fang, tell Sam he's on front of house until I get this figured out.” 

“Yes, boss.” 

Industry sounds started up again, but not nearly as loud as usual. Ivan went on talking to the operator. 

Eddy put a hand over Izzy’s shoulder. Listened to the way his breath strained. 

“Don’t you dare die, you mother fucker,” She hissed. “I will dig you out of your grave and make sure you never have a moment’s peace if you die.” 

Izzy’s horribly broken out hand groped for hers. He held it tightly, eyes pressed closed. 

Eddy could hear her pulse in her ears.  

Cooking was not Eddy’s thing, really. Eating was fun though. When they’d been offered a gratis summer class on cooking at some underprivileged kids' bullshit school, Eddy had taken it figuring that at least there’d be some extra meals. It had been a condescending, terrible fucking experience, except for two things: 1. She’d met Hornigold, celebrity chef, who frequented the school to find young, cheap labor and 2. She’d met Izzy, who actually liked all the ridiculous classroom stuff and had attached himself to her like an angry limpet. 

It had only taken a two years of doing Hornigold’s bidding that Eddy realized that maybe only one of those two things had actually been good. Not that Eddy wasn’t fucking aces at her job. Restaurant management was made for her. Three years in, she ran the Ranger almost single-handedly. Hornigold’s flagship restaurant only turned profit because Eddy was at the helm. But it was miserable work. Hornigold would never unclench his fist fully around the place, swooping in to make a mess of what Eddy had finally cleaned up and taking them to task for things that no one could control for. 

No...no. The only goddamn thing worth having that she’d gotten out of that ridiculous class was Izzy.  Reliable, loyal, workaholic, Izzy, who turned all of Hornigold’s tired old recipes into something at least palatable. Izzy, who terrorized the kitchen staff into a peak efficiency, uncaring of what they said about him on smoke breaks.  Izzy, who no matter how late he’d been up the night before, was awake before Eddy and handing them coffee when they stumbled out of the bedroom. 

Her roommate, her partner, her sometimes fuck that once let her choke him in the pantry and he’d made such sweet sounds around her fingers. There were no moans today, no penetrating eye contact. Izzy was fighting for his breath against the world instead of her and that was fucking unacceptable. 

“Don’t die,” she ordered again and he squeezed her hand harder. 

“Back here!” Ivan guided in EMTs. Eddy was shoved back, but that never stopped them from staying where they needed to be. When they loaded Izzy into the ambulance, Eddy was right there beside him. 

The phone in their pocket was already buzzing with recriminations from Hornigold, some asshole probably tattled. Eddy didn’t give a single fuck. It was a restaurant, fully-staffed. Everyone would survive one night without peak service. 

Whatever they gave to Izzy in the ambulance seemed to start working. His breathing became a little less labored though nowhere close to normal. In the E.R., they get him laid out and an I.V. hooked up, but there were no rooms available, so they were just in the hallway. Eventually, Izzy groaned and sat up, head in hands. 

“What the fuck?” Eddy demanded of him, even as she rested her hand on the back of his head, brought in close enough to kiss his stupidly over gelled hair. 

“Peanut butter,” Izzy muttered. 

Eddy froze. They knew Izzy had some shit about nuts. He wouldn’t eat them. Wouldn’t cook with them either.  Seemed like one of his many weird twitches and Eddy had let it alone. What did she care if there were nuts on the menu?  But Hornigold had insisted that his latest ‘innovation’ (a dish he’d served twenty years ago and was hoping everyone had forgotten about) needed a dollop of peanut butter in it. 

Izzy hadn’t said a word as the instructions had been rattled off. But he had been wearing latex gloves all week. 

“Are you fucking allergic?” They bit off, furious they hadn’t realized before. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Did,” Izzy’s voice was raw. “He didn’t give a shit. Hadn’t had a reaction in years, figured maybe I’d gotten over it.” 

“Well, you didn’t,” she growled. 

“Yeah,” Izzy agreed. “Noticed.” 

“Should’ve told me. I can’t do shit about what you haven’t told me.” 

“You had other things.” 

It had been a bitch of a week. Eddy had been furious for most of it. Izzy never minded their temper, seemed even to enjoy it sometimes, but he wouldn’t have brought them a problem when they were like that. 

“You could’ve died, moron,” Eddy snapped. “Then what would I do? Out half the rent and a head chef? I’d have to find like ten new people to replace you.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Fuck. Hornigold legit almost killed you because he doesn’t know how to spice a stew,” Eddy realized. “You probably had like three alternatives, right?” 

“Four,” Izzy agreed. 

“Shit.” 

It took some time, but eventually Eddy was allowed to take Izzy and his shiny new Epi-Pen home. The apartment was a disaster, usually was Tuesday through Sunday.  Mondays, Izzy would tidy and Eddy would do laundry for them both. Sometimes, if Eddy was lucky, those cleaning sessions would end in Izzy cooking something just for the two of them. Something new he’d thought of while churning out ancient classics of someone else’s cookbook that would be spectacular.

Tonight, Eddy ate cold mac and cheese from a box, watching Izzy sleep in her bed. She had steered him in here when they got home and he hadn’t asked a question, just kicked off his shoes and fallen against the sheets. 

It was one thing for Hornigold to treat Izzy like shit. Hornigold treated them all like shit. But it was another to almost kill the man. Izzy belonged to Eddy. No one got to take him from her. 

After they were done eating, they got into bed and curled around him, listening to him breathe.

“Eddy,” Izzy pushed at them. They startled awake. 

“What?” 

“I need to piss.” 

“Come back after,” she demanded. 

To their surprise, he did come back and let himself be reeled in close. They didn’t cuddle usually. They didn’t ever actually sleep together, but Eddy wasn’t letting him out of her sight if she could help it. 

“We have to get out of there,” she whispered in his ear and Izzy didn’t argue. 

It took two years. Two more painful years to scratch up what they needed, to do it quietly. To find the place, to shake money out of investors that weren’t keen on handing over cash to two people in their twenties with thin resumes. In the end, all they were able to secure was a hole -in-the-wall place in a rundown neighborhood. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Eddy determined. 

“It’s a shithole,” Izzy contended, but he was smiling. Not the feral one with too many teeth that some staffers saw right before they were fired. Just the real one that he got sometimes when Eddy complimented his food. 

“We’ll make it gorgeous,” Eddy allowed. 

“You will,” Izzy walked straight back into the kitchen with a pile of cleaning supplies and a gleam in his eye. 

It took weeks of elbow grease, and a clever manipulation of funds to get the place into opening shape. Eddy sourced tables and chairs from curbsides, bringing them back to clean and paint until everything was black, purple and blue. On a whim, she even painted the horrible linoleum flooring a matte black, sealing it in with satisfaction at 2 AM on weekday. 

“Huh,” Izzy had said as he stumbled in to find them slumped over a rescued table the next morning. 

“You like it?” She challenged. 

“Should do the ceiling too,” he offered. 

They did that. Strung fairy lights up over it so it glistened like the night sky. The walls got covered in bric-a-brac, paintings that Eddy found in Goodwill, seascapes where she could get them. 

And in the kitchen, Izzy built a menu like an architect, scaffolding up dishes. Eddy’s stomach had never been fuller as she happily tucked into his ‘failures’. 

“Need a name,” Eddy said one night as they both chewed through egg-free pasta noodles drenched in garlic, oil, and oregano. 

“Choose whatever,” Izzy gestured loosely with a fork. “You’re good at that shit.” 

“You’re the executive chef,” Eddy grinned. “Just call it Hands.” 

“Fuck that,” he snorted.  

“How about Nutless?” 

“Yeah, that’ll go over.” 

“Dizzy Izzy’s?” She suggested and then cackled as he threw a noodle at her head. 

In the end, the white on black lettering on the sign says ‘Freedom, a fine dining experience’ in Eddy’s own loopy and writing and underneath in Izzy’s spiky letters ‘nut-free, egg-free, soy-free, full of flavor’. 

Running a restaurant together, without Hornigold’s interference, was both easier and harder. Eddy had complete control, but there was also no one else to blame when things went wrong. Izzy stayed in the kitchen like someone had chained him to the stove, despite have a half-decent kitchen crew. He’d even gone back to the fucking horrible school and plucked a sous-chef from their ranks. Roach swore even more than Izzy, had a pathological attachment to his meat cleaver and made the world’s most gorgeous quiches. Thanks to Roach, they expanded into brunch service on the weekends. 

“You don’t have to go in,” Eddy would remind Izzy on Sundays. “Roach has it.” 

“Busy today,” was all Izzy would say and then disappear. 

The hookups in the pantry were off the table once it became their pantry and was no longer a rebellion, but a liability to the shelving. Nights in one of their beds fell off as they both came home too tired to do anything more than sleep. 

And Eddy....they found they didn’t miss it much. It was easier to be Izzy’s business partner than his life partner. 

So they didn’t talk about it and that part of their lives died on the vine. Withered up and went cold.

“I found a place,” Izzy told them, not making eye contact. They were eating their own dinners, hurriedly over the sink as the kitchen buzzed around them. It was one of Eddy’s favorites, seared scallops, which they rarely served. That should’ve made them suspicious. 

“What do you mean?” 

“To live,” Izzy stared harder at his place. “Closer to here.” 

“Iz...” 

“I can’t stay,” he muttered. “I can’t- we can do this. Here. But I can’t be in your space all the time if we’re not...” 

“Yeah,” Eddy choked. Fuck. “Yeah, okay.” 

**** 

Izzy hadn’t lived alone for more than a few days in his entire life. Gone from home to his shared apartment with Eddy. At first, he relished the quiet. The control. No one else's things cluttering up his precious few hours of free time. But it quickly dulled. He missed Eddy desperately some days, even when...maybe especially when, he was around them for hours anyway.  

If it hadn’t been for the restaurant, maybe Izzy wouldn’t have had the balls to go. Maybe he would’ve hung around the apartment for the rest of his life, waiting for Eddy to want him again. 

But there was Freedom. There was the kitchen where he ruled with an iron fist and could spend the day elbow deep in food prep. Yes, there was still Eddy swanning in and out, poking and teasing him while they made sure the money flowed in. 

And it did. Reviews came out and Izzy read them late at night, memorizing criticism and recalling it at horrible moments, but they were generally good. People liked the food, like the atmosphere Eddy had curated with their inane knick-knacks and charisma. They were good at being partners on the steady black floors of their tiny kingdom. 

So Izzy poured himself into the restaurant. They hired more staff. Oluwande, who was a good host, came with Jim, who wandered into the kitchen one night and never went back out on the floor again and Frenchie, who made divine pastries light as air. 

“Iz,” Eddy circled up around him one night, their eyes alight. “The place next store closed.” 

“The pharmacy or the antiques place?” Izzy glanced up. 

“Antiques,” Eddy reached down, plucked up one of the bits of beef  dancing around the pan that Izzy had been cooking. Izzy had given up even pretending to threaten them about that a long time ago. Eddy had asbestos fingers and no sense of kitchen hygiene, it just was what it was. Anyway, the appreciative noise she made when she had a bite of his food had always been his favorite compliment. 

“Good,” he determined. “Hated that dusty window display.” 

“Yeah, but...” Eddy hooked her chin over his shoulder. A few years of working together, living part had left her physically affectionate again and he never shook her off. “Iz. Next door.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Space, Iz. Two stoves.  More tables. The walk-in freezer I know you jerk off too.” 

Izzy’s eyes went wide, “We can’t afford it...can we?” 

“We can,” Eddy said delighted. “We fucking will.” 

It required meeting with some rich dude that owned the building, but Eddy came back from that meeting very merry and an agreement in hand. 

“You’d like him.” Eddy declared, then wrinkled her nose. “Actually you’d probably hate him, but I like him. Anyway, he gave us a sweetheart deal.” 

They had to close for an entire month which was heart-stopping, but Izzy didn’t have time to obsess over it because he was handed a sledgehammer. To cut costs, they did a lot of the labor themselves and it was like the beginning all over again. The whole staff pitched in and the wall came down. 

“What if we didn’t do the floors black?” Eddy floated as they stood between the two spaces, only the demarcation of paint to say where one had once started and the other began. 

Izzy crossed his arms over his chest. He loved the black floors, Eddy’s first tender foray into making their mark on their space. But whatever they chose it would still be Eddy’s. That’s what mattered. Eddy out front, facing the world, Izzy in the back, making it taste better. 

“Do what you want,” he said and it wasn’t dismissive. He hoped Eddy knew that. 

The way they caught his eye suggested that they did, so he left it there. He had a walk-in freezer to stock anyway.  

He didn’t count on the chandelier. 

“What the fuck?”

“It was Stede’s idea,” Eddy said gleefully from beneath the actually very tasteful fall of crystal. 

With a bigger space, they finally put in a decent size bar. It was made of mismatched reclaimed wood, homage to their now retired mismatched furniture. Eddy hired a bartender and then informed Izzy,

“No allergies, omnivore. He suggested if you guys did a tasting he could build out a cocktail menu to match. Told him you’re shit at wine pairings.”

“Thanks,” Izzy rolled his eyes. “Cocktails though?”

“People pay through the nose for specialty cocktails,” Eddy shrugged. “Stede knew the guy, says he’s good. Works rich people parties sometimes, apparently.”

“Great.” Izzy prepared himself to spend an hour listening to a pretentious peacock pick apart his menu. He made the tasting platter as perfect as he could because that’s just how he was and brought  it out to the bar at the appointed time. 

The guy was waiting, already seated at the bar and he was a knockout. Long legs in skinny jeans, shirt so wide necked it threatened to dip off one shoulder and a creamy bit of fabric wrapped around his neck. His hair looked intentionally mussed, a fucked out look that only came from gel.

“You Spriggs?” Izzy asked, pleased that it came out nearly normal. 

“That’s me. You must be Israel.”

“Izzy,” he corrected.

“Izzy,” Lucius repeated with a lingering look. “Lucius, please”

He set the tray on the bar. “Won’t all stay at the right temperature but I don’t have my staff in this early in the day to make as we go.”

“That’s fine,” Lucius studied the tray. “This is…this so beautiful. You didn’t have to make it…wow. Sorry I feel like I asked you to do a lot of work. I just needed some quick bites.”

“Eat with your eyes too,” Izzy did not flush. Absolutely not. 

“Yeah I’m devouring,” and that sounded lewd as hell. “Where do I start?”

“There’s the hummus,” Izzy pointed to it. “Has some heat if you mind that kind of thing.”

“I like a bit of spice.”  

Did everything this guy say sound like a double entendre?  Lucius dipped pita into the hummus and took a bite. Then he made a low, throaty noise that went straight to Izzy’s dick. 

“It’s so creamy! Holy shit, it’s like a mousse.” 

“Yeah,” Izzy said vaguely. “That’s the point.” 

“Wow, okay, and this is the eggplant stack thing, right? Gotta say I like that you don’t do any dippy names. Everything is what it says it is.”  Lucius took on the mouthful with another one of those noises. It took everything in Izzy not to turn around and look for a camera. This felt like a setup. 

“Never liked playing cute. Eddy tried it early on, but it didn’t sit right.” 

“Mhm,” Lucius picked up his glass of water and took a sip. “There’s another appetizer?” 

There were fifteen small plates on the tray. Three appetizers, ten entrees, two desserts. Tight menu for a tight space.

Izzy answered Lucius’ questions, watched him basically make out with each dish, and decided he didn’t care if he was being punked, his ego had never been this well stroked without any apparent agenda.  

Lucius licked the back of his dessert spoon, then asked, “Mind if I get behind the bar? I think better if I mix as I go. Kind of like sketching.” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Izzy said roughly. “Sketching?” 

“Uh huh. Okay, so the vibe this gives me is like...summery? Which is pretty cool because you’re mostly using winter vegetables.” 

“Yes,” Izzy nodded.  “Mostly. The farmer we source things from grows some out of season things in a greenhouse, so it’s still fresh.” 

“Into that. So I’m thinking I can keep a base of four cocktails, then rotate two in seasonally to match what you do with the menu.” 

“How’d you know that we switch things out?” Izzy hadn’t told him that yet, figuring it was enough to work with the winter menu that they were currently dealing with. 

“I read some reviews,” Lucius admitted, taking down various bottles. “Got a favorite liquor?” 

“Vodka. I hope you didn’t read that twat from the Sun.” 

“Was that the guy who bitched about the ambiance? Came off pretty petty.” 

“It was,” Izzy said darkly. “He hit on Eddy and they turned him down. So.” 

“Oh ew,” Lucius wrinkled his nose. He dug out a shaker and shoveled ice into it. “Eddy get that a lot?” 

“Yeah, it happens.” 

“Stede is mega into them,” Lucius laughed. “I’ve known the guy for like two years? Never seen him like that. Twitterpated.” 

“Yeah,” Izzy shoved down the bile that threatened to rise. “What are you making?” 

“Mmm, not sure yet. Eddy said you hate wine.” 

“I do,” Izzy sighed, waiting for the judgment. 

“Me too,” Lucius snorted, plucking something off one of the small plates. “I never got what the big deal was, it all tastes the same to me. I thought chefs were required to like it though.” 

“It’s got its uses, but I don’t go looking for it. Didn’t go to one of the fancy cooking schools or anything, never ‘refined my palette’ whatever the fuck that means.” 

“Must not mean much because everything I just ate rocked my socks off,” Lucius grinned. “And I’m not just saying that. Like that lamb changed me on a deep level. I'll never be the same.” 

Izzy had made that lamb for Eddy, years ago. Just the two of them in the closed kitchen of Ranger after dinner service one night. It had been too busy for either of them to choke anything down. She’d leaned against the sink, pulled out a flask, and told him that it was the anniversary of her mother’s death. They’d shared the liquor and Eddy had slumped exhausted while Izzy tried his best to make a dish for heartbreak. There’d only been lamb left over, so he’d added all the warm spices that Eddy loved, layered it in tomatoes and carrots, cooking it all until it was tender.  

Eddy ate it without a word, but pressed so close to him that Izzy had to brace himself against the counter to keep from tipping over. 

He’d made it for them both on the regular after that night.   It was the only thing on the menu that had stayed the same from day one of Freedom. 

“Yeah?” Izzy choked.

“Uh huh,” Lucius picked up the shaker and gave it a vicious rattle. His hands were big, fingers almost circling the fat metal cylinder. “You already have a house red and white. Add a few more slightly more expensive options and that’ll be that.” 

“People like a long wine list.” 

“Fuck ‘em,” Lucius said merrily, then paused. “Should I not swear? Am I going to lose a job I’ve had for ten minutes?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,”  Izzy snorted.

“Great,” Lucius poured a clear drink into a martini glass, then searched the bar, coming up with a sad looking lime. He wrinkled his nose at it, but got a peeler and with a flick of the wrist had a perfect curly string of green that he set along the edge of the glass. Then he put it in front of Izzy. “Try that.” 

“Hmm,” Izzy picked it up and, by long habit, smelled it first.  It smelled mostly of lime and...basil? Could that be right? He took a small sip. It exploded over his tongue. Fresh and clean, not too sweet, but with a good edge of it and definitely alcoholic as hell.  

“Basil and lime vodka gimlet,” Lucius explained. “It’s not quite right, really need to let the basil sit for longer. Pair that with the lamb and it’ll cut the richness and compliment all the ginger and stuff. Right?” 

The question seemed in earnest, so Izzy took another sip and then dragged a finger through the remaining dregs of the lamb plate and sucked it off thoughtfully. Yeah it did do that, especially with the vodka keeping the drink warmer. 

“It works,” Izzy confirmed. “Keep that one.” 

“Yeah,” Lucius was watching him with such intent that Izzy wondered if he wanted him to say more. 

“It’s good," he allowed.

“Thanks,” a soft laugh as Lucius re-focused himself, “Okay,  probably want something gin based too. Gin is really hot right now.” 

They talked through the rest of the drinks, Lucius trying a few more things and Izzy approving all of them with only minor adjustments. By the end, Izzy was getting well into tipsy and was starting to suspect that Lucius might be flirting with him. Which was ridiculous. Probably just his way or whatever. Bartenders made good tips by being flirtatious, probably. 

“Should I send you the finalized list?” Lucius asked as he tidied up. 

“Just to Eddy. She’ll get it printed up.” 

“Do you have a graphic designer? I do that sometimes on the side." 

“Eddy question,” Izzy dismissed. 

“What’s an Izzy question then?”  

“Food stuff. Inventory stuff. Don’t give a fuck about the rest.” 

“Yeah? You don’t come out and shake hands?” 

“Hell no. If I wanted to talk to people, I wouldn’t have gone into cooking.” 

“Yeah, bet you hide in the kitchen at parties,” Lucius winked. “Me too. That’s where all the best people are.” 

Hard to argue that. A few minutes later Lucius had cleared out. Izzy cleaned up, then walked home. The smell of basil lingered in his nose until he fell asleep that night. 

Over the next few weeks, Izzy’s hunch about flirtatious bartenders was proven correct. Lucius wasn’t the fastest worker Izzy had ever seen (understatement, but that was Eddy’s problem), but everyone who sat at the bar didn’t seem to care. He flirted, he gently teased, sometimes less gently insulted everyone in the vicinity. Apparently, there was a boyfriend (of course there was) named Pete, who came in once a week like clockwork and sat at the bar, apparently not at all ruffled by the flirtations.  Not that Izzy got to witness any of that first hand, just got word from the waiters as they breezed in and out, and Eddy’s own tickled report. 

“I think he’s a fucking terror,” she confided as they shared one of their now rare cigarettes out back. 

“Yeah? We need to dump him?” 

“We run on terror. He fits right in,” they laughed. “Hey, we should do a thing for the re-opening.” 

“We’ve been open for a month,” Izzy pointed out, taking a drag and then passing it back to her.

“Gotta celebrate though. Maybe do a staff thing. Invite a few people. You know, music and whatever.” 

Izzy gave them the side-eye. “What’s this about?” 

“Celebrating,” Eddy said firmly. “We made it, Iz. Got to stop and enjoy that at some point or what are we even doing, you know?” 

Izzy didn’t know. Every day that he stepped into the kitchen and knew it was his was a goddamn celebration. But fine. Party it was. 

They were usually closed on Mondays, but Izzy came in at noon and made finger foods, set them up around the place, so no one would have to run back and forth to serve. When he brought out the last tray, he was surprised to see Lucius behind the bar. 

“Eddy mentioned what you’d be up to,” Lucius waved when he spotted him. “It’s smart. Figured I’d make some pitchers of things now. By the time those are gone, people will be happy with shots. Like we’re all definitely getting obliterated right?” 

“Most likely,” Izzy agreed. “Made things that won’t rip out your throat if you puke.” 

“How thoughtful,” Lucius grinned. “You’re a real gentleman.” 

“Take that back, motherfucker.” 

Lucius’ laugh was deep and rippled over Izzy’s skin.  “Sorry, chef. You’re a raging asshole.” 

“Damn right,” Izzy nodded. “My prep is done. You need anything?” 

“Want to show off your insane knife skills and do some orange slices? Thinner the better.” 

It wasn’t hard to slice them fine, nearly translucent. Lucius moved around him, to grab something at one point and reached out, gripping Izzy’s shoulder for just a second for balance. The touch seared through him. 

“You know I was kidding about the knife skills, but holy shit!” Lucius plucked up one of the slices. “That’s amazing.” 

“What’re you putting it in?” 

“Rum punch.” But that slice went right into Lucius’ mouth as he set down the glass. “Use up some of the fruit we’d have to toss otherwise and it tastes better the longer it sits.  If you didn’t go to culinary school, where’d you learn to cut like that?” 

“Worked in a fancy ass kitchen for a couple of years. Picked up things there. Rest is just time and practice.” 

“Guess you do practically live back there. Jim says you’re the last to leave, always there when they get in.” 

“There’s a lot to do,” he said vaguely. “You...settling in?” 

“Sure, it’s great here,” Lucius said with apparent sincerity. “Way better than catering gigs.” 

The back door opened, Jim and Oluwande’s voices spilling through the space and that was the end of any quiet. Everyone trickled in and the main room was soon heaving with staff, a few regulars, and some people Izzy wasn’t sure he’d ever met before. Eddy was presiding over all of it with an enormous smile that fully reached her eyes. Music poured out of the speakers and a cleared space in the middle of the room had enticed some people to dance. Or maybe that was Lucius’ punch. 

Izzy had had a glass or two, but stopped there, unwilling to unwind so much in that large a group. So he was the only one with a clear enough mind to notice someone knocking on the door. 

A tall guy with a shock of blond waves and a fancy suit was fidgeting a little outside.  Izzy opened the door reluctantly, 

“We’re closed. Private party.”

“Oh, you must be Iggy!” The guy said with a fumbling smile. 

“Izzy,” he corrected. 

“I’m Stede! Eddy invited me.” 

This was Stede? The guy that Eddy had mentioned like he was a mad genius? Izzy stared blankly at him, then took a step back to let him in. 

“Stede!” Eddy called out delightedly. “Come here and dance with me.” 

“Coming!” Stede’s face transformed with a brilliant smile. He left Izzy behind, still holding the door open like a fool. He locked it back up with a grimace. 

When he got close enough, he could see Eddy clinging to Stede in a messy attempt at ballroom dancing to a song that was far too fast while nearly crashing into Frenchie and his enormous friend.  For about a minute, Izzy watched them. Then he stalked off into the kitchen and gave some serious consideration to locking himself into the walk-in freezer and letting the night go where it would. 

Instead he poured himself a glass of water and drank it slowly.  The door creaked open just as he finished. Another body slipped inside and pressed back up against it, expelling a long breath. 

“You okay?” Lucius asked, stepping towards him. 

“Are you?” 

“Busy out there,” he shrugged. “And the best people hang out in the kitchen.” 

“Don’t have to keep me company.” 

“You ran away pretty fast. Did Stede say something stupid to you? He does that sometimes. His mouth and brain aren’t always sync up.” 

“No.” Izzy watched him warily. “Just done, I think. I don’t do parties.” 

“This is my shocked face,” Lucius said dryly and extended his hand. Izzy registered he was holding two glasses. “Take it.” 

“What is it?” 

“Just a vodka tonic. Well, I did put a little ginger simple syrup in it. You’ve got a thing for ginger, I noticed.” 

“...what?” Izzy took it and had a sip. The ginger was very present, sizzling pleasantly on his tongue. 

“I like that you don’t over use it, but it’s obviously your favorite. When you make staff dinner,  you use it when you’re in a good mood.” 

‘I don’t have good moods.” 

“Lies,” Lucius leaned against the counter next to him. “You know Eddy kind of threw this party for you?” 

“I know,” he took another sip. It was really fucking good, goddammit. 

“So...” 

“So what?” Izzy sighed. 

“Just saying. It’s your party and you can cry if you want to,” Lucius sing-songed. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy barked a laugh. “I’m not crying.” 

“But you’re not thrilled.” 

“Eddy and me...it’s old news. But it’s hard sometimes seeing them with someone else.” 

“Oh. Oh shit, really?” Lucius’ eyes went wide. “You and Eddy? But you guys are like siblings most of the time....or. Or old marrieds. Oh my fucking god, that makes so much more sense.” 

“We weren’t married,” Izzy denied. “And it’s not like that anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. But yeah. Once.” 

“Fuck. You know she and Stede aren’t actually together.”

“Yet,” he said tiredly. 

“Yet,” Lucius conceded. “Are you guys going to like...implode or something? Because I was serious about liking this job.” 

“No. It was going to happen. Surprised it took this long. Eddy’s magic,” Izzy stared into the drink. He should be angrier, he realized. Or worse somehow. Certainly he shouldn’t be talking this way. Maybe Lucius’ could mix truth potions. “Been waiting for someone else to come along and notice.” 

“And you’ve been looking for someone?” Lucius asked like the question might detonate. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Freedom is what I want. I don’t have room for anything else.” 

“Yikes. I don’t think that’s true. Plenty of fish in the sea who wouldn’t mind swimming around a grim workaholic, you know.” 

“Endorsement like that, I should let you write my dating profile.” 

“Would you let me?” 

“Fuck no.” 

“Aw,” Lucius elbowed him. “C’mon, give me another chance. How about ‘talented and chiseled chef with a phone-sex hotline voice seeks flexible in the schedule and the bedroom partner’?” 

“Lucius...” 

“Oh! How about ‘killer forearms, wicked knife skills, and probably not a serial killer’?” 

“What?” Izzy blinked. “I’m not a serial killer.” 

“You have a lot of knives. Just saying.” 

“I’m a chef, we all have a lot of knives. You should...stop. Whatever this is.” 

“Having a conversation?” 

“I don’t need a consolation flirt or whatever you think you’re doing.” 

“It’s a pretty honest flirt,” Lucius said calmly.  

“I’m not...I don’t do that.” 

“Have fun?” 

“Flirt,” Izzy clung to the drink. “I don’t mess around. I don’t play.” 

“Okay, but I’m not playing.” Lucius turned, catching his gaze. “I’d go home with you if you asked.” 

“What about the boyfriend?” 

“What about him? We’re open. Pete knows I’m interested in you.” 

“We work together.” 

“We do,” Lucius agreed. “But Eddy is my boss, right?” 

“Technically.” Definitely. Izzy never messed with the front-facing staff just like Eddy never did shit about his people. 

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” Lucius even took a slight step back. “And if you tell me to fuck off, that’s fine. But I figured I’d let you know that I’m an interested and flexible fish.” 

Izzy backed off an insane desire to ask what kind of fish. That was an Eddy question, her voice loud in his ear right now. Mostly screaming ‘for the love god, man, jump on that’. But he spent a lot of time saying ‘no’ to the very real Eddy. He could certainly do the imaginary version for her. 

“Fine,” he took as sip of his drink. “You told me. Go back to the party and leave me alone.” 

For some reason, Lucius smiled like Izzy had offered him a compliment. 

“Leaving,” he said cheerily. 

It was only once he was actually gone that Izzy realized that he hadn’t actually rejected the interest. He should probably go fix that. Instead, he finished his drink, cleaned the glass, and walked back into the party. He didn’t join in the dancing, but he sat along the perimeter. Let Jim sit next to him and strike up a conversation about mushroom varieties that they got through with remarkable clarity considering they were clearly drunk as a skunk. 

After that night, two things started happening. 

The first was that Eddy actually took her day off. Used to be it was more of a theoretical thing where she’d wind up at the restaurant anyway, holed up in her office and working because she’d gotten bored at home. Now, he’d go in to ask her something and find the room empty. It was unsettling, but her general demeanor was unarguably better the rest of the week.  Like someone had re-lit the flame in her that he hadn’t noticed had gone out. 

The second was that Lucius started finding reasons to be in the kitchen. He wasn’t helping, wasn’t actually bartending for all that was his excuse (‘Ran out of cocktail onions!’ ‘Do you have any cinnamon sticks?’). He just seemed to buzz around for a few minutes, then go back out with whatever item he claimed to be fetching. When he used to say he didn’t need the staff dinner, he was suddenly hungry every night. 

Reasonably, Izzy should never be making staff dinner, a job for a more junior person, but reality was that he worked efficiently and his people were well-trained enough these days that it was easy to break for a few minutes and put together something for himself and the rest of them. 

“What happened to ‘I ate at home’?” Izzy demanded after the fourth day in a row that Lucius appeared to scoop up some bacon mac and cheese. 

“That was when I was under the impression that the staff meal was leftovers, not first dibs Izzy originals,” Lucius grabbed a fork and stabbed into his plate with vigor. “On catering jobs it was always like dried out and cold stuff.” 

“And you just suddenly realized that I wouldn’t feed anyone cold shit?” Izzy asked, affronted. 

“Eddy mentioned you were making those chicken wings the other night and it clicked,” Lucius made one of his obscene noises at the pasta. “I’m never eating a twinkie before work again.” 

“Those aren't actual food,” Izzy informed him. "They're barely edible."

“Yeah, but they are delicious. Not as good as this though. Fuck me running.” 

“He does burgers on Friday nights,” Jim informed him, edging Izzy out of the way to get their own dinner. “Onion jam.” 

“You can make onion jam.” Izzy contended. 

“It’s boring to make, good to eat,” Jim volleyed back.  

“I’m working this Friday,” Lucius said giddily. 

So now Izzy had to deal with Lucius invading his kitchen, and eating his food with lavish compliments and all his little sounds, almost every night. It was enough to drive a man to the brink.

“Are you complaining that he likes your food?” Eddy asked incredulously, when Izzy finally had to tell someone about it.  The dumpster out back absolutely reeked in the summer sun. 

“He makes sex noises at it!” 

“Yeah, some people do that out front. I never tell you about it because it’s fucking weird.” 

“Wait, really?” Izzy narrowed his eyes at them. 

“Yeah, man. Not a lot, but every few months or so. Didn’t figure Lucius for a moaner, but there you have it.” 

“I have a tall annoyance is what I have,” Izzy grumbled. 

“He’s just eating dinner.” 

“And talking to me. Asking questions. Being nosy.” 

“Like...he’s trying to get to know you?” Eddy’s lips twitched. “Be friendly? Oh no. Run, Iz, run.” 

“He told me he was interested in me,” Izzy confessed. 

“Oh, shit,” Eddy’s eyebrows flew up. “Is he bothering you or something?” 

“No, not like that. He just told me the night of the party.  Now he’s just chattering at me all the time.” 

“Uh huh. What are we complaining about?” Eddy rolled her eyes. “Hot cute guy propositions you. You say no. He pulls back, but tries to stay friendly because you work together?” 

“I maybe didn’t say no,” Izzy told the ground. Fuck, he should’ve grabbed the cigarettes before dragging Eddy out there. Would’ve been something to do with his hands. 

Eddy didn’t say anything and finally, Izzy looked up to find her staring at him. There was a wry twist to her mouth, something contemplative in her eyes. He waited her out until she finally said, 

“Plenty of reasons to say no, but....if you said yes, it’d be okay, you know that, right?” 

Because Eddy had Stede now. Or was close to having him. Or close to telling Izzy that she had him anyway. Eddy took days off now. Eddy whistled again while she did orders. Eddy wore lipstick sometimes in a way she hadn’t in years. 

“What if it isn’t? He’ll still work here.” 

“Then it’ll be awkward for a while. We’ve survived worse than awkward.” 

“It’s not appropriate.” 

“Since when has that stopped us? Hearing a lot of reasons for you to say no that have nothing to do with Lucius, so probably you want to say yes, huh?” 

“Shit.” 

“Time to put on your big boy pants,” Eddy slapped his shoulder. “Tell me how it goes!” 

“I will absolutely not.” 

The words don’t come to Izzy though. Partially because every time Lucius was in the kitchen, everyone else was there too. Partially because they were genuinely busy, news of their expanded dining area finally catching fire. 

One night, Lucius doesn’t come back for staff dinner. 

“Slammed out there!” Oluwande came in for his own serving. “You’d think we’re giving it away. I don’t think I can take more than five minutes, please tell me there’s a plate already.” 

Izzy handed it to him. If the tables were that busy, the bar would be packed in deep and Eddy was probably snowed under. Some of the waitstaff had passed around a cold and called out on top of that.  They all had to keep moving, but Izzy started to assemble something in his head.

Even as busy as he was, he could take up one burner on the stove, tossing in this and that and letting it cook low. It would keep as long as it needed to, would be better for sitting. After all, one of Lucius’ favorite ingredients was time. 

At ten, Lucius burst into the kitchen eyes wild. 

“Someone feed me,” he begged. “I almost gnawed off a customer’s arm.” 

“That’d be good for business,” Roach cackled. “At least put some garnish on it first.” 

“I’ve got a plate,” Izzy gestured him over and Lucius crossed to him quickly. “Just needs a minute.” 

“Might not have a minute,” Lucius told him mournfully. “I might die.” 

“You want pasta or not?” 

“Wait, the handmade stuff?” 

“What else do we have here?” 

He tossed the pasta into the waiting boiling water. No timer required, but the one that ran in his head. Drained it off, centered it on the plate, then carefully ladled the ragu over it. It was the perfect color, dark and rich. Perfect if you’d gone hungry for a few hours. 

“Here,” Izzy handed it over. “Go sit in the corner. We’re still winding down.” 

“Yeah, fine,” Lucius all, but grabbed it and got out of the way as the kitchen ticked onward into the last few plates. It was only when the very final one went out the door that Izzy turned back to the tiny table they kept crammed by the back door for breaks. Lucius was still eating, but he wasn’t looking at his food. He was looking at Izzy. 

With a deep breath and long exhalation. Izzy crossed over and sat in the other chair. 

“Oluwande said dinner was meatloaf tonight,” Lucius said quietly. 

“It was,” Izzy rubbed the back of his neck. 

“This isn’t meatloaf. This is...it’s fucking amazing. Why isn’t it on the menu?” 

“First time making it. Made ragu before, but not like this specifically,” he mumbled. 

“What makes it specific?” Lucius asked, twirling his fork through the noodles. 

“Heavy on the basil, used vodka instead of wine. Added some heat.” 

Lucius ate his next bite slowly, eyes never leaving Izzy’s face. He swallowed and finally said, “You made this for me. Specifically.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Because....” 

“Because I like to cook for someone. Specific. For one person, sometimes.” Izzy wished he’d thought of the words as carefully as the dish. 

“Why?” 

Izzy forced himself to meet Lucius’ eyes. They were beautiful, those warm pools of brown. There was no smile on his face, wry, playful or otherwise. Izzy sucked in a breath and summoned his courage, 

“So you’ll let me do it again for breakfast tomorrow morning.” 

“Chef,” Lucius reached across the table and took his hand. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.” 

It had been a long time since Izzy served someone wearing only a knowing grin, but he thought he could easily get used to it again. Especially when the review came in the form of a long hot kiss, hand tangling in his hair and a return to the rumpled bed they’d barely managed to vacate. 

Eddy: you coming in today? 

Izzy: no, it’s my fucking day off, isn’t it?

Eddy: hell yeah it is. Details later. I

zzy: absolutely not.

[hualianff]

Baking Boyfriends

Modern AU with neighbors HuaLian, HC who just moved into his new personal apartment for when he stays in Shanghai. The one and only neighbor who gives him a warm welcome rings his doorbell with a plate full of mismatched cookies.

HC thought it was a joke at first. After all, if XL already knew him as Hua Cheng, then he should also know that HC is a renowned baker acknowledged on a global scale. Except, there seems to be nothing but genuine warmth behind XL’s eyes as he holds his cookies out for HC to take.

“I’m a bit new to baking, so I apologize in advance if the cookies aren’t to your liking,” XL sheepishly says. “But I welcome you here nonetheless, and hope you enjoy it here.”

HC stares at the other man in mild disbelief. Xie Lian tilts his head, smile fading the slightest. And oh no, HC can’t have that-

HC accepts the plate of cookies with a hum. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it..?”

“Xie Lian,” XL says while pointing to himself, his vibrant smile with crinkled eyes on full display. HC nods. He repeats the gesture, returning an intrigued grin.

“San Lang.”

***

HC may travel for different meetings and events, gone for a week or two, and every time he comes back, XL is ready with baked goods to welcome him back!

It’s months of exchanging baked treats 🥺 and small talk 🥺 and pining 🥺

With each time XL brings over more pastries, HC continues falling for him so hard. HC likes XL’s baked goods, not that he’s biased or anything…

While HC enjoys giving XL baking tips that work wonders, he loves spending time with XL even more. 🥺

XL: “San Lang, I made sure to get my batter in the fridge as soon as I finished mixing. And you were right! The mixture had a better consistency! Thank you!!!”

HC: “go little rockstar”

It’s not difficult for XL to discern that HC is quite well educated in baking. One day when HC gives XL a personal demonstration on how to most effectively caramelize sugar, XL brings up, “San Lang knows so much about this! How come you never told me?”

While effortlessly stirring around the finished caramel, HC shrugs. “Meh, I know a little more than Gege, that’s all. When I share all I know, Gege will be as good as me.”

HC looks over to witness the stars light up in XL’s eyes. His heart beats a little quicker.

***

HC is one of those bakers who rarely eats what he bakes. But now he has even more reason to bake because XL will happily eat all of the treats. 🥺

XL: “nom nom it looks like San Lang is fattening me up for Christmas nom nom”

XL bringing the baked goods to work. Aka Organic chemistry professor, Xie Lian. He had initially started baking because it’s really similar to being in a lab. Heck, baking IS chemistry! XL is a nerd.

Once, when HX enters HC’s apartment, he spots some colorful muffins on HC’s counter. It’s XL’s new muffin recipe he’s trying out.

HX: “Wait, what are those?”

HC: “Unavailable.”

HX: “bitch”

***

HuaLian eventually baking together 😭😭😭

HC 😳 kneading 😳 dough 😳

(We love a king who can knead dough cause we know that king can knead ass)

XL pausing measuring the dry ingredients: 🥵

XL: “San Lang’s technique is…really impressive”

HC, thinking that sounds funny but otherwise nonchalant: “It just takes a lot of practice, Gege.”

XL: “How experienced of you…”

XL thinks it’s 100x hotter because HC is clearly in his element and gets a lil’ bossy, kinda makes XL want to call HC “gege” instead-

XL gasping as HC cracks two eggs, one in each hand. XL, scooting forward to place his chin on HC’s shoulder: “please teach me”

XL unintentionally becomes HC’s first and last true pupil. 

XL is also a notably messy baker. HuaLian baking in HC’s kitchen…

XL’s hand slipping as a cup of flour flies out: “whoops”

HC: “Gege, let me clean-“

XL, trying to scrape the fallen flour back into the cup: [focused]

HC: “-it up-“

XL: “aha success!”

***

DURING MONTH THREE, HC INVITES XL OVER FOR DINNER BECAUSE “Since Gege always bakes for me, it’s only fitting that I repay him with a nice home-cooked meal.”

HC: “Gege, I remember you saying you missed the bao zi you used to make with your mother. So I made some from scratch: these have pork, those ones have chicken. There’s steamed vegetables, rice, and soup too. I hope gege enjoys his meal.”

XL: [flabbergasted]

HC placing food onto XL’s plate, serving XL himself-

XL: “Oh my gosh, San Lang, this must have taken you such a long time. I can’t thank you enough.”

HC: “Gege doesn’t need to thank me. Just eat.” 😌

XL: [melting on the inside]

While making languid conversation between bites, the topic of dating comes up. Really, XL didn’t have any motives behind the question: “Does San Lang have anyone special in his life?”

HC raises an eyebrow, he finishes chewing before swallowing thoughtfully. XL wills himself not to stare at the way HC’s adams apple bobs with the movement.  

“By special, Gege means…?”

XL shifts in his seat. Isn’t it obvious what he’s asking?

“As in…a girlfriend?” XL quickly rushes out. HC’s face remains passive. XL hastily tacks on, “O-or a boyfriend?”

HC places his chopsticks to the side. He takes a long gulp from his glass of wine before questioning, “Oh, is Gege offering?”

“Not if San Lang already has someone- ahhh, why are you teasing me? I was only asking because, well, surely someone as talented and- and charming as you would have…an important person,” XL speaks without thinking. He gestures to the full-course meal only half-finished between them. “All of this, it’s…I’m really flattered, is all. That you went so far to make this dinner- everything is delicious.” 

Uh oh, XL has lost his mind.

“Gege,” HC says in that smooth voice of his. He visually leans forward, placing one elbow on the table and reaching out for XL to meet him halfway. Tentatively, XL reaches out his right hand, which is gently grasped by HC’s larger one. 

HC’s face softens as he says, “I cooked everything tonight because I wanted to, because you deserve it. With gege’s intrinsic skill at baking anything and everything, would the same logic not suggest he has a special someone as well?”

XL can’t stop the bubbling laughter of disbelief that escapes his lips. 

“Me?” XL points to himself with his other hand, shaking his head. “No, of course not, haha! I doubt anyone would entertain the prospect of involving themselves with silly old me, baked goods or not.”

Something troubled flits across HC’s face, but it disappears not even a second later, replaced by a serenely composed expression. 

“No one would interest themselves in me either. We make quite a pair, don’t you think?” HC says, lips twitching upwards. He’s looking directly at XL, food forgotten on the table. It feels like the room is caving in on XL, pinned under such an intensive gaze. HC’s left eye gleams brighter than his right. It accentuates the flicker of scarlet dancing around his pupil.

XL clears his throat, vaguely aware that their hands are still intertwined. 

“We do indeed.”

*“The Feels” by Twice starts playing*

HC: “Anyways, let’s make this dinner a regular occurrence. Fridays work well for you, no?”

XL: 🥺🥺

***

XL’s friends definitely notice how chipper he’s been lately…

Who breaks it to XL that his neighbor is Hua Cheng, international super baker, all along? Let MQ be the insensitive fucker.

XL: “Yeah, my neighbor’s name is actually Hua Cheng, but I call him San Lang” 😇

FX: [loading]

MQ: “that absolute fucker”

XL: ??

FX: [still loading] “Hua … Cheng-“

MQ: “Xie Lian, Hua Cheng is arguably one of the most highly regarded bakers in the world. What do you mean he’s the neighbor you’ve been telling us about for the past half year?”

XL: “what”

FX: “oh shit, Hua Cheng-!”

MQ: “He’s been lying to you this WHOLE TIME-“

XL: “he must’ve had a reason!”

MQ: “FENGXIN CALL THE POLICE”

FX: “CALL IT YOURSELF DOUCHE”

XL: “NO ONE IS CALLING THE POLICE”

XL: “wait, if San Lang is a professional baker…”

FX: 

MQ:

XL: “AHHH IVE BEEN GIFTING HIM MY MEDIOCRE BAKED GOODS FOR THE PAST SIX MONTHS”

XL: “tell me what I should do next so I don’t further HUMILIATE myself in front of San Lang”

MQ: “just stop talking to him”

XL: “no!”

FX: “purposefully bake terrible pastries and give them to him, see how he reacts-“

XL: “NO!”

Later…

SQX: “KISS HIM!”

XL: “N- I mean, m-maybe”

***

Cookies

One of XL’s baking mistakes

Noooo because XL will knock upon HC’s door and speak in pout saying “I tried out this new set of cookie cutters but the lighthouse one-“ XL nervously looks to the side. “-didn’t turn out quite right.” :(

HC: “what does Gege mean?”

XL: “I mean the shape is…hmm, well, wonky.”

HC, crossing his arms in thought: “well, the cookie part must still be good, right? Perhaps I can take a look and guess what they are?”

XL: …

XL: “u-uh, after I get done with classes, San Lang is more than welcome to come over and … assess.”

HC upon first seeing the cookies XL reveals: “what the fuc”

HC, thinking: “is gege sending some messed up innuendos to seduce me with terrible cookies? … cause it’s working”

HC thinking: “has Gege seen my noods?”

HC, who has seen more atrocious cookies in his life but can’t help but burst out laughing. Cackling!

XL: “S-San Lang, don’t laugh- it’ll disturb my cookies’ energy!” 😣

HC, after catching his breath, unaware of XL’s intrigued eyes because he’s never seen HC laugh so freely before: “Gege, these cookies are most definitely salvageable, practically perfect besides…”

XL: “grrr”

HC, reaching over to squeeze XL’s shoulder: “come on, let’s decorate them. Do you have supplies?”

XL, perking up: “yes I do!” 🥰

All kinds of sprinkles, chocolate and caramel sauce, marshmallows, gummy bears-

HC, in his head: “gummy bears on cookies?? innovative”

HC quickly (and skillfully) whips up multi-colored icing, placing them into homemade pipes. He also brings over his fancy-designed metal tips.

XL, forgetting all about the unfortunately shaped cookies: [happy]

HuaLian have a blast decorating! XL goes for intricate designs with swirls and dollops while HC attempts to create a simplistic gourmet cookie.

At least, as gourmet as dick-shaped cookies can be. 

But when they’ve finished adding icing and toppings to every single cookie, XL catches HC off guard—once again—by shoving a whole cookie into his mouth, cheeks bulging out to accommodate the cookie-

“San Lang was right,” XL mumbles, licking the tips of his fingers. “The cookies taste yummy!”

HC: [soulless] “y-yeah”

***

Maybe YSH is a friend of HC’s in the career field and gave him the NUDGE to do something with XL for New Year’s 🥰

HC invites XL out to one of the big festivals happening during New Year’s eve! There’s various dance and singing performances to see, lots of fresh food from local restaurants, and engaging activities including banner paintings!

For the banners, XL writes in perfect calligraphy while HC’s looks like a child’s handwriting 😭 HC ends up drawing an impressive dragon after writing doesn’t go too well because it's the year of the dragon! They go ice skating too. Both of them are fumbling a bit but they skate side-by-side to stay upright. 🥺

And because HuaLian are old, they head back home around 10 at night. But neither of them wants the night to be over yet! 

They’re in the middle of a conversation about their college experiences. (XL recently found out about HC’s reputation as a baker) When they reach XL’s door, HC shuffles around as XL smiles softly.

“Well, this is me”, XL says slowly, tilting his head to the door. However, he doesn’t make a move to fetch his key from his pocket, nor does HC give him time to, really.

“Uh, if Gege is interested in some wine, he is more than welcome to…come over to my place,” HC suggests, tongue sitting heavy in his mouth. He holds his breath as XL’s eyes widen slightly, processing HC’s offer. 

“Please please please say yes,” HC hopes internally.

Luckily, XL doesn’t hesitate to nod his head, his long hair falling over his shoulder. HC returns a warm smile, leading XL to his room further down the hallway with a pep in his step.

HC has XL sit on his maroon plush couch, E’Ming claiming XL’s lap like the spoiled cat she is. Or the “wild beast,” as HC puts it. But if by the way she meows the loudest to get HC’s attention, climbing him like a tree if needed, it’s clear she trusts him the most. But when HC is away, XL is the one who takes care of her.

XL outwardly coos at E’Ming as HC brings over two glasses and a bottle of wine. E’Ming perks up with a small “mrrrp?” stretching up to snuff HC’s hand, then darting off toward the kitchen where her food bowl is filled with new treats.

“Are you comfortable, Gege? Hungry?” HC asks as he effortlessly pours each glass half-full. XL shakes his head, turning his body to face HC.

“Just a little cold,” XL replies. HC hums as he caps the wine bottle again.

“Let’s warm you up then,” HC says, going to light his fireplace.

HC walking back after lighting the fire to see XL has already downed his glass of wine. HC goes to pour XL some more when a hand holds his wrist, stopping him. 

“I-I should be good for now, thank you though,” XL says, a light pink dusting his cheeks. HC raises an eyebrow as he goes to take a seat next to the professor, taking a small sip from his own glass.

“Whatever Gege says,” HC murmurs. “Now, enough about me. What are gege’s resolutions for next year, hmm?”

They talk for a few hours or so, the conversation ebbing and flowing naturally. Both of them had stopped drinking after their first glass. The distance between them has dwindled to thighs touching thighs and a shoulder bumping into shoulder. Each time XL spoke, looking directly up to HC through his long lashes, HC couldn’t help but look away, the alcohol apparently not enough liquid courage to ask XL the question that could completely change their friendship. 

Thus, when fireworks go off in the distance, signaling the strike of midnight, XL looks down at his lap, slumping a little.

“I should,, probably head back. I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome,” XL says quietly.

“Oh? I don’t mind at all,” HC says immediately. XL stares at him for a long minute, scanning every area of HC’s face, as if looking for something. “Is…something on my face?”

XL’s eyebrows furrow, but this is promptly replaced by a sheepish expression. “San Lang’s face is fine as it is. And- I think, it would be best that I go home anyway, lest I cause you trouble.”

HC chuckles at that. “As if Gege could cause me any trouble that’s not worth going through, hmm.”

XL’s eyes crinkle as he smiles one of those smiles that HC thinks about so often. HC’s fingers fumble with the cuffs of his shirt, mildly embarrassed by the words that just left his mouth.

HC abruptly gathers up the glasses. 

“Well, I’ll quickly put these in the sink and then walk you out.” 

As he swiftly walks to the kitchen, HC misses the way XL gazes hopefully at his back.

When XL sees that HC goes right from the kitchen to the entryway, XL’s heart plummets for a split second, but he pushes that down as he stands up and reaches for his coat on the couch arm.

“San Lang, thank you for such a lovely evening. I don’t know how to thank you e-enough,” XL says, stepping toward the taller man. HC looks down at XL with unconcealed tenderness in his eyes. 

“It was my pleasure, Gege. Thank you for saying yes.”

Before HC can blink, two arms wrap around his neck, and he’s pulled into a tight hug. XL squeezes snugly, HC presses him close in return.

“Thank you,” XL whispers once again. Their hug lasts around five more seconds before they pull back. HC doesn’t say anything, too tongue-tied with XL in his arms.

With a small wave and a bow of his head, XL slips out of HC’s apartment, out of sight with a deafening click.

A screechy meow echos from the kitchen. HC turns his head to find E’Ming perched on the counter like a statue, a seemingly disappointed look in her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, brat,” HC scolds. “And you know you’re not allowed on the counter. Down. Now.”

E’Ming meows once more, picking her paw before landing on the tiled floor, tail held high as she walks off, most likely towards the bedroom where she’ll claim a spot on HC’s pillow.

HC doesn’t know why he does it. It’s probably because there’s an itch inside telling him something was wrong, or at least something was missing.

But still, HC doesn’t exactly know why he’s calling HX, especially when after HC explains everything, he’s called a “massive idiot” along with a few other colorful names before being hung up on.

“What the fuck?” HC mutters to himself. 

A few seconds later, a text message notification appears.

“Bitch ass coward.”

“Fuck it,” HC spits out, shoving his phone in his pants pocket. Without a second thought, HC rushes out of his apartment, his feet taking him to the front of a certain professor’s door. HC knocks three times.

A minute later, the doorway opens to reveal XL clad in his pajamas—a thin night shirt and boxers—and his hair tied back in a low ponytail.

A confused but calm expression forms on XL’s face.

“San Lang?”

HC takes one step forward, placing his hands on XL’s shoulders as he towers over XL.

“Gege,” HC murmurs in a raspy voice, his tone deathly serious. XL’s lips slightly part as a large palm cups the nape of his neck.

“Please push me away if you don’t want this.”

When HC crashes their mouths together, XL flat-out moans against his lips. XL pulls at the collar of HC’s shirt to hold him even closer, prompting HC to snarl as he turns around to crowd XL against his now closed front door.

“Tell me you don’t want this-“ HC breathes brokenly as he slots a leg between XL’s legs. 

“No,” XL growls as he hooks a leg around HC’s hip. After all, the taller man is supporting most of their weight, XL can feel HC’s muscles straining through the fabric of his clothes. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I want everything you have to give,” XL continues shakily. One of HC’s hands skims up his abdomen, thumbing at XL’s chest through his nightshirt. XL whimpers as HC’s slim fingers insistent toy with his right nipple. “So give it to me.”

HC presses one final kiss to XL’s bruised lips with enough force to thump the back of XL’s head—padded by HC’s other hand—against the door. HC stares down at the way XL’s cheeks are significantly more flushed than they were when XL had drank the wine.

The taller man exhales sharply through his nose as he trails a series of kisses down the side of XL’s neck. XL is very sensitive, HC notices. Having his neck and chest showered with affection causes XL to instinctually buck forward in search of friction.

HC’s hands find XL’s hips to firmly pin them back to the door. XL cries out in protest. He opens his eyes but doesn’t see HC, only feels HC’s breath as it ghosts against the shell of his ear.

“Be patient.”

***

And then cut to a year later, where HC is a judge on a baking show. And he tastes this selection of cookies for the round. At the end of the round, the placing results for the round are revealed. Likewise, the judges are to reveal their personal favorite flavors.

No one really expects the words “oatmeal but without raisins” to come out of HC’s mouth, and yet, no one is too surprised either. It’s a classic for some, that’s for sure.

When HC is asked why oatmeal is his favorite flavor, he thinks back to the first plate of cookies his boyfriend offered him on move-in day.

“They remind me of home.”

***

(Random thots with @no-one-says-hi)

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

Steve/Peggy + stuck in an airport AU for @thesokovianaccords

and since you were the only one to send me anything, you also get a short reading bonus :)

~ * ~

Peggy wouldn’t be annoyed with her flight being delayed, she wasn’t looking forward to spending two weeks listening to her mother’s jabs of disappointment; if she didn’t know her mom would somehow blame her for the plane being late.

As if Peggy had the power to control circumstances with sheer wishful thinking.

There was only one way to spend who knows how long waiting for her flight and prepare for storm Amanda once she sets foot in England - airport bar.

With a few of the scheduled flights being delayed, the lounges were already swarmed with irked people.

She found the last free barstool, right next to a long polished bar counter, and ran towards it - just in time to slide onto a dusty pink velvet seat before some middle aged, lanky man reached it.

She glanced at two women next to her browsing their phones and sipping on mimosas. On her right sat a man, his head bowed down as he read a book. He looked up just as she was staring at his profile.

Startled, Peggy was about to mutter an awkward apology, but he only smiled at her warmly and shifted his attention back to his book. At least he wasn’t the type to start a random conversation, or worse, try flirting.

Though he was rather pleasing to the eye.

Peggy didn’t mind light flirting, especially if she was at a bar (airport one, but still), unfortunately most of the time men who hit on her were crude assholes with egos in need of a separate plane ticket.

When the bartender approached, she ordered an old fashioned. Like the neighbors on her left, she spent some time going through her phone. She texted Michael that she’ll be late, sent a few whiny messages to Natasha, checked her social media.

And got bored.

Bored enough to start studying people around her. The man on her right included.

He read fast, but seemed absorbed with the story. Every time he turned a page he also reached up to comb back a few strands of hair fallen over his forehead. He had flecks of copper in his dark blond beard, a few gray hairs too.

And he was ordering orange juice. Only that.

Perhaps it was the boredom, or maybe Peggy found him intriguing with his quiet demeanor and non-social media catered preferences, but she decided to chat him up. 

“Plain juice? I guess you deal better with delayed flight frustration than the rest of us.”

He looked up at her, clearly surprised, but then his face lightened with a smile. He picked up his glass of juice and tipped it her way.

“Have to keep my head sober in case a gorgeous woman approached me at the airport lounge,” he replied and Peggy had to admit it was a voice tempting to continue conversation, just to hear him speak.

She grinned at his cheeky response, which was inviting enough.

“Afraid you’d be too easy if I tried to lead you astray?” Peggy brought her own glass to her lips, glancing at him over the rim.

He shook his head slightly, hair he so often brushed back fell across his forehead again.

“Rather that I make a fool out of myself if that were to happen.” He admitted.

Peggy instantly liked his honesty, and the lack of false, cocky prowess.

“You can relax, for now.” She chuckled, but couldn’t help herself leading the tease further - “I haven’t yet checked if the bathrooms are suitable enough to take full advantage of a pretty boy.”

“Mm, too crowded.” He frowned, pretending to seriously think over the ridiculous scenario. “But there’s a storage room behind the kiosk with chocolates.”

“Private and with post action snacks at hand, I like the way you’re thinking.” Peggy grinned and then both of them laughed.

“I’m Peggy.” She extended her hand to him.

“Steve.”

His handshake was firm, but gentle. Peggy always appreciated when men greeted her the way they would another man, not treating her fingers as if they were made of the most fragile glass about to shatter if they squeezed.

“So, Steve,” she squirmed on her barstool until she was facing him fully, “where were you supposed to go before we got locked up?”

“London.” Steve closed his book and leaned his side against the counter.

Sleeves of his pristine white shirt were rolled up and his tie loosened, top button of his shirt undone.

Peggy arched her brows in surprise, she never got to experience those little coincidences which Natasha called dola - signs of the fate assigned to you by the gods.

It was a first for her. And it made her feel slightly warmer; or was it her drink.

“As do I.” She admitted.

There was no point in lying, especially if they were going to share the same flight anyway.

“Going back home?” Steve asked and then cringed, as if he realized of some mistake. “Sorry, couldn’t help noticing your accent.”

“I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it.” Peggy waved her hand dismissively. She sighed. “Visiting family, so I can personally hear my mother complaining at me living in the States, not just over the phone.” 

She loved her mother, truly. She also loved having an ocean between them and the ability to end the call.

“And you?” Peggy tilted her head to the side.

“Less exciting. Only work.” Steve shrugged.

“Ah, international business. Fancy.” She didn’t want to pry, she was simply wondering how busy he’d be in case she needed an excuse to meet a friend in the city to run away from her family. 

“Something like that.” Steve smiled.

He didn’t seem uneasy, more like a little embarrassed to tell her more. Peggy understood that, after all they were complete strangers who enjoyed a little flirting at a bar. 

She was about to change the topic when a young man ran up to them. He was nearly out of breath as he stopped beside them. He put one hand on his hip, trying to compose himself. In his other hand he was holding a hanger. 

Protective foil wrapped around a distinctive, dark blue suit.

“Captain, Sir, sorry-” the man wheezed out. “All cleaned and pressed.”

“Thanks, Junior.” Steve took the hanger from him and folded it neatly over the counter. “There was no need to rush with it, we’re still delayed. And probably gonna be cancelled anyway.”

“Maria sent me.” Junior gave him a pointed look, as if that explained everything. 

“She said, and I quote, that I better deliver it to you asap, before you come up with a stupid idea to fly in your damn leather jacket.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He would do it if Maria stood in front of him, too. 

“I honestly doubt anyone actually cares what I wear, as long as I fly them safely to their destination.”

“Maria knew you’d say that.” Junior grinned, now clearly amused. “She ordered that I tell you-” 

He paused, straightened his back and then spoke in a manner undoubtedly meant to mock said Maria’s voice:

“Here at Shield Airlines we’re making fantasies come true. And most of our passengers fantasize about a pilot in his full uniform, so you’re going to wear it and make some panties drop.”

Junior chuckled when Steve groaned and hung his head low in embarrassment. He mock-saluted him then turned around and left.

“I think I need to have a talk with Maria.” Steve muttered, finally looking up. 

He glanced at Peggy. Uncertainty paled his features. She wondered what kind of reaction he feared seeing on her face. 

Annoyance because he didn’t tell her he’s a pilot right away? Lust because he is a pilot and that in itself turns some people on? 

Well, it was sexy, if a profession could be described as such. 

“A pilot, huh?” She kept her tone casual, not wanting to make Steve feel more awkward than he already was.

“I said I was traveling for work.” He shrugged, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You also said our flight will be cancelled?” Peggy frowned.

“The weather is getting worse, both here and right over the islands.” Steve nodded. “I expect we won’t be able to get wheels off the ground for at least six hours.”

“Bloody hell.” Peggy downed the rest of her drink in one go. 

It wasn’t that bad of news for her as it may be for other passengers. Her family wasn’t going away, she still had ten days of vacation to spend in London, and she could get back to her apartment for the night. 

Then again, it was over an hour drive one way. The weather could change anytime, she suspected. 

Six hours could become only four. Or stretch into eight. 

What was one supposed to do at the airport for so long?

Peggy licked her lips as she slid her hand along the counter. She tapped her red-painted fingernails against Steve’s fingers.

“Well, Steve. Do you know any nooks that may provide us entertainment for the next few hours without any interruptions?”

It was bold. Even for Peggy. But she felt compelled to check what dola had in store for her and that cute pilot. 

Steve’s breath hitched and Peggy felt a wicked sense of joy at his reaction. He trapped her fingers between his own, squeezing them tightly. 

“It would be very unprofessional of me to take a passenger to the pilot's private rooms.” Steve’s gaze fell to Peggy’s lips, then down to her cleavage and back up to hold her gaze.

Peggy leaned forward, tugging on his tie with her free hand.

“Here at Shield Airways you’re making fantasies come true. Your passenger is currently fantasizing about seeing you in your uniform and then out of all clothes.”

“Yes, ma’am. We aim to please.” 

[zozo-01]

"i understand why you won't love a monster like me."

*cocks gun* Sammy, my love, it's your turn to be put under the pain machine. As mentioned earlier, this is all based on @taelonsamada's incredible Imperium AU AU fic, Return to Shore, where Darlin' and Asher were together before some bad things happened.~ (Part 3/4)

CW: Angst, Sam thinking the Darlin' is using him to move on from Asher, Imperium Canon Divergence, EVERYONE GO READ RETURN TO SHORE NOWWWWW!!!!

--

He thinks they’re too good for him.

How could he not? He was the monster that his mother warned him about. The cruel beast who would snatch and condemn the innocent to his cursed life. The vile creature that cowered before the sun.

Darlin’ is the pure sunlight that chased away the sinners in this world. Sinners like himself.

It had been that righteous anger, their sense of justice, that had guided him to them in the first place. He thought, like the heartless monster he is, 'perhaps I can use them to exact my revenge.' He had fully expected to be rejected at the door, without a chance to explain himself.

They hadn’t.

They gave him the honour of their time and heard his plea. Darlin’ decided that his cause was worth fighting for.

He later learned that they found his cause worth dying for.

He justified his care for the reckless wolf by thinking he needed them alive to kill his maker. But after the rooftop incident… where they had almost fallen to their death… he realized a crucial fact.

He needs them alive because he needs them. Not their claws or fangs or their tracking abilities.

He needed just them.

Unbeknownst to him, Darlin’ became the light of his dark life. They were the sunlight he craved to feel again.

Of course someone so incredible, so beautiful and so goddamned good it hurts his soul was also the light of another’s life.

The Shaw Pack’s (he doesn’t even know if that’s the right name) Alpha had always made great care to check in on his packmate. Sam hadn’t thought much of it. He was their Alpha and as it was his job to make sure Darlin’ was ok, no matter how difficult they made it to accomplish that.

But seeing the Alpha look at the wolf… and how they were looking back… it was evident to everyone in the room that the two had shared history.

A more personal history that either may let on.

The Alpha had lit up watching Darlin’ walk into the room. Or maybe it was just the den light’s reflecting the tears in his eyes. Sam knew that look. He knew the way Asher’s eyes soften and a small smile dare peak on his face.

It’s the same look he gives Darlin’. The only difference is that Sam has always been to much of a coward to look them dead in the eye with that soft look.

But the Alpha was no coward. He looked at Darlin’ with love in his eyes, a look that came natural to him. Like he had full confidence that Darlin’ would look at him the same way.

And the Alpha was right, Darlin’ was looking at him the same way. The same small smile and love-filled gaze.

Sam just wished that he could be the recipient of that gaze.

But who was he kidding. He was a monster, and Darlin’ had dealt with enough monsters in their life.

They deserved something that was good and pure as they were. A hero.

A hero like the Alpha that had save them from the wicked fangs of another vampire.

The fact that he had the chance to bask in Darlin’s glow was enough of a blessing in his second life. So if keeping them in his life meant that Darlin’ would use him for their own pleasure, then by God he was ready to be used.

He never was a man to ask for much, but all he wishes is for Darlin’ to stay in his life. He craved for the warmth of the sun on his skin. He craved the feeling of their warmth.

He notices the clench in Darlin’s throat when they speak to the Alpha and he notices the twitch in Alpha’s hand. Maybe he wanted to caress their hair? Hold their hand? Or perhaps Sam is projecting his desires onto the man in front of him.

There is a voice deep down that tells him that the Alpha and him feels the same way for his Darlin’.

And it seems that Darlin’s desires lied with the man from their past.

Sam was okay, though. It was better for Darlin’ to hand their heart to their Alpha, a man he can trust, and not him, the sadistic, cruel, vile, despicable being that has put them on a suicide mission.

But goddamn it, it hurts knowing that he will never have their heart. Not in the same way they have his.

[kyovtani]

𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 – 𝒊𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒛𝒖𝒎𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒋𝒊𝒎𝒆

࿏ pairing: iwaizumi hajime x chubby female reader ࿏ genre: fluff, smut, angst; best friends to lovers!AU ࿏ word count: 11.6k (at this point i have no explanation, im sorry) ࿏ warnings: swearing, mentions of body image issues, self doubts, anxiety, bullying, fat shaming; as well as violence and blood (iwa gets into a fight mwah); ddlg (daddy dom-little girl) dynamics, soft dom!iwa, body worship, praising, sugarcoated degradation, spitting, choking, fingering, face riding, unprotected sex

࿏ Summary: After four years of trying to get over your stupid crush on your best friend, said male finally comes back home and all of a sudden all of those plans are thrown overboard...

Even though you‘ve known about it for so long now, you still feel your heart skip a beat when Matsukawa mentions his return to Japan and no matter how hard you try to, you can‘t help the way the disgusting mixture of anxiety, nervousness and excitement starts filling your veins.

After all it‘s been literal years since you‘ve last seen him.

Iwaizumi Hajime, former Seijoh Ace, now freshly majored athletic trainer, your best friend of ten years and — love of your life.

However, of course he doesn‘t know about the latter and as pathetic as it may sound, you‘re quite proud of yourself for hiding your feelings for him so well that he hasn‘t suspected anything in all these years the two of you have been friends.

Of course it‘s painful and basically nothing but literal torture to watch the guy you‘ve lost your heart to years ago, move on with his life thinking he‘s nothing but a friend to you, but you know you‘d always choose this pain over the one of rejection and shame.

Because after all you‘re not his type or what he looks for in a partner and you're very much aware of it.

And no matter how many times you daydream about a life as his girlfriend, you won’t ever forget about the fact that Iwaizumi Hajime, basically a literal athlete, would never date someone who looked like you.

Growing up on the bigger side, physically wise, has always been difficult and something you're struggling with to this day. You had always hoped for those extra pounds to disappear once you hit puberty, just like it had happened to all of your friends but those hopes were quickly destroyed when you still found yourself hiding from full length mirrors to avoid having to look at your own body in your third year of High School.

By the time you turned eighteen, you had tried every kind of diet in hopes of losing weight but all of them just ended with you losing motivation and every bit of your happiness and even though you still struggle with it in your mid-twenties, you‘ve come to terms with it.

This is who you are and despite taking literal decades to realize it, you‘ve slowly but surely started accepting it.

However, when it comes to relationships, you‘ve given up completely.

After years and years of being rejected, hidden, fat shamed and disrespected by men who hated their own attraction to bigger women, you stopped wasting your time and energy on dating. If you wanted to hear someone shame you for being big, you could just go home to your family or back in your memory to remember all those mean things the skinny girls in your school had thrown at you.

Or you could just look in the mirror and let your brain do the job after eating literally anything.

Just thinking about a guy like Iwaizumi looking at you in that way has you chuckling coldly and every time you imagine confessing to him, it ends with a broken heart on your side because your brain loves to keep things realistic and never once have you considered the possibility of him liking you back.

It‘s not that Iwaizumi, or any of the Seijoh Volleyball boys, have treated you badly or even slightly differently in the three years you were their manager, but after having to deal with fat shaming your whole life, it has become quite difficult for you to believe that anyone found you attractive at all.

Especially people like the widely known Seijoh third years who also happen to – still – be your closest friends.

And unfortunately, as glad as you are that Iwaizumi remains rather oblivious to your year-long crush on him, the other boys, including the professional athlete to be, Oikawa Tōru who’s currently living his best life in Argentina are pretty much aware of your feelings for the trainer.

So, just as usual whenever the topic of Iwaizumi Hajime enters the conversation between the other two, you’re met with pitying stares from Takahiro and a lot of teasing coming from Issei. But at this point you’ve gotten quite used to it and don’t mind the brunette’s words, whereas you still find yourself growing absolutely annoyed at the way Makki stared at you.

“Stop staring at me like that, Hiro!”, you hiss and roll your eyes, the pity in his face so evident, if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s mocking you.

“Just confess to him already!”, the strawberryblonde hisses, running one of his pale hands through his locks before he takes a big sip from his beer.

“Yeah, sure!”, you spit back, your words dripping in sarcasm and annoyance as you try to avoid your chest from growing even heavier at the thought of your best friend coming back after all those years.

“He broke up with that blondie months ago”, Matsukawa begins, his naturally sleepy gaze roaming your face attentively, “and he’s coming back to Japan. Now you really have no excuse left, Y/N”, and just as usual his words hit the right spot and all you can do is let out a shaky sigh before the intensity of your insecurities breaks down onto you like a huge wave.

“I‘m not his type, Mattsun”, you hiss, the bitter taste of reality coating the muscle of your tongue in the worst way possible, “and I‘ve had enough males reject and– or fat shame me. If I have to add Hajime to that list as well, it’s going to break me.”

You feel the two males’ soft gazes on you, whereas you can‘t help but focus on the napkin in between your fingers in hopes of distracting yourself from all those dark thoughts by nervously pulling at it.

“Iwa‘s not like that, Y/N”, Makki replies, brows furrowed in irritation; something you've grown quite used to seeing whenever the topic of your body image issues occured.

“Has he ever dated a big girl before, hm?”, you reply and look at him with arched brows and your lips pressed into a thin line. At the lack of response from the two men in front of you, you just lean back and nod.

“That‘s the point”, you take another deep, shaky breath; the tears threatening to spill from your glossy eyes at the thought of your pretty faced best friend and only men in your heart, “nobody likes women who look like me in that certain way, my loves. Every guy I‘ve been and slept with wanted to hide me or the relationship we had because they didn‘t want to be seen with a big girl.”

Suddenly you‘re hit with the memory of all those times you went home after any kind of intercourse with a male who had brought your hopes up with sugarcoated lies. Only to receive a harsh reality check when they asked you to not tell anyone about it, knowing it‘s simply because of the fact you aren‘t part of society‘s beauty standards.

“Y/N, we-”, “I‘m not talking about you two”, you‘re quick to interrupt Hanamaki, giving him a soft smile, “I know you don‘t care about it and sometimes I find myself wishing I would have fallen for one of you instead of the professional trainer”, you let out an empty, coldhearted chuckle before you finish your glass of wine in one go.

“I would fuck you without hesitation”, Mattsun shrugs, his plump lips stretching into a playful smirk and the tiny hint of seriousness in his gaze has you rolling your eyes with a soft scoff.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Issei”, Makki hisses and gives his best friend the same reaction as you.

“What? I‘m being serious! You know this isn‘t the first time I‘m offering this to you, pretty one”, the brunette replies and this time you can‘t help but chuckle softly at his words, showing him your appreciation for his ability to make such heavy topics vanish from the surface so easily.

“Thank you, Issei but that guy I met on Tinder has been ghosting me for two weeks after we fucked and that‘s why I‘ve had enough dick for now”, and just when you let your gaze roam over the brunette‘s handsome face, you watch Hanamaki‘s face brighten up suddenly and furrow your brows in confusion.

“Hearing Y/N talk about dick is definitely not what I was expecting to come back to but it‘s surely a surprise!”

And upon hearing the familiar voice of your best friend, you understand the reason behind the change in Makki’s expression.

You watch the other two get up from their chairs, approaching the freshly majored trainer with the biggest smiles plastered on their faces whereas you try your best to stay as calm as possible.

However, the simple thought of Iwaizumi coming back had already stressed you out and having him stand behind you in all his glory made the tightness in your chest and the struggle to take proper breaths intensify just like that.

After what feels like an eternity you finally get yourself to stand up as well, turning around literally convinced you‘re ready to see him again after all these years only for it to be the exact opposite.

Your heart skips a whole beat at the sight of Iwaizumi and for a quick second you feel yourself getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen in your lungs.

“Hey”, he mumbles, his voice deep and raspy, something you‘re used to since the two of you have been talking regularly on the phone over the time yet hearing it in person again sends a jolt of hot arousal right into your core.

You nervously let your eyes roam his face; taking in the sight of his features, which have become even sharper during his absence. A soft sigh falls past your lips when you find the little scar right underneath his eyebrow which he had gotten back in middle school during one of his volleyball practices. The familiarity and feeling of security in the soft expression of his pretty, dark green eyes calms you down in an instant and by the time you feel your muscles ease up a bit, he‘s already approaching you with open arms.

Different than you’ve expected from yourself, you‘re quick to wrap your arms around his slim waist, taking him into your embrace with the intention of never letting him go again and at the feeling of his big hands on your body, you can‘t help but tear up a little.

You sniffle softly against the crook of his neck, Iwaizumi letting out a breathy chuckle at your sweet reaction as he caresses your back gently, subconsciously massaging your soft flesh to calm you down even more.

“Seems like someone missed me a lot more than she wanted to admit on the phone, hm?”, Iwa mumbles softly, placing the sweetest kiss on the top of your head as he holds you tight.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki let out a row of deep chuckles, partly laughing at your obvious reaction and partly because of their best friend‘s blatant oblivion.

“Shut up”, you reply with a sniff, taking in the light yet intense smell of his aftershave as well as the scent of detergent you had missed oh so much.

“Enough now, Y/N”, Mattsun huffs, “you can cuddle his stupid ass some other time, let‘s catch up with Mister America”, he adds and you know too well the tall brunette simply does it to stop you from falling even further into this dark hole you‘ve dug yourself; all those years ago.

Throughout the whole night, you stay rather quiet; listening to Iwaizumi‘s stories, more so to his voice but definitely his stories, too.

And every time he mentions some random girl he hooked up with or one of his ex girlfriends, you can literally feel the way he‘s avoiding your gaze; his eyes moving away from your face to focus on the guys as his voice turns a little less enthusiastic. You try your best not to read anything into it, knowing he‘s always been more hesitant towards you when it came to topics like this and in some way you find yourself appreciating it because it definitely helps to make the pain in your chest a little less heavy.

The atmosphere between the four of you remains calm; the familiarity something you‘ve always missed despite you and the other two boys spending just as much time together as you used to back in High School. Having Iwaizumi in your little circle again definitely has changed the air and it‘s in times like these you realize just how close you all actually are.

However, when Hanamaki and Matsukawa both stand up, cigarettes firmly placed between their plump lips, telling the two of you to give them a few minutes, you feel yourself slowly wandering into a state of anxiousness and slight panic.

It‘s not like you haven‘t talked to him alone during his stay in America, but the thought of having to look him in the eyes as you speak has always been something you‘ve struggled with.

Iwaizumi has this certain expression in his beautiful, dark green eyes, which makes it so much harder to not fall for him even more.

You don‘t know if it‘s the confidence and lack of insecurity or the mixture of softness and home which have the butterflies in your stomach go absolutely crazy.

Neither of you say anything for a good minute, your eyes glued to your phone screen which continuously lights up; Oikawa‘s name appearing several times.

You excuse yourself to give the professional athlete the responses he‘s waiting for, rolling your eyes at his way of telling you to shoot your shot at Iwa and “get that D”.

“Are you still talking to that one guy you told me about?”, Iwaizumi suddenly says, his eyes never once leaving yours and with a soft chuckle, you shake your head; enjoying the amount of protectiveness dripping from his words.

“We fucked and then he ghosted me”, you say casually, not realizing that it‘s not one of the other two boys you‘re talking to and with a soft gasp of embarrassment you try to mumble your way out of the situation.

“Iwa, I‘m-”, “Why the fuck would he even do that? Give me his fucking address so I can introduve his kneecaps to my baseball bat”, he‘s quick to interrupt you harshly, his tone filled with anger as his eyes gleam with wrath.

“It‘s okay”, you smile softly, placing your hand on his balled fists to calm him down again, “he told me not to tell anyone that we did it so his intentions have never been good. And on top of that – his dick game was so bad, I didn‘t even get to finish but had to take care of it myself, so it‘s definitely not worth the headache.”

You watch Iwaizumi‘s expression darken even further, his beautiful dark green eyes roaming your face with irritation oozing from his gaze and for a second you like to believe that there‘s even a hint of jealousy in between all those intense emotions but just as usual you find yourself shaking it off rather quickly.

“Why did he ask you not to tell anyone? What the fuck is even wrong with that guy?”, the brunette spits, downing the rest of his beer in one go.

You know why he‘s this angry and at this point you can’t even blame him anymore. Iwaizumi has never really understood why you put up with guys who treated you like absolute shit; continuously telling you how you deserved so much better and even though you wanted to agree, you simply couldn‘t. Because in your head, all those men who were ashamed of being with you yet still found their way to your door were exactly what was meant to be your life.

“Because being with a woman like me isn‘t anything he‘s proud of, Iwa”, you sigh, the words heavy and bitter on your tongue as you struggle to voice the hard reality.

“A woman like you?”, he replies and you see the genuine confusion on his handsome face, making his oblivion sweet almost.

“A big woman, Iwaizumi. Guys don‘t date big girls because we don‘t fit into society‘s beauty standards so being with us is something they‘re ashamed of because God forbid someone thinks they find us attractive“, you nervously play with the hem of your skirt, not having the courage to look into his face as those thing leave your lips, too embarrassed to meet his usually so welcoming and soft, but now wrath-filled gaze.

“That‘s bullshit”, Hajime is quick to spit back, hating the way you belittle yourself like that because of a random guy.

You smile, a soft scoff falling past your lips before you take a sip from the glass in front of you and even though you know you‘re going to regret those words, you still can‘t get yourself to stop from leaving you.

“Then why have you never dated a big girl, Haji?”, your voice is slightly shaky yet you remain the eye contact like a champion, never once averting your gaze from his handsome face even though the thrumming of your heart in your throat makes it so much more difficult to stay focused.

Iwaizumi seems taken aback; your words obviously hitting a place he wasn‘t expecting and that‘s when the feeling of guilt reaches its peak.

“I‘m not- It‘s not because I don‘t find them attractive I just- I uhm-”, the freshly majored professional trainer stumbles over his words like a two-year-old who just started learning how to speak and at the sight of a deep blush covering the apples of his cheeks as well as the tip of his nose and the whole of his neck, you let out a soft sigh.

“You don‘t have to explain yourself, Iwaizumi. I wasn‘t trying to accuse you of anything or offend you in any way, I promise. It’s just a topic I‘ve grown really tired of in the past few years”, you explain, making sure to choose your words carefully and when the tall male suddenly starts calming down again, you know you‘ve got him.

“Y/N, look-”, “Hey, Y/N the weak-dick-game guy is sitting at the bar with his ugly friends, just for your information”, Matsukawa‘s deep voice quickly cuts Iwaizumi off, his words sending shivers down your spine in the most disgusting way possible and with an almost painful roll of your eyes, you down the rest of your best friend‘s beer.

“Wait- What? Which one is it?”, Iwaizumi grunts, the calmness from a few seconds ago completely gone as you look at him with brows furrowed in slight irritation and annoyance.

“It doesn‘t matter, Iwa”, you say and wrap your fingers around his tattooed wrist, making him look into your eyes with another soft exhale, “he‘s not worth it. Just let it go.”

“Y/N, I said”, Iwaizumi is quick to place one of his big hands on your cheek, the dominance in his aura and the authority gleaming in his eyes has you gasping for air and just as usual you feel your panties growing wetter by the minute, “which one is it?”

His words don‘t leave room for protest; so strict and demanding, no matter how hard you try to think rationally, his naturally dominant persona has you submitting to him in a way no other guy has ever managed to.

“T-The one with the long, dark purple Hair”, you quickly reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of Iwaizumi‘s anger and determination.

“Good girl”, he mumbles and pulls away, not even aware of the way his praise has your cunt throbbing like crazy and you absolutely hate him for it.

For a second you can‘t even get back to reality, the haze of arousal and longing for the tall male standing in front of you completely taking over your consciousness.

However, as soon as your brain registers Makki‘s panicked voice, you‘re quick to snap back and without missing another beat, you grab Iwaizumi‘s arm and look at him with pleading eyes.

“Please don‘t make a scene”, you whisper, knowing oh too well how much he loves to get himself in trouble because of his friends.

“He fucked then ghosted you all that while saying he doesn‘t want anyone to know he was with you because you're a big girl? That ugly fucker needs a fucking reality check because he can count himself hella fucking lucky to ever get a go with a woman as amazing and hot as you”, Iwaizumi hisses, his words filled with anger yet so, so sweet that without giving it another thought, you simply let go and try not to show him just how flustered he‘s gotten you.

“Are you guys about to kiss right now?”, Matsukawa suddenly says and with an almost audible roll of your eyes you lift your hand up, showing him your middle finger before you watch Iwaizumi‘s brows furrow even further with visible irritation.

“Then don‘t fight him”, you sigh, “please, Hajime, don‘t get yourself in trouble for a guy who‘s not worth it.”

“We‘ll see about it”, is all he says before he moves out of your tight grip, leaving you to stand at the table like that.

You feel your heart picking up its pace at the sight of the love of your life approaching your ex-hook up; several worst case scenarios popping up in your head within a few short seconds. And unfortunately every single one ends with Hajime throwing his fist into the guy‘s face because of his raging anger issues; something he‘s been trying to handle throughout his whole life.

“Makki, please do something”, you whimper and look at the strawberryblonde with glossy eyes; shivers running down your spine at the sudden sound of Hajime's deep voice cutting through the music of the bar.

“Not into you my fucking ass”, Takahiro hisses and follows Iwaizumi with quick steps, whereas Matsukawa remains next to you, watching the scene unfold with the fattest, shit eating grin on his face.

And while you‘re worried about Iwaizumi‘s well-being, said male can‘t even seem to think straight. The only thing he manages to focus on is the raging anger and hot wrath rushing through his veins at the thought of some random, small dicked guy treating you like dirt. With every step he takes, it seems to get worse and at some point the professional trainer is worried about his physical health because of the pace his heart is hammering against his rib cage with.

Iwaizumi has always struggled to understand why you put up with males who are literally unworthy of your presence yet every time he had asked, you simply shrugged and told him that this was how you were meant to be loved. Behind closed doors, hidden away from the world by people who literally worship the society‘s beauty standard.

And all of that when you‘ve had him right in front of you for all those years, ready to love and worship every bit of your body and soul.

Of course for you to let him love you he might have had to tell you about his feelings but as the years passed by, Iwaizumi slowly started to lose every bit of hope he had left. During his four year long absence you‘ve had your fair share of boyfriends and after the third one, the only choice he had left was to force himself to move on or else he would have lost his mind.

It‘s not like he never wanted to confess during High School but there was just something holding him back. The thought of losing you was heavy on his chest especially because Iwaizumi was very well aware you didn‘t feel the same. So for his own sake he chose not to tell you about his feelings for you; not even bearing the mental image of going through such rough times without you by his side.

He‘s already lost count of the amount of times he wanted to scream at you about how he would treat you just how you truly deserved to be treated and not like those douchebags who liked to use you for their own pleasure just to throw you away like a used tissue once they were done.

And after not being able to physically do anything for you because of the distance, he‘s finally got the chance to show you that no, those guys‘ behavior is not okay and yes, putting them back into their place is absolutely worth the headache.

“Hey”, the trainer hisses, coming to stand directly in front of the tall, purple haired guy, Rin Matsuoka,  who‘s quick to harden his expression upon seeing the brunette.

“What can I help you with, big guy?”, Rin mumbles, placing his bottle of beer on the counter with his brows raised in curiosity.

Iwaizumi doesn‘t even waste another minute as he harshly grabs the collar of Rin‘sblack leather jacket, pulling him closer to himself. His friends  rather quickly, yet Hanamaki and this time even Matsukawa are faster, coming to stand right next to each one of them with their arms firmly placed in front of their bodies to stop them from intervening.

“You‘re gonna listen to me and you‘re gonna listen good, did you fucking hear me?”, and just like a few minutes ago, Hajime‘s voice is cold and distant, not leaving room for discussion all while making sure to keep his tight grip.

The confusion and immense irritation is clearly visible on Rin‘s features; brows furrowed, jaw tensed and eyes gleaming with some kind of unnameable anger.

And the longer you watch the situation unfold, the heavier the anxiety in your system becomes and as you struggle to take proper breaths, you find yourself approaching your best friends; not wanting him to get his hands dirty on a guy like Matsuoka.

“What the-”, “Iwa please, he‘s not worth it..”, you say and wrap your fingers around his wrist, trying to find his gaze with desperate eyes only for him to gulp harshly and calmly tell you to take a step back.

“You?”, Rin spits, his dark eyes boring into your side as you try to ignore him; the amount of humiliation and shame washing over your body way too overwhelming to handle.

“Haji, let‘s just go, please”, you whisper, taking his face into your hands, his skin literally burning underneath your fingertips.

“No, Y/N, this stupid bastard has to understand that you can‘t just go and treat women like absolute dirt and get away with it”, Iwaizumi moves out of your soft touch, making Rin shift his attention back on you before the deep voice of one of his friends cuts through the tension.

“What the fuck is he talking about, Rin? Do you know her?”, the blonde says, his tone rather degrading when talking about you and at the way his eyes roam your body with a rather opposed expression show you exactly why that‘s the case.

“N-No, I don‘t!”, he‘s quick to defend himself, his eyes shifting to his friends with sheer panic filling the dark color and you feel your heart sink and the disgusting feeling of shame rushing through your veins.

“You‘re such a fucking piece of shit, Rin”, you hiss and swallow your tears; the taste bitter as the realization of being sometjing to be ashamed of hits you yet again.

“You definitely weren‘t acting like this when you fucked me”, you add and roll your eyes, taking a step back as the anger overcomes you and you basically give Iwaizumi a silent free pass to do whatever the hell he needs to, “or better said – when you tried to. It wasn‘t like I came with your weak dick game anyway so..”

“You fucked that fat bitch? Oh, yikes”, the other friend suddenly says, his words hitting you in the face like literal bricks and before you can even take your next breath or shift your eyes to the face the voice belongs to, the guy suddenly falls to the floor, holding his bloody nose.

You let out a shocked gasp, your eyes falling to Hanamaki who‘s busy shaking his hand, his knuckles already reddened and slightly bruised as he looks at you with a satisfied grin, “no one gets to call my best friend a bitch.”

“I was full on drunk and- do you really think I‘d fuck her sober?”, Rin tries to talk himself out of it and with a cold chuckle you throw your head back.

“How the fuck dare you talk to her like that”, is the last thing Iwaizumi spits before he throws his fist right into Rin‘s face with a deep grunt.

Another loud shriek escapes your lips and suddenly the anger and anxiety seem to leave your body and a huge wave of adrenaline hits you at the sight of your ex-hook up falling to the floor and Iwaizumi quickly moving with him.

For what feels like a whole hour but is probably nothing longer than a minute, you‘re literally frozen; your eyes the only moving part of your body as you watch your best friends break their knuckles on the jaws of literal strangers to them.

The following hour passes by in a blur. You can‘t really remember how or who separated them from those guys, or how you got yourself to call an uber and manage to get the four of you to your flat.

By the time the adrenaline stops making the blood rush in your ear, you‘re taking care of Matsukawa‘s wounds with shaky hands; the two others holding ice packs to their faces to ease the swelling of their bruises.

“Stop sighing so much”, Iwaizumi suddenly says, his dark eyes focusing the movements of your hands before he looks at you with a slightly softer expression, “we did what we had to do. And I‘m glad we did it. Those guys already looked so fucking punchable”, he explains and with a scolding scoff you press your lips to a thin line.

“You‘re back in Japan for how long? Two days? Yet already got yourself in trouble, a physical fight at that, Hajime. You‘re not your High School self anymore, start behaving that way, please”, you reply and hand Mattsun a plastic bag filled with ice cubes, softly caressing his bruised cheek before you stand up from your place on the floor.

“You got yourself one hell of a mouth while I was gone,  huh?”, he replies cockily, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue before he follows you into the bathroom.

You feel your body heating up at his words, the sexual tension laying underneath the surface slowly finding its way to you again and with a soft sigh, you ignore the brunette.

“How was I supposed to let him say all those things to you and not do anything, Y/N?”, Iwaizumi replies, a pouty word of gratitude leaving his lips when you take his big hand into yours and start cleaning up the blood on his bruised knuckles.

You try your best to stop your thoughts from wandering to sinful places yet images of those pretty, tattooed fingers wrapped around your throat and knuckle deep buried inside of your cunt have already filled your mind by the time you lower your gaze from his face.

“I‘m used to-”, “That does not make it okay, Y/N”, your best friend suddenly says, taking your chin in between his fingers to lift your head and look at you with those beautiful, dark green eyes.

“You deserve so, so much better and I‘m glad I can finally tell you this in person after all those years. Please stop letting douches like him take advantage of you”, he sighs, taking your hands into his and pulling you a little bit closer to himself.

“It‘s that or Matsukawa‘s cock and I‘d rather have a stranger emotionally pain me than my best friend, so-”, “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”, Iwaizumi interrupts you harshly, your words obviously irritating him.

“After my last boyfriend dumped me a year ago I‘ve only had casual flings because I got tired of using my hand to get off and Matsukawa offered to take care of it instead. But then again, it‘s just a lot less complicated with a stranger than it is with your best friend, that‘s why I‘m putting up with shit like this”, you explain to him and walk back into the living room where Mattsun and Makki are currently busy with your leftover take out from the previous night.

“So if it wasn‘t for that, you‘d let him fuck you?”, Iwaizumi‘s tone has turned cold again, the softness gone and replaced by something a little thicker and more intense than anger. And when you turn around to look at him, you see literal jealousy gleaming in the green color surrounding his iris, basically leaving you speechless.

“Why do you even care, Iwa?”, you reply, dramatically throwing your hands into the air as his tensed demeanor sends you in some kind of haze of irritation.

“Answer my fucking question, Y/N”, is all you get in response; the brunette closing the distance between the two of you with a few small steps and it‘s the lack of space between your faces that has you realizing just how unevenly he‘s breathing.

Your heart starts slamming against your rib cage with rather brutal pace, your head spinning from the sudden adrenaline shooting through your body and on top of all of it you feel your cunt clenching around nothing like crazy as Iwaizumi’s heavy scent fills your nose.

“Yes”, you say and feel your voice breaking, “yes, I would fuck Matsukawa because why not? Hm, Iwaizumi? There‘s nothing else stopping me from it other than-”, “You can‘t and won‘t fuck him”, he suddenly interrupts your outburst, his expression as dark as ever as he softly pushes you against wall.

“I think this is the moment where we‘re supposed to leave”, Makki mumbles, pulling Mattsun from the couch before they gather their things and leave the two of you to yourself.

As the silence surrounds the two of you, the tension grows even thicker, heavier, more present than before and with every breath you take you feel yourself growing more and more aroused.

“And why is that, hm? I can and will fuck whoever I want”, you spit back, trying so hard ot not let the arousal get to your head yet the disgusting urge to submit to Iwaizumi‘s naturally dominant personality slowly starts overwhelming you.

Hajime chuckles deeply, his eyes lazily roaming your face, pressing his strong body even further against yours as your head starts spinning more and more with every second passing by.

“Iwa…”, you whimper softly, throwing your head back and harshly digging gripping the soft fabric of his shirt; the close contact makes you a lot more nervous than before.

He slowly takes a deep breath before he bends down to let his nose graze your jawline, and eventually letting his mouth find its way to your ear.

“Because no one can fuck you like I can, pretty one”, Iwaizumi whispers, his voice a whole octave deeper than just a few seconds before and you hate the way every single one of his words sends a single, hot jolt of arousal right into your core.

“And”, you hear him inhale sharply, his hands finding their way to your hips, groping the soft flesh firmly in his palms before he takes a short break and then pulls away to look at you again, “no one can love you like I can.”

At the sound of those words, your eyes snap open within a second your heart skips a literal beat.

“W-What?”, you whisper, your throat completely dried up, your head desperately trying to process what he’s just said and just as your body is about to fall into some kind of haze, you feel yourself drowning in a wave of anxiety at the thought of having misheard him.

“I love you, Y/N”, Iwaizumi says just when those thoughts are about to take over you.

“Ha-Hajime…”, you mumble; your bottom lip starts to quiver as tears pricker at the corners of your eyes, the first few finding their way down your cheek in an instant.

A few seconds of silence pass in which you two just look at each other, Iwaizumi’s pupils blown out, cheeks tinted in the deepest shade of red and plump lips parted as he also tries to understand what just happened.

After all these years of imagining what it might be like to hear these kind of words from the love of your life, it’s finally become reality and the longer you look at him, the lighter the weight on your chest becomes.

“I’m sorry if I ruined our friendship with this but I just – couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. When I was in America I had promised myself to confess as soon as possible when I’m back so here I am. Those men don’t deserve you. Neither do I but I would have hated myself forever if I didn’t at least try. So”, he finishes his sudden explanation with another deep exhale before he takes a step back, his glossy eyes wandering from yours down to the floor, “thank you for everything and please take care.”

And fortunately your body acts a lot faster than your mind because while you still try to process his soft, sweet words – the words you’ve been dying to hear for so, so long – you find yourself tightening your grip on his shirt and pulling him back into you with a soft sob.

“I love you, too”, you whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as your eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming warmth coming from his body.

“Fuck, baby”, Iwaizumi chuckles breathlessly, wrapping his arms around your body and burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m one lucky bastard, aren’t I?”

You smile brightly at his genuine and soft words, the feeling of coming home – a place you’ve longed for literal years – slowly breaks down onto you in the form of waves and for the first time in a really long time, you don’t mind being overwhelmed like that.

“So that means that you’re mine now?”, Iwaizumi whispers, pulling away and taking your face into his big hands, the smell of blood grazing your nose yet easily gets overshadowed by the way he’s looking at you as if you were holding the whole world in your hands.

You nod and move further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of being so safe and secure in one’s hands after not even feeling comfortable with anyone in years.

“T-Thank you for loving me, Iwa”, you gulp harshly, looking at him with teary eyes at the memory of all those who had managed to break your heart in the past years.

“No, baby”, he sighs, pressing the softest kiss right onto your lips, “thank you for letting me love you. When I say you’re literally everything I’ve ever dreamed of, I’m not even exaggerating because that’s what you are to me. A dream come true”, those are the last words Hajime mumbles before he pulls you into a proper kiss; not giving you the opportunity to reply.

The kiss starts off slow and calm. As if both of you were still trying to understand that this was actually happening because despite the hesitant movements, neither of you can hide the intense hunger lingering underneath every soft peck.

Iwaizumi, just as usual, lacks the patience to keep it going like that, not even trying to take it easier for even longer as he pulls your chin down and calmly pushes his tongue into your mouth, easily eliciting a soft moan from you. Your fingers find home in his brown curls, pulling at the thick strands and finally making him grunt right against your tongue; the deep sound sending vibrations and sweet little jolts of excitement through your whole body.

You slowly feel his hands wander; first starting off caressing your back, groping the soft flesh of your waist as well as the fingers of his right hand softly digging into your skin and for a second. You allow yourself to fall deeper and deeper into the perfect feeling of his touch until suddenly a mental image of his most recent ex-girlfriend pops up in your head and you stop functioning completely.

Iwaizumi lets his lips wander down your chin, placing a row of open mouthed kisses on your jaw before he moves to your neck and pulls the sensitive skin into his mouth without wasting another minute. The feeling of his hot tongue on your skin has your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you desperately try to distract yourself from your anxiety‘s attempt to ruin this for you.

You let out a soft whimper when Hajime wraps one of his big hands around one of your tits, harshly groping the flesh while rubbing his hard, clothed cock against your thick thigh.

His deep grunts and needy touches have you ruining your panties in no time to the point where the lacey fabric is literally sticking to your hot flesh in a rather uncomfortable way.

“Need you, baby”, Iwaizumi grunts, the movements of his hips rather sloppy and rushed yet so, so genuine and sweet, you can‘t help but smile softly.

“You got me, Haji”, you reply and take his handsome face into your hands, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs, “I‘m all yours.”

“Fuck, baby”, he moans and suddenly pulls away, his hands finding their way to the hem of your dress before he meets your eyes and wordlessly asks for your consent.

You give him a quick nod, pushing the voice of your anxiety all the way to the back of your head as Hajime slowly pushes the fabric up your thighs, revealing more and more skin before his eyes roll into the back of his eyes at the sight of your black lace panties.

He doesn‘t waste much time; quickly pulling the rest of it over your head and then taking a whole step back to let his greedy eyes roam your body with lust and nothing but adoration.

And when you realize your current, exposed state you take a deep breath to hold those insecurities back, however they‘re a lot faster than you are.

You nervously try to cover your naked body with your arms. Just the thought of him finding you and your body disgusting breaks your heart into pieces and with shivers of shame rushing down your spine, you lower your gaze.

“L-Look, I know it‘s not what you‘re used to and I- you don‘t have to touch me. I can just suck your cock or give you a handjob if you feel more comfortable that way”, you say, your voice a mere whisper and eventually breaking at the end when you give in to the tears.

“Baby…”, Iwaizumi sighs, pain evident in the tone of his voice. He calmly takes your wrists into his big hands before he pulls your arms away from your body, softly asking you to look at him and after what feels like an eternity, you manage to lift your head only to be met with nothing but warm, dark green eyes.

“You‘re fucking perfect”, he whispers and places a tiny little kiss on your lips, leaving you longing for more as he pulls away right afterwards, “there‘s literally nothing I would change about you.”

At the sound of those sweet words, you simply cannot hold back your tears any longer. You look at Iwaizumi with a quivering bottom lip as you let out a row of soft sobs; digging your nails into the skin of his wrists because you simply don‘t know what else to do.

For the first time in your life, your brain isn‘t protesting against a compliment and you know if it wasn‘t for him, there would be no way you‘d believe it.

“B-But your ex-girlfriends are the exact opposite and-”, “They don‘t matter, baby. You‘re you and it‘s all I could have asked for. I‘m in love with every part of your body and that has never been any different”, Iwaizumi interrupts you with his calm voice, placing his hands on your waist before one of them finds its way to your barely clothed ass.

“But-”, “No more buts”, the brunette says, a lot sterner and more determined, groping the flesh of your ass and then landing a firm spank on the soft flesh which has you whimpering into the crook of his neck.

Iwaizumi chuckles and pulls you into another deep kiss, sucking at your tongue, nibbling on your bottom lip all while his hands make sure to graze every bit of naked skin they can find. He pushes his leg in between your thighs, pressing it right against your cunt and without even wasting another second you find yourself grinding against the strong muscle. The fabric of his jeans rubs your throbbing clit in the best way possible, eliciting a row of needy whimpers from you.

You feel yourself soaking through the fabric of our lace panties and you know you‘re currently leaving a huge stain on Iwaizumi‘s pants but the pleasure clouding your mind makes it so easy to just ignore it.

“What a needy girl you are, baby”, Hajime mumbles, caressing the slightly dampened skin of cheeks with his thumb before he moves to graze your bottom lip and eventually pushes the digit into your open mouth.

Your lids fly open at the taste of his skin on your tongue, twirling the muscle around his thumb and then sucking on it softly, followed by some muffled moans of his name.

Iwaizumi watches you attentively for what feels like an eternity. His beautiful eyes wandering from the way you‘re rubbing your clunt against his clothed thigh to your perky nipples and then up to the way your lips look wrapped around his thumb like that and from the way his expression keeps growing darker and even hungrier, you know he‘s more than just enjoying your despair.

“I want to spit in your mouth”, he says, using the dominant tone you‘re oh so used to at this point and there‘s no way you‘d ever say no to him.

Something about being claimed in such a lewd way by the man you‘ve been dreaming of for years has you grinding your pussy into his thigh even harder; making sure to hit your clit with every rushed drag of your hips.

“Yes, p-please, Daddy”, you beg, not even overthinking any of your words as you part your lips and look at him with big, needy eyes.

When you notice the rather shocked and slightly overwhelmed expression on Iwaizumi‘s face, you gulp harshly, tilting your head to the side with your lips pushed into a concerned pout.

“What‘s wrong, Iwa?”, you whisper, way too scared of his response.

“You called me Daddy”, he replies and licks his plump lips, whereas you freeze completely at his comment.

“D-Did I? I‘m so sorry, Iwa”, the apology falls past your lips almost instantly at the realization because you know that not every guy is comfortable with such dynamic and even if Hajime definitely has a natural dominance to his personality, you should have waited a little longer before bringing this particular kink up.

“None of my boyfriends liked it and I don‘t like using it with completely strangers so I g-guess I just feel really safe with you and it slipped and I- oh, God, I‘m so sorry.”

You pull away from Iwaizumi with shaky hands, tears threatening to spill for the nth time within such a short period and you try your best to look everywhere but his eyes.

However, Iwaizumis seems to have other plans.

He takes your chin into his hand and pulls your face closer, nudges your nose with his own and then sucks your bottom lip into his mouth; making you whimper rather loudly.

“Say it again, baby”, he whispers, “tell Daddy how badly you want his spit.”

As his words echo inside of your brain, you let out a loud, high pitched whine, harshly trying to press your thigh further together ss the throbbing of your cunt becomes unbearable.

“Please, Daddy”, you reply, pushing his hand down to your neck and smiling softly when he wraps his pretty fingers around your throat, feeding right into every single fantasy you‘ve been imagining for so long, “spit in my mouth and on my cunt, I don‘t care. I just need it.”

“Good girl”, Iwa growls softly, “open up then, pretty one.”

You part your lips almost automatically at the sound of his demand, sticking your tongue out slightly and looking up at him with anticipation and such eagerness, if it wasn‘t for him, you would have never been as comfortable as this.

Iwaizumi smirks at you, keeping his grip on your throat firm but not too tight as he gathers his own saliva and spits into your mouth with a loud, lewd sound that sends shivers of pleasure straight down your spine and right into your core.

You can‘t stop your lips from stretching into a big smile when his taste coats the muscle of your tongue, swallowing it all in one go before you open your mouth yet again to show him it‘s all gone.

“Good fucking girl”, Iwaizumi praises you softly, caressing your cheek before he lets fo of your throat, “I got myself a perfect little doll, hm?”

“Thank you, Daddy”, you reply quickly, the intense urge to obey to his every word and submit to his every move absolutely overwhelming  at this point, but you would never want it any other way.

“Look at you, using your manners for me. You‘re welcome, princess. What about a little reward for being so good for me, baby? Wanna sit on my face so I can eat that pretty pussy of yours?”, Iwaizumi takes you hand into his, intertwining his fingers with yours before he guides you to the couch, letting himself fall into the soft cushion whereas you try your best not to panic at his words.

Of course the thought of having his mouth on your cunt is more than just tempting but you've never sat on a guy‘s face before; the fear of literally suffocating him with your weight making it impossible for you to even think about it.

“C-Can‘t you just eat me out like this, Daddy?”, you whisper, looking down to meet Iwa‘s hungry gaze and stopping him from pulling your panties any further down your thighs.

“I‘m too heavy”, the explanation follows right away, not wanting him to think it has anything to do with him or his wishes, “I don‘t want to hurt you.”

“Baby, I want you to sit on my face so I can eat your pretty pussy. That‘s it”, Iwaizumi says, his right hand finding the clasp of your bra and quickly getting rid of it before he takes both of your tits into his big hands; toying with your nipples and attentively watching the way your gasps grow louder with every pull on the perky buds, “you don‘t have to if you don‘t want to but don‘t you dare worry about me because this has been a dream of mine for literal years. Oh, how badly I want to be squished by those pretty, thick thighs of yours – you have no idea.”

“I want to! It’s just that I’ve never done this before. A-Are you sure? Please don‘t think you have to want this to make me feel better, I‘m okay with whatever you‘re comfortable with”, you whisper, not trusting your voice when you suddenly feel Iwaizumi‘s fingers tracing patterns on the inside of your thighs.

“Enough of this, pretty one”, his words are accompanied by a firm spank on your naked ass cheek; the pain of the sting leaving your pussy a spasming mess and with a soft moan you tighten your grip in his hair, “now sit on my face or I won’t fuck you.”

“N-No! Daddy, I‘m sorry, I promise I‘ll be good”, you whine quickly letting go of him so he can lay on his back only for Iwaizumi to get rid of his black shirt; revealing his strong, well trained body and all those dark lines adorning his tanned skin to your hungry eyes.

It takes you a few good seconds to gain enough confidence to actually spread your legs over his face, your whole body shaking with nervousness. But once Iwaizumi wraps his strong arms around your thighs and pulls your body even further down to his face, you slowly start easing up.

The feeling of his hot breath fanning against the wet flesh of your cunt sends goosebumps down your back. And the sight of his pretty face between your thick thighs, something you‘ve always been so insecure about, seems to slowly take a place as one of your favorite images to ever exist.

“Look me in the eyes, baby”, Iwaizumi mumbles and sucks at the skin of your inner thigh, his tongue on your skin making more and more juices gush out of your already drenched cunt as you allow yourself to meet his hungry gaze.

And just when your eyes meet, Iwaizumi sticks his tongue out and licks a long stripe over the hor flesh of your pussy before he gently pulls your little clit into his mouth and starts sucking on it.

You let out a loud groan; the sudden stimulation on your needy clit sending literal shock waves of pleasure through your body and without even realizing you slowly grind yourself further against his mouth.

Iwaizumi moans into your flesh, the deep bass of his voice sending vibrations right into your core, making your cunt clench even harder around nothing and if it wasn‘t for the intensity of his stare, you would have looked away already. Yet just as usual, there‘s something about the way he looks at you which has you feeling at literal ease – even in such a situation.

“Come on, baby”, Iwaizumi suddenly grunts, letting go of the sensitive bud with a loud sound before placing an open mouthed kiss on your clit and landing a harsh spank on your ash which has your body jolting in antica, “don’t be shy now. Ride my face like the good girl you are, make me proud…”, he adds softly, his words encouraging you easily and with a sound of affirmation, you start grinding your hips to meet the hot muscle of his tongue.

The following minutes are filled with loud slurping noises, high pitched moans and deep grunts as well as more words of affirmation and encouragement all while Iwaizumi continues to switch between thrusting his tongue into your tight hole and sucking on your clit before he eventually starts fingerfucking you with two of his thick digits.

You can't help but throw your head back at the immense amount of pleasure; your body and mind slowly reaching a point of complete haze as you lose yourself in the feeling of his touch.

And by the time you finally feel the taste of your high coating the tip of your tongue, your grip on Iwaizumi‘s hair tightens and a row of loud, choked out begs fall past your bit swollen lips.

“Look at your greedy little pussy clenching around my fingers like that”, Iwa chuckles deeply, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he keeps his mouth way too close to your throbbing little clit, “and those pretty begs. Gosh, baby, you‘re going to drive me insane.”

“S-So close, Daddy”, you choke out, your eyes flying open when you feel a third finger joining the two inside of your tight cunt, the pain of the stretch in combination with the pleasure of your upcoming high making your head spin.

“There we go, that‘s my baby”, he takes a deep breath and starts kneading the soft flesh of your ass in his palms, “want you to cum all over my fucking face. Show me what a good fucking girl you are.”

And those are the last words your brain manages to register before you feel the first wave of your orgasm hit you. Your sight turns pitch black and then white for a good second, your whole body tensing up at the feeling of coil in your core finally snapping.

Your thighs are shaking, your breath continuously hitching as you desperately try to regain your composure and if it wasn‘t for Iwaizumi‘s touch on your sensitive pussy, you‘d stay in the beautiful haze of your orgasm.

“You came so hard for me, baby”, Iwaizumi grins and pushes his fingers into his mouth before you finally find enough energy to get off of his face.

“W-Want more”, you whisper, your voice raspy and breathy as you tell him your request; low-key scared of being too greedy yet at the sight of Iwaizumi‘s eyes sparkling with excitement, you know he‘s not one to deny you anything. He‘s never been, after all.

“How about we move this to your bedroom, baby? I‘ve been dying to press your face into the mattress and ruin that little pussy of yours.” You feel a jolt of excitement blooming inside your chest at his words, nodding eagerly before you reach for his hand and guide him down the hall to your bedroom.

“Do you want me to suck you off?”, you say when the two of you come to stand in your room, your eyes focusing on the huge bulge in his pants, which manages to scare you slightly with its impressive size.

You always knew your best friend wasn‘t on the smaller side when it came to size yet you still can‘t hide just how surprised you are by its actual size. And suddenly the three fingers make a lot more sense to you.

“Let‘s save that for another time, pretty one. I‘ve been dreaming about pumping your cute little hole full of my cum for way too long. I can‘t wait any longer”, Iwaizumi replies and finally starts unbuckling his belt.

You take the few seconds he‘s busy to let your eyes admire the beauty of his perfectly sculpted body. You follow the dark lines of his chest tattoo, take in the sight of his stone hard abs and veiny arms as you press your thighs even more together to ease some of the pressure on your cunt.

“Are you done eyefucking me, pretty one?”, Iwaizumi suddenly chuckles, casually pushing his jeans as well as his boxer briefs down his meaty thighs and exposing his hard cock for your hungry eyes to devour.

He wraps his pretty fingers around his throbbing length, the tip an angry shade of red as precum continues to leak out; making your mouth water at the mere thought of having him in your mouth.

“Everything about you is so pretty”, you sigh and look into his eyes, the genuine appreciation in the green surrounding his iris making your heart grow warmer before he comes to stand in front of you in all of his glory.

“I love you so much”, Iwaizumi replies calmly, taking your face into his big hands before he places the softest kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, too”, you mumble and get up, pressing your lips against his and sighing into his mouth when he pushes his tongue past your lips without missing a beat.

Just when Iwaizumi starts letting his hands wander over your naked body, he halts his movements and pulls away slightly, “my pretty little baby, make sure to face the mirror so you can watch while I fuck your brains out. I want you to see just how perfect you are.”

“Yes, Daddy”, you whisper, your lips stretched into a big, big smile as you move out of his strong grip to position yours on your knees just as you were told.

Your heart suddenly starts racing again when you bury your face in your arms, making sure to push your ass as high as possible to give Iwaizumi easy access to your glistening cut. The excitement in combination with the pleasure and deep, deep longing finally manage to take over your brain; shoving the anxiety alongside all those insecurities to the very back of your head and making it easy for you to put your whole focus on the tll male behind you.

Iwaizumi’s rough hands caress your bare ass softly, kneading the flesh and lightly spanking it a few times before he lets a thick drop of his spit fall right onto your clenching pussy; sending goosebumps down your back at the feeling of it sliding down your flesh and mixing with your leaking juices.

You feel the tip of his thick cock nudging your entrance, the memory of his size making you tense up subconsciously and just when you’re about to hold your breath, Iwaizumi’s deep, calming voice echoes through the silence of your room.

“Take a deep breath, baby”, he whispers, knowing you’re going to follow his orders just like the good girl you love to be, “Daddy’s got you, okay? I’m gonna go easy, I promise.”

You lift your head to meet his comforting gaze through the mirror in front of you and without another beat passing, you feel yourself calming down again; the feeling of being absolutely safe and secure in his hand making it the easiest task.

And when Iwaizumi feels the tension in your body easing up, he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes his thick tip into your tight hole. You whimper at the delicious stretch, the pain easily overshadowed by the sound of Iwaizumi’s heavy breathing and little moans.

“I’m gonna go all in, baby or else it’s going to hurt a lot more”, you appreciate his warning because as he’s saying it, Iwaizumi thrusts the whole of his impressive length into your spasming cunt; pushing every bit of air out of your lungs and pushing you way too close to your second high of the night. You can’t help but whimper loudly, tears already streaming down your cheeks because of the beautiful feeling of pain and pleasure mixing inside of your veins from the intensity of the stretch.

Iwaizumi, as always the gentleman, gives you all the time you need to adjust to his size; only growing slightly impatient as you still whine softly after two whole minutes yet you’re quick to lift your head again with quivering bottom lip and teary eyes, begging him to just fuck you.

“Please, Daddy”, you sob, moving away from him in a desperate attempt for some kind of friction; your cunt spasming around his thick cock like crazy and you know you’re only a few thrust and some clit stimulation away from your next high, “please, fuck me.”

“My greedy little whore”, Iwaizumi grunts, pulling his cock out of you astonishingly slow with the sole purpose of teasing you, “you’re going to take what Daddy gives you, did you hear me?”

You moan as the feeling of his tip dragging alongside your spongy walls, your eyes rolling into the back of your head only to find your way back to reality with a couple of harsh spanks on your already sore ass.

“Good sluts answer when being talked to, pretty one”, he warns, thrusting his cock back into you with one quick snap of his hips; burying himself balls deep inside of your overly sensitive cunt.

“Yes, Daddy, yes”, you cry and look up at him with glossy eyes, “just please, fuck my stupid little cunt, please.” Iwaizumi lets out a row of deep chuckles followed by raspy groans in response to your perfect answer before he nods at you and mumbles a few soft praises right into your ear and then straightens himself again.

“Alright then, pretty one.”

Loud grunts fill your ears so beautifully, echoing through the thick air of your bedroom and in combination with the sound of skin meeting skin in a constant rhythm, you feel the exact way your body is slowly falling into the beautiful bliss of another high.

Iwaizumi fucks you fast, harsh and rough. There’s nothing soft and romantic about the way his hips are meeting yours in a steady rhythm; making sure to hit that sweet spot deep inside of your pussy with every single one of his thrusts as he continues to use his whole strength on your burning ass.

But not once do you even think about telling him to go easier on you; this iwaizumi the one you’ve been imagining for all those years.

It doesn’t take long for him to wrap his strong arm around your chest to pull you up, his fingers also finding their way back home around your delicate throat.

“Look at you, baby”, he groans right into your ear, making you open your eyes and meet your own reflection in the mirror, “you’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t comprehend it.”

You stare at yourself with your lips parted in awe, eyes falling to the sight of Iwaizumi’s thick cock stretching your tiny cunt before you go back to trying to recognize yourself.

Because for the first time in literal years, you don’t hate what you see and even if it’s because of IWaizumi’s strong body right behind you, you still feel this certain type of warmth blossoming in your chest.

"Feels so good, baby", he groans, throwing his head back as the movements of his hips start to become slightly sloppier, a little more uncontrolled, "so tight and warm, so fucking perfect", Hajime’s voice breaks at the end of his soft praise because of your walls clenching around his cock even more the closer you get to the edge.

You start feeling dizzy, your sight turning into a blurr and at some point you can’t even in- or exhale without letting out a shaky moan.

Iwaizumi looks at you with wide, hungry eyes, the feeling of your walls gripping his cock like a goddamn vice sending him into an ecstatic state and the longer he watches you getting lost in the pleasure, the more he struggles to keep his rhythm.

You’re mumbling incoherent sentences, desperately trying to tell the brunette about how close you are whereas the pleasure makes it absolutely impossible for you to form a proper sentence.

“Are you going to cum for me again, baby?”, Iwaizumi grunts, tightening his grip on your throat, making you gasp for air as you nod in response to his question.

“My perfect little slut”, he sighs, his hand reaching down to rub your hard, throbbing clit with two of his rough digits, “fucking do it. Cum for your Daddy like the good whore you are.”

And just like a few minutes prior, those words are the last straw and eventually make you stumble over the edge head first. Your walls start spasming around Iwa’s cock like crazy, your loud moans and soft cries are the only thing he can focus on and without missing another minute, Iwaizumi also lets himself get consumed by the beautiful feeling of relief.

Iwa hips still, his cock buried deeply inside of your tight sex as he coats your walls with his creamy cum. Your new boyfriend gets lost in the feeling of finally getting to cum inside of you after waiting for so many years; feeding the fantasy of getting to claim you in the most intimate way possible. He buries his face in the sweaty crook of your neck, his rapid breath fanning your skin as the two of you try to calm down from your intense highs. Your hand finds its way into his dark hair, massaging his scalp with your eyes closed and your legs still shaking from the aftermath of your breathtaking orgasm. Without pulling out of you, despite his own release leaking out of you and down the sides of his cock, Iwaizumi makes you lay down with him; just tightly holding you in his arms.

A few minutes filled with nothing but soft breathing pass by before you finally find the strength to move again; the sudden need to look at Iwaizumi’s completely fucked out face overwhelming you in the best way possible. And when you turn around to look at him, you’re met with a breathtaking sight.

Messy strands of sweaty hair falling into his flushed face, swollen lips and glossy eyes sparkling at you in a way you’ve never seen before and in that moment you feel yourself falling in love with Iwaizumi all over again.

“I’m so in love with you”, you whisper and caress the soft skin of his cheeks, loving the way he moves even further into your touch.

“Always and forever only yours, pretty one”, Iwaizumi sighs and presses his forehead against yours.

࿏ A/N: And here it finally is! My first x chubby reader fic!! As a chubby someone who’s been reading fanficion for a long time, I’ve always craved some kind of representation and now I finally got to join this side of the community and I’m more than just happy about the way it turned out. I genuinely hope you guys will enjoy this and find comfort the same way I did while writing this. Please feel free to leave any sort of feedback if you enjoyed it and thank you so much for everything.

[sukirichi]

total opposites

You and Toge swap bodies after encountering a fairytale curse, and similar to its origin, it also takes a fairytale method to break it.

REQUEST. body swap au + best friends to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight crack fic, some cursing, implications of nsfw but nothing explicit, just Toge being a not-so closet pervert, usual best friend bickering, reader is fem bodied, unedited story (I should stop saying this, everyone knows I don’t edit my stuff)

NOTES. I enjoyed writing this, tysm for the request anon, this was really cute! definitely this is shooting up in one of my fav works ever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You stretched your arms overhead, feeling great after sleeping in. It wasn’t common of you to sleep this late, but you and Toge had gone stargazing the night before. A smile made its way to your face as you reminisced him reciting rice ball ingredients, signing that he was telling poetry to ‘match the mood’ until you’d both fallen asleep on the soft blanket atop a hill.

You don’t remember how you made it back to your room, but figured that Toge had carried you back home before the sun rose. Making a mental note to thank your best friend later, you yawned as you padded out to your room, hands rubbing in circles at your stomach.

Hopefully breakfast would be amazing today.

The door next to you opened, revealing your younger classmate, and you frowned, because wasn’t Kugisaki your next door neighbour? Well, whatever, he, Yuuji, and Kugisaki might’ve taken advantage of the rare, peaceful weekend that they probably had a movie marathon the night before.

“Morning, Megumi!” you greeted, coughing a bit when you sounded off, throat a little horse and itchy. At the sound of your voice, Megumi stilled in his tracks, eyes wide at you. His comical expression had you barking in laughter, shooting finger guns his way as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Ey, be a good dog and bark for me, will you?”

Semi-visible sonic waves drifted like waves after one another out your mouth. Megumi scowled before he froze the next second, ears perked up and backside wagging in replacement of a tail. “Woof woof!”

“What the hell?” you reeled back in slight disgust, your underclassman’s cheeks burning red. Then, your lips grazed against a soft cloth, making you look down.

You blinked back once. Twice. You were definitely...built different today. Curiously, you tugged at the zipper peaking out from your black collar, the familiar zhoop sound of the zipper burned into your memory after hearing your best friend do it countless times before.

In front of you, Megumi screeched – the most noise he’d made ever since you met him – his jaw dropped open while you – or rather Toge stood at the end of the hallway, his hands squeezing at your breasts that were still under last night’s pyjamas. You blinked back once. Then twice, steam pouring from your nose when Toge, in your body, pointed at his body. 

“Oh, oh!” your scream bounced off the hallways hard enough that Panda slammed his door open, about to tell everyone to shut up when your voice let out a high-pitched scream.

“What are you doing in my body?!”

Looking down at where Toge was pointing, you were greeted by the sight of his dark uniform and sock clad feet, your chest replaced with hard muscles instead of the soft flesh. You turned to Toge with a stupefied look that mirrored his, both of you falling on the ground with fists pounding on the hardwood floor.

“I’m a fucking girl!” he cried out, whether out of happiness or frustration, it was hard to tell.

Meanwhile, you zipped his collar back up, tugging at his off-white hair as you forced yourself to remember his limited vocabulary. “BONITO FLAKES!”

Now you understood Toge’s frustration of being a cursed speech user. 

“Bonito Flakes” definitely did not hold the same fury as “FUCK” did.

“You and I need to set down some boundaries,” you signed to him, brows pulled together. Toge seemed to be enjoying this sudden body swap a lot more than you did since he hadn’t stopped posing in the mirror the moment you pushed him back to your room, locking it shut to get some privacy. “You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to shower, do you understand?”

Toge scowled at your words, sassy as ever with his hands placed on his hips, buttocks jutted out. You hated, absolutely hated that he used your body this way because this time you couldn’t even laugh – not when seeing your body felt this awkward.

“You would really rather me stink?”

“You can’t undress too! Ever! Or if you will, your eyes better be closed. No peeking too!”

“Y/N, you and I grew up together. I’ve already seen everything,” he rolled his eyes, earning him a hard slap from the arm. Considering he was a lot more muscular than you were, your hit came a lot harder. “Ow!” he protested, rubbing the sore spot that ached, only to laugh at the sounds emitting from his lips. “Wow, I have to admit that this is really fun though. I’m actually talking,” he announced, “Hey, say salmon for me.”

“Bonito flakes!” you shook your head, “The moment Principal Yaga is back, we’re going to talk to him, okay? I don’t want to be stuck in your body any longer!”

“Please, you’re lucky you get to feel me up,” he winked at you, taking your (his) hands to flatten it on his stomach. “Come on, come on, feel my abs!” Whack. “Would you please stop slapping me? Your body is a lot more delicate than mine and my hands are – stop slapping me!”

Feeling bad for your friend and not wanting to abuse your body too much, you raised your hands in surrender with a roll of your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously with that voice. You’re too cute.”

“Complimenting ourselves now, aren’t we?” he scoffed, “Well, whatever, you are cute, especially when you’re angry. Such a shame I can’t see you do that right now because my handsome face is looking back at me.”

“I won’t hesitate to choke you, my friend.”

“You wouldn’t. You adore your body too much,” contrary to his words, Toge pulled a defensive stance. You threw a pillow at him, to which he easily dodged, clutching at the hem of your pyjamas afterwards. “Speaking of bodies, I really need to pee.”

“Hold it!”

“Are you insane? I’m not holding it, you’re going to kill us both!”

“Fine, I’ll take you to the rest room then,” you tugged at the hood of your shirt, pushing him inside the communal female restroom. Toge stood in the middle shock still, evidently flustered at the stalls and lack of urinals. You flicked a finger on his forehead, finger pointed to a stall. “Go pee. That’s my body – I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything weird with it.”

“I thought you trusted me, friend. Why would you think I’d touch you that way?”

You gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look. “You jack off every fucking night, Toge. I can hear you even from the next hallway. Plus, you’re a horny teenage male, who’s to say you wouldn’t be curious and try to see what female masturbation feels like?”

His eyes lit up at the idea, fist coming down to bounce at the palm of his hand as he nodded. “That’s actually a good idea—”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“What?!” you and Toge both exclaimed. He faced you with utter horror written on his face and you gasped, slapping both palms over your lips.

“It is true,” Principal Yaga affirmed with a grim look on his face. He’d recently got back to fetch your troublesome Gojo-Sensei who’d been caught starting a ruckus in Roponggi while women flocked around him, leading to your principal to haul his ass back to the school grounds. “Some curses are manifested through daily objects, and sometimes even through nature. That shooting star you saw was an example of that.”

“But is kissing really necessary?” Toge queried with a wary gaze sent your way.

“It’s a fairytale curse. It can only be broken through a true love’s kiss.”

“But sir, Toge and I have never dated anyone before. How can we miraculously fall in love with someone to break this curse overnight?”

“It doesn’t have to happen overnight. Sometimes, a simple crush will do,” Principal Yaga sighed, scratching his bald head with his face pulled deep in thought. “Y/N, you have a crush on Gojo-Sensei right? I’m going to kill him if he actually kisses you – and knowing that damn brat he might if you ask him – but I think a kiss on the cheek will suffice. For now, you both just have to...broaden your relationships. Maybe go out on dates.”

“I don’t mind that. In fact, I’m going to have the time of my life,” Toge cheered, his mood dampening once he saw you stiffen. “But my body is...”

Knowing full well that he’d get insecure over his lack of speech again, you glared at him hard enough that your best friend straightened up, lips puckered out in a pout as if you hadn’t just caught him talking badly about himself again when you’ve told him countless times he was perfectly fine the way he was.

It made you sigh, feeling slightly bad that until now he still couldn’t see himself the way you saw him – not that you’d ever vocalize this; Toge would never shut up (in the best way he could) if he had the slightest idea what went inside your head.

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for anyone to like you,” you teased instead, somewhat flustered at your indirect compliment.

Toge merely scoffed at you, his gaze burning and hard, contrasting the teasing little shit grin he wore. “Oh, please, if I wasn’t the cursed speech user, I would’ve banged—”

“Kids!” Principal Yaga threw his dolls at you hard, the both of you clutching at your heads in pain. How were those dolls as heavy as rocks? “Take your bickering back to your rooms please. No more of this mess and noise. It’s late.”

You frowned at the old man, face pleading as you signed, “Principal Yaga, can’t we really do anything else? Aren’t there any techniques to undo this?”

You and Toge knew that combination so well – pitch black eyes, jaw clenched, lips pursed and palms interlaced under his chin – one that meant his words were final and irrevocable. None of you could argue or suggest more solutions the moment the words left his lips like an ultimate decree. “The technique is the kiss. Now leave.”

You and Toge tried, you both really did. 

But following Principal Yaga’s suggestion of dating others had turned out to be a complete fail – even with your normal body and Toge’s physical charisma. 

It simply didn’t work; not when Megumi ran away from you every time you tried to get him to kiss you with your arms wide open, and Toge wasn’t helping either by pushing Gojo-Sensei away from you every time the cheeky eyed teacher announced his willingness to help.

Eventually, you and your best friend had retired in his room, the scent of him coated all over his pillows and his shirt that you wore. That felt comforting, at least, and you buried yourself in the crook of your body’s neck, bodies tangled with one another.

Who knew dating could be so tiring?

A wave of irritation flashed over you from today’s events, knowing full well that this could’ve been avoided long ago. Scowling, you cuddled Toge closer, lightly flicking your fingers on your body’s chest. “This is your damn fault, Toge.”

“You were the one who asked me to stargaze with you.”

“You don’t always have to say no to everything I ask of you, you know.”

“You’re really dumber than I thought if you think I could easily say no to you,” he snorted above you, his chin resting atop your head. “I don’t have a lot of weakness because I’m a strong sorcerer—” another flick, a harsher one this time around. “Okay, okay, I’m just kidding! But I mean it though – you’re my best friend and my weakness. Of course I’d do anything to make you happy, even if it’s something as stupid as stargazing.”

“Hey!” you made a sound of protest in your throat, looking back at him with a frown. “It wasn’t stupid, it was romantic.”

Hell yeah, it was romantic indeed – your heart still skipped a beat every time you remembered Toge’s starry eyes matching the night sky’s beauty, the words salmon and mustard leaf surprisingly sexy every time it came from him. It was stupid – so fucking stupid – that you groaned into his chest to hide your flushed face.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

The room fell silent, your syncopated breathing soothing during this stressful times. Taking advantage of your voice, Toge began to hum, singing the songs you both had always listened to in the privacy of your room during lazy days. It brought a smile to your face as you clutched to him tighter, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed up at him, tapping his chin to get his attention. “Toge, can I say something weird?”

“Please, nothing you say surprises me anymore. Shoot.”

Your mouth began to dry as you cleared your throat in an attempt to hide your awkwardness, gaze pointedly averted from his prying ones. “You and I...we’ve known each other for a long time and we love each other. As best friends, of course.”

“Sheesh, friendzone much?”

“Would you please shut up and listen to me seriously for once?” you huffed, making him snicker, but nodded at you anyway to continue. “As I was saying – why don’t we kiss? It could be true love’s kiss.”

Toge didn’t speak for a good minute, the pregnant pause filling in the gap filled with tension. You taped his cheek, waving his hand in front of his eyes when he dazed out. When his gaze focussed back on you, Toge was surprisingly calm – although beneath that composed exterior, his mind had simply short-circuited. “If this is your way to get to make out with me, I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Toge, I’m serious! Let’s kiss!”

“I don’t want to!” he shook his head indignantly, hiding his face by hugging you close to his chest instead.

“Why not? Don’t you want to swap back to your original body? Both of us haven’t showered in two days and I’m sick of the way you smell. You’re lucky I love you though, otherwise I’m going to cry. Come on, Toge, what’s holding you back?” you tried to fight back from his grip, but he’d surprised you both when he only squeezed you tighter, both your erratic heart rates matching the other.

“I said no.”

“Toge, it’s just a damn kiss, what’re you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that if we don’t swap back, then that means you don’t love me the way I love you!” he finally admitted, breathing hard before continuing. “Principal Yaga said it must be a kiss between lovers and not just platonic friends okay?” you attempted to scramble away from his arms again, and this time he let you, though he’d closed his eyes, cheek squished on the pillows as he murmured, “I don’t want you to reject me... even though I messed up already.”

“Wait,” you snapped your fingers to make him open his eyes, hesitant as you signed, “You...you love me that way?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my face is staring back at me and it’s fucking awkward – I wanted to see your face when I confessed!” he sat up with a frustrated groan, childishly kicking off the sheets of the bed as he clutched his head in his hands. “I had everything planned, okay? Nobara and Yuuji helped me think of everything because Megumi is shit when it comes to love. Listen, I was going to ask you on a candlelit date and then maybe kiss the life out of you – if you feel the same way—”

“Kiss me.” The body he possessed a victim of his own powers, Toge was left with no choice but to grab your face before his mouth pressed against yours, fingers entangled into the other’s hair. You were smiling into the kiss the whole time, barely able to recognize when Toge had shifted your bodies until you were under him, his hands running down your sides lovingly the whole time. 

Pulling away to get some air, you opened your eyes, unsurprised when Toge laid above you, his strong arms planted beside your head.

Both of you were breathing hard from the passionate kiss filled with so much sexual tension and longing, your tongue darting out to swipe at his taste on your lips. The laughter that bubbled out of you was pure, wholesome and swollen like your heart. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Salmon!” Toge peppered your cheeks with kisses, pulling out more gleeful laughter from you, his playful and loving attacks more of a gift than a punishment. Once you’d recovered from your happiness – although really, who could recover after that? – Toge unzipped his collar, his smile nothing but wicked when he commanded, “Kiss me again.”

[dreamerstreamer]

Pocket Knife Prince

Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?

Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3

You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.

“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.

“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”

“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”

Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up. 

Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.

You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”

A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”

You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.” 

Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”

A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”

You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”

Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”

You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”

Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”

He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”

You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”

“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”

“Oh, you’re back.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.

He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”

From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”

Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”

Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”

You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”

“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”

“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”

“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”

You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”

Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”

Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”

“Why don’t I just go?”

Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”

Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”

Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.

“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”

Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”

Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”

Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”

You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”

His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”

Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.

You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.

He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.

While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Want an apple slice?”

You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.

“I’d rather have the knife.”

You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.

Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.

It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.

You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.

“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”

Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”

Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”

Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”

Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”

You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”

“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.” 

He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”

“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.

A second passed. Then two.

“…touché, [Y/N].”

“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”

Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”

A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”

“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.

“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”

Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific. 

You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.

You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.

“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”

He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”

You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”

With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”

You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”

Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.

“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”

Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”

You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”

You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.

He nodded. “It is.”

You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.

Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”

With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don’t want your hands to get dirty.”

You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”

That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.

“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”

Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.

“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”

You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.

“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”

He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice. 

He was so close.

The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.

You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”

A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—

“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”

You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.

He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”

Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze. 

Can I…?

You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.

Yes, yes, yes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.

This was everything you could have possibly asked for.

A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.

You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.

Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”

You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”

You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—

“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”

Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.

They were back.

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”

Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.

“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”

Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”

“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.

Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.” 

Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”

Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.

“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.

Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.

Oh, he totally knew.

“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.

Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”

Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”

“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”

You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.

“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.

Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”

A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.

Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.

Who were the two of you to not take it?

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[sirowsky]

Part 11 - Old Truths Return

Pero Tovar and Female Reader (nicknamed Bee) Modern AU

You and Pero are finally starting to find solid footing again, when a few surprises come your way.

Creator chooses not to use Warnings! This is 18+ONLY! I’m happy to elaborate on what to expect from this part via DM. Also, I'm so happy to finally have this part finished, it's been around seven weeks since I last updated this series! Hope you'll love it!

Word Count: 7524 Masterlist(this story) Author’s Masterlist

<><><><><><><><><><>

   You woke up slowly, and the first thing you noticed was Pero sitting by your side, looking completely worn out.    It took you a good long while to remember what had happened, but the throbbing in your hand was a major clue.    At first, you thought that you might’ve tried to punch someone, however unlikely, but then you recalled the table… and groaned with annoyance at yourself, which caught Pero’s attention.

   “Pintora? Are you awake?”

   Your eyes had fallen shut with the memories, so you opened them again at his question, to let him know that you’d heard him, but you couldn’t meet his eyes yet, staring at the ceiling instead.    He was sitting on the floor for some reason, so you could just barely see him moving in your periphery.

   “How bad is the pain?”

   “…no worse than I deserve.”

   Even through his silence you could tell how much he disagreed, but he seemed to be treading carefully for some reason.    When you didn’t say anything else, he cleared his throat.

   “Abby is okay.”

   Your head snapped over to the side to look at him, so fast that it made you dizzy, and you reflexively squinted your eyes together to try and keep him in your field of vision until it stopped.

   “Are you sure? How do you know that?”

   “We had a visit from the good Detective.”

   That was a sobering enough piece of information that you felt the need to sit up and get your brain back to full function.    When he saw you move your legs down the front of the sofa, he shifted to sit on his knees and helped you push yourself up, but your head didn’t quite cooperate and took a good minute to re-center itself.

   “Why do I feel hungover?”

   A cheeky little smile found its way into his face at that, instantly making you nervous.

   “Your father gave you a little cocktail to ease your pain and help you relax. It knocked you out first, but then it made you… loopy.”

   You could feel the scepticism spread through your features as you listened.

   “Loopy?”

   “Yes, you were so sweet. Told me how much you love that Pero-guy.”

   “I said that… to you?”

   “Mhm. You were very excited about it.”

   “Ugh… Sorry.”

   “Don’t be, it was adorable. I love that you love me even when you are loopy.”

   That made you crack a little laugh, and he pulled himself up to take a seat next to you, snaring you close into his chest while he kissed your forehead as you leaned into him.

   “You scared me today, pintora.”

   His voice had turned soft and hushed, as if just talking about it might spark that fury within you again, and it made you feel guilty, even though you knew that that wasn’t his intent.

   “I’m not sure what happened. I just… couldn’t… I felt like I was about to explode, and I couldn’t stop it.    I had to do something.”

   “Was it just about Abby?”

   There was something in his tone telling you that he was a bit afraid of your answer, as if he knew that part of it was because of him, and you wanted to tell him that he was wrong, but you had to be honest.    Your head was still a mess, but now that you were calm, things were beginning to fall into place. Hindsight always allowed for better understanding when it came to emotions.    Still, you took your time thinking it through, to be sure you were right.

   “No. It was about a lot of things. The studio and… Pete. Not just that day, but all of it, the relationship before that, the friendship, learning that it was all a lie.    And……”

   “Me.”

   “Yes. And you.    I woke up alone, Pero. The one day of my life when I really needed to be held, you were more than just not there… You put an impenetrable fucking wall between us, and that really hurt me.    And I couldn’t even tell you that because you weren’t there.”

   You didn’t dare to pull back and look at him, because you knew that you were hurting him, but this had to come out, or it would fester even worse.    His hold around your shoulders didn’t change, but you felt his heart beat harder, and his throat bob as he swallowed a few times.

   “I don’t know how to do this… I have never been with someone like this. And I know it was wrong, because I could see how it hurt you, but I was so afraid.    Of my own hands, my own mind. What I did to him, Bee… that was slaughter. And in the moment, I enjoyed it. I have never felt something like that before, even when I have killed really awful people.    And then you… I alm-… I wanted to…”

   “Claim me. Your prize.”

   He nodded, unable to say anything else.    But you weren’t afraid of him, because again, with hindsight, you didn’t believe that he would’ve hurt you even if he had tried to claim you back then.    You believed that the part of him that loved you would always win, no matter how strong his anger or fear might get.    However, there was no way of knowing that, because it hadn’t happened. But that was also the major reason why you believed it.

   “I don’t know what would’ve happened if Groot hadn’t gotten through to you. But the fact is – he did. You stopped and then when I reminded you of being a star in my orbit, you heard me.    That’s what matters, Pero. Not what almost happened, or might’ve happened, but what actually happened. Please, honey, forgive yourself so that we can move on from this crap, because I’m really ready to do that, but I can’t if you won’t.”

   He pulled back to meet your eyes, and at first you saw a lot of pain in his, but the longer he looked at you, the softer they got, until a small hint of something happy was poking through the gloom.    He reached up to fix the little poppy that he’d placed behind your ear earlier, and that had somehow not fallen out despite your outburst.

   “Should I propose now, or later, pintora?”

   That made you huff a laugh.    He was just reminding himself that the two of you were somehow, against all odds, kinda perfect together, but it also meant that he understood what you were saying and that he agreed, which was important.    Saying he was sorry again wouldn’t mean much, because those words are about asking for solace and forgiveness, both of which you’d already given him.    This told you that he was at least trying to look ahead, to consider a brighter future, and for someone like him, that was a huge step forward.

   “Later. We’ve got shit to do. Now, tell me about Jones.”

----------

   “Hey, dad.”

   “Hey, bumble. How are the over-the-counter drugs treating you?”

   “Better than I’d hoped. You really don’t think I worsened any of the fractures?”

   “Well, we’d need an x-ray to be sure, but not as far as I can tell. Which is lucky because that was one helluva punch.”

   “It needed to be.”

   “Mhm. You and Pero alright?”

   “Yeah. It wasn’t just about him.”

   “But it was also about him.”

   He was putting the finishing touches to a chicken stew, and you turned around and leaned your backside against the kitchen counter, letting your head fall forwards with a sigh.    Dean knew your every expression, every movement, he could usually tell what was going on in your head even by just seeing you from the corner of his eye.    But he hadn’t seen your outburst coming. He hadn’t seen the escalation in you, the pent-up emotion that sat so close to the surface that all it took was one spark to make it boil over, and you knew that it had rattled him.    But you hadn’t seen or felt it coming yourself either, so how could he have?

   “I need him, dad. I don’t know when exactly my life became so tethered to his, but it is. I’m not… whole without him. But I don’t think he fully believes that.    It’s like a part of him is waiting for me to realize that he’s not worth it and just throw him away, and I don’t know how to convince him that that’ll never happen.”

   He stopped stirring the pot and pulled it off the hot plate, turning the plate off before he looked at you.

   “Sweetie… he straight-up asked me to be his father, in the place of the one he never should’ve had.”

   You felt your face slip from concern to surprise to shock and finally, to overwhelming affection that pooled into a pleasant heat somewhere around your stomach.    For a man like Pero Tovar to voice a desire like that, to ask for something purely out of a desire to be happier, to be accepted, to feel loved, was beyond what you would’ve thought him capable of yet. You’d hoped for him to get there eventually, but you’d expected it to take years before he might dare to ask for such things from anyone but you.    And it was all because of the doors that you’d opened when you let him into your heart.

   “There may still be parts of him that makes him think he’s ugly and unworthy, but he never would’ve asked me that unless he wanted to be here, in this family, for the long haul.    I think he does absolutely believe in the strength of your love, but he might need a little time to understand the strength of his own.”

   You forced a deep breath into your lungs, trying to make the ache in your chest lessen, but when Dean wrapped his arms around you, the tears came anyway. And this time, you didn’t try and hold them back, didn’t wish for them to stop, you let them fall and cherished every single one, because for the first time in what felt like a long time, they weren’t tears of pain.    He held you close, stroked your back and kissed the top of your head, until the dogs walked in, done with their patrol for the evening, and you saw Groot glance at you but walk over to lay with the others.

   “He’s scared of me.”

   Your father let go of you and turned around, watching the dog carefully for a minute.

   “It’s been some tumultuous few weeks for him as well. He’s not scared, he’s confused. Give him some time with solid dependable routines, and he’ll come back to you.    Now, is Pero gonna be long, or do you think we can get started on dinner? It’s almost 10pm.”

   “No, he was just gonna shower. He helped me clean up first so it took a while before he could get started, but I’m sure he’ll be down any minute.”

   “Boo.”

   You jumped sideways when his low voice suddenly appeared, along with the rest of him, just inches to your left, and he just smiled while you growled through your teeth.

   “You’re still fucking limping, how are you that quiet and that fast while still limping?!”

   “You will never know, preciosa.”

   You traded verbal jabs with him while getting your very delayed dinner in order and taking your seats, and the topic soon returned to your apparently very entertaining dopiness.

   “I wish I had thought to take a video of you, you really were so cute.”

   “Oh, hell no! Neither of you had better have recorded any part of my doped-up ramblings, you hear?”

   “Don’t worry, Buzzer, it was short and sweet. No cameras rolling. And I, for one, would rather have had footage of your partner’s reaction when I suggested he help me take care of the wasps in your stead.”

   Pero’s smile vanished and he leaned away from the table, shaking his head at Dean, who just laughed harder.

   “You practically bounced away from me as if I’d electrocuted you, son.”

   You couldn’t help but snicker. The mood had been so odd and pressured lately that this sudden unburdened levity felt like a breath of fresh air. And you didn’t miss how the word ‘son’ had taken on a much deeper meaning now.    It helped the brighter mood to know that Abby was alive and recovering, but it was more than that. Knowing that Pete was dead and couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, along with finally airing out everything that had bothered you, made a harmony settle into the atmosphere.

   “I was afraid you would tie me up and make me help.”

   That made both you and your father gawk at him, and then you both answered in unison.

   “I’d never do that!”/“He’d never do that!”

   But Pero just shrugged.

   “It is phobia, I cannot control it.”

   “Aww, well it’s nice to know that you’re still human, babe. I mean, I’m fine with raising alien offspring, but I’d just kinda like to know in advance.”

   You should’ve thought that sentence through before you said it, because you and Pero hadn’t had that conversation yet, but thankfully, he just smiled and played along.

   “Still human, just weird.”

   You snickered at him, relieved to have gotten away with the little slip of your tongue, but also mentally filing away that topic for later discussion.    Since there was still nothing you could do about Kate, you decided to leave that problem until you had reason to address it, and soon cleared the table and went to your respective bedrooms for the night.    Groot stayed downstairs with the other dogs.

   It had been a long day and you fell asleep without much prompting, waking up rested and feeling a lot more relaxed than you had been for a good long while now.    You spent a long moment just laying there, looking at Pero fast asleep next to you, his arms folded under the pillow to support his head and help his breathing as he laid heavily on his stomach and chest. His right leg was pulled up to the side where you were, to keep him in contact with you even though his arms weren’t available, and you had your left leg resting over it, which placed the middle of his thigh right against your steadily heating core.

   You were aching for him already when you woke up, courtesy of some seriously wet dreams that had played out on the insides of your eyes shortly before you came to, but you didn’t wanna wake him.    He’d slept even less than you had in the past two weeks, and you thought of it as a good sign that he was finally relaxed enough to be able to sleep without holding you against his chest.    So, you just watched him, listened to his heavy breaths and studied every inch of his face, smoothed of all worried or fearful lines that were so familiar to his features, trying to commit every detail to memory.

   But after another hour you still hadn’t managed to cool the yearning of your desire, and it was getting unbearable. And since you knew that he wouldn’t object to being awoken to satisfy you, you started grinding against his thigh in small circles, offering yourself a little relief while you waited for him to come around.    He was so deeply asleep that it took a while, so when he finally began to stir, you were well and thoroughly worked up, panting and nearing your climax, the wetness of your core having left his leg slick where you moved over him.

   Your eyes had fallen shut with the pleasure, so you didn’t see him wake, but you felt his thigh harden underneath your pussy, giving you more friction from the added solidity, and you quickly toppled over.    Knowing that he was awake and watching you only made it more intense, and you grabbed the edge of your pillow with your right hand, digging your nails into to it to try and anchor yourself, even though you felt like you were flying.    You didn’t open your eyes until you’d come back down, finding him studying your face with flared nostrils and a deep craving practically beaming at you, but he still hadn’t moved.

   “I’d apologize, but I know you loved that. Also, I’m not sorry.”

   He smiled at that, and it was a hungry expression.

   “Good.”

   He slipped his arms out from under the pillow and rose to stand on his hands and knees, pulling the covers off and grabbing your leg to roll you onto your back before coming to stand over you, still on all fours.    You both slept naked, so you could see his hard cock bouncing as he moved and continue to twitch with want after he’d stilled over you. It made your legs tremble where they cradled his hips, trying to pull him closer, but he stayed like that, just standing there looking down on you.

   “Patience, pintora. I will give you what you want, you know this.”

   “Then what are you waiting for?”

   “I’m not waiting, I am savouring. You are so beautiful like this… pearly with sweat. Wanting. Supple. I must remind myself not to take this for granted.”

   A twinge of something sharp passed through your chest hearing that, because it came from a place of insecurity. Whether he was afraid that you weren’t always gonna be so willing, or perhaps thought that something would happen to tear you apart at some point, this was fear talking, and you hated it.

   “Stop it, Pero. Just stop.”

   He froze above you, and the heat in his eyes was replaced by confusion and the worry that he’d said something hurtful to make you react like that.    You traced the fading scar that crossed his chest, Pete’s first attempt to stop him, not deep enough to have needed stitches, but enough to leave a lasting mark with time. A reminder of how fast things can change.

   “I don’t want you to think like that, I want you to be here, in this moment right now, with me. Nowhere else. Not the past or the future; this moment.    Make love to me. Show me how much you savour every second, and I promise you that I’ll do the same, but don’t you dare ruin this moment with fear.”

   The worry slipped away, the tension in his frame softening as he gently lowered himself on top of you, fitting himself along and around you until he all but surrounded you, filled you as perfectly as only he could, until you felt like you’d melded together into one being.    Lost in the pleasure, comfort and ease of this testament to your shared adoration, neither of you chased the high, but simply relished in the feeling of each other. So, when the final push eventually came, it had been building so slowly that the intensity of it blindsided you both, leaving you so exhausted that you both passed out.

   You woke up with a start, going from asleep to wide awake with a furiously pounding heart in the space of just one second, and so did Pero.    Because the sound that had roused you was the sound of all the dogs barking in unison, from inside the house, indicating danger.    You were both off the bed and frantically pulling on clothes within the next second, sticking to soft sweats and jumpers since they were easy and quick to get on, even with a damaged hand.

   Dean met you in the upstairs hall, equally haphazardly dressed and unshaven, so he must’ve taken a sleep-in morning too, for once. Although you hadn’t even glanced at a watch, so you had no idea what time it actually was. It might be 5am for all you knew.    The two men exchanged one look, and your father wordlessly fell in behind you, putting you in between them both, where you’d be most easily protected.    You hated that you were the weak link in this chain, pretty much useless next to either of them, but you were also so grateful to have them both there, since they’d also protect each other.

   Once downstairs, the dogs became visible, having positioned themselves by the windows and doors and continuing to bark both in alarm and warning, which meant that the threat was still present.    If it had been some animal simply crossing the lawn, like a bear or moose, they wouldn’t have barked at all, unless the animal did something to warrant a reaction. And if they’d been unsure about what they heard or smelled or whether there was danger afoot, they would’ve only barked twice to get your attention, like Groot had done when Pete was prowling around your house.    But these were continuous, deep and growling barks that were meant to rattle and deter, so someone was definitely on the property.

   Pero led the way down into the kitchen, keeping low to avoid being spotted through the windows, and you followed step by step, trying to remember to breathe normally to keep your heartrate from escalating even further.    But as you got to the corner of the room where there were no windows, the same spot where you and Pero had sat together after he finally came back to you, Groot suddenly appeared at your side.

   Tears pricked the insides of your eyes as you felt him sit down and press his side into yours, comforting as much as protecting you, letting you know that the trust wasn’t broken, just scarred, and you’d never been more appreciative of anything in your life.    Because he wasn’t a person that could be manipulated or influenced into coming back to you, he would only make that choice if he knew that he was safe with you, and if he cared enough to want to protect you even if you’d messed up.    You refrained from petting him right now, though, he’d need to stay focused.

   But then, to everyone’s surprise, there was a knock on the door, and the dogs all fell silent at once without prompting, to let your father listen.

   “Dean, it’s Kate.”

   Your dad wasn’t convinced, you could tell from his posture, standing leaned against the doorframe leading out into the front hall.

   “You’re not alone, or you wouldn’t be sneaking around out there like this, Jones. Am I gonna have to take out a tactical unit? Because you know I will.”

   “No tac-team, but I have Abby with me.”

   You were about to leap towards the door, but Pero held you back, nearly earning an elbow to the ribs in the process, but as he pulled you back into his chest to lock you in place, he whispered in your ear.

   “It could be a tactic to lure us to open the door. We have to be sure. Just wait.”

   “And what if it is? If there really is a team out there, they’ll still get in.”

   “Yes, but on our terms. We control the space for as long as we can, preciosa.”

   Sinking back into his chest, admitting that you had no idea about this tactical stuff, you shivered.

   “My best and pretty much only friend might be less than fifteen feet from me, for the first time in weeks.”

   “I know. Just wait.”

   Dean continued.

   “You know how this works, Detective. I’m gonna need to hear her voice before I’ll believe you.”

   “We had to ditch the car back on the main road and she wasn’t strong enough to hike the whole way. She’s passed out, Dean. Please, let us in, I’ll explain everything.”

   Ditch the car? That was an odd phrase to use unless she’d felt compelled to leave it behind. If it had broken down, she could’ve just said so, it would’ve been even more believable.    Shit. This was starting to sound really suspicious.

   “You really expect me to buy that, Detective?”

   “God damnit, Colonel, when have I ever lied or tried to trick you?”

   Dean turned back to you and Pero, raising an eyebrow in question, but you didn’t know what to think.    Just as you were about to shake your head, Groot nudged your shoulder, stealing your attention for a second. And in his eyes, you suddenly saw a different solution.

   “Wait… Dad, friend or foe…”

   He knew exactly what you meant by that.

   “Does he know her scent well enough?”

   “Yeah, I’m sure of it.”

   Pero leaned closer to you again.

   “What are you talking about?”

   “The dogs can tell us if they recognize a person’s scent as friend or foe, and Groot knows Abby’s scent as someone safe, but he only knows Jones as someone that we’re familiar with.”

   “So, he can tell us if Abby is really there?”

   “Yes. But I’ll have to go to the front door with him, he’ll need my instructions since I’m the one he associates with her.”

   You looked at your father again, and he nodded.

   “Do it but stay low. I want to believe that we can trust Kate, but we can’t afford to take any chances right now.”

   Pero took your hand and squeezed it tightly, his way of telling you that he disliked you leaving his side, but that he also recognized the wisdom of your idea. You squeezed it back to reassure him, but it had little effect.    Groot stayed right by your side as you crawled on your hands and knees through the doorway into the front hall, using the dog’s matrasses to spare your knees from the hard tiles as much as possible.

   As you both got to the door, you looked back to see Pero and Dean on either side of the kitchen doorway, ready to charge after you if need be.    You sat on your knees and asked for Groot’s attention, which he instantly gave you. Pointing first to the front door, you then gave him the signal for ‘friend or foe’, which was three fingers pointing at the floor.    The dog knew that since you were the one asking, the only friendly scents would be the ones that you specifically had told him were safe.

   He stood up and started sniffing around the edges of the door, looking for a good angle and when he found it, he stayed perfectly still while he smelled thoroughly.    If it was friend, he would wag his tail, and if it was foe, he’d back away or lay down, and if it was both, he’d combine them.    So, if Abby was there, he should do the combined version, and you held your breath as you waited for his verdict.

   He took his time, to make sure he was right, and then backed away from the door, with a softly wagging tail, and you almost squealed.    Suddenly any thought of danger seized to exist and in a textbook example of how to disregard your own safety, you got up, unlocked the door and all but hurled it out of the way. You were sure that Dean and Pero had called out to you, but you never heard them.    Right outside the door, Kate was sitting on the ground, holding an unconscious Abby in her arms, and they both looked like hell.

   Your father picked Abby up like she was little more than a doll, while you helped Kate to her feet and Pero covered your backs and closed the door behind you as soon as you’d crossed the threshold, just in case someone else was around.    Getting to the living room, Dean put her down on the same spot on the sofa that you’d been in the day before, and you kneeled beside her just like Pero had done with you.

   “Jesus, Kate… what the hell happened?”

   Your tone wasn’t accusing, just worried, but both men were still on high alert, and all the dogs had silently manoeuvred themselves into the room.

   “I was kinda hoping you might have some answers, actually. When I got to the hospital to check on Abby since she was due to be discharged this morning, there were three new faces loitering in the halls outside her room.”

   “New faces?”

   “Strangers, out-of-towners, and they weren’t tourists. They were good enough at faking casual behaviour to fool most people, but I know everyone that lives here, and three clearly fit and able men, loitering around the same hallway for no apparent reason, made me suspicious.    So, I escorted Abby out of the hospital, and although I didn’t see those guys or anyone else that didn’t seem to belong, I offered to drive her home, just in case.    And sure enough, by the time we’d driven three blocks, we had a tail on our asses, so I figured that whatever’s going on, she’ll be safer here.    I know these roads by heart, so we ditched the car at the blind bend up by Crickets’ farm and went through the woods the rest of the way.”

   None of you responded at first. Because this was something new, something you hadn’t seen coming and didn’t know what to make of yet.

   “Well? Anyone care to help me understand what’s going on here?”

   Dean was the first to offer his thoughts.

   “This is the first we’ve heard of any strangers around. But it does sound suspicious.    You didn’t see them try and flash any badges?”

   “No, and they weren’t in suits either. Like I said, they were good enough at blending in to fool pretty much everyone.”

   “Well, regardless of their intentions, they could’ve just abducted Abby from the hospital. The fact that they waited for her to be released but kept her under surveillance, would suggest that they were hoping their real target would make an appearance.”

   “Yeah, that was my thinking too.”

   Your father exchanged a look with Pero, who had grown deceptively still in that way he did when he was assessing something. Thinking, planning, strategizing.

   “Any of this sound familiar to you, son?”

   “It does, but for too many reasons to create a clear picture. It sounds like it could be anything from your people to mine. Although I hope for all our sakes, that it is yours.”

   That confused you, and you got back on your feet and stepped closer to Pero.

   “What do you mean ‘your people’?”

   “I mean that the world I come from might have somehow managed to track me down, to try and convince me to come back, in which case…”

   He seemed to stop himself from finishing that sentence, and that made you reluctant to ask him about it. Because if it was bad enough that he couldn’t even say it, then it was really bad.    He sighed, and then continued.

   “Or it could be some agency or even foreign intelligence or military looking to find out more about Dean’s confidential canine training program.    From what little we know; both are equally plausible.”

   You’d hesitated to ask, but your father didn’t. He was a man that wasn’t afraid of too much knowledge.

   “Pero, what could we expect to happen if it is your people? Because I already know what’ll happen if it’s mine.”

   The two men stared at each other for a moment, Pero seeming to struggle to decide how much to divulge, and Dean stoic in his willingness to wait however long the younger man decided to deliberate.

   “If these men are Falcons… then the fact that Jones saw three people means there are two teams in play. That means four men, as expertly trained as me, that we would have to kill. Because Falcons do not stop until either their target is eliminated, or they are.    Running or hiding would not help, if they have caught our scent once, they will do so again, and follow us for as long as it takes for us to make a mistake.”

   Kate was clearly appalled by what she was hearing, but she was also good at putting pieces together, and he hadn’t exactly been discreet.

   “Is this the kind of person you used to be? You told me that you’d killed evil people, is this how you did it? Stalking and hounding and hunting them, using their families and loved ones as bait or information…?”

   “No. I was good enough that I never needed to use anyone but my partner, save for the occasional pimp or other street-smart idiot with their ear to the ground.    But to find one of our own… I would have had to do such things, yes.”

   “Okay, help me understand this, because I don’t get why they would come after you at all if you were once a part of their ranks. Is this some cult or something?”

   “In some ways, yes. We were taught how to think and what to feel, indoctrinated into the life of murderers, made to believe that our actions were above all scrutiny, that no one had the right to oppose us.    But… we were brought there while young and broken. Taken in and cared for. It was our family and we fought as much for that as we did to complete our assignments.    I was lucky enough to be trained alongside a boy that still believed that murder is never right, but often necessary, and I idolized him. So, I kept that belief, even after I lost him.    If my brothers are coming for me, it is because they feel betrayed that I left, and are hellbent on either taking me back or punishing me.”

   “Christ. You know, I have half a mind to just leave and try and forget that I ever met you.    Because it’s gonna be a bloodbath either way, isn’t it?”

   Dean jumped in at that point, with his typical calming competence radiating through the room until everyone had settled down.

   “We don’t know that that’s who’s coming for us, so let’s not jump to conclusions or judgements. Pero’s right, this could just as easily be espionage.    What we need right now is more information, so it would actually be more helpful to us if you’d go back to the city and let us know if you see them again.”

   “I shouldn’t be involved with this at all.”

   “I’m sorry, Detective, but you crossed that bridge the moment you broke into this house. And you wouldn’t have brought Abby here unless you already knew in your heart that no one here wants to hurt people.”

   She sighed heavily, resting her hands on her belt and tilting her head back as if looking for answers in the stars.    You didn’t know her that well, but you’d always liked and respected her, and now more than ever, you needed her on your side.

   “Kate…”

   She pulled her head back down to meet your eyes, and she looked so tired.

   “Even if it is the Falcons, they have no right to be here and disrupt our lives.    We’re no saints, anyone of us, but Pero chose to leave that life and he doesn’t deserve to be punished for that.    And you’re right, if this is them, then chances are it’ll get ugly, but it would only be worse if we couldn’t prepare at all. If we couldn’t control any part of the circumstances. So, for the sake of the town, please help us.”

   This time, her gaze fell to the floor, but you felt hopeful for some reason. You knew that she cared about the town and that she took her responsibilities with the utmost seriousness, so no matter what was happening, she’d wanna be on the side that would stop people from getting hurt.    And while she didn’t exactly trust Pero, or perhaps any of you, she had a pretty good idea of what he was capable of and what he was willing to do to protect you.    Plus, there was no way she’d be able to explain any of this to her colleagues or superiors, let alone offer any tangible evidence to support her claims, so in truth… this was pretty much all she had.

   “Keep your phone on, I’ll text you if I find anything.”

   But Pero objected to that.

   “No, whoever they are, we must assume that they have access to tracking-equipment. Modern phones are too easy to tap into.”

   Your father smiled at that, and left the room for a minute, returning with two older model burner phones that were untraceable, handing one to you and one to Jones.

   “You can use these safely for a month. The only number programmed into the contact list in each is the one that connects to the other phone. They will automatically permanently erase all messages once they’ve been read, so anything you need to remember, either write it down or memorize it.”

   Kate scoffed a little half-heartedly.

   “And to think, all these years I’ve shaken my head at you for never installing surveillance cameras or even an internet connection.”

   He just smiled back.

   “Come on, I’ll take a couple of the dogs and walk you back to your car, just in case there’s company waiting for you.”

   She nodded, shoving the burner in her jacket pocket and following him out, leaving you and Pero alone with Abby and the rest of the dogs.    Groot was still by your side as you sat back down next to your friend, finally able to really look at her. She was in tattered old jeans and a faded pink hoodie with an embroidered Pikachu over the chest.    Her favourite clothes. Jones must’ve brought them for her at some point, since the ones she’d worn coming into the hospital had been ruined.

   But she looked so pale and colourless, compared to her usual self, her colourful personality ordinarily outshining any and all garments.    She actually had a pretty elegant style of clothing in public, only wearing this kind of cute and cuddly attire whenever she was home alone, and needed to put up with her own company.    You took her hand and held it to your cheek, just to feel how warm she was. She’d been so cold and lifeless the last time you’d touched her.

   “You’re gonna be okay, Abs. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

   Sensing your sorrow, Groot came and laid down in front of you, resting his head in your lap, and having him back somehow just made everything so much better.    You smiled at him, scratching his ears and neck and carefully tracing your fingers along his nose and up over his forehead.    Looking up at Pero, still standing where he’d been throughout the conversation with Kate, your smile faded, because he was staring out through the windows, over the back veranda and far off into the distance, and he looked concerned.

   “You’re not making plans without me now, are you?”

   He flinched at the sound of your voice, something you’d never seen him do before.

   “Hey, are you alright?”

   A shiver passed through him, and he closed his eyes for a moment, before moving closer to you and Groot, sitting down by his tail and resting his back against the armrest of the sofa.

   “I was remembering.”

   “You looked like you were a thousand miles away.”

   “I let myself forget so much of what happened back then. Good and bad. I am trying to remember as much as I can, to piece together what I know about each of the teams, but it is dredging up some difficult things from the bottom of a very deep hole that I never wanted to dive into again.”

   “Can I ask why you didn’t ask Kate to describe the men? If you practically grew up with them, wouldn’t you recognize their features?”

   “Not necessarily. Our identities were always protected as well as they could be, and that included disguising ourselves on assignments so that no potential eyewitnesses could produce accurate descriptions of us.    The disguises also meant that we never had to kill innocent bystanders, so Will and I were always thorough with them.”

   “And the others? Did they not care about that?”

   “They had to, it was one of the rules of engagement, to minimise the risk of exposure. We worked in teams of two, but the entire company consisted of just the six of us, and it might not seem like it, but we were almost impossible to replace.”

   “Because of the bonds you’d made with each other?”

   “Partly. But mostly because of how hard it is to find a person of the right age, with the right natural skillsets, that has no family and a minimal community footprint, meaning almost no one would notice their disappearance. And then getting that kid through a decade of training and just the right amount of conditioning, as well as finding a solid chemistry with one of the other kids.    Each one of us cost them a fortune to find and then make disappear, and all of us succeeding and becoming perfect teams was a small miracle.    I should have known they would come to drag me back.”

   “We don’t know that it’s them, babe.”

   “We always worked in pairs, but there were only three at the hospital. I assumed that one was keeping an eye on the perimeter, it is useful when teams work together. When you are just two, you need to stay close to protect each other’s backs and blind spots, but with more bodies you can do both.    But what if there are only three because one is dead? It explains why they would come for me now, and not sooner.”

   “To replace the one they lost.”

   “Exactamente. It’s them, pintora… I just know it. Everything fits so perfectly. The timing, finding me shortly after I have made the mistake of dropping a body under strange circumstances without also disposing of it, leaving my skills with blades on full display with those severed hands.    And the tactics… a barely concealed taunt, designed to make me reveal myself, because they already know how I connect to Abby. They knew the Detective would be there, and they knew that she would find me if I did not show up there myself.    They may not know exactly where I am yet, but it is only a matter of time, and I don’t know how to fight them with any hope of winning.”

   He suddenly looked so defeated, and it scared the crap out of you. You’d seen him scared out of his mind, angered into primal rage, terrified of his own mind and body, but never anything close to this. The fight hadn’t even started yet.    You shifted to sit closer to him, and Groot moved to accommodate you.

   “Whatever you’re thinking, tough guy, you’re not gonna go at them on your own, do you hear me? And you’re not gonna do something idiotic like wilfully joining them again to spare us the fight, because if you do, I’ll go to the fucking press with everything that I know and then we’ll see who they come for! Is that understood?”

   He looked like you’d just turned into Zeus and thrown a lightning bolt at him, but you didn’t care. You were seriously worried that he was contemplating doing something exactly like what you’d just described, and you were prepared to do anything to keep him with you.    But to your surprise, he reached for you, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

   “Ay, mi amor… those things would do me no good. Fighting them alone is a death-sentence, and I am not willing to run headfirst into a grave now that I have finally learned what a good life is.    And going back would not save anyone. To keep their secrets, they would kill you all just because you know me. Press or no press.    So still your heart, my beloved, I am not leaving you. This fight we will have to take on together.”

   “But you seem so hopeless.”

   He lifted his hand and placed it on your neck, using his thumb to press against your jaw until you’d turned your head to face him, meeting his eyes.

   “I am afraid, because for the first time in my life, I have a real family that I risk losing if we fail. But do not mistake my dread for hopelessness, when it is that very feeling that threatens to undo me. Without it, I would not have much reason to fear anymore.    I have so much hope for us, preciosa, so many dreams and wishes that I want to live to see, and the thought that I might not… yes, it makes me shiver with fear.”

   Despite the bleakness of your chances, if indeed he was right about your new enemy, hearing him talk like that made your fears lessen.    You’d felt so trapped and alone in your fight against Pete, but this time you’d be heading into battle with seasoned warriors, all of you working together, and it made you believe that no matter what happened, things would somehow be okay.

———-

Link to Part 12

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