#and I could write so much more about him lol

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (1)

cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me ₊˚

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)

⊹ note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ♡ @junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ♡ everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !

⊹ masterlist, fic playlist.

⊹ smut tags: no smut in this part :p ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

⊹ what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ♡ i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!

prologue. 

Despite your age, you’ve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone. 

In all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings you’ve harboured for him since the eleventh grade. 

He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldn’t even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his “next step” should be. The doting best friend that you are, you’d gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems. 

“I just, I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?” he asked you over the phone. 

Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits. 

Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit. 

“It’s not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?” you ask him, and he pauses to think. 

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay, that would make things worse,” he sighs. “It’s better to just stop this whole thing now.” 

“I agree, but are you sure?” you continue to ask him the same questions you’ve been asking since you were sixteen. 

“I’m sure,” he replies with a heavy sigh. 

“Okay, then goodnight. It’s almost one in the morning,” you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak. 

“I’m not the bad guy, right?” he asks you for reassurance. 

“No, you’re just human Wonwoo. There’s nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,” you affirmed. 

“Alright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers listlessly. 

“Good night, Wonwoo.” 

Your phone beeps indicating that he’s hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you? 

act one, favorite crime.

chapter one. 

“Wait, what? You and Wonwoo aren’t dating?” Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat. 

The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghan’s living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway. 

It feels like every time you’re with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo haven’t thought about dating, or why you two haven’t decided to take the chance and just be together. 

“You guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,” Wonwoo defends the two of you. 

“You’re telling me in all the years you’ve known her, you haven’t developed feelings for her once?” Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide. 

Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond. 

“No, c’mon, we’re just friends. That’s it, right?” Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up. 

Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation. 

“U-uh yeah, Wonwoo’s right, we’re just friends,” you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once. 

“See? Now can you all just get off our backs?” he chastises. 

The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwoo’s friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. He’s completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.

You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most people’s, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwoo’s feelings, and you also respect that whenever he’s dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts. 

He becomes more detached when he’s in a relationship, and you’re okay with that. His priorities change and you’re okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you can’t force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that. 

You’ve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals don’t change just because you love him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less to see the person you’re in love with, fall in love with someone else. 

two. 

“Hey, you okay?” Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright,” you mutter, but you know you don’t look that way. 

Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when you’re not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite. 

The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least that’s what you like to think. But your heart can’t seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear. 

You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spill—not like this, not in front of so many people. 

“It was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannie’s house,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend. 

“What did he say?” 

“That he’s never liked me before,” you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye. 

Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesn’t have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate. 

“It’s alright,” he coos, pulling you into his strong arms. 

It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your university’s dining hall. But you’re thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldn’t help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice. 

“You deserve more than this, I hope you know that,” he whispers in your ear.

three. 

Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwoo’s past relationships is the perfect example. He’s not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you can’t let go of. No matter how many times you’ve tried. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you don’t remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text,” Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch. 

“It’s okay, what’s up?” you move to sit beside him. 

“I broke up with her,” He says, shrugging. 

Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache. 

“Well, how did it go?” you ask with a bit of apprehension. 

Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. He’s never been bothered to really break up with someone. 

You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. It’s pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that you’re a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another. 

“She was crying, but at least it’s over now,” Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table. 

“Oh.” You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins. 

It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but you’re not sure how to react. There’s a part of you that’s happy to know that he’s single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken. 

Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information you’ve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions. 

“Are you still going to Seokmin’s thing this weekend, though?” you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “If I feel like it. Are you?” 

The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there. 

“I mean, I don’t have a ride so…” you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen. 

“I’ll go since you’re going, that way you have a ride,” he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch. 

He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. You’re very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest. 

Wonwoo’s arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything. 

“Thank you for agreeing to go to Seokmin’s so I have a ride,” you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesn’t notice your flustered expression. 

“Thank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head. 

“Of course, what are best friends for?” 

four. 

Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.

 Falling in love with Wonwoo wasn’t gradual at all. 

If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.

When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didn’t stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokémon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love. 

You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea. 

When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates must’ve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man you’re in love with gained attention from people who didn’t even bat an eyelash at him last year. 

It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didn’t mean he was that much different from how he was last year. 

Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time. 

When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didn’t invite you for dinner as often, you two didn’t talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasn’t worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice. 

“I feel like I need to break up with Haein,” his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth. 

Haein was Wonwoo’s first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you weren’t.

You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?

Wonwoo’s first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.

“Oh. Why?” was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said. 

“‘Dunno, I just don’t like her anymore,” he admitted effortlessly. 

You didn’t know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically. 

“Well, if that’s what you think is right,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again. 

Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.

History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didn’t want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings. 

Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they weren’t. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones. 

five. 

By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didn’t exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you. 

You’ve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him.  The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him. 

Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that it’s better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic you’ve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios. 

‘What if he likes you back?’ 

‘You never know until you try.’ 

‘Take the risk or lose the chance.’ 

What if. 

Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesn’t let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit. 

The possibilities are endless, and you’d rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality. 

A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. There’s excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen. 

7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5. 

There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldn’t help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that it’s something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. 

Everyone had planned to meet at Seokmin’s place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldn’t be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends. 

Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasn’t a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokmin’s was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza. 

Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know he’s outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is. 

The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if it’s just from afar. 

“Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” your voice resounds into the night. 

“It's never a problem if it’s you,” he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car. 

Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know you’ll think about it for the rest of the night. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, smiling at you. 

The ride to Seokmin’s house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough. 

…

  The clock on Seokmin’s pale white wall is nearing midnight and you don’t want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didn’t catch. She’s Joshua’s childhood friend and he only brought her along because she’s visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwoo’s deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.

The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you weren’t sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesn’t realize how greatly he can impact your feelings. 

Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokmin’s apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you, and that’s what hurts the most. 

“You doing okay?” Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah I’m okay,” you chuckle, but there’s nothing humorous about your laugh at all. 

His eyes soften, he knows that you’re not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when you’re trying to save face. There’s a lump in your throat, and if you didn’t have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably would’ve gone to the bathroom to cry. 

“You wanna talk in my room?” he offers, and you’re grateful. 

Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you. 

Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside. 

As you sit on Seokmin’s bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why can’t you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and he’d be the first person you search for. 

Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? It’s tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that you’ll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesn’t love you back. 

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. 

Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel.  

“I know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,” Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. “You’re so hurt, and it’s taking a toll on you. Please, I can’t bear to see you so sad.” 

His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though it’s not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup, tears staining Seokmin’s white shirt. 

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,” he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions. 

“Because, if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, about why I’m always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,” you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist. 

“Hey, look at me–” he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. “You are not a burden. We care, that’s why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.” 

“Thank you, Seokmin. I’m so happy that I have someone like you in my life,” you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but he’s still somehow able to hug you even tighter. 

Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. He’s always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo. 

“I’m so tired, I’m tired of feeling like this,” you admit to him. 

Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile. 

“Maybe it’s time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,” he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you. 

“I want to feel better,” you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest. 

“I care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but there’s a point where you’ll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,” he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know he’s right. “In the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in won’t do you any good.” He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said. 

“Thank you, Minnie, I’m so thankful I have you,” you sniffled. 

“And I you.” 

…

Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night. 

“Of course, it’s really no trouble at all,” Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them. 

The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokmin’s, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. He’s not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoung’s way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened. 

As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didn’t mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ. 

“Soon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,” Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead. 

“But you love it when I sing,” Soonyoung whines, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I do, but our friend has had a long night,” Jihoon counters. 

Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. “If you want me to be quiet, I will.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’m actually enjoying it, thank you very much,” you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics. 

Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind.  

The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you. 

Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didn’t know where else to go or what else to do.

Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and you’re scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep. 

1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok? 

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

chapter one. 

Wonwoo’s ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but he’s too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didn’t even say goodbye. It’s the first time you went home from Seokmin’s place without him. 

By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didn’t want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning. 

Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing. 

He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two? 

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

… 

Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up. 

two, wonwoo’s summer before senior year. 

The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over. 

Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that he’d be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadn’t been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldn’t help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him. 

He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldn’t be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.

Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldn’t care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldn’t do much but sit back and listen.  

Much to his dismay, his parents hadn’t even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldn’t stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say. 

There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore. 

“Wonwoo! You’re all grown up now, and I can’t believe it,” Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, “You know, you’re still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?” 

Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression. 

“No they do, I don’t know maybe it’s my fast metabolism or something,” he refuted her claims. He couldn’t wait to get out of her sight. 

“You know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,” she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance. 

“Yeah maybe,” he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not you’ve texted him yet. 

It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed. 

[4:15 p.m. kst]  [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved]  [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point i’ve turned all my mirrors backwards]  [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! 🫶]

He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parents’ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit. 

Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat. 

Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all. 

[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment]  [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing]  [you: u better not snitch 😾]  [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS]  [you: ok thats enuff…txt me when u land!]

Wonwoo really missed you. 

…

One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it. 

He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break. 

It was initially his brother’s convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwoo’s shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seongho’s encouragement had finally paid off. 

Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasn’t so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasn’t all that bad-looking, after all. 

Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home. 

“You got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,” Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest. 

His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym. 

“Okay! You’re done, that was good,” his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips. 

“Thanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,” he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle. 

Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement. 

“Uh, don’t look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,” Seongho tilted his head in the girl’s direction and Wonwoo couldn’t be more confused. 

“Huh? Are you sure it's me they’re looking at and not you?” 

“I’m serious! You should go talk to her,” Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo. 

“Hyung!” Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses. 

Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation he’d been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord. 

“Hi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes. 

“Uhm, I guess? I’m only here for the summer though,” he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say? 

“Oh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.” Haein’s smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo’s actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun. 

“I’m Wonwoo.” 

“Wonwoo, hmm, that’s a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,” she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep. 

Wonwoo’s mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number. 

They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer. 

To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since he’s been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ah’s words weren’t so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation. 

By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon. 

…

The after-effects of Wonwoo’s surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadn’t worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for. 

Wonwoo wasn’t entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on. 

Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time. 

…

Quite like the seasons, Wonwoo’s feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them. 

Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested. 

On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didn’t Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didn’t see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks. 

“It all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!” Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didn’t seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out. 

“I'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,” Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. “I just didn’t get anything that was happening.” 

“Wait, really?” He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didn’t understand. 

He didn’t understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday. 

You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together.  It had become you and Wonwoo’s thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend. 

It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he should’ve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do. 

“Honestly, I’m really tired, I’m gonna go to bed now okay?” Haein’s voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts. 

“Oh okay. Night.” He said before ending the call so quickly that Haein’s ‘I love you’ was cut off mid-sentence. 

Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didn’t want to say those words if he didn’t mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night.  

Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didn’t want to pretend any longer, it would’ve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldn’t help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on. 

Wonwoo’s relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldn’t keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasn’t sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer. 

three, present time.

The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didn’t know that. 

“Are you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?” Mingyu lectures him. 

The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. He hasn’t been acting like himself since the night of Seokmin’s party. 

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table. 

Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasn’t seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop. 

“Not to be rude, but you’ve been looking like shit lately. What’s wrong?” Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didn’t have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins he’s had with you and Seokmin on campus, he’s begun to sense that it’s some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that it’s completely unwarranted. 

Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. It’s uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he can’t help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you. 

Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, there’s a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end. 

“Thanks for that, asshole, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” Wonwoo huffs. 

“Okay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way you’ve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?” Mingyu presses. 

It’s not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, that’s what you were for. However, he can’t talk about his problems about you, to you, so he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.  

“Y/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokmin’s,” Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice. 

For the past two weeks, he’s been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest. 

Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friend’s situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyu’s reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny. 

“Serves you right, you’re a dick to her, man.” Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare. 

“What?” Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend? 

“How blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you can’t see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?” Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression. 

“I am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if I’ve ever said something to hurt her feelings,” Wonwoo defends himself. 

Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he can’t seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you. 

“You’re a dumbass.” Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more. 

“Could you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me what’s going on?” 

Shutting his laptop, Mingyu’s posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it. 

“She cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. It’s not about what you’ve said to her, it’s your actions. Ever since we were in high school all you’ve done is use her to solve your problems. I can’t even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I don’t know what happened at Seokmin’s place for her to realize that, but you don’t deserve her,” Mingyu confesses. 

Soaking up each word that left Mingyu’s mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he can’t seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you? 

Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesn’t want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything? 

Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but that’s romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because that’s how it's supposed to be. 

Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwoo’s whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he can’t anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but he’s pushed you so far to the brink that you’d rather ignore him than attempt to hash out what’s been troubling you.

“I-I didn’t know that's how you guys saw our friendship,” Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend what’s been said to him. 

“It’s not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I would’ve cut you off a long time ago.” 

“Well, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this could’ve been said before she started ignoring me,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.

“It was kinda obvious, man,” Mingyu shrugs. 

“Was it, though? If I had known, I would’ve at least tried to be better,” Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy. 

“How about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,” Mingyu suggests. 

Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyu’s advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldn’t even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he can’t go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought. 

four. 

For the first time in Wonwoo’s life, he’s unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time. 

Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place. 

Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldn’t help himself. He can’t help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. He’s such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building? 

After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwoo’s attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.

That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye. 

“Shit!” Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you weren’t able to recognize it in the dead of night.  

Boring holes into the back of Seokmin’s head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he should’ve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin. 

The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He can’t help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokmin’s visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind. 

He’s never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today. 

Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he can’t ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didn’t go on any longer. 

…

There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times he’s tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind.  Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away. 

There’s a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that you’re still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldn’t pick up.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways he’s never acted before. 

The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake. 

One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose? 

Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him. 

[12:52 a.m.]  [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?]  [not delivered] 

The silence within the four walls of Wonwoo’s bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list. 

Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwoo’s finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you don’t pick up, then that’s it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms. 

“The number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,” an automated voice affirmed his suspicions. 

The notification is gut-wrenching, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like it’s okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off? 

five. 

Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasn’t been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s still continuing to weigh his options. 

It’s either you’ll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or you’ll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect. 

He’s already lost his mind. This shouldn’t be the way you two break it off. It won’t be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation. 

Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. There’s nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison. 

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, “I think I should be asking you that. You clearly don’t live here.” 

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. 

Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth. 

Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokmin’s expression had said more than his words ever could have. 

Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokmin’s thick skin. 

A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your “neighbour” is looking for. 

“Okay!” is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwoo’s stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen. 

“Whatever you’re doing, she’s not gonna fall for it,” Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could. 

Seokmin chuckles bitterly, “She already has.” 

There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth. 

Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such. 

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Wonwoo practically spits in his face. 

“I could say the same thing for you,” Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, “I didn’t have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.” 

“I’m not just going to let you get away with something like this. She’s my best friend.” 

“I think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,” Seokmin taunted. 

He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didn’t expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture. 

Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, “I think it’s time for you to leave. She doesn’t want to see you.”

The last few words that he heard come out of Seokmin’s mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost. 

“By the way, don’t text her anymore. I’ve made sure she won’t get any more notifications from you.” 

The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldn’t just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly. 

…

Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place. 

After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.

With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokmin’s words hold any truth behind them.

 Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldn’t end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same. 

If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you haven’t let him speak. 

As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on? 

Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like it’ll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away. 

After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension won’t vanish and it’s starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing it’ll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin. 

“Minnie? Did you leave something agai—,” Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.

“Wonwoo…” your voice falters, like you genuinely didn’t expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door. 

“Did you fuck him?” Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions. 

His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesn’t have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home. 

“Did you fuck him? Yes or no?”  Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you don’t know who he's talking about. “C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him. 

How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps it’s undeserving to do so, but Wonwoo’s frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying. 

“The past two weeks you’ve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?” Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness. 

He didn’t plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression could’ve broken down every wall he’s built if only he hadn’t let his anger proceed him. 

Wonwoo should’ve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down. 

“Seokmin doesn’t care about you, and I’ll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?” He can’t stop talking. 

“Stop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?” You cut off his rant. “Out of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesn’t matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesn’t involve you.” 

“No. I’m just trying to help you. Seokmin isn’t the person that you think he is,” Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how you’re twisting his words. 

The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwoo’s extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldn’t stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense. 

“That is exactly what we’re not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years we’ve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and I’m tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didn’t care enough to notice. 

“I gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldn’t even come up for air. And I’m just sick of it. I know there’s a part of you that cares about me too, but it’ll never be equal. I’ll always love you more than you love me, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” 

“What hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didn’t even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about?  He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And that’s a lot more than I could ever say about you.” 

Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause. 

“Please. It’s late, you should go home,” you sigh, but Wonwoo couldn’t move an inch. He refused. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him. 

“Wonwoo…” there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place. 

“Please. I’m so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,” Wonwoo resorted to pleading. 

A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.

The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too. 

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.”  A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek. 

He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart. 

Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.

end of act one.

⊹ a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.

[spatialwave]

➸ ask: "Haii! I love your writing, could I request JayvikxReader please? Maybe something fluffy, like a cozy winter morning with them? Or something smutty, like Reader and Jayce making Viktor feel good? Maybe add some angst, he feels like he is not as attractive or is a third wheel so you two make sure he knows you both love him? 🙈 Thank you!"

– ➸ pairing: jayvik x fem!reader ➸ word count: 2.1k ➸ tags: mdni! mild-nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, polyamory, canon-divergent a.k.a. nothing bad ever happens lol. ➸ notes: i tried to combine all the ideas together! not as smutty because i really got invested in the angst… i’m sorry 😭 tysm for sending an ask! <3

The smell of freshly brewed black tea, the scent strong enough to flutter your eyes open as your body stretched across the bed. A mess of blankets, one body beside you, and the winter sun filtering through the half-shut curtains. The daylight on your skin warmed your body, a feeling that you had missed during the past few weeks of dreary weather that left most Piltover citizens huddled away indoors.

“Good morning,” a tired voice rumbled next to you, muscled arms wrapping around your body and tugging you close. You were nestled into Jayce’s chest, face pressed against his skin, and wanting nothing more than to fall right back into sleep and forget about the day and any responsibilities you may have.

“Mmh,” you grunted in response, inhaling a deep breath as you peered up through sleep-riddled eyes. Your eyes locked with Jayce’s, a beautiful colour mixed of golden hues that put the evening sun to shame, “I like this new look,” you hummed quietly, fingers tracing along the edge of the beard he had yet to shave. Even his hair had begun to curl over his ears.

“Yeah?” He grinned, revealing that stupid tooth gap between his two front teeth you loved so much, “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel a bit shaggy.”

The blanket slipped from your body as you sat up in the bed next to him, yawning as your arms outstretched above you and a familiar hand smoothed over your hip, “it looks good, Jayce,” you said through a soft smile, “it’s not like you have anyone to impress these days.”

“Ouch,” he smirked, shifting to sit up against the pillows, hand moving over your thigh as you sat next to him, “suppose you’re right.”

Life had been quiet since Jayce stepped down from the council, focusing full-time on hextech with Viktor, exploring the possibilities and understanding the hexcore. It was meticulous work, but it was work that needed to be done. They both vowed their lives to it.

“Where’s Viktor?” You looked toward the open bedroom door, the smell of tea still wafting through the air. He couldn’t have been gone from bed for too long, likely set up somewhere with scatterings of research papers. Or a good book if he was taking a break.

Jayce sat forward, removing his hand from you so he could push the blankets off and swing his legs off of the bed. His movements slow as his body slowly woke up, “Is it just me, or has he been distant lately?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, shuffling off of the bed and sliding into your slippers, the floorboards cool from the deep drops in temperature outside, “I tried asking him about it yesterday, and he brushed me off.”

“Mhm,” Jayce mumbled passively, stepping beside you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you against his chest, rousing a giggle from you. 

“Stop,” you laughed loudly as he kissed at your neck and ear, the thick hair on his face tickling you.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled lowly into your ear, you could feel his smile on your skin, “we better go say good morning.”

“Already ahead of you,” you rolled your eyes, peeling away from his arms and stepping out into the hallway that lead you right to him. There he sat in the office they’d set up for home, hunched over the desk with a cup of steaming tea and eyes glued to one of the hundreds of research notebooks they’d collected.

“Good morning, love,” you hummed, stepping into the mess of a room and smiling brightly as Viktor glanced over his shoulder at you. His eyes were tired, cheeks rather sunken in – ill. Over the course of the past few months he’d been struggling more, but stubborn when you and Jayce offered help.

“Morning,” he murmured, running a hand over his tired eyes, “thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“I bet you would’ve really liked that, wouldn’t you?” You asked, shaking your head as you stepped toward him and against the back of his chair, eyes scouring over the pages, “Getting work done?” Your hand absently rested on his shoulder, the other brushing through his hair that flipped out at the ends.

Viktor’s body relaxed in your hands, eyes closing, “Not really,” he sighed, and you could feel the defeat that had sunken in him. 

You only then had realized Jayce didn’t follow you in, the distant sound of the shower starting.

“Hey,” you murmured, inhaling a deep breath as you moved to sit up on the desk, your line of sight above Viktor as you looked down at him, “what’s wrong?”

His eyebrows furrowed together, a quick shake of his head following as he adjusted himself on his seat, “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Viktor,” you tilted your head, hand stealing the book away from his hands. His eyes snapped open immediately, trying to reach for the notes, but you pulled it away and set it on the other side of yourself, “I’m not leaving you alone unless you talk with me. Properly this time.”

A heavy sigh came from his lips, looking up at you with the faintest of pouts on his lips, “are you going to ask me why I’ve been distant again? Or is it something else to bother me about this time?”

The words were sharp, but they hadn’t stung. You didn’t take it personally.

“You’re smart enough to know,” you frowned, clenching your jaw, “it’s not fair to Jayce and me.”

“What isn’t fair? That I’m feeling unwell?” Viktor has been angrier than you realized, but you didn’t flinch at his outburst. He grabbed his crutch, using it to pull himself out of his chair as the metal of his leg brace creaked, and you tried to help, but he swatted your hand away, “That I have to stay home everyday working on hextech, while Jayce gets to go to the lab? While you two get to spend all your time together while I stay here?”

“Oh,” your eyes widened, pulling your hands back and staring at him. You didn’t know what to say, and you noticed the embarrassed look in his eyes – shame.

“That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

“Viktor, is that what this is about?” Your heart ached as you slid off of the desk, stepping up to him and resting your hands along the sharp lines of his jaw.

He tried turning his head away, but you had the advantage now and kept him still, looking up at him with those big doe-eyes that worked too well on him and made his stomach twist in the best way possible. He did his best to avoid your gaze, feeling nothing short of pathetic.

“Can we leave it be?” He eventually croaked, “pretend I didn’t say anything, please?”

“I ran a shower for you, Viktor,” Jayce stepped into the room, towel in his hand as he looked between you two. There was a tension in the room that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, “uh, bad time?”

“Thanks,” Viktor mumbled, pulling away from you and limping against his crutch as he took the towel and marched his way out of the office, slowly.

“Do you need a han–”

“No.”

Silence filled the office as Viktor left, leaving the two of you stunned in silence. Jayce turned toward you, a puzzled expression on his face as he tried to put the pieces together.

“We haven’t been good partners,” you groaned, turning to press your face against him, mind reeling for ways to remedy Viktor’s heartache. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt, having far too much privilege in this situation.

“Is he mad I’ve been spending too much time away?” He asked, ripping you from your thoughts, “I could bring some of the lab stuff home, or… or I could take some time off! Right?”

“No,” you let out a breathy laugh at his eagerness, one of the many traits of Jayce Talis that made you fall so madly in love with him, “well, maybe.”

“I can go right now,” he moved to turn.

“Jayce,” you laughed, holding him back from turning your home into the newest hextech laboratory and spending countless hours trudging through the snow with heavy equipment, “Baby steps. He’s been quite tired, lately. Maybe we should get him to bed and see if we can help him someway,” you wore a sly smile on your lips, attempting to push Jayce’s thoughts in the same direction as yours. 

He huffed out a laugh, “Sounds like you’re the worked up one trying to get what you want.”

You playfully hit his arm, “Oh, shut up. Like you aren’t, it’s been weeks. If we’re feeling it, then he is too,” you put your hands on his back, pushing him toward the door, “let me take care of it.”

You found yourself in the bathroom with Viktor, him sitting on a chair you’d slid in so you could help him. Help that he was appreciative of after taking time to de-stress.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes closed as you ran the towel through his hair, “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

Anger wasn’t a feeling that Viktor was so familiar with, it often fleeted right by him. He had always been so ambitious, ready to take on the world with a cup half-full mentality. These past few years had taken its toll on him, leaving him uncertain. 

Worried. 

��It’s okay, love,” you cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead as he tilted his head back on the chair, looking up at you, “you should come rest with us. It’s cold out, we deserve a day in bed.”

You could see a spark flicker in his eyes, the first in days. That’s all you wanted, was to see that spark more often, to show Viktor that he wasn’t being left behind – that you and Jayce couldn’t even imagine a life without loving him like you do. That, itself, would be an injustice.

Once refreshed, you helped him to the bedroom with nothing more than a gentle hand on his back. Mindful about your actions, knowing now that as much as he hid it well, he had pride. A need to just feel normal, once in a while. Like he wasn’t just the sick man people saw him as – the sick man he knew he was.

Jayce was sitting up in bed, legs sprawled over the mess of blankets and a book in his hand. Eyes flickered up from the bed, a small smile on his lips as he sat up.

“There he is. The love of my life,” he beamed, snapping the book shut.

“Eh, that’s too much, Jayce,” Viktor sighed, cringing at the display of affection, and you snorted out a laugh.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, sitting up as he watched Viktor move into the bed and lay against the pillows, admiring him, “I can’t appreciate you?”

“You heard him, it’s too much,” you teased, closing the blinds so you could all hide away from the snowy surroundings. Take the time to focus on only each other.

Viktor looked up at Jayce, long lashes fluttering as a pink shade tinted his cheeks. One of his calloused hands gently rubbed along his slender waist where his ribs were visible, tilting down and wasting no time in closing the distance between their lips.

You crawled onto the other side of the bed, sliding against Viktor with ease, lips on his shoulders and hands exploring his body. You hoped you hadn’t been too eager.

“You don’t have to do this,” Viktor’s voice muffled against Jayce’s lips, frail hands pressing to his hardened chest, “I get it.”

“I want to,” Jayce answered earnestly, pulling back from their kiss, “I love you. You know that, right?”

“... I do.”

There was nothing else in the world that you and Jayce wanted more than to make sure that Viktor was loved and cared for, that his heart could be full when his mind and body felt weak. To know that you both unequivocally and unconditionally loved him, more than one should bear.

Viktor’s body was sensitive as you and Jayce ravaged him – tired and weak, but craving everything you two offered him. Eating up the desire like a starved man.

You straddled his hips, rocking atop of him lazily while Jayce pressed heady kisses along his neck, licking at the marks he left behind. Everyone was tired, paces slowing down and bodies spent, but you didn’t have the need to stop. You all made up for lost time, and you and Jayce showed Viktor just how much love you had for him.

“Thank you,” Viktor whimpered.

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader

tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired

word count: 3.7k

warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

“I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[fillinforlater]

The Archive of Smite

This page belongs to the writer named Smite. He wrote fics starting in September of 2021 up until April 2024. In these 2,5 years, over 8.000 people followed him to read some of the craziest k-pop girl group smut out there. Almost 150 stories of sex in all kinds of positions, for many reasons, all over the world (and in outerspace), with too many kinks to count.

"When I started, I kinda wanted to become the best. I wanted my favorite writers at the time - Levi, Peach, Sins, and many more - to know that I could write as good as they can. I wanted to go wilder and crazier."

Smite, though ambitious, was also stupid and naive. At roughly the same time he started writing, two other community legends began their careers. IZ and Kaede crushed everything in their sight, especially the former becoming an absolute legend.

"Writing was fun. At times, it was escapism from everyday worries. At other times, it was fulfillment of fantasies I could never reach. Mostly though, it was just horny. BFH that just became words. If you go through my Masterlist, you might see which idols had some random heights or were just... Always on my hot list."

Smite never really stopped writing, not for long stretches that is. It didn't really occur to him that there might be a sudden, drastic reason to stop. He considered doing so anyways. Something about writing porn about irl people without them knowing or wanting - needless to say, it is an odd hobby. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it amd the community it brought with it.

"I fucking love these guys. So many hilarious peoplefrom all over the world. One became like my best friend, a rock during my emotional struggles. Another was my boyfriend for a short time. Man, I screwed up with him kekw. There are too many to mention. I've had long talks with some, others just came by and listened to me mald or something. I love you all, some of you I consider true friends - part of my soul - and I feel connected, even if you are thousands of miles away."

2024 started stressful for Smite. The pressure of Uni started to collapse on him. Even the thought of big kpop concerts wasn't enough to cheer him up. Luckily though, there was this girl. Sweet, kind, caring and in the same position. Soon, he had found something that seemed impossible. She was in love with him and he in love with her. And when everything unraveled.

"I stopped writing. I burried my drafts. I finished only one story and released it way later. I'm sorry I didn't announce it properly, but I just felt that this smut writing career was over. I don't regret it - I gained something beautiful I want to keep for the rest of my life. She is at least as pretty as Minju, so I call that the biggest win imaginable lol."

So no more smuts from Smite?

"99% no"

No more fanfictions/girl group stories in general?

"Eh, 80% no. Still some unfinished angst that I would love y'all to read tho"

Will you ever reach those 150 fics?

"We will see. In this count there are fics with less than 1000 words. I might just sneeze and finish it kekw"

Any fic you regret not writing?

"Not really? Maybe a proper ending for Starship: Horizon? Or yet another Minju fic? Futa stuff? Gaeul angst x female reader? Or how about a fic with 69 different idols at once? Who but me would dare to write something so stupid?"

Do you think you reached your initial goal?

"Do I consider myself the GOAT? No. That title belongs to either Peach, Levi or IZ. But I know that of my now 8.700 followers some consider me their favorite writer. I'm flattered and thank you very much for reading amd enjoying my work."

Now for the most important question: does this post mean you are finally leaving the community behind for good? Is this your last hoorah?

"..."

"Never."

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒓*

Pairing: Bear!Hybrid Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Strangers -> Lovers , Biting/Hickeys, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Use of Princess, Slight back scratching, Mutual Masturbation basically, Slight finger sucking, Slight belly bulge. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings.

A/N: after writing this I realize it’s not super beary lol. But it has hints I guess. I hope yall enjoy it though.

Series Master List

-🐾

A new guy had just moved into the apartment across from yours. When you caught a glimpse of him you were honestly shocked. This big muscular hybrid was carrying boxes up the stairs. You could see his muscles through his tight shirt making your face heat up. He was super attractive, cute little ears, fluffy brown hair. You couldn’t look away. When he passed by you again he couldn’t help but smile. You felt embarrassed being caught quickly getting your key out to open your door.

You’ve seen each other in passing a few times, a few polite hellos were spoken but not much more.

Checking your mail you realized your new table had come in but the assholes left it downstairs. Yes there was an elevator however how the hell were you getting it there? You struggled trying to bring it over only getting half way there before a friendly voice yelled towards you. “Need some help?” It said. As you looked over you noticed the handsome man walking towards you. Your heart doing flips as he made his way over. “Can’t believe they’d leave it down here” he said shaking his head. Without any more talking he picked the heavy box up like it weighed nothing.

You didn’t say anything more in shock that he could lift it. Making your way behind him to the elevator. He sat it down beside him smiling at you “I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself. I’m changbin” he said.

“Oh- yeah- I’m y/n” you stuttered out making his smile grow even wider.

“Whatcha order? Some bricks?” He teased.

“A new coffee table” you said with a laugh.

He nodded when the doors opened. He let you out first before grabbing the box. Making the way to your place you hesitantly opened the door, before letting him in. He sat the box down in your living room turning around to you with a small huff. “Need help putting it together? I’m great at building” he said.

“Oh uhm you don’t have to do that you literally just carried this up here” you said with an awkward smile. He made you all nervous and shy like a school girl around their crush.

“Nonsense, anything to help my pretty neighbor out” he said blushing at his own words. Your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest from his comment. You felt a familiar warmth on your face, blush decorating your cheeks. His gaze came back to your face eyes almost like a puppy when he caught you blushing back. There was a moment of silence, it was almost calming honestly. It didn’t feel awkward it felt almost comforting. He cleared his throat laying the box on its side “so uhm shall we get started?” He said with a friendly smile.

As you worked you got to know one another. He had told you about him moving here, buying his own gym down the street. He told you about his passion for working out and helping others reach goals. He told you how he wanted to make a safe place for hybrids to work out and get better training for their kind. He gushed about how he worked with big panther hybrids that could climb super well, or dog hybrids who were super easy to train. He in the midst of everything told you he was a bear hybrid, a grizzly bear hybrid to be particular.

You couldn’t stop the words that were coming out “oh so you’re just a big ol teddy bear?” You said.

He couldn’t help but laugh, oh that laugh. It felt like a warm hug. “Yeah definitely am, I give the best hugs.. and cuddles” he said peering over to see your reaction. He wasn’t disappointed he watched as your face turned even redder than before. Your mind daydreaming about how it would feel to be curled up with him.

“You thinking about cuddling me hm?” He said teasingly.

“I uhm-“ you stuttered out only to make him laugh even more.

“Don’t be shy, if you want to cuddle I’m just across the hall” he said with a little smirk.

You could only nod not knowing what to say. What could you say? This man who looked like he was chiseled by the gods offering you to cuddle? Hello? You’d smack yourself to see if you were dreaming if he wasn’t here.

After getting everything finished you had offered him to stay for dinner which to your both dismays he said he couldn’t. “As much as I would really love that, I have to head back to the gym to clean and lock up.” He said with an almost frown “but how about a rain check? We can have dinner another night? Maybe watch a movie and talk some more?” He said.

“Yeah, that- that sounds great” you said with a soft smile.

After he had left you plopped yourself down on the couch. Everything of today just circling in your head. He was so kind, sweet and funny. ‘There’s no way he’s real’ you said to yourself making you chuckle.

After that you two talked more, exchanging numbers at some point too. “Just incase you need me for anything” he said while putting his number in your phone. After almost a month of talking almost everyday he finally said about having that dinner. However it felt like the world was against you today because it was one thing after another. Having to stay later after work only to come home to your apartment being freezing. “Great, just great my fucking heater isn’t working” you said with a loud groan. When you went to try to get a warm shower you realized the water wasn’t getting hot either. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wrapped a towel around you not knowing what to do. So you texted changbin “hey are you home yet?” You asked.

“Can’t wait for our dinner 😂” he texted back.

“Yes but no. Something must be up with my place. My heat won’t turn on nor will my hot water work.” You said back.

“I’ll be home soon, if you need there’s a space key in my plant outside. Go to my place.” He said back.

“I was in the middle of a shower :( “

“Shower at my place?”

“You sure?”

“Duh, now go get warm. I’ll be home in like 10.” He said back.

You threw some close on, finding the key quickly before going into his house. “His house is cold too” you whined but felt hopeful about the shower. You all had separate water heaters so hopefully his was still working. When you felt the water you let out a sigh of relief, yes hot water. You took note how clean his place was though. For a man living by himself it was pretty impressive. His room only being slightly messy but still somehow neat.

Half way through your shower you heard a knock at the door “hey, my heats not working either, is the water at least warm?” He asked.

“Yep! Your water at least works”

He felt a sense of relief, he knew he’d be fine. He was like a walking heater. So while you finished up he found every blanket he could throwing them on the couch. He didn’t even notice you walking out as he got everything situated. When he turned to see you standing there he let out a gasp. “You scared the shit out of me” he said clenching his chest making you laugh.

“I stopped by a place on my way home and got some food just incase the power wasn’t working or something” he said making his way to get the bags. He sat everything down on the coffee table, he moved some blankets and patted the seat. “Come here, I can see you shivering”

Sitting beside him you could feel the warmth coming off of him. He wrapped the blankets around you pulling you a bit closer to him. “God you’re freezing, you were supposed to take a warm shower not an ice bath” he teased. “Here, I got you some soup to warm you up” he said with that sweet smile.

After eating he put on a movie before pulling you to him. He wrapped an arm around your side trying to keep you warm. You were still shivering a little and it was making him a bit worried. “Wanna go to my room? We can watch the movie in there and cuddle? Be easier to keep you warm” he said with an almost worried look. When you nodded he wrapped the covers around you and with no warning he hoisted you up. He carried you bridal style to the bed laying you down gently. “I’d say I didn’t think you could carry me but you brought that heavy ass table up” you laughed.

“Oh please with these arms? I can carry anything” he said flexing his muscle.

“Whatever you say muscle man” you teased.

“Hey keep it up and you won’t get any cuddles” he teased back.

“You wouldn’t do that! You wanna cuddle me more than I wanna cuddle you!” You said with a pout.

“Oh so you really wanna cuddle huh” he said with a smirk.

He quickly got under the covers with you pulling you to his chest. His arm wrapping around you as he rubbed your back. “Whatever my princess wants” he said with a hum. When you didn’t argue or say anything to his words he couldn’t help but smile. You curled your body up around him draping your leg over his. He was so warm and boy was he so nice to cuddle with. It felt so comfortable and cozy.

After about an hour or so he noticed you were still slightly shivering. He figured it was your hair that was still a bit damp. He pulled you tightly to him, eyes going a bit wide when he realized you didn’t have a bra on. He could feel your soft breast against him, your hard nipples poking at him. His mind started to wander ‘I bet they’re so soft’ ‘I could put such pretty marks on them’. As his mind was flooded with thoughts he could feel himself getting hard. He felt embarrassed being turned on by you so easily but he couldn’t help it. You were so beautiful to him, like a beautiful warm sunset.

He didn’t even realize how close your leg was to his cock not until your leg brushed against it when you moved. Oh you definitely felt that. Your sleepy eyes widened at the feeling. You bit your lip trying not to moan at the pure feeling of his length against your leg. You moved a bit more feeling yourself getting wet at the thought of it. When the smell of you hit his nose he couldn’t help but let out a soft groan.

Without thinking his arm that was wrapped around you still slid down to cup your ass. Kneading it like he was making dough. A soft moan left your lips, he couldn’t stop himself. Turning his body towards you his lips crashed into yours. His lips were warm like the rest of him, tongue finding its way into your mouth. His hands roamed your body pulling you deeper into the heated make out session. They came under your shirt feeling at the soft skin. His big hand cupping your breast as he groaned into the kiss. His thumb rubbed over your sensitive nipples.

In the heat of the moment your wondering hands came down to his clothed cock. He was agonizingly hard. The gentle touch of your hand making him buck up to your touch. The kiss felt more desperate after that like he needed you in the worst way. As your hand ran up and down his cock he let out low groans only to be devoured back into the kiss. He slid the hand from your tits to your clothed core. Rubbing through the material only for a few seconds before dipping it past the hem of your shorts.

When he felt how slick your folds were his eyes fluttered. As he rubbed up and down you detached from the kiss letting out moan. Both of you had this hazy look on your face. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck kissing it sloppily his sharp teeth grazing it. When you let out another moan he couldn’t help drag them across again.

Your brain reacted without warning diving your hand into his pants to stroke his leaking cock. He let out a whinny groan bucking his hips once more into your touch. His fingers dove into your core matching the speed of your hand. The room quickly filled with whimpers and moans as you both touched each other. He nipped at your ear before he said in the hottest sultry voice “you really this wet f’me?” He said. When you nodded squeezing his cock slightly at his words he let out another honey groan against your ear.

“Tell me- tell me how bad you want me.” His voice deep.

“Want you- please Binnie” you whimpered.

“How many times have you thought about me fucking you princess hmm?” He said in an almost teasing tone.

“S’many time”

“Yeah? Have you touched yourself to me?” He asked.

“Y-yes”

“Show me princess” he said before removing himself from you.

He got up looking down you as he stripped himself of his clothes. He moved the blankets from you before quickly taking off your short as you rid yourself of your shirt. “Show Binnie how you touch yourself to the thought of me” he ordered. Your fingers slinked down to your cunt before circling over your clit. He watched intently as he stroked himself slowly. He watched as you dipped your fingers into your core taking mental notes of your noises. He again matched the pace of you, eyes glued to your wet hole.

“You- you close princess?” He said eyes half open. When you nodded he couldn’t help but groan.

“B-Binnie please- want you” you said desperately.

“Yeah? What do you want me to do?” He said eyes fluttering to your blushed faced.

“Fuck me- please- please fuck me binnie”

Without anymore words he kneeled in front of you, pushing your legs open more. When you pulled your hands away from your core he quickly grabbed your hand. He brought it up to his mouth sucking all your juices off of them before letting it go. “R-remind me to have you suffocate me between those sweet thighs later.” He said with a smirk. He gripped his girthy cock moving it up and down your folds before pushing in slowly.

He let you get situated with his sheer thickness before moving. Gripping your legs he fucked into you desperately, as much as he wanted to take it slow he needed you so badly. The feeling of your warm cunt sucking him in so good he couldn’t help it. His thick cock hitting the back of your walls, hitting right against your cervix. As he fucked into you, your arms came around him. Nails digging into him slightly. He watched your face contort in pleasure before quickly crashing his lips into once more.

The kiss was sloppy full of need, tongues wrestling for dominance. In one swift motion he pulled up to him lifting your lower body up. Your body arched in a new position had him feeling deeper. “Can you feel me princess? I’m right here” he said pushing his hand down a bit on your lower half. With that small push he felt even bigger. You could almost see him in your guts fucking into you so rough. You let out the most gluteal moan walls tightening around him. Your high washed over you unexpectedly making your body shake from the orgasm.

“F-Fuck!” He stuttered out. He moved his head down sucking harshly at your nipples. Teeth grazing them slightly. He brought a hand down circling around your clit. “Princess- fuck- you feel so fucking good” he groaned out against your skin.

“You feel even better” you choked out feeling another orgasms already creeping up on you.

Almost like he could read your mind his movements become more desperate “fuck princess you gonna cum again? Make a mess on my cock”

He nipped at your nipples leaving a trail of small bite marks and hickeys covering your breasts. “Wanna- cum with you” you stuttered out. He moved his head back up looking down at the mess you were in. The way those beautiful eyes looked so fucked out he was gonna lose it. “Close princess” he said before attaching his lips back to yours once more. He let your body back down on the bed his free hand coming up to cup your face.

“Gonna- gonna cum!” You said legs wrapping around him.

“M-me fucking too” he said in response. You could feel his cock twitching inside you. His hand playing with your clit more before he felt your walls sucking him in. “Cumming!” You almost screamed.

With a just one more harsh thrust he was cumming hard inside you. Coating your walls with his thick cum. He let out a loud almost growl before his body slowed.

He wrapped his arms around you kissing any part of you he could. After a few moments of catching breaths he felt your body shake once more. He couldn’t help but chuckle pulling the covers over the both of you. “How are you still cold?” He said. He leaned his forehead against yours before kissing you softly. “How about we get cleaned up and I make us some hot chocolate?” He said with smile.

You nodded but when he went to get up you quickly pulled him back “in a minute I just- wanna cuddle a bit more” you said softly.

“Whatever my princess wants.” He said nuzzling back into you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @jehhskz @babigriin @kkamismom12 @jeonginsleftcheek

[moowmoon]

DOCTOR

— spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

— summary: she was with a cold, and he was her personal doctor.

— c/w: sickness, cold and fever

— w/c: 0.9k

— a/n: hello! how are you guys doing? i had fun writing his one and i kinda wish that spencer was here taking care of me lol! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts, my ask box is always open to talk/share things! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

The rain drummed softly against the windows, filling the apartment with a constant, comforting rhythm. Spencer entered the living room, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He saw her lying on the sofa, curled up under a blanket, her face slightly flushed with fever. A pile of crumpled tissues rested on the coffee table next to an empty mug.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer asked, his voice low but full of concern. He knelt beside the sofa, studying the tired face in front of him.

"Terrible. But at least you're here." the reply came out hoarse but accompanied by a weak smile.

Spencer smiled back, gently pressing his hand to her forehead. "It's still warm, but better than this morning. I'll make some more tea."

Without waiting for an answer, he got up and disappeared through the kitchen door. From the sofa, she followed his movements with heavy eyes, feeling the heat of Spencer's concern as warm as the blanket.

He walked back into the room with measured steps, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. The mug of tea was spewing fine spirals of steam, and beside it lay some simple but inviting cookies. He stopped beside the sofa and watched her for a moment. She was partially covered, one hand loosely holding the blanket while the other rested on her chest, rising and falling in a rhythm that indicated persistent tiredness.

"I've brought you something." Spencer's voice was low, but full of tenderness.

She opened her eyes slowly and, although she didn't have the strength to move much, she managed to give a weak smile and get up slowly. Spencer put the tray on the side table, picked up the blanket, and carefully arranged it, pulling it up to her shoulders.

"You didn't have to…" the voice came out hoarse, but grateful.

"Of course I needed it." he leaned over and rested his palm lightly on her forehead. "The fever has started to come down. That's good." a small but sincere smile appeared on his lips before he picked up the mug and handed it to her. "Drink it slowly. It's still warm."

As she brought the mug to her lips, Spencer sat down next to her on the sofa, close enough for their shoulders to touch. He watched intently as if monitoring every little movement, and when she took a cautious sip, he spoke, his voice a reassuring whisper.

"Just rest. The paperwork can wait, and you don't have to worry about anything now. I'm here."

She stared at him, her eyes shining with something other than tiredness. A feeling of comfort and gratitude that only Spencer could offer at that moment.

After a few minutes, the room was plunged into a comfortable dimness, with only the soft light of a lamp filling the corners. Spencer was sitting on the sofa, a book open in his hands, his voice low and calm as he read.  Each word came out with an almost hypnotic cadence, projecting tranquil images into the room.

Still wrapped in the blanket, she leaned on his shoulder, adjusting her head so that she could hear the warm timbre of his voice more closely. She sighed, gradually relaxing as the tension left her body.

Without interrupting his reading, Spencer let one of his hands slide down her back, his fingers drawing slow, meticulous circles, a gesture that seemed as automatic as it was intentional.

"You know I could listen to this all day, right?" her voice sounded muffled against his shoulder, laden with tiredness but also a slight humor.

Spencer paused and smiled, closing the book for a moment. He watched her with quiet affection, his eyes filled with a fondness that needed no words to understand.

"And I'd read all day if it would help you get better faster."

She let out a low, husky laugh, her head sinking further into his shoulder. Sensing the movement, Spencer adjusted his arm to wrap around her completely, holding her firmly and gently.

"It's working," she murmured, almost falling asleep.

Spencer didn't reply, just resumed reading, continuing to trace those comforting little circles; the sound of his voice blending with the quiet rhythm of the pages being turned and the rain.

Her breathing became slow and rhythmic, signaling that sleep had finally overcome the discomfort of fever. Her head rested on Spencer's shoulder, her features, once marked by fatigue, now softened into an expression of peace.

He remained motionless for a few moments, listening to that calm, steady sound. Carefully, he adjusted the blanket once more, pulling it up to cover her shoulders and making sure she was warm.

Tilting his head slightly, he observed every detail of her sleeping face. The lips parted, the eyelashes casting delicate shadows against the still slightly flushed skin. There was something deeply comforting about that moment of stillness as if the whole world had been put on pause so that he could be there, exactly where he needed to be.

Spencer sighed softly, a sound of relief mixed with gratitude. He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head before leaning back further on the sofa, the comforting weight against him bringing a sense of belonging.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, even though he knew the words wouldn't be heard. Even so, saying them out loud seemed important, almost like a promise.

As the rain continued its gentle rhythm against the windows, Spencer stood there, his arms tightly around the one he loved, treasuring that moment of peace.

[biteyoubiteme]

don't think ill ever recover from this one folks. ash I didn't think I could love you more but holy shit was this amazing and I love your writing style so so so so so much. I felt this fic, the warmth, the friendship, everything. the blackberry scene was so good omg, going over to kais when feeling sad about family and I felt that hug I need that hug, dairy-queen mention! kai getting jealous- and THE FIRST KISS- no I was taken out by this fic, just all of it.

some fav lines- "it was a simple love the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mothers,"

I loved the term 'sugar-mouthed' lol

"he moves like roaring water through a dam. a dam he’s worked to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down,"

"so you're the type to get dripping wet," WHEN I TELL YOU I DIED I MEAN IT

"as if you were ever anybody's but mine," ACTUALLY WTF IM RUINED

"BREAK UP WITH HIM," OKAY ANYTHING FOR YOU KAI

"and that damn...mist is all around you," yeah just kill me after this my heart is so soft and weak im sure you could breathe on it and id pass away

"such a good little princess," NO ASH YOU'RE MY GOOD LITTLE PRINCESS WTF

AND WHEN HE JUST ALL OF A SUDDED TALKS ABOTU KNOCKING READER UP OKAY BYE IM DEAD DEAD DEAD ACTUALLY.

𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗

  ⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm

[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”  ˛ ､､

wc ➛ 17.9k

𝔭airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader

𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy

𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, cream pie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any

✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe

Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.  

You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.  

You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gives him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.  

When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.  

He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you? 

You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?” 

He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.” 

The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat. 

“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.

Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?

Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?” 

Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.” 

“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them. 

It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?” 

He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.  

Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.  

Your silence is enough confirmation for him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.” 

Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.  

Can’t things just stay like this? 

“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.  

“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.” 

An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.” 

He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.” 

Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.  

Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.” 

“I just... don’t know.” 

Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.” 

You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?” 

He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says. 

An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.” 

“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.  

A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.” 

His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.” 

Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”  

His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.  

His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you. 

“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.” 

Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.  

“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.  

“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!” 

Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.” 

“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands. 

As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.  

⚝⭒ 

Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.  

This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit. 

You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened. 

Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.  

This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late July or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home. 

“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was. 

When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.  

“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed. 

“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.  

You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him. 

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.” 

That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones. 

The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty. 

When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you. 

It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go. 

Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands. 

He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd. 

Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.  

But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready. 

“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him. 

You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.  

⚝⭒ 

Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.  

Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.  

So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever. 

Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs. 

“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?” 

With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.  

“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.” 

“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.” 

Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”  

There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it, slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.  

Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you. 

Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.  

He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.  

“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee. 

“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.  

His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin. 

“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.” 

Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.  

“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.  

He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?” 

Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?” 

Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up. 

But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.” 

“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again. 

It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.” 

Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?” 

It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—” 

He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and eighteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.” 

That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.  

⚝⭒ 

Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.  

It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...” 

Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.  

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you. 

You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.  

And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.” 

With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”  

Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.  

“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms.Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?” 

His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.” 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.  

The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?” 

He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...” 

Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?” 

Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.” 

That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.” 

“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”  

Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.  

Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway. 

“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”  

An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.” 

You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button. 

Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips. 

The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?” 

The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.” 

His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.” 

Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.  

“I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?” 

Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.” 

“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.  

“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.  

It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.” 

“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.” 

But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face. Though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?” 

His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.” 

“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches. 

“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.” 

“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.” 

The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.  

“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”  

“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up. 

Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.  

Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.  

Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though. 

⚝⭒ 

Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely. 

You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope. 

Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered. 

“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.  

With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on. 

“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?” 

Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.” 

Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.” 

Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest. 

He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.  

“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.  

“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.” 

Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?” 

“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.” 

The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.  

“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.  

Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.  

⚝⭒ 

You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable. 

Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this. 

Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you. 

Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it. 

“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting. 

His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?” 

No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.  

That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.  

You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.” 

His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands. 

Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” 

Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him. 

And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this. 

“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.  

Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.  

String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.  

“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.  

Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.” 

In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.  

A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap. 

You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap. 

But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.  

Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.  

“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his. 

The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you. 

Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there. 

Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.  

Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs. 

You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you. 

He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need. 

“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?” 

And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that? 

Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.” 

Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.  

“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.” 

An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he’s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.  

He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?” 

The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.  

Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?” 

Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.  

Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.  

About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt. 

“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?” 

His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit. 

Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.” 

His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright. 

“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.  

“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind. 

Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up. 

“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure. 

And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.  

He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened. 

That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you. 

How will anything ever be the same after what you’d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.  

⚝⭒ 

A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out. 

It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.  

Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.  

You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.  

And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt. 

“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”  

“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?” 

He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with. 

But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him. 

“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.” 

Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.” 

He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.” 

“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest. 

Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.” 

Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.” 

“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.” 

Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.” 

Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.” 

And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it. 

⚝⭒ 

The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it. 

But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls? 

You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel. 

Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place. 

Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here? 

You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know. 

It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes. 

The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo. 

“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt. 

He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring. 

You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that. 

“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.” 

Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder. 

Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.  

Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.” 

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”  

“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.” 

“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says. 

That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.  

“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.  

⚝⭒ 

Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.  

For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.  

It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore. 

You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time. 

It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then. 

You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore. 

The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest. 

Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.  

You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them. 

So you do. 

Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow. 

A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer. 

You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you. 

“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.  

His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you. 

In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again. 

“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled. 

“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?” 

“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.” 

He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.” 

Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.” 

There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard? 

He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?” 

There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.” 

Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.” 

Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.” 

He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.” 

He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...” 

“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths. 

Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.” 

Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes. 

The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.” 

“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.” 

Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did. 

“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” 

So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once. 

But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too. 

When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered. 

“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.” 

You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.  

“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.” 

⚝⭒ 

Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed. 

Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping. 

With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.  

“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.” 

His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?” 

It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.” 

His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.” 

And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks. 

Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.” 

When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.  

Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior. 

He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.” 

Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."  

He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy. 

And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.” 

He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlines pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you. 

Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.” 

Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.” 

Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?” 

Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage. 

The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.” 

Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine. 

The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.” 

You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound. 

“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?” 

“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.” 

He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.” 

You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought. 

The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half. 

Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.” 

A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up. 

And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it. 

Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest. 

The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again. 

“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life. 

“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.” 

You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam. 

Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—” 

Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?” 

His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.” 

A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there. 

When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?” 

Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat. 

Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”  

You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth. 

His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.  

Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck. 

Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there. 

“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.” 

The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai. 

He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him. 

“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.” 

Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.” 

The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?” 

Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!” 

“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?” 

With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples. 

It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt. 

He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair. 

Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever. 

“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips. 

You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.” 

Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says: 

Home. You are home. 

✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.

﹙🏷️ ﹚@lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Roadside

Summary: On your way back from a long weekend that you got to spent with Joel, his car breaks down. While you both waited for Tommy to get there to help, Joel has some ideas on how to spend the time waiting.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 792

Rating: T

Warnings: roadtrips, falling in love but slowly, car trouble, implied smut, kissing, flirting, feelings, teasing, kinda secret dating, fourteen year age gap

A/N: I'm missing references to three pics I think, but it doesn't get better than this lol (technically I am not here, because I am on a writing break) The moodboard screamed road trip to me, so this is what I did. This is for @iamasaddie 24 hour writing challenge and I hope it does not suck 🙃

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

„What are you gonna tell him when he gets here?“ You hummed, looking up at Joel. He gave you a small smile before he stepped closer, his big, strong hands coming down to part your legs for him, stepping between them so he was towering over you, the sun slowly setting on the horizon.

You had almost made it home. 

After a long weekend of having Joel to yourself without the fear of running into someone you both knew (if you left your hotel room at all) that you had spend in a tiny town in close to Dallas, you were on your way back, just an hour out of Austin when his truck made a very sad noise until the engine went out and the car stopped on the side of the road. 

He had tried to get it to work before, with a long groan, he told you he had to call Tommy cause the something something needed a something so he could fix it. He had kept his eyes on you the whole times as he made the call, looking beyond sexy in the shirt you bought him, with his too long getting hair that you had spent all night running your fingers through as he made you cum over and over again until you both passed out. 

You had met Tommy before. You just hadn’t met him as Joel’s girlfriend.

Things between you and Joel had been… slow until they weren’t.

You’ve known each other for almost two years due to you working as an interior designer occasionally with his company. But it was six months ago that you had gotten closer as you worked on a very time consuming project where the client brought you both to the verge of insanity with how often they were changing the plans. 

He had finally asked you out one night and the rest as they say, was history. 

„Guess I’m finally gonna introduce my controversially young girlfriend to him,“ Joel smiled before he kissed you softly. You gasped in mock offence, before tilting your chin up to meet his lips with a smile, your hands running up his broad back until your fingers slipped into his hair on the back of his neck. 

„Not that controversial,“ you grinned and he chuckled before his lips kissed down your neck. 

„Fourteen years is a lot,“ he mumbled against your neck and you sighed, letting your head fall to the side to give him more access. One of his hands slowly drifted up your thighs, his fingers pushing the fabric of your skirt up. 

„Only if you care what other people think. Last time I checked, we’re both very consenting adults,“ you said and he playfully bit into your neck making your shriek. 

„How consenting are we talking about here exactly?“ He asked and you looked up at him as one of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing over your damp panties. 

You could feel your nipples harden against the fabric of the shirt you had put on this morning and Joel seemed to notice too, his other hand coming up to cup one of your tits, his thumb playing with your nipple.

Looking around you realised that you were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. You couldn’t even remember when you had seen a car drive by the last time. 

„Consenting enough to let you fuck me in the middle of nowhere until your brother gets here,“ you whispered against his ear and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against yours. 

„Atta girl,“ he grinned, before he kissed you again while his hands made quick work of your underwear. 

You could still feel him dripping out of you, your legs a little weak, when you jumped of the back of the truck, Joel taking your hand as the door of the car that had parked behind his opened and a man jumped out, looking between the two of you. 

The sun had set by now, the cold air making you shiver and Joel let go of your hand, to put an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him, the warmth of his body helping instantly. 

„So this is how I get to find out the mysterious woman that makes my brother grin like a teenager with a crush when he looks at his phone is you?“ Tommy Miller approached with a wide grin. You could practically hear Joel roll his eyes and you smiled at his brother. 

„You got a crush on me, Miller?“ You teased and looked up at him. 

„Brat,“ he sighed, fighting a smile.

„You love it,“ you winked, feeling him pull you closer. 

„Yeah, I really do,“ he hummed before he kissed you softly. 

[senmiyaazx]

Can you do reader that has SH scars or Them finding out that reader SH's

With Sol & Hyugo..!

But it's ok if you don't do it since its a sensitive topic!

tw: sensitive topics, self harm

a/n: can't decide which format i want to use for these kind of requests. thank you for the request <3

important note: if you're struggling with sh, please tell someone you trust or seek help. i do not know you, but i know that you are not alone in this. i hope things get better for everyone who's reading this:)

SOL:

Reader still does sh:

Oh, he's worried. Extremely worried. How could he not notice all this time? How could he not notice his darling was in pain? He feels horrible. Whether he discovers it accidentally or not, rest assured he won't pressure you into anything. He'll listen to your story and problems when you're comfortable and ready. He'll pull you into a hug while holding back tears. He's been through some shit and he knows how it feels. But he never wants to see it happen to you. If you're doing this because of someone, Sol will make sure they're taken care of. You don't have to worry <3 If it's because of something else and more personal, it's okay. He'll be with you till the end of time. From now on, he makes it his mission to watch over you more closely whenever he can, no matter how unethical. He's more subtle this time, though. He doesn't need you stressing even more.

He's still worried. And also a little upset. That was from a long time, wasn't it? You didn't know him back then. He wonders if he could've comforted you out of it, held you in his arms while you weeped. If only he could turn back time... Alas, there's other things to worry about. He's glad to hear that you're recovering, and you promised to never do it again. He'll help you on your journey. Sol isn't the most mentally stable himself, so I don't think he'll be much help either lol but for you? He's searching and making lists of healthy coping mechanisms he can give you. Thinks your scars are beautiful. He hated how it was made, but now it has faded and all that remains is the symbol of your strength and the fact you've made it this far despite being in an extremely tough situation. He'll kiss you on the forehead and tell you how proud he is. How happy he is.

Reader has sh scars (recovering):

HYUGO:

Reader still does sh:

He's very mysterious. I find it hard to write for him. Hyugo feels a mix of emotions wash over him when he discovers it. Shock, sadness and anger. Shocked, because like Sol, he couldn't believe he didn't notice anything until now. Sadness, because he couldn't imagine the pain you went through to resort to such thing. Anger, at himself and anyone or anything that caused you pain. He knows he can't use jokes or happy things to lighten up the mood like he usually does. Instead, he gently guides you to his arms and wraps you in a warm embrace. He'll whisper comforting words while you tell him things that have bothered you and asked you to promise him you'll never hurt yourself again and in return, he'll help you heal. You're hesitant. You didn't want to feel indebted to him, but he insisted. His determination made you embarrassed so you agreed. Since then, he's been extra caring (but not overbearing) to you and made sure to check in on you every chance he gets. If somehow he doesn't get to see you for the entire day, he'll call you in the middle of the night to ask about your day and it ends up being a long session of late night talks. Or he could just knock on your door and you'd let him in anyway. He knows he can't entirely prevent bad things from happening, but he can help lessen it for you. He'll be your sunshine, where you'll never feel miserable again under his bright smile. Of course, you do the same for him. You help each other out in your own ways eventually

Reader has sh scars (recovering):

When he first saw it, he didn't overreact or give a strong reaction. He smiles softly and grabs your hand, praising you for getting through your problems and even start to recover. It's something not many people are strong enough to do especially in your situation, but you did. And he makes sure to emphasize that. You guys end up sharing each other's experiences and stories (mostly you, he's still secretive and doesn't want to reveal anything bad) and find things you two relate to. He's overall a chill guy to have around. He won't make a big deal out of it if you don't and it's honestly really comforting. You don't notice it but he's secretly a little more cautious and gentle with you. He makes sure nothing hurts you again.

[heartmaddie]

hi maddie! could i request headcanons for oikawa and suna with a reader who has an rbf but also like squishy cheeks? bc that's what i have and i have a friend who rly likes to poke my cheeks and call me cute and ngl it makes me happy every time 🙈 ofc only if you want to write it!

JULIANA THIS IS SO CUTE.... tysm for the request i had sm fun writing it !!!!!

incl ; post time-skip , fluff , long distance (oikawa) , highschool relationship (oikawa) , intoxication (suna) , established relationships , chubby cheeks! reader , gn! reader chars; oikawa tooru , suna rintaro

oikawa tooru !

⋆ one of the reasons he was attracted to you visually was because of your cheeks!

⋆ he’s always touching/squishing them & talking about them

⋆ he thinks ur rbf is cute, he’ll poke your cheek to stop you from zoning out

⋆ he likes kissing your cheeks and feeling the soft skin against his lips

⋆ when he’s in argentina he misses them more than he can imagine

⋆˙⟡ —

‘long distance relationships don’t work,’

is what both of you had been told endlessly since tooru had decided to move to argentina. he would just dismiss it every time, but when tooru was finally alone on another continent, he couldn't shake the loneliness that gnawed at him every waking moment.

which is why he spent half his day on facetime with you, thirteen hours dedicated to watching you through the minuscule screen of his phone. the two of you would spend your time together in an oddly domestic way, sharing mundane moments, from cooking to cleaning. but in his heart, there was nothing more special than in the early midday when he’d watch you fall into slumber. he was captivated by the chubby skin he’d reminisced about & yearned to squeeze once again, watching delightfully as the puffy skin expanded and contracted with each breath.

so when you were finally in his grasp once again, and after copious amounts of hugs and kisses, he was spending a couple of minutes with his fingers kneading at the soft skin of your face in the cab, accompanied by you looking at him strangely. but the small smile he displayed absentmindedly made you comply.

it all rushes back to him once he sees you in his apartment, lazily flopping onto his bed and curling up in the sheets which smelt like him, blaming your exhaustion on jetlag, but he knows it’s more than that. he missed your warmth as well, after all. 

his heart swells immensely once you’re wrapped up in his arms & sheets once again. tooru’s lips were slightly parted from amazement, watching with full admiration as you slept peacefully. tentatively, his fingers reached out to quench the thirst he withheld for the past years without you, tooru’s fingertips were found prodding and poking your cheeks once again.

it was soft & warm & so greatly replenishing to do once again, he was so enchanted. tooru sported flushed cheeks and a tired smile as he found sleep creeping up on him suddenly. but for the first time in a while, his heart felt at ease with you & his slender fingers engulfing your face.

suna rintaro !

⋆ pretends to not notice your cheeks but gets all dreamy when he sees them

⋆ he uses them as stress balls kinda.. when he gets tensed up he’ll grab your face and squish it LOL

⋆ he kinda has a rbf as well but makes fun of you for yours

⋆ when you’re sleeping he’ll take his time to kiss your cheeks gently (wants to make up for the time you’re awake and he doesn’t)

⋆ he melts a little when you pout and your cheeks get all puffed up…

⋆˙⟡ —

suna was a quiet lover, he didn’t like publicly showering you with gifts and praise, or even physical affection. he hated it, despised it even. he much preferred to convey his affection through small gestures, ones he knew that only you would notice. but of course, this would be thrown away once he’d inebriated, he’d practically been climbing on top of you as you nudged him towards the car.

his arm was lazily slung around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his alcohol tainted breath as you pushed him into your car. your movements displayed a hint of exhaustion, eyes still droopy as you flopped into the driver's seat yourself. 

as you drove, suna sported an uncharacteristically soft smile, watching eagerly as you swiftly navigated the roads. there was this unseen elegance to you that only he could capture. he thinks you’re prettier when his eyes are a bit dazy and all he can make out properly is you.

you decide you kinda like him drunk when he’s whispering compliments into your ear while he’s hunched over your back as you open the door. he’s sweeter when he’s pressing drunk kisses against the expanse of your cheeks and neck. but ultimately, you were surprised when he tugged at the soft swells of your cheeks when you were busying yourself with wiping sweat off his brows.

“you’re pretty,” is what he mumbles against your skin, chapped lips brushing over flushed cheeks as you cradled his head, the other hand grasping onto the glass of water he hadn’t finished yet. 

“thank you.” you muttered in reply, drained from not only the late hour it was but also his incessant and petulant behaviour was maddening when all you wanted to do was wrap yourself in thick duvets.

soon, suna’s tugging you towards the bedroom, his face red when he pushes you against the mattress and bodies you, earning a small groan from your throat which evokes a giggle from him. he shifts up to press his cheek against yours, which was uncommon for him.

you looked towards him quizically,

“just rest.” he mumbles, lips brushing over your cheeks and lips, “i wanna take care of you now.” 

with that, his fingers found their way to the velvety swells of your face, offering you the comfort he somewhat deprived you of. he thought it was cute, the way you’d look up at him with tired, but albeit warm eyes as his fingers massaged into your skin, whispering praise into tired ears until you fell into a deep tranquil.

(can u tell i'm sleepy chat)

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed :p © heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work

[azen13]

[Not really sure if this counts as a request but here we go] Who’s your favourite male yandere(s) from genshin? And could you talk about why?

Ah I love this question! Thank you so much for asking. I've been really busy with college lately so I haven't gotten a chance to write recently, but after this week I should be finished with a lot of tests until finals. Just to clear things up, I absolutely accept questions like this! I feel like I haven't really shared a lot about myself as a person so I'm hoping to do more of that in the future.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CW: Yandere Themes, Spoilers for Wriothesley's Story Quest

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

I'd say I have four yanderes who I really like, and then a few who I like but I'm not obsessed with. Those four being Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, and Zhongli. Beyond the fact that I just like them as characters (and I'm gay asf lol) they're the most interesting yanderes to me, in part because of how much power they have in their societies.

Alhaitham is really interesting to me because there's this personal conflict between his values and beliefs and the idea of falling in an obsessive love. Alhaitham is inherently self-centered, not narcissistically so, but to the point where he prioritizes and values his time alone. In doing so though, he's also extremely lonely. I think a lot on how Alhaitham would react to someone who's able to match his sharpened blade of wit with one of their own, how he might exchange parries and blows with that person and find himself needing to understand the nature of their mind. I also think about how he'd react to someone who struggles with taking care of themself, or overworking: how he'd try to get you to stop doing so much and trying to please everyone. If his lover can keep up with his intelligence, he treats the romance like a game of chess, lining up his pieces to topple over the defenses surrounding your heart. His possession of you is slow and methodical, like vines growing on walls, slowly creeping over every inch. If his lover's wisdom is spent in other areas, then he's quick to snatch them up and take them home. While I think he's quick to get you under his control, it's harder for him to make them fall in love and surrender to his calculating embrace.

Neuvillette brings a really interesting element that I like to think about when I'm writing for him: immortality. He's a dragon who's lived for centuries, and that element of the slow passage of time is really fun to both write and think about. I really like to think of Neuvillette as a really, really soft yandere; he's seen humanity at its worst, and doesn't want you, the beautiful thing you are, to be tainted by all of its ugliness. Besides, he just can't help himself, what with his draconic instincts.

Out of the four, Wriothesley is the character I'd say I have the hardest time writing for because it's harder for me to explain why he feels the way he does. The working justification I have is that being betrayed by his adoptive family and living his whole life in Meropide made him incredibly lonely and developed a lot of abandonment issues that remained unearthed for years, as he didn't really make many close friends in Meropide. Then you come along though, and for once, Wriothesley has something good, something he doesn't want to give up. He's definitely one of the hardest yanderes to escape, what with Meropide being a literal prison. I think he definitely takes extra precautions when it comes to you, though, because he's so scared of losing them. Beneath his gruff exterior, there's a heart of gold, a man who only craves your complete affection and attention.

And then there's Zhongli, who was actually the character who got me into writing Yanderes. The thing about Zhongli is that as a yandere, you're practically powerless, unless you're on a similar or higher level of power/divinity to him. Even if you exceed his power, you're still going to have a very difficult time escaping his control. With how long he's lived and how much he's seen, he knows the only way to guarantee your safety is to isolate you from Teyvat entirely. Zhongli has no qualms about doing this, regardless of how much you might protest. Because when you've lost everything but Zhongli, you'll eventually—and inevitably—crumble into his arms. Only then will Zhongli put you back together, shaping you to be his perfect lover. Zhongli's greatest power as a yandere is his patience.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

I’ve been working on Vil’s “slap the overblot out of him” fanfic. I apologize for the delay. Unfortunately, my research paper takes precedence. However, I was unsatisfied with my writing so I’ve been revamping it. MC has become much sassier than I anticipated. It’s hilarious, but I’m not sure how I’m going to add a lot of fluff. I’m sure it will come in time, but it amused me and I wanted to share.

I also thought I would also give u an update on my other fanfics and ideas. All for Vil of course lol

The other fanfic I’m working on has a lot more soft fluff. It’s the one where the MC accidentally insults Vil because they think it’s a traditional Pomefiore greeting. That one’s funny and cute. MC treats him like a normal human. It’s a nice change of pace for our beautiful dorm leader. He’s used to being treated as untouchable. However, it’s lonely at the top. Vil is touched starved in this one. Also MC borrows Rook’s hat. You’ve gained the favor of our favorite hunters. Look forward to its release lol.

The other Vil fanfic I have is the body swap one. Even thinking about it brings a devious smile to my lips. It fulfills my deep fantasies of beating Vil at his own game. I want to show him that he could do better. He blames the acting industry for pigeonholing him into villain roles. While that’s certainly part of it, he can put in some work to change his circumstances. He’s not helpless.

In that one, Rook is a main and central character. I love Rook. He’s a hoot. I’m glad he’s a main character. As you know, he’s a valuable asset. The man knows Vil better than Vil himself. If you want an accurate, unbiased judge of your Vil imitation, he’s your boy. He agrees to work with you because he also wants Vil to realize he’s being too narrow minded.

The entire body swap fanfic is just one big power move. It makes me grin. I hope you all are as excited about my idea as I am lol

[souvenir116]

This is a bit of a (fun) conspiracy theory to distract from the angst of what happened to Charles this race.

So, the 3 of hearts card thing. I think Charles might know already about what happened with max, the magician, and what card he picked (maybe they talked about it for fun or something since the filming of that video happened first) and Charles chose the card on purpose in the RB vid! Hear me out.

When Charles had to choose the card in that RB vid, he could actually /see/ what was on below. Watch the vid again, from the angle of the card and how he pick it out etc. He even kinda hesitated between 2 cards a little I think? Before choosing the "3 of hearts" AFTER he saw what was on it. And then when he was asked what the card was he immediately said "3 of hearts". Except it's not actually 3 of hearts. It's 3 of Checo. There's actually no hearts on the card. So why not say diamond for example? So I think his mind might just subconsciously made him blurt it 🤔

How? My hc: he and max was bitching about the magician content video like "ofc Vegas would make us film content with a card magician 🙄" and they talked about it like they talked about their races and so Charles' mind just can't really forget that debrief. OR. Charles wanted to be even more soulmate-code with Max that much he saw the chance to write it in the stars himself and took it

i wish there was a longer vid of Charles picking them out to see if he chose it indeed intentionally but him blurting out '3 of hearts' so naturally and stilling when rbr admin corrected him "um its actually three of checos" because everyone was "number two max, 5 of checo, joker max" lol

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature thank you for this wonderful comment, hun ❤️!

😬 he could definitely go that route but, it's really Y/N his attentions are focused on. Elsie's a daddy's girl, so thankfully they have a great enough relationship that he wouldn't use her to create too much of a wedge between the reader and him.

Ooh yes, she could definitely use that against him. He's been furious that she no longer needs him, and that control he had over her when she was younger is slipping. So all these little tender moments where she seeks his support, just has him wanting more.

She truly loves him. And she definitely conflicted, and will continue to be conflicted over how she feels about him. I feel like he baits her with these tiny glimpse of how he was, just so she keeps longing for more 😬.

🤭, so happy to have scrambled your thoughts hun! Smut isn't something I'm great at writing, so instead of it being just a romantic love scene I try and turn it into something with a different meaning lol.

Oops, she did 😳. She was bound to find out, Tommy's been sloppy with his cover up 🤦🏼‍♀️. It's all about to kick off in the next part 😬, so you'll soon find out what will happen between them!

Thank again for your lovely comment, Lily 😘! You alway make my day with them ❤️.

Binding Love (Part Four/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After another eventful morning, and onslaught of demanding questions from your husband. Linda and Arthur's engagement party has you unexpectedly seeing another side of your husband, the side you continue to yearn for. But with revealing his former self to you, comes revelations that will horrify you.

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst, murder, smut.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: Sorry this chapter is late everyone. I had a busy week and not enough time to write. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

[Masterlist] [Previous Part] [Trailer]

" When he turns up, can you have him call me?" your voice echoed down the line, fingers nervously twiddling with the twisted wire of the phone as you bit the corner of your bottom lip.

Last minute Larry his secretary had joked, you thought to yourself, reassuring your concerns as you placed the receiver down onto its brassy stand.

You just wanted to apologise, just wanted to hear the end of the nagging worries that had plagued you for the entirety of the night.

For Tommy had not only embarrassed you the previous evening with his raging paranoia, he had scared you. Scared you in a way that had your stomach turn, had you begin to fear for your own safety and the fate of your future, he held forever in his hands.

" Who was that?" your eyes snapped open to the sound of your husband's gravely voice ripiling down the curve of your neck, the lapels of his suit jacket gently brushing across the back of your flowing dress.

" No one" you flatly replied, your attempts to leave stopped by your husband's snaking hand slipping around your stomach.

" Don't lie to me, sweetheart" you felt the heat of his breath fan over your ear as he turned you around to face him.

Stood face to face, his looming frame pressed tightly against your heaving chest, forcing a suffocating response from you as you watched his gaze slowly drift to the telephone, brow cocking as he waited for your answer. " Well?"

"Mr Wyatts secretary. I just wanted to apologise, for leaving so...abruptly, last night" you chose your words wisely, choosing not to further rile his unpredictable temper up with lies he'd undoubtedly sive out as you attempted to pull away from his searching eyes.

" And how is, Mr Wyatt?" Tommy let go as his hand slipped into his jacket for a cigarette, clearing his throat of the curling smirk toying on the corner of his lips as he scooted his muddy boot away from you and the evidence of his nightly hobbies.

" Fine. He's fine" you replied, brow scrunching at his shuffling feet and usually pristine footwear inching away, when your intentions to be honest were overruled by a profund urge within you to not give your smug husband the satisfaction of thinking he'd gotten to someone.

But unbeknownst to you, he had gotten to someone. Gotten to someone in the most sinful, most derranged of ways that ended with a dead body and a trail of mud leading to his crime scene.

" Is that so, eh?" He took a lingering drag of the tobacco rolled between his fingers, blowing a cloud of smoke to the towering ceilings of your home before his eyes drifted down to meet yours with a glistening stare of mischievousness.

How sweet, how...Innocent, he thought to himself with amusement as your heart froze with a gut wrenching feeling of doubt that the previous night hadn't ended with Tommy's parting words and the slam of your bedroom door.

" Ay up, buttercup" Tommy's smirks left you with a sense of dread as his attention drifted to your daughter, nudging herself between your bodies,  beaming up at her parents with a dimpled smile. " How's my girl, eh?"

" Suited and booted, Daddy" she replied with all the seriousness her rosy cheeked pout could muster.

" Right come on then, little soldier. Let's go" Tommy jostled in his pocket for his car keys as the loving smile for your six year old suddenly dropped from your face.

" Wait, i'm...i'm taking her" you looked back at your husband with a scrunched brow of annoyance, reinforcing your intentions with a firm hand to his chest to stop him from invading your morning routine, a routine you was adamant on keeping.

" The school called yesterday, while you were out...drinking" he played the doting father as he watched your fingers fall from his chest, a wave of shame reddening your cheeks.

" They want to speak with us, together" he grabbed your parting hand, closing the gap between you.

" But you would have known that if you were ever home, with your family" his blazing eyes of turquoise, still seething with jealousy from the previous day, bore into you with a hushed statement of blame.

Was he right? Had you been spending less time at home? Less time with your daughter? It was one evening...one. Or had it...had it been more than that? Your mind began to torment you with the seeds of doubt Tommy had sewn, for the confusion beginning to fester away at your already weary thoughts.

Playing you so harmously in tune to the sound of his own fiddle, you stepped away, your searching hand reaching for your daughter with a look of worry settled between your brow as you racked your brain over the last six months worth of tangled memories.

" Not gonna take the bus then? Get there on your own, on your own terms, after that song and dance you made last night, hm?" His pettiness came to a simmer as he stalked towards you, unwilling to let you forget how angry you had made him, how he had been forced to make such drastic decsions on your behalf to keep you safe.

Feeling the pull of Elsie's hand, giving you no choice but to let Tommy have his satisfaction upon seeing you give in, you followed your daughter without a peep of defiance to the car with your husband's passing comments whispering in your ear. 

" That new life of yours lasted long, didn't it, darling?"

Unable to dodge the talking down from the headmaster you was sure you was about to get, you and Tommy got pulled to the side as your daughter joined her classmates for the day's activities.

" So?" Tommy huffed as he pulled out his pocket watch from within his waistcoat, convinced that whatever the man had to say was not worth his time nor patience.

" It's about your daughter's behaviour" the words of the suited man plunged your motherly worries into your stomach in one quick, sudden drop.

" What...what has she done?" You stepped forward from Tommy's side, concerned as to what had been so grave it warrented both you and your husband's prescence.

" Not only has she been misbehaving, Mr and Mrs Shelby, but she took it upon herself to pick the roses in the school yard during lunch yesterday. Earning her a detention, I assume you are both unaware of" his nose rose above his framed glasses as he judged not only your supposedly unruly child but you and Tommy, her unruly parents.

" You had my daughter sent to detention for picking a fucking flower?" Tommy stepped in front of you, brow furrowing at the punishment inflicted on your child for something he believed to be innocent, if not expected of any little girl or boy of her age.

" They were very special flowers, Mr..Mr Shelby. A school project, participated in by all the students" all superiority, his position as head teacher began to disapate as he caught sight of your husband's gun concealed beneath the heavy lapels of his coat.

" You're wasting our fucking time" Tommy scoffed, turning to leave with a guiding hand to your back, refusing to entertain the ridiculousness of the conversation and its supposed urgency.

" Tommy" you rested a gentle hand to his arm, a soothing enough touch to simmer the anger within him and have him take note of your welling eyes of worry.

" I'll have my gardener come and plant new ones. Better ones. We done now, Mr...?" Tommy waved his hand in front of him, swallowing back his irritation for your sake, if only to have the feeling of you seeking his support for a mere second longer, to feel that you needed him again. 

" Mr Shelby, that will not solve your daughter's naughtiness. I've become aware of some news as of late. I must ask, is everything ok at home?" The head of the school pressed, daring to rile your husband up with his relentless questions.

" What was that, eh?" Your husband's patience with the matter in hand suddenly snapped into a demanding need to know what exactly possessed the man in front of him to ask such a thing.

" Well, I...heard that you were..." He stumbled out his response, suddenly conscious of how far he had pushed his questions as you tried to pull Tommy back from cracking his skull open.

" Married" Tommy pointed his finger as his body loomed over the man unable to keep to his own business and not prod into that of the notorious brummie gangster.

" We're leaving" a hand to your back had you rushing out the corridor as you stopped yourself from pushing his anger to boiling point with the true state of your marriage and your impending demands of divorce, yet to be settled.

" Fuck 'em, Y/N" he ushered you outside to the car.

" We'll change schools, to a private one" he settled the problem his money could solve, refusing to face the true issue.

" Fucking flowers..." He scoffed, reaching in his suit jacket for a cigarette to simmer his anger.

" Me and Arthur did far more than pick a few daisies to earn us detention, darling" a chuckle left his lips as he pulled out his lighter, eyes darting to the school he'd be inclined to see go up in flames, flowers and all.

" It's not about that, Tommy" you sighed as you watched his straining fingers attempt to light the flame in the drizzle that had turned into a lashing of rain.

" So, she's got Arthur's temper" he waved off your concerns, mumbling through the cigarette perched between his lips as his failing attempts to light it saw his patience dwindling.

" Your temper more like. Shelby temper" you huffed with folded arms, brow creasing as you watched his thumb repeatedly flick over the lighter's metal head without success.

" Tommy she's acting out, she's seeing too much.  Us arguing, us fighti..."

" What do you want me do, eh Y/N?!" your husband snapped, throwing his soggy cigarette to the ground.

" You wanted this, not me!" he grabbed you by your arms as the pelting rain battered down onto your shoulders.

" Fuck Y/N, you really think...you really think I would give you up that easily? Let you leave me without a fight?" his head dropped down with a sigh of exhaustion as a silence washed over you with the rivers of water streaming past your feet.

" What are we doing, Tommy?" What are we doing to our little girl?" you began to sob, feeling his fingers clutch onto your arms, pulling you down with the weight of his body as his heavy shoulders slouched forward.

" Lets go home" he refused to answer as his head came up to meet the tears streaming down your cheeks, hand brushing the sorrowful sight of your drenched locks from your face.

" I'll walk" you pulled away with disappointment, turning to leave from the conversation you could never move past as his way continued to demand all control.

" Make my own way, remember? Get there on my own. So I can think, alone" you left him with the words he had spoken that morning, a string of words said in passing by him but ones that still continued to sting you.

" It's pissing it down, you'll get sick. Get in, I'll drive you home" you pushed off his attempts to usher you into the warmth of the car as you walked into the downpour.

" It'll do you know good to think alone Y/N. Y/N! " Tommy stood in the rain watching you walk away from him once again before nodding to his man lingering near by in an unspoken order to have him follow you when the insufferable sight of the detective that had be hassling you came into view, body propped up against the door of his car.

Always fucking there. Always trying to get to you, Tommy slammed his door shut as his eyes narrowed in, fingers turning the silver key in the ignition with only one plan of action in mind. 

Foot pressed on the accelerator, Tommy sped towards him, swerving into his car with controlled prescion as the screeching tires skidding across the concrete came mere centimetres away from taking him out. A clear show of dominance by your husband, to prove to the inquisitive officer that nothing was beneath him, nothing he wouldn't do to keep the upper hand, to have you keep quiet.

He was just keeping you safe. Keeping everyone...safe.

Aching muscles and a sniveling nose, sick from your long pensive walk in the rain back to Arrow House, hadn't been on your list of things to endure before Linda and Arthur's engagement doo that evening. And with Tommy being right about the likely outcome of your stubbornness and refusal to have him drive you home, you had decided to drown yourself within the comfort of your bed than see the satisfaction on his face.

Curled up in within the freshly laundered sheets, you let yourself drift off to sleep as the man whose smugness you couldn't stand to face watched from the bedroom door, glass of water in hand with only a face of conern etched between his brows than the cockiness you thought you'd be met with.

" I hate to tell you I told you so, love" he quietly sighed as he padded towards you, placing the crystal tumbler on your bedside cabinet.

Perching himself on the edge of the bed, the weight of his own worries pushing his body down into the soft mattress as he ran his fingers through the length of his hair, pulling at the strands of stress.

" I can't help myself, darling" he confessed his lack of self-control in the silence, taking the opportunity to lay bare his sins as he watched you peacefully sleep, your mind momentarily free from the stress, from the shouting and arguing.

" Everything I do..." He stopped himself as he pinched his brow of the inner turmoil he felt. " Everthing I've done, it's been for you" he lifted his hand, inching it closer to your face and the lone twisted lock of hair resting on your cheek.

" I'm trying, love" he quietly added, his voice cracking under the weight of emotions scrambling up his throat, fully aware of his unpredictable temper that saw him doing the unspeakable, wholeheartedly believing his bloody hands were stained in your honour, for your safety.

" I'm just a man" he dulled his actions, justified his merciless slayings with his mortal, imperfect form as he brushed the lone ringlet of hair from your fluttering lashes.

"Y/N?" a part of him hoped you were listening, hoped you had heard his admissions of guilt.

" One day you'll forgive me" he snatched his hand away from your resting body, clearing his throat as he rose from the bed to flee his exposed vulnerabilities he felt foolish for laying bare as you began to stir in your sleep.

But rest was far from what you awoke to. For what was supposed to be a relieving sleep, turned into a thumping headache, drilling into the sides of your skull.

" Fuck" you huffed, lifting yourself from the covers as you forgoed the glass of water sitting on the table for the bottle of whiskey behind it.

If you were going to get through tonight, through Linda's obnoxious happiness, the reminder of your strained relationship, through this pummeling heachache, you would do it half conscious, you thought to yourself as you swigged back the amber liquid.

" Frances, what ever would I do without you?" your eyes drifted to the dress hooked on your bathroom door, your trusted housekeeper had managed to find for you after Tommy took it upon himself to rid you of anything that showed an inch of skin.

Fingers gliding over the silky crimson gown, you admired the beauty of the garment in front of you. It's soft fabric running through your palms until you came to a stop at the slit that Frances had sewn up after Tommy's demands.

Too high, too low, too much on show, Tommy's disaproving words rang in your head after the countless times he'd given his unwarranted opinions on your latest purchases.

At first you were flattered, flattered by his boyish jealousy that you'd comply. But when his jealousy came with a dousing of paranoia, and questions over who exactly you were dressing for, you began to resent the passionate show of love he'd shown.

Downing the last of the whiskey you threw the empty bottle on your bed before sizing up the satin dress and it's seemless sewing.

" There..." your face twisted as you pulled at the fabric, ripping the slit open and its looping threads one by one.

" That's better" you pulled the dress from its hanger, proping it up against your body to see your reflection in the mirror of your vanity and the provacating point you wanted to make.

Whether it be the whiskey that had fuelled your actions, the thumping headache or your frustrations with yourself for not standing your ground. One thing was sure, you was adamant on matching Tommy's pettiness and show him the true meaning of jealousy and the stark difference between what he believed was you challenging him.

" Tommy, don't" Ada's hushed voice turned to him, blocking your husband's eyes honed in on you giggling into the shoulder of a guest. A male guest. " She's just..."

"Trying to wind me up?" Tommy stepped away from his younger sister to see you glancing over at him, hips turning for him to see the provocking sight of your dress the way it was intended to be worn and not how he had Frances adjust it to his liking.

"...letting her hair down" Ada sighed, scooting herself back into his line of sight to save you from his glaring anger.

" Letting her hair down. Is that what that's called, eh?" he scoffed, tipping his glass in your direction, to the man accompanying you. The same man enthusiastically tending to your every need in a handsy display that had you flinch away, spilling the flute of champagne down yourself.

"Clumsy, clumsy" he chuckled, leering in as he pulled out his hankie to wipe the spilt droplets of bubbly that had trickled down your exposed thigh.

" Shit" Ada sighed, her protective stance not enough for her brothers fox-like eyes to see red the moment the gentleman beside you took it upon himself to dab away your clumsiness.

"It's ok, really" your panicked hands pulled the handkerchief from him as the shine of his gold cufflinks, encrusted with ruby gems caught your eye when a set of heavy footsteps appeared through your lashes. 

" What are you playing at, eh?!" Tommy snatched you away to the darkened corner underneath your winding foyer stairs.

" Nothing" you huffed, lifting your glass to your painted lips with a pout, feeling your legs sway from side to side as the champagne and half bottle of whiskey you had chugged earlier began to take effect.

" I know what you're doing" he snatched the crystal glass from your hand, tossing it's contents on a nearby leafy houseplant, unfortunate enough to be within close vicinity.

" Good. Is it working?" Your brow arched, unable to stop the emerging teen girl from your younger years trying to rile up her boyfriend of one week.

" Yes" Tommy's response took you by surprise, his battered eyes tired of arguing, catching you off guard as his finger trailed up your bare leg, closing the silky fabric around your exposed skin to save your modesty. " I came to you earlier. Did you hear me whe..."

" Speeches, everyone! My Artie wants to say something" Linda's voice broke the tiny glimpse into your past, your husband's soft voice only reserved for you, free from demands, from the constant bickering that had taken over your daily life.

"Y/N, wait..." His reaching hand held onto the tips of your fingers, backing away to join the happy couple as Tommy's breathy sighs followed you, his change in mood confusing you enough to put up your guard in fear that his unexpected move was just another calculated step in his unwinnable game of toing and froing with your emotions.

Was Tommy finally done? Too tired to fight?

 " 'ere's to Arthur and Linda" everyone drew a breath as John's tipsy speech came to its highly anticipated end. His waving hand, gesturing a toast to the happy couple, seeing the last of his gin at the feet of Linda's emmaculate heels.

Too much joy, too much happiness for any Shelby family member to endure, John was not the only guest guzzling down buckets worth of alcohol to see themselves through the quiet evening of judgemental stares from church folk with glowing hallows sitting above their saintly heads. 

"Right, yeh...thanks John boy" Arthur's twitching moustache and gangly legs rose from his seat only for his brother to pipe up with another string of words he'd have heard. 

"One last thing, yeh" he clapped his hands together as you felt the gentlemen that had been lingering close to you all night scoot along the plush settee next to you. A move that had you slipping half of your seat away from his unwarranted attention you no longer sought out to irritate your husband with. 

"May yous two one day 'ave the love of your hosts tonight. Alright lads, have at it. Bottoms up!" your heart raced at Johns drunken speech, watching him bring his empty glass up to his lips as your cheeks reddened with embarrassment at your and Tommy's contradicting relationship being made a highlight of the evening.

" Right John, let's get you some water" Ada hurried to her rambling brother, ushering him away from over indulging himself in anymore of Tommy's cellar full of booze as she mouthed her silent apologies to you.

" Never have I seen a love like that. It breaks my bloody heart, Ada. Breaks me 'art!" John's passionate speech continued as your welling eyes drifted up to the pining pare of your husband's and the impact your brother-in-law's unexpected words had mutually effected you both.

" Yes, we're all very heartbroken. Now, shut up" you heard the last of Ada's motherly tone drift from the room as one of Linda's guests took it upon themselves to drone out the awkward silence with an equally awkward, droning hym to top off the disastrous evening.

"The darkness deepens Lord, with me abide. When other helpers fail and comforts flee..." 

Head downcast, you let your tears fall into your lap as the singing commenced, desperately trying to hide your seeping emotions and the slit in your dress with fumbling fingers as you glanced up at Tommy gesturing you with a tilt of his head to join him, to let him comfort you.

But with a downfall of tears worthy of the storm battering against the windows from outside, you fled from your seat to the empty confides of your foyer as Tommy lept up after you.

"Wher...where are you going?" the man that had hounded you all evening followed in suit, furious his intended fuck for night was getting away as Tommy shot his trusted friend Dogs a silent command to deal with the unwelcome guest until he'd checked on you. 

" Are you a gambling man?" Johnny's chesire grin and looping arm wrapped around the gentleman's shoulders, guiding him out of Arrow Houses back door down to its vast landscape, and woody end. 

" Five shillings here, says you won't be able to outrun..." the rules of Dogs game drifted outside with his steady steps into the night sky, until the faint shrieks of a scream could be heard amongst the improtu singing from within the warmth of your home. 

Letting yourself fall into bed, you buried your head in your pillow as the soft click of the door closed and the dwindling sounds of the party faded out to Tommy's body settling itself next to you on the plush covers. 

" Hey shh, c'mere" he pulled you into his chest, your reluctance rapidly fading as you nestled your cheek against his body. Needing the gentle side of your husband he'd let free for the evening to soothe the pang of heartache you felt, for the memories of the love you shared that had resurfaced after John's blundering speech.

" Bloody John, eh?" his chest rose with a chuckle, lacing his fingers in your hair as he inched his body closer to you when a stifled sob left your throat.

" I'm tired, Tommy. I'm so tired of everything" you sniffed, pawing at the cascade of unstoppable tears streaming down your cheeks with frustration as your husband gently lifted your chin to him. 

" I know, darling" his voice echoed the sentiments you felt as he took over from your shakey hands, and gently wiped the pools of sadness from your lashes. 

Eyes gazing longingly into each others, Tommy bet against any rejection you'd see his ego take another dramatic fall with, and pressed a chase kiss to your lips as you pulled your head away. 

" Stop. Just stop ..." he sighed, turning you back to face him as his fingers glided down your neck, drawing you in with his tender touch. 

" I love you" his nose brushed against yours as his eyes fluttered shut, hands gently squeezing at your body with his mouth agape with anticipation. 

" Don't say you don't either" he swallowed back, fingers trailing under the curves of your breasts as he let out a breathy moan.

" I don't" you let the last of your tears fall from your cheeks as you abruptly turned your back to him, pushing his needy hands away. 

" You're lying" he huffed, letting his head fall back against the silk cushion, arm rested above the lengths of his hair as he brushed along the bar of frustration across his brow. 

" So those tears didn't mean anything then, eh? " he abruptly turned to slot his body behind you, lips kissing along your neck as he burrowed his hand under the cleavage of your dress, cupping your breast in his hand with a squeeze. 

Eyes shooting open, you clawed at the bed sheets as a surge of pleasure rushed through your body, head dizzy with the image of your husband gently thrusting himself into your clothed body in the reflection of your bedroom window. 

" Say it, Y/N. Say you love me, say you still want me, need me" his voice moaned with urgency as his eyes flew up to yours in the weathered glass.

"I don't..." Your voice hitched in a pitiful attempt to lie through your feelings as you pushed back to meet his straining erection pressed against your body. 

In one swift movement, Tommy ripped the front of your dress, exposing your body for him to see in your shared reflection as your hand flew to his thigh, nails digging through the tailored fabric. 

" Lies, all lies" he hissed, encouraged by the sweet sounds of your whimpers he'd longed to hear again. " Say it. Say it so we can forget about it all, about everything" 

" I..." you bit your bottom lip, desperately trying to repress the strangled moan he was adamant on coaxing from you as he rolled his thumb around your stiffened nipple. 

" I love you..." your voice cracked, eyes opening to the sudden feeling of your husband's hands coming to a stop as you stared back with teary eyes at him in the backdrop of the starry skies, reflecting your bodies in the window of your bedroom. " I never stopped...never"

Flipping you onto your back, Tommy's lips crashed onto yours in a seering kiss of passion, ridding you of what was left of your clothes and the suit that had him seperating himself from the heat of your body. 

Hips snapping into you with each carefully positioned thrust, Tommy was adamant on making you forget, adamant on fucking you until he was convinced of your admission, until his paranoia let him believe it. 

"No more fucking divorce, eh?" He groaned, pushing his throbbing cock into the depths of you as his body rippled with pleasure. 

"No more separate rooms" his snapping hips sped up, causing a string of muffled moans to leave your swollen lips as you let yourself be free of the stress he'd induced.

"No more, Y/N. Say it?" He brought your legs up against his sweaty chest, lifting your lower body of the bed as he thrusted into you with abandon. Muscled arms straining, face scrunched as he desperately restrained himself from falling over the edge without an answer.

"Fuck...say it, sweetheart" He breathed heavily on the edge of blissful defeat as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment. Both pining for each other, to feel at one with another like nothing had happened, like the many months worth of distress and arguing hadn't seperated you. 

" No more...no more!" your head flew back to your cushion, hands grabbing at the sheets as he brought you to a heated ecstasy of pleasure, spilling months worth of longing into you with a strangled grunt as he threw his head back in relief. 

Giving up, giving in. In that moment, not a thought or regret was spent caring. Tangled emotions and misplaced promises would be dealt with tomorrow. But for now, all you wanted was to feel your husband, be at one with him enough to let the crushing pain of his demands slip by.

Pulling you into his lap, Tommy brushed his tongue against yours as he reached between your sweating bodies to grab hold of his hardening cock, pulling you down onto him as his fiery breath bristled against your ear and he made his intentions known for the night.

"Again" 

" And these flowers I can pick?" Your daughter skipped alongside you as you made your way down to the gardens. 

" Yes, once they've bloomed, you can pick all of them. Every, single, one" you bent down to her little frame, sending her a playful wink as she ran off with an excited shriek. 

Keeping a watchful eye on your daughter as she collected every mismatch stick she could find through the treeline to border her very own rose garden, your hand slipped across your stomach, hugging your body with a blissful smile as you recounted the passionate evening you had spent with Tommy last night.

" Mummy, we have moles!" Your daughter's voice alerted you to her discovery as you pulled yourself from your heated thoughts. " Fat ones!" 

" Elsie!" You called back, weaving yourself through the towering trees, treading carefully along the woodlands grassy bedding, when a shining gold cufflink caught your eye.  

" Mummy, come look!" She excitedly shouted as you bent down to the curious object out of place amongst the woody surroundings, it's ruby encrusted focal point sparking a hazy memory within you. " They must be giants!" 

"Giant moles, are you..." You laughed only to grab her by the hand and pull her back when you came face to face with the three heaps of mud in a line next to each other. 

"Here mummy, daddy's" she gave you the matching cufflink she'd found on top of the freshly unearthed mountain, assuming the small piece of jewellery could belong to no one else but her father. 

" Elsie....come" your eyes widened, pulling her away from what was not mole hills but graves. Three graves, each with distingualble shades of dirt, in a haunting timeline of murder that had stretched over many days, if not weeks. 

The officer. The businessman. Unheard of since their encounters with you, your horrified eyes looked at the growing graveyard, convinced of who lay beneath each plot and their enforcers muddy boots, and remarks that trailed themselves back to their murder scene, when the clouds cleared your fogged memory about the small trinkets nestled within your palm. The gentlemen...

Hands clutching the cufflinks piercing against your reddening skin, your welling eyes unable to blink through the terror you felt had you pacing up the hill with shaky legs as your daughter ran ahead. 

"Daddy!" she lept into the arms of Tommy making his way down to meet you with a content smile, body and soul free of his sins.

" Everything ok, darling?" he pressed a tender kiss to your lips as your stance stiffened, hand releasing the cufflinks from behind you back into the grassy lawn as your shakey voice answered...

" Perfect" 

 

Next Part coming soon!

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219 @whereismymindnow @honeymoon8 @bruhidkjustwannaread

@strrvnge @paintedinpinks @edgyficuselastica

[claynine]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write about Muzan in his final form getting pegged by the reader? And maybe add some pet play if that's okay for you?

Thought I'd do this ask as the first one back lol, hope you enjoy! (Btw I'm working on all the requests I have, dont worry! ♡)

Warning: bondage, pet-play, praise, pegging,

Embarrassed, he felt absolutely embarrassed yet... he couldn't deny that he liked it. The way your hands were squeezing his plump thighs, nails digging into his skin, leaving red stripes along the way. It felt delicious, making his mouth water.

"Tell me, Muzan-sama..." you purred, you're fangs showing as you smirked up at him. You gripped his thighs again, earning a grunt from him. "Are you... my good boy?"

He glared weakly at you, no, no, he's the demon lord. But... the thought of being a good boy, no, of being your good boy... it made his head spin into a mind space were he couldn't do anything else but say...

"Yes..." he said quietly, almost to soft for your liking. "I am..."

You smiled, pulling yourself up. He looked beautiful, his hands tied tightly to the headboard of his king size bed. His white locks creating a halo around his head, his face showing nothing but lust. Truly, a masterpiece.

"Good, I guess then... I should give my good boy a prize, right?" He tensed at your words, feeling suddenly lightheaded at what he saw.

You pulled your kimono off, showing your bear body, and a white, big strap on. He burned holes at you, hating the idea of being fucked by you instead of fucking you. He could easily break free from his restraints, kill you on the spot, yet... he couldn't. Fuck, he couldn't.

You grabbed his marked thighs, spreading them apart. You poked his entrance with the tip of the strap, looking at his reaction. He sucked in a deep breath, brazing himself, he didn't stop you, he couldn't stop you, not when he felt so good just by being weak against you.

"My good boy..." you leaned forward, and bit his exposed neck, he gasped softly as you begin to push inside him.

It was big, too big. Heck, maybe even bigger than his own. And that made it hotter.

"Fuck you." he glared at you as you pulled away from him, smiling. The darkness of his room enhanced the brightness of his red eyes.

"Muzan-sama, that's not nice." You pushed all the way inside him, he chocked on his spit.

"F-fuck-..." you leaned forward again, pushing one of his legs on your shoulder, letting the tip press directly on his prostate. He swore he was seeing stars.

"Especially since I plan on fucking you really good..." he looked down as you pulled out, almost entirely.

"Agh! W-wait... shit-" you thrust inside him fully, watching his stomach bulge at the size of your dick.

He moaned loudly, and you enjoyed the sound. Thrusting inside him roughly, rearranging his guts nicely and thoroughly. Making sure he felt as much pleasure as possible. And fuck he was feeling it.

"Y-yes... fuck yes...!" He moaned, his nails digging into his palm, drawing blood. His body felt hot, as if he was in hell right now, and still he felt like he was in heaven at the same time.

The room was filled with his moans, the sticky clap of your hips meeting his. Your eyes stuck to his face. Big red eyes rolled back, tears forming.

"More, more-" he tried to look at you straight in the eye, so he could demand you to go harder. But his eyes flew to the back of his head with every delicious hit the tip of your strap landed on his prostate.

"So cute, my little master, hm?" He didn't comprehend what you said anymore.

"Cum-... gonna- gonna cum-" he tried to alarm, as his pleasure weld up into a ball, ready to explode at any second, one more thrust, just one-

He looked at you in shock as you stopped. His eyes filled with tears, a weak glare directed your way.

"Do you deserve to cum?" You asked him, you thrusted into him harshly, he moaned out, on the brink of his orgasm. "I don't think you do..."

He felt like crying, even though he already was unbeknownst to him. He moved his hips desperately, looking for any friction.

"Don't- don't stop-" he finally used his force, breaking out of his restraints, but to your surprise he didn't use his freedom to kill you.

He gripped your hips, his tentacles appearing out of nowhere, they wrapped themselves around you.

"Cum, let me cum, I'm a good boy!" His deep, demanding voice now unrecognizable. "Please-"

You gripped his hips tightly, and began moving faster than before. Your lips twisted into a smirk, you kissed him, swallowing his moans.

Muzan on the other hand was crying. He felt too good, his senses turned to mush, electricity flowing through his body. He gripped the sheets, tearing holes in them. You pulled away letting his screams of pleasure consume the room.

"Cumming, Cumming, fuuuck-" his trapped your body as he came, biting your shoulder, you moaned in pain.

His stomach was stained white with his cum, he continued to twitch as you pulled out slowly. His eyes closed shamely as his cheeks turned pink. How was he going to explain this...?

Obviously the uppermoons heard, as the next day he clearly walked funny. And even though all the demons were quiet, a certain demon with rainbow eyes couldn't hold his giggles.

Don't copy.

Property of clay9z.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 35

Lady Luck by My Side

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10.2k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Luck Be a Lady (Dezio Rezio) ~ The Atomic Beat Ranchers | Feel So Numb ~ Rob Zombie

Summary: Buggy deals with your heavy words, while Crocodile and Mihawk fight for you in their own, desperate ways. You are making the best of your situation, and if you could avoid your uncle's wicked words, you might even end up enjoying yourself. If you're lucky, of course.

Ch. 34 Recap: I've decided to put the recap directly below the cut in case anyone sees this post before getting to the last chapter. It's a bit more detailed than usual, and I vehemently detest spoilers. I refuse to watch trailers for movies I plan to watch 😂 I don't even like writing summaries, so I keep them vague. Hope you don't mind!

Author's Note: I have missed y'all so very much, I can't begin to describe 😭💜 I won't get into my disappearing act here, but I'll share some details below the chapter if you're interested, and I'll probably make a life update post about it later. Now that I finally have the time, energy, and health, to write again, I just want to write Numbers Game!

Dark Content Warning: Dark Content is bracketed with ~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~ and summaries are bracketed with ~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~ directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scenes. Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness, episodes, treatment, or neglect could be triggering for you.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if mental illness treatment, doctors, or panic attacks, might be triggering for you.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Chapter 34 Recap: You struggled with your varied feelings for the hunters that fought for the chance to be your owner, surprised that you didn't hate them all. You discovered that Fukaboshi was a truly good man who knew that you'd be sending him away soon, and that Katakuri was far sweeter than he looked.

Mihawk discovered that his little rabbit's plight was being broadcast beyond the Oak Roots Estate, and his rage made him dirty his blade.

Former member's of Baroque Works, Zala and Marianne, reported back from Dr. Vorsan's asylum. Buggy fought against it at first, but Crocodile begged to watch the encrypted recordings they had found so that he could help his sweet girl. He saw her at fifteen years old, being restrained and drugged in that asylum after her father passed, and he demanded to see the next recording.

You lied to your sister about your feelings toward the Cross Guild, telling her that they were monsters, and you never wanted to see them again. You wanted to make her happy, so you'd keep up your smile, just like you had for your dad when you were little. You would pretend for her.

Chapter 35 ~ Lady Luck by My Side

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Had it been hours? Years since he’d started watching? 

There was nothing but the tears in her eyes, nothing but the futile sobs he could do nothing to stop. 

‘Let me see my sister!’

‘Sweetie, you’re not ready yet. You need to get well first.’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m not sick, mom,’ his sweet girl begged, strapped to a table while her mother stood too far back to comfort her. ‘Just let me see Kitty, please. I need to see her. ‘

‘You need to focus on getting better,’ Delaine’s voice shifted, expertly condescending with a loving tone. 

Crocodile did not fucking like this woman. 

‘Sweetie, do you remember what happened? Do you remember what you did,’ Delaine prodded. Y/N’s face crumpled, sobbing while her worthless mother stood in silence.

‘It was an accident,” the fifteen-year-old girl pleaded while she struggled against her restraints.

‘I found you with that snail, Y/N, and I’m certain you would have killed the poor thing if I hadn’t found you when I did,’ Delaine scolded. Crocodile was going to gut this bitch for making her daughter cry like this. ‘I’m just grateful that it was me, I can’t imagine how your... It’s not your fault, of course. Arbo was always selfish, and now he’s made you sick. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s just not safe for Kathryn to be around you until you get well.’

‘Please, mom. Please listen to me,’ she whimpered, her body going weak, trembling. 

‘Just listen to the doctor, alright? I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but you’re sick, honey. You need to— ‘

‘I need you to fucking LISTEN!’

Delaine froze for a moment before turning away, heading toward the door. She walked closer to the cam-snail on her way out, and her eyes looked way too fucking dry. 

Crocodile’s rage-filled thoughts were swept away by that young girl’s screams. 

‘Mom, please, don’t leave me! Don’t let them— ‘

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

~~~

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

The scene above is from Crocodile’s POV while he watched a recording of the reader in the asylum when she was fifteen. 

Her mother, Delaine, was present, and the reader stated that she wasn’t sick, and begged to see her little sister. 

Delaine replied that it wasn’t safe for Kathryn to see her until she was well again and asked if the reader recalled what she did to the snail. The reader said that it was an accident, and asked Delaine to listen. 

Delaine stated that she thought the reader would have killed the snail if Delaine hadn’t found her in time, and blamed Arbo’s selfishness for making the reader sick. She denied the reader's request again. 

The reader yelled for her mother to listen, however, Delaine walked out, and Crocodile felt rage for how dry her eyes were. The reader screamed for her mother not to leave her, not to let them– (the last line cut off).

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

~~~

Y/N’s cries were cut short, the image of her teary face going blurry before the transmission cut out completely. 

Crocodile had already destroyed all the furniture, so he crawled through the debris toward the smaller snail, answering the call before he had time to make it. 

“Sir— “

“Finish the recording,” he threatened. “It wasn’t done, send it again.”

“The white snail passed out, sir,” Zala reported, her voice shaking almost as much as his fist. “I think that was too much for it all at once. It needs time to recover before we can send any more encrypted data.”

Crocodile could hear his teeth grinding together, but he kept still enough to speak a few words.

“Make sure it’s ready tomorrow.”

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy felt somehow empty, and too full at the same time. His mind was too full of those vicious words his star had hissed, too full of fear and guilt over what to do about them. 

“Secrets keep fucking shit up,” the clown murmured, pacing again. 

It was just a lie. Star was lying to her sister.

It had been some damn good acting though, and Buggy hated the doubts it stirred in him. He couldn’t stuff them down. 

I know she loves me, but could she really hate them? I could have sworn she… 

Why ya gotta be such a good actor, baby? 

Or maybe I’m just the selfish piece of shit that didn’t listen. I was too fucking distracted by that shithead. I wasn’t paying attention to you, Star, I just—

He gave a light yelp when the snail interrupted the constant beat of her heart, grateful to be distracted now while he floated toward Crocodile’s desk. 

“Howdy,” Buggy coughed, perking up at the low chuckle that greeted him. 

“Hello, little clown.”

“What’s up, crybaby?”

Mihawk’s voice sent chills across his skin, but all the clown could think about were those hateful words.

Murderers.

Monsters.

“Is that Crocodile,” the swordsman asked after a particularly loud crash echoed down the hall. “I have some news to report.”

“He’s watching…”

“Is he watching the feed?”

Now Mihawk’s voice chilled his blood.

“What feed?”

“I’m handling it,” his new lover tried and failed to soothe him. “Why don’t you two call me in the morning? I need to find a new room for the night anyway.”

“Why do you need— “

“How is she?”

Mihawk’s voice cracked just a bit, his desperation pushing through the relaxed front he’d clearly been holding up. 

“Same. Finally sleeping,” Buggy rasped, clenching his eyes shut at the spike of a headache. “I’m gonna read my notes again, I think she said something…  Crocodile might have something too, so we’ll call you tomorrow.”

…

“Mihawk?”

“You’ll tell me if she’s being hurt?”

“Yeah, I said I would.”

“And you’ll call me if she says she doesn’t want to be there? I don’t care if she whispers it in her sleep, Buggy, I’ll get her out. If she gives even the slightest opening, you’ll call me?”

…

“Bug— “

“Of course I will,” Buggy promised. It wasn’t a lie. 

“Thank you. Get some rest, little clown.”

“You too, crybaby.”

Buggy stared blankly at the snail after the call until the near constant crashing and yelling down the corridor got louder. And closer. 

His feet followed as fast as they could, but the rest of him charged into the banquet hall in time to see the terrifying sight of Sir Crocodile’s rage. The door to the conference room had been ripped off its hinges, and Buggy was caught in the other doorway, the urge to run held back only by the horror of what that frightening man might have seen.

Star… 

Crocodile was alternating between smashing through tables and chairs with his hook, and draining them with his hand, leaving waves of splinters and sand to spill across the gleaming floor.

Until he made it to the head table. 

“Hey boss, you really gonna wreck the best table in this shithole?” 

Buggy had floated his upper body slightly above the other man’s head. He wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in between Crocodile and his fury, no matter how many memories that table held.

The clown almost fell from the air when those frantic, silver eyes met his. 

“Is she still crying?”

“N-no… She’s sleeping.”

Crocodile fell to his knees, the tears on his scarred face slow and unsteady, as though they’d never traveled there before. Buggy brought himself together and did what he knew had to be a stupid thing. 

He hugged the raging man, embracing this villain that had destroyed so much.

“I can’t… can’t leave her there, Buggy,” Crocodile panted into the crook of his neck. He nearly brought the clown to the floor with the amount of weight he rested on him.  

“Don’t worry,” Buggy strained through his hold, “we’ve got her.”

The larger man crushed him against his chest, sucking down his tears before he started to offer comfort instead of taking it. Buggy made a show of accepting that comfort, knowing that he’d never be a better actor than his shining star. 

Can’t tell ‘em. Can’t risk it. 

The image of Crocodile and Mihawk collapsing in defeat at the party after Y/N had thrown her cruel words burned through his mind.  

I know you’re lying, baby. You’re just a good actor. 

Don’t wanna distract these idiots. They don’t know you like I do. 

He tried to let go of his guilt, but those words played on a loop. 

‘I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again.’

It wasn’t true. 

It was a lie. 

Buggy knew it was a lie.

It was a lie. Right, baby? 

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The other men pushed and shoved each other when the scavenger hunt began, but Shanks had to hold himself back from the race. This one wouldn’t win him another date, and close contact with the other suitors had been pushing his self-control to its limit.

He’d always been able to let insults slide when it came to himself, when it was only words, but Shanks couldn’t recall this suffocating feeling.

This entire hunt was an insult, a torture made just for Y/N, and everyone here was having a lovely time using her. 

Shanks could feel himself about to snap, and only his surety that it wouldn’t help her stayed his hand. 

She couldn’t show her own rage, and it would be stupid and selfish to show his.

So, the red haired pirate sat this hunt out, staring at the old man that had weaseled his way beside her.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

What was the theme today? Creating love? Finding my heart? Uncle really should have hired a showrunner for this shit. 

By gods, you were bored. And having “Gibby” at your side was only making your condition worse. 

“These young bucks sure do like to show off,” he teased, leaning his bony shoulder against yours, the scent of whiskey nearly knocking you out. “But I know what a sharp girl like you craves.”

“And what’s that, Gibby,” you flirted. 

It would be so easy to kill him, wouldn’t it? Just a good punch to the throat would probably end this old man. But that would be it. So many eyes… He’s not worth it. 

“A challenge of course,” he announced as though revealing a delightful trick. “You want to use your talents. All these little boys want is a little wife.”

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “and what do you want?”

The creep pinched your cheek. Even with your renewed determination, pretending was fucking rough. 

“I want Lady Luck by my side, of course.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

How many… Do lives or liters of blood count for more? Those lives are nothing but—

“Mihawk?”

“I’m here.”

Crocodile’s voice was off. If not for his trained sense of hearing, Mihawk would have believed that voice belonged to someone else. 

But it was him. His daddy. His brutal business partner that was too sweet on their former victims. 

“You go first, crybaby,” Buggy threatened, bringing a tiny smile to the swordsman’s lips. 

“Sylvad’s little game has an illegal broadcast,” Mihawk shared lightly, pretending it was fine. “Underground gambling rings are holding showings every night for an impressive fee. The show appears to be isolated to the surrounding island kingdoms, but that’s probably wishful thinking.”

The silence was torturous for them all, holding nothing but impotent rage. 

Mihawk stretched his neck, removing his hat to keep it from scraping against the dusty walls. He’d found a lovely, little shed to lie in wait in until his prey were all lined up. 

“I’ll be attending a showing tonight, so I should be able to watch the hunt. I’ll study the layout, and hopefully I’ll see something that you aren’t able to hear.”

“So, we’re all spying on her now,” Buggy sighed. The sound was so animated; Mihawk could see those shoulders slumping in his mind. 

He didn’t know when he’d gotten so used to these men in his life. 

“Wait,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “Crocodile, if you weren’t watching the feed last night, what were you watching?”

“He can’t tell us,” Buggy said, his voice gentle, but pained. “Recordings of Y/N at the asylum. Croc’s poky, lady agent, and the scary, little girl nicked them for us. “

Mihawk’s blood froze in his veins as the memory of her flashed in his mind. His rabbit had looked so beautiful that last day. Beautiful, but wrong. 

“Crocodile?”

…

“Can you tell us anything yet, boss? Daddy?”

“Just a kill list,” Crocodile rasped, and Mihawk realized what that tone in his voice was. 

Despair. 

“I haven’t finished watching yet. Just waiting on the snail. She wouldn't want me to hurt the snail…”

“Okie dokie,” Buggy loudly redirected, the sound of awkward pats coming through. “Star said something to her sister when she was crying last night. I think Asshole Charmer was right, she’s trying to protect Kat from something.”

“What did— “

“She said, ‘I left you,” Buggy rushed before either man finished asking, the strain in his voice ramping up. “Then she lied again. Told Kat she wanted to be there.”

“They wouldn’t let her see her sister,” Crocodile breathed, a distance in his words that had nothing to do with the ocean between them. 

“So, we have to find out what Kathryn Sylvad needs protection from,” the swordsman hummed. “When our little rabbit showed us her fangs, she mentioned the Celestial— “

“Kat said Uncle LimpDick can’t sell her anymore though. She’s too old for those creeps.” 

“But Y/N didn’t know that until she got to the estate. If that’s why she left, then we can—” 

Hope had crept into Crocodile’s voice, and it was almost more painful to hear, especially when it was killed so quickly.

“She could have gotten out with the merman yesterday,” Buggy reminded him, his usual frustration seeming muted. Anger was still present, but it was wrapped up in softer, sadder things while he caught Mihawk up on the prince’s offer. “Star’s acting like a fucking martyr.”

“It’s gotta be the doctor. Sylvad said something about the fucking doctor before she left us,” Crocodile trailed off, leaving them all to sink into the memory of that night. “That’s who she fears.”

“Then that’s who dies first.” 

That dusty, little shed became a cage, the monster within him nearly tearing through it at the thought of blood. 

“Wait,” his clown commanded. 

He obeyed. 

“You can’t just run in there and kill everyone on your own now. You have to protect both of them. We need a plan.”

This silence was full of caution, but it held the taste of possibilities. 

The swordsman wanted to sever his own tongue for dashing that new hope so soon. 

“We can’t force them. If her sister wants to keep that stifled life, then Y/N won’t forgive us for ripping her from it.” 

Mihawk sighed, remembering the rage on his darling’s face so clearly. It might be the only face of hers that he’d be worthy of seeing again. 

“So, I’m still our last resort. I’ll take her hate for you, Buggy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy groaned. “We know more than we did before, so we just need to keep looking. We’re gonna get her back. You got that, shitheads?”

How strange to recognize the sound of a hug. Buggy’s little hum of surprise, followed by a soft sigh that had to be from Crocodile’s lips, hit Mihawk with a wave of heat. The sensation built up in his throat until he shook it off.

Y/N wouldn't be the only thing he’d lose if he stole her away. The World’s Greatest Swordsman would lose this strange, little home he’d found with this strange, little guild.

“You got it, boss,” Mihawk teased. 

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. President,” Crocodile joined in.

The swordsman smiled in that dusty shed, pretending for a moment that this strange, little home he’d found would still be his. 

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson never shut the fuck up, so you hadn’t caught most of the scavenger hunt, but soon enough, Uncle Cedrick was announcing the winner.

“There are no rules against hunters helping each other win,” he teased while the Vinsmoke brothers walked toward you. Ichiji was carrying a large wooden heart, a few missing pieces of the puzzle held in the losers’ hands, but he held the most. 

Apparently, the younger brothers had given their pieces to the oldest prince, flanking him as they all knelt before you. 

“I’m looking forward to showering you with many more gifts,” he smirked, smoothing his fingers over yours when he placed that wooden heart in your lap. “Gifts worthy of a princess.”

Cheesy. Cocky. His brothers’ lecherous stares weren’t helping.

But I might as well enjoy it, you thought, gifting him with a coy smile.

 

~~~

This opulent room had always been too ridiculously large to be the family game room, especially since you’d only play with your dad, or your sister, never both. Dad always had some work to take care of when Kat asked to play, and Mom never liked board games.

At least someone’s still playing games in here. 

“Come here, sugar,” Giberson pulled you along, looking healthier than you’d seen him so far. “You ever played Blackjack?”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

“Hit me.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

Crocodile chuckled, feeling loose for a rare moment while he smirked at the woman across the table. Rain Dinners was as vibrant as ever, a stolen oasis that he planned to grow. The casino pulsed with greed, but a quiet air seemed to fall over the two of them.

“No orders at the table, sweetheart. You know that.”

Fuck. 

This woman’s silence always held an itching weight, that little smile making him narrow his eyes. He was the one that had slipped up. No time for that. 

Not until his work was done. 

“Hm, it looks like a bust for both of us, sir. I hope your orders don’t land us in a similar position,” she taunted in that airy voice of hers, as though her thoughts were merely floating through space, drifting by with no fault of her own. Yet her eyes sparkled.

Crocodile ignored how much he liked it when they did that. 

“Have a little faith, Miss All Sunday,” he grinned, the noise of the casino drowned out by her soft chuckle, her haunted eyes filling with a hard edge, a challenge. “Don’t you trust me? We’re gonna build a better world together.”

Her soft chuckle turned to outright laughter, the pretty sound bringing more eyes to their elevated table. That beautiful face tilted back, and the brim of her white hat shifted enough to let the glittering lights touch her skin. 

He paused to watch her, knowing that he was distracted. Knowing that she was an agent, that he couldn’t risk losing his balance until he’d met his goal. 

This girl is nothing but an asset. That’s all anyone is until I’m done. 

“Come, Crocodile, you and I both know that trust can be a fatal mistake. I know you didn’t bring me here for false promises, and I would leave if I thought you’d become such a sentimental fool.”

Soft hands sprouted from the table before him, lighting his cigar, and holding it to his lips while he gave a few gentle puffs. Those taunting eyes never strayed from his.

“You know me too well,” he laughed, taking a larger sip of scotch than he’d meant to. This asset of his had many uses, and interesting company was becoming too much of a favorite. “What kind of world do you wanna build when we get there?”

The way she stared at him… It was as though she was right there, seeing deep into the core of him, yet somehow distant. No matter how much time she spent by his side, they were always light years apart. 

“Are you feeling sentimental, boss?”

“Not at all,” Crocodile snorted before downing the rest of his drink. He motioned for another round but couldn’t shake off the sticky feeling of her knowing gaze. 

She’s right. What the fuck am I doing? Can’t think like this. Not yet. 

Nico Robin smirked while her many hands gathered the cards, dealing a fresh game. Crocodile found himself feeling proud of her practiced distance, but had to fight harder than he should have to keep from tugging at it. 

Trust is worthless in a world like this. 

“Well, boss?”

“Hit me.”

So, I’ll make a better world. 

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Everything was shining. Unlike most casinos, the shine in your family’s estate wasn’t just for show. 

It was another world. The glamor, the music, and the liquor seemed to hypnotize the crowd. Time was a commodity here, seconds falling away like the chips on the table. 

You might have been drawn in if you hadn’t been squeezed into this slinky, sequined dress. Viridian green sparkled under the lights, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you’d thought it would be. Still fucking distracting though. 

I wonder what his casino was like. Would he have liked this dress? He did prefer scales over—

Stop.

You almost asked why Giberson had foregone his private date for this public display but decided not to risk giving him the opening to take you somewhere else. He dragged a velvet covered stool close beside him before wrapping his frail arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to his side as possible. 

Your smile stayed pretty under the golden lights, even as the sounds of the small casino bombarded you. All the hunters, and more guests than you’d seen here before, watched your every move when they weren’t losing berry. 

“What’d ya say, darlin,” he winked, nodding toward the cards on the table. “Should I risk it?”

At least there’s something for me to focus on. 

“Hit me,” he declared when you nodded, whistling and jostling you when he hit twenty one. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

“Is this why you’re here, Gibby? I’m sure you realize that my husband won’t need to gamble to be swimming in berry.”

Those words should not have left your lips. You didn’t need the nearest cam-snail’s drooping eyes to tell you that, but you couldn’t take it back. Playing up the flirtation was all you could think of to salvage it. 

The old man raised a brow at you, chuckling at your fluttering lashes.

“You are a sweet, devilish thing, aren’t you, dear?”

Your denial died on your tongue when your eyes got caught across the room, your red-haired prey staring hard at the hand Giberson had brought to your chin. 

This old man deserved your gratitude for tilting your face away from those soft, brown eyes. 

“I am many things, Gibby,” you purred. “And I am sure that you should stand.”

“I’ve gotta listen to my Lady Luck,” he laughed, wiggling your shoulders to show you off to the leeches at the table. 

“Isn’t that cheating,” one of them mumbled, earning a sickly, sweet smile from your lips. 

“All is fair in love and war,” you teased, tapping the felt-covered table with one of Giberson’s many chips. “Besides, card counters have to watch a game for longer than I’ve been at the table. It was just a lucky guess.”

Oh, how you ached to smash that entitled asshole’s face onto the shining table.

“You’re one to talk, Linus,” Giberson leaned around you to smirk at the man. The scent of liquor on his breath hit you like a train. “I believe you’re on mistress number three, aren’t you? Or what should we call this newest one, a boy toy? I suppose if Annie knows, then it’s not cheating, but either way, I’m sure she knows now.”

Linus’ face went from annoyance to horror impressively fast when he glanced at the very not-droopy snail on the table, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. 

The man snarled, barely shifting toward you before Uncle’s security guards snatched him away. 

“Poor Linus,” you sighed while you shook your head. The satisfaction that warmed your skin only proved your self-hating thoughts, but it was more entertaining than being empty. 

Everyone here is a leech. Gorging on my blood and humiliation, eating me alive so they can feel more alive for a while. Fuck them all.

“Don’t worry about him,” your date pulled you back toward the game, “Annie’s been sleeping with his mother since their wedding night, so I’m sure she won’t be too broken up over it.”

You laughed enough that when he bought a bottle and poured you both a shot, you drank the burning whiskey. 

After he drank his first, of course. 

Then you won him lots of berry and giggled while he whispered secrets about all those shining guests in your ear. 

Maybe this old man isn’t so boring after all.

Laughing, and winning, and numbing it all down felt so good. If only you could rid yourself of those stupid, brown eyes that stuck to you more than the old man’s weak hand on your sequined thigh. 

“Do you know anything about— “

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Giberson hummed, filling your glass again. He nodded toward the red-haired pirate in the corner before shaking his head. “Afraid I can’t talk about the competition. I’d like to survive long enough to see the end of this delightful game.”

~~~

The corridors were endless. You’d traveled them so many times as a kid, but never quite like this.

Never drunk, in stupid, pointy heels that got caught in the plush carpet, while annoying servants tried to grab your elbows every time you swayed. 

It was fine. 

It was stupid.

But you weren’t even mad at yourself for being so reckless. Apathy could save or ruin you in a place like this. 

All you wanted was to feel nothing. There were many kinds of numb to find, but this particular buzz was wearing off too fast.

You had kept up your smile, and the bells had rung before you lost your mind to liquor. Yet now that the wall of eyes wasn’t on you, that liquor felt thick in your veins, and you needed to scream. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Sylvad, but— “

“I’ll take it from here. We wouldn’t want any more accidents now, would we, niece?”

You blinked, and the staff had already scurried away, leaving you alone with him.

“My little smarty,” Uncle Cedrick teased, digging his fingers into your arm while he guided you toward your suite. “Finally contributing to the family, after all these years. You almost had me believing that you’d like to marry that old bastard.”

“It’s too early to tell.”

Damn it…

A different kind of numb pulled you down while your gaze trailed down his face. 

His jaw is moving a lot. It’s okay. No, not the lips. Jaw. Eyes are too much. Can’t look up. Just down. Can’t look away. 

Fuck, I’m dizzy.

“He was never in the running anyway. The nuisance learned about the hunt and asked to join, and I couldn’t risk insulting the man.”

All the words were hitting your wobbly brain, a headache building behind your brow until you gasped at his sudden touch. Your uncle gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the darkened hallway. 

“You’re going to send the old man away tomorrow, and the fishman the day after that. You may be a selfish brat, but you’re still a Sylvad. It wouldn’t do to let you get stuffed full of expired seed, or guppies, now, would it?”

His eyes flared with satisfaction when you couldn’t hide the horror and disgust that twisted your features. You were trapped, gulping down your bile while he leaned over you, gripping tighter. 

“Keep up the good work, niece,” Uncle hummed while he tilted you toward your door. “Now go wash up. Whiskey isn’t a flattering scent on a blushing bride.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

There was no point in fixing the conference room. Any replacement furniture would have been shattered the second he saw those tear-filled eyes on the screen. 

A makeshift door had been propped up for privacy, although there was no one but Buggy within range of Crocodile’s rage. 

That pathetic, useless rage that left the scarred man sitting on the floor in a pile of splinters and sand again, fighting not to drink. Not yet, at least. 

“Good evening, sir.”

“Is it ready,” Crocodile rasped, not ready for the answer.

“I believe so, sir,” Zala reported, her lovely voice too somber to be soothing. “The next cam-snail’s date is a bit smudged, so I’m not certain the timing is right. We’re trying to send them in order— “

“Just send it.”

…

“Agent?”

“Of course, sir,” the deadly woman breathed, strangely soft through the line. “Do you have orders for us when we arrive? We still have over a week, but it could be two days less if we— “

“Await your orders,” Crocodile growled, more at his own powerlessness than her questioning.

“Of course,” Zala conceded, sharing her next words in a rush before ending the call. “We’ll get her back, sir. I won’t fail again.”

~~~

For a cruel moment, Crocodile’s breath caught in hope. His sweet girl looked better. 

He should have known better. 

‘How are you feeling today, Y/N?’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m feeling well, thank you, doctor,’ she hummed softly, keeping her eyes low, although the doctor was still offscreen. A nurse guided her to sit, no restraints holding her to the table this time. 

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘Yes, doctor.’

His girl was empty. Poised and polite with nothing inside. 

They made a doll out of her.

‘Just breathe, Y/N,’ Dr. Vorsan instructed, his slippery voice making Crocodile’s fingers twitch. ‘The snail won’t hurt you, and you aren’t going to hurt it.’

‘Of course, I won’t–’

‘Soft hands, Y/N,’ he warned while she unclenched her jaw and fists. 

A transponder snail was placed on the table before her, and her eyes went slow and droopy while she stared at it. 

‘We discussed this, Y/N.’ The doctor clicked his tongue while the nurse reached for the snail. Y/N shook herself but stopped before her hand got too close to the creature.

Her eyes were wide now, her panicked breaths loud enough for him to hear all these years later. 

‘I’m sorry, please,’ Y/N strained, going empty again while she pleaded. ‘I’m okay. I want to call my sister.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready,’ Vorsan needled. That voice was so perfectly kind, yet violent. It was a syringe that promised healing, but forced too much, poisoning with what seemed like a cure. ‘Take your time, Y/N. If you push yourself too far, you might have another episode, and I know you don’t want to put your family through that. You don’t want to hurt–’

‘I want to be well, doctor.’

Wrong. So, fucking wrong. 

‘Please, let me try again,’ Y/N begged, her sweet voice placating the monster out of view. ‘I’ll breathe and go slow. I want to get better.’

The nurse brought the snail back, and Crocodile couldn’t tell how much time passed while she stared at it. Her eyes were present, yet he could see the strain, her almost-smile shaking a bit. 

“What the fuck?”

The fucking snail had started ringing, and Y/N’s scream made him choke. She struggled to swallow it down, rocking in her seat until the nurse reached out to take it. She took in a breath when she reached out instead to answer, that sickening smile on her face. 

‘Hey, smarty.’

Crocodile’s hook dug deep lines along the floor. 

‘I heard you were practicing with the snail today, so I thought I’d help out. We all want you back home, safe and sound. Although, I suppose it’s not your safety we should be worrying about.’

If not for the slow shine of unspilled tears that grew in her eyes, Crocodile would have thought the recording had paused. She was frozen, until she flinched at his next words. 

‘I should probably check on little Kathryn. I told them not to sail this close to Aqua Laguna, but you know how stubborn–’

‘You’re lying,’ she screamed, spittle flying toward the snail before nurses appeared to restrain her. ‘Let me talk to my sister!’

‘Oh dear, you don’t sound very well, niece. I hope–’

‘Fuck you! Where’s Kat? Let me see my– Get your fucking hands off of me! I’m gonna kill…’

Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter creeped through the air, the transponder snail carrying that vile sound through space and time. 

Y/N had gone still, letting the nurses entangle their arms with hers, trapping her between them while they called nonsensical orders to each other in bland voices. 

She didn’t cry. 

Didn’t apologize. 

Didn’t fight. 

She looked like she’d been defeated, and Sylvad’s gloating laughter proved the point. 

‘I hope you get well soon, niece,” her uncle taunted. ‘I’ll tell your sister you’re not ready yet, once she gets back. Hopefully she makes it before the storm hits.’

Crocodile’s sweet girl slumped, her body going limp while so many others held her up. Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter ripped through the air until she was carted away, and the wall went dark. 

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above was from Crocodile’s POV as he watched another recording of Y/N at the asylum. During this recording, Crocodile noticed that the reader appeared to be “better.” However, the prodding voice of Dr. Vorsan, and the reveal of a transponder snail showed that the reader was struggling to maintain her “doll-like” emptiness. The reader expressed a desire to speak with her sister, and was cooperating with the doctor, although he scolded her and reminded her of the potential violence she may cause. The reader remained calm and requested to try speaking with the snail again. The snail rang unexpectedly, and her uncle began to speak through it, causing the reader to become afraid, then react violently when Cedrick stated that her sister was currently sailing close to the time of the Aqua Laguna storm. The reader began to yell and threaten violence, until she looked defeated while her uncle laughed. The reader went limp while nurses restrained her and carried her away before the recording ended. 

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Leave her alone, Uncle,” Kat seethed, charging into the hall to pull you from his grasp. 

“I’m just making sure she gets home safe,” he teased, clicking his tongue before releasing you. “Looks like big sis needs your help tonight. Aren’t you relieved that you won’t have to be her babysitter for much longer?”

“Fuck you— “

“It’s alright, Kitty,” you smiled, fighting your shaking muscles, and the nausea that flooded your body. “You got any snacks in your suite?”

“Ta-ta,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, thankfully walking away. 

Leaving you with her.

Fuck. I’m making her take care of me again. Selfish. Piece of shit. Stop.

“What kind of snacks do you want,” Kat frowned. Her eyes were sharp against your swaying form, but you held up your smile for her. 

“Salty. Crunchy.”

“Alright, drunky,” she rolled her eyes, “will you drink some fucking water first?”

~~~

Gods, it’s bright. Smile. Don’t forget to smile.

“Are you feeling well, niece?”

Uncle Cedrick beamed down at you, guiding you to the fallen tree in the courtyard, where the applause that greeted you made you want to chop your fucking ears off. The ungodly amount of coffee you’d inhaled during the breakfast with Giberson had been for naught, and you couldn’t recall any of the long winded stories he’d trampled you with. 

There’d be no more of his stories for you after this.

“Good afternoon, fine friends and hunters,” he addressed the crowd, and the suitors lined up along the carved bench. His practiced movements spread large across the side of the manor for all to see. You caught him glancing at his image on the projector screen enough times that you almost laughed. 

It probably would have hurt to laugh right now. 

“Before today’s hunt begins, I’m afraid that one of our contestants has missed the mark.”

Uncle pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back. He pressed the point of it to your chest, making the leeches gasp with mock fear or delight before he broke it in half.

“Go on, dear niece,” he ordered, pressing the splintered wood into your hand. “Who failed to pierce your heart?”

Don’t let it in. Nothing matters. Just her.

Fading into yourself, you put on a show, avoiding the sight of your simpering smile on the wall. Tittering noises filled the air while the wooden platform moved you from suitor to suitor, and you could hear the vultures calling out their last-minute bets.

You put on a good show, but eyes were too much. An inch below their left eye. That’s where you’d look while you paused. 

No favorites. No least favorites.

The moving platform wasn’t helping your nausea, or it might have been the scent of the Emperor whose crooked smile was almost as abhorrent to look at as his soft eyes. 

The painfully slow display finally came to a halt, the stench of whiskey still too fresh in your mind. 

The old man hadn’t been that bad though. 

“I’m sorry, Gibby. Your arrow didn’t pierce my heart.”

He took the broken arrow, before kissing your forehead, his mustache scratching along your skin. 

“Not to worry, my dear,” Giberson soothed, humming at the noises of the winners and losers in the crowd. From the sound of it, he’d been an underdog in the race anyway. “I feel lucky just to be here at all. Thank you for the lovely company.”

You needed to sit down. 

You had to keep smiling.

“Of course, Gibby,” your uncle shmoozed, gripping Giberson by the shoulder. He appeared to be speaking to the failed hunter, but his voice was too clear, his words too pointed.

Another part of the show.

“You may not be in the running to be our family, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a friend of the Sylvad’s,” Uncle Cedrick glowed as the leeches practically moaned at the implication. Everyone wanted to be in his world. “You are more than welcome to stay for the festivities as a guest, so long as you don’t act like a sore loser and ruin the fun, of course.”

The joviality in the air was too full of greed. Your future was never going to be yours, but you hadn't expected him to let so many others join in his game. 

This game that never fucking stopped.

“Our lovely doe has requested a show of love for today’s hunt,” he took your hand and spun you for the crowd, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from tripping over yourself. “Run along, hunters. In the woods you’ll find materials of all sorts, but you’re welcome to use your own. Create something to show how you’ll care for your dear wife once you catch her. Care to give them any tips, Y/N?”

Fuck you.

“The man I love will make me smile.”

Uncle Cedrick caught his frown before it fully formed, but your tiny rebellion went cold when his eyes flicked to the locket you were fidgeting with. 

“You heard the doe, hunters,” he ordered, studying your shaky hands that you dropped to your sides too fast. “Make your prey smile before you pierce her heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

He shouldn’t have been dropping his guard like this, but something about this room, this ridiculous, green couch, and that sweet girl’s flustered face, had Sir Crocodile fighting off a smile.

“But… I’ve still got work to do, and they— “

“Is my sweet girl worried about other men right now,” he threatened, patting the cushion beside him while he tried to keep his balance. 

The clown was off preparing for that gods awful show they’d have to sit through at the party, while the swordsman ran through security. Since Crocodile had already sent agents out to hunt for party favors, he had a free moment, and he chose to spend it taunting their numbers girl. 

She looked so pretty with that flash of fear in her eyes.

Especially when she gave in so quickly. 

“N-no, I…”

“You’ve been working so hard. I can help you relax. Wanna take a break, sweetheart?”

Y/N bit her lip softly, and Crocodile nearly launched himself at her. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but luckily his numbers girl got to her feet. 

“Not so fast, darlin,” he teased while she yelped in his grasp, moving through sand to carry her before she could take a step with her bare feet.

“Fuck!”

She looked so cute when he tossed her onto his desk. Y/N was shaking so much that he almost stopped, his fingers clenching against the wooden desk while he took a final puff of his cigar. The feel of smoke on his tongue only made him crave her more.

“Well, sweetheart, you’re not scared to be alone with me, are— “

“I want you, daddy,” Y/N vowed, her voice like some heavenly song, guiding him toward things he didn’t deserve. She sat up, reaching, clinging to him until he chuckled and pushed her soft fingers away. She’d tugged at his silk scarf, and he let her keep the purple fabric when he shoved her back onto the desk. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl, and relax for me,” he taunted. Crocodile stamped out his cigar before kneeling beside his desk, fighting his smile again at every desperate noise she made while he set her legs up on his shoulders. She nodded fast while he tore through her cheap panties with his hook, and her scent finally did him in. 

This ex-warlord, this wicked pirate, this bad man… was smiling. Smiling from pleasure and peace instead of cruelty and greed.

Sir Crocodile caught his smile as he pressed it against that sweet, swollen flesh, loving the way she tore at his hair. Her fingers went rough, then weak, again and again, as though she couldn’t help her need, but feared his reaction. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Let Daddy have it all,” he purred before shoving his tongue so deep. He moaned while he drank at her pleasure, proud of how she took what she needed, pulling his hair at the roots while she fell apart. 

“You’re doing so well,” Crocodile praised, fighting everything in him not to claim this sweet girl for himself, his own little dream. 

“Please, daddy.”

“My little girl’s so hungry,” he laughed while his fingers teased along all the wetness she spread before him. “You can have everything you want.”

Y/N had pushed onto her elbows to meet his eyes, but fell back, her body arching when he shoved two fingers into her pretty cunt. Her moans were so fucking precious that the ex-warlord’s mind went blank. Nothing but her.

“It’s still work hours, sugar. Try to keep it down.”

Fuck, she was gorgeous when her eyes rolled back, eagerly letting him shove that purple silk into her mouth. She was already crying when he undid his slacks, freeing himself to tease along that needy flesh.

Crocodile missed, pouring lube down the side of the desk before covering his leaking cock. She was too good of a girl for him to rush this, but the feel of his own lubed hand was nearly enough while he watched her begging beneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he guided her while he held himself back. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He tried to be gentle, but Y/N still cried and screamed, so he fucked himself into her until his scarf fell from her lips.

“It’s too— feels too good— fuck!!”

She spoke the truth until he shoved the silk back into her mouth. It felt too fucking good to fill her up, to feel her body stretching and fighting to hold him. So soft, so wet, so fucking tight around his cock with every thrust.

But she could take him. She could take all of him, and she looked beautifully wrecked while she did, that silk scarf dark with spit now when he tugged it from her lips again. 

“Where does my sweet girl— “

“Inside me, daddy,” Y/N cried out before her body milked his again, eyes going white while she came. “Come inside me, please!”

“Fuck, you take me so well, baby girl. Mm— so fucking perfect…”

Crocodile held her down, pressing his palm against her chest. He hadn’t realized that his hook had been tracing along her side until he started filling her, but she looked like she was enjoying it, so he didn’t bother to stop. 

She looked like she was enjoying getting fucked by a monster.

She looked so sweet when he met her eyes, pulling out slowly to keep from causing more harm. 

“Daddy…”

“Hey, sweet girl,” he hummed while he kissed her neck. Her squirms were enough, and he felt his scarred face smiling against her skin once more. “How— “

“You could have just said you wanted her to yourself for a while,” the swordsman taunted from the doorway that had opened too quietly. 

Or maybe Crocodile had let himself get too distracted. 

“I thought you didn’t like liars,” Mihawk smirked, moving close enough to snag the spit-soaked scarf from the desk. 

“We got some work done,” Crocodile told the truth, although it felt like a lie when he looked down at her. “My sweet girl just needed a break.”

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Their faces were easy to match up with the voices he’d planned to end while he listened in that dusty shed. This drab, little hole had been shined up so brightly, almost passing for a real casino, but Mihawk knew it could still use a fresh coat of red paint. 

“I suppose that only imbeciles would fail to recognize me when I walk through the door. I had assumed that was what all of you were, given your foolish choice in hobbies.”

“Hawkeye— Mr. Mihawk, sir, please,” the owner of the stale, little hall beckoned him toward the sticky, corner booth, “you’re an honored guest! Please, relax, and let us show you how we party in Majiastuka.”

The slim possibility of those words swaying the ex-warlord burned away when faraway voices filled the air.

‘You’re our little princess now.’

Their deaths would come later. For now, Mihawk kept his gaze away from the projector screen, and the flustered face of his little rabbit. 

“What a delightful invitation,” the world’s greatest swordsman sneered, drawing his black blade to hover over the filthy floorboards. “Unfortunately, I have already had my fill of your wretched squeals. Unless you can tell me how to reach Miss Sylvad, your worthless time on this planet is over.”

“Fuck thi— “

A coward off to the side stumbled while he cursed, fleeing toward the door. Mihawk didn’t even need to shift his eyes in that direction; Yoru simply flicked across the floor, the blade smacking into a chair that cracked the man’s neck when it hit.

Every movement, every breath was precise. 

A predator, and its prey.

“Hey man, I’m sorry, okay,” the pathetic kingpin begged while the ex-warlord stalked closer. “How can I help? Anything, please!”

“Such a well-mannered beast,” Mihawk growled while he dug his nails into the man’s jaw. “I’m taking your special snail, and I shall take your life if you don’t tell me where the fuck you got it from.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This might be the worst idea you’d ever had. 

“It’s a…”

“Graham cracker house. They’re usually gingerbread, but no one likes to eat that shit.”

Cracker beamed down at you, so proud of the sloppy, edible house that he’d dropped onto your lap. 

“That’s you,” he pointed toward the misshapen figure by the front door. “I know that you’re a good girl that wants to help your family. I’ll help you be happy and safe, and you’ll help our family grow.”

Oh. 

The misshapen clump finally took shape in your mind; that fucked up cracker was meant to be you. 

Barefoot and pregnant.

This is super fucking fun.

“Thank you, Cracker. It’s lovely.”

“It’s trash,” Cracker corrected with that menacing grin, and you almost yelped when he touched your face. You had to meet his eyes, and that basic, human intimacy, coupled with the scent of that sugary house, nearly had you spilling your disgust onto the floor. 

Nausea had you in a chokehold, but that didn’t stop your smile. 

This ridiculous man leaned down, and the sparks at the ends of his hair were too fucking close to your face when he purred in your ear.

“You’re the only lovely thing I see.”

~~~

How strange that the sight of such a light and precious thing could drag you down so far. 

In the place of a pearl, the shell opened to show a long-lasting bubble. The treasure had become a reminder of your selfishness and privilege, yet your heart still ached at the sight. 

Precious trees had helped create this little magic. Sabaody should have been treasured, protected.

Instead, it was hell: a humiliating torture for people that didn’t look like you. 

“It’s beautiful, Prince Fukaboshi,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“It is nowhere near as beautiful as your selfless heart.”

Smiling was harder when you had to swallow the burning bile on the back of your tongue.

~~~

“This is very nice,” you lied.

“It’s a poor rendition,” your prey laughed at his ugly drawing of what looked like a pile of fingers until you deciphered the shapes. “Starfish cling to their world, holding tight to their home… I could have stolen it for you, but it’s not right to take a star from where it belongs.”

“So, you left my star all alone,” you managed to pout; you were a selfish, spoiled, rich girl. 

Starfish were apparently too much for you to handle. 

~~~

“What do ya think, numbers girl?”

That deep voice made you shiver, shaking you out of your fog, but into the chaos of old desire. 

You knew you should hate him. You should be disgusted by his mere presence here, by all the details that would make your eyebrows raise if you heard them about a similar relationship. 

But you were too far gone to give a fuck. 

Mr. Iceburg was smiling at you. He was reaching out to rest his hand on yours before offering a gift he’d made with those same, lovely hands. The rough skin scraping against yours seemed to send you back in time, a teenage craving, still unfulfilled.  

“There wasn’t enough time, but I hope you like it,” Iceburg hummed when he placed a small, carved ship in your palm. The rough wood smelled incredible, and it was beautiful, rough as it was. 

All the details were vague, but your thumb traced across the redwood he’d carved onto the main sail. 

It wasn’t just his looks that had stolen your heart when you were younger. Mr. Iceburg had an air of kindness and wonderment about him that reminded you what those feelings could be like. 

Were you too far gone to feel that light? 

Was he too much of a leech for it to be real?

Who fucking cares? It’s Mr. Iceburg.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“So, you left my star all alone?”

Y/N’s pouting lips were too much; Shanks was horrified by her ability to lie with every part of her. 

“Well, I…”

That fallen star smiled while the bells called him away, and she chose another man, yet again.

~~~

The Great Red-Haired Shanks was fucking useless. 

He had fucked up so completely that his every step to fix things put miles and miles between them.

And he couldn’t fucking talk about it. 

The estate was literally crawling with snails, so Shanks couldn’t risk speaking openly to his first mate. He couldn’t relax for a second with how hyper aware he’d become of the low hum of their presence. 

How the fuck does she live like this?

Throughout the pain and hardships of his own life, this Emperor of the Sea had carried something with him that he was lacking here, and the discomfort of its loss felt like another phantom pain, an unreachable itch. 

Shanks was raised as a pirate.

He was raised to be free. 

No one was free on this wretched island, except for the tyrant that toyed with them all. 

Cedrick Sylvad hadn’t joined the group that flocked to his little casino for a second night. He didn’t need the cash. 

The red-haired pirate followed the leeches and did his best to shove his frustrations aside while he fought for her. 

“Still here, huh?”

“Why would I leave,” Giberson breathed noxious fumes into his face while he leaned over his cards. “This game’s only just begun.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat’s face pulled you into the moment, her quivering lips failing to hold back her disparaging smile.

You couldn’t blame her. 

“That’s a really nice cape,” she snorted, falling into laughter.

“I thought you wanted me to marry a Vinsmoke.” Your words were strained, although annoyance or laughter could have been the cause.

“Totally,” she managed to deadpan. “Definitely the number one choice.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was so good to see her cackle, even if you had to wear this poofy, frilly, fire-engine red gown to make it happen. 

The cape wasn’t nearly as bad as the embroidered “ones” along the hems. 

“I want you to marry one of them if…”

“Spit it out,” you ordered, holding in your own laughs while Kat fell apart. 

“If they’re your number one choice,” she squeaked again while she steadied herself with a hand on her thigh. 

You couldn’t blame her. Not with the state your hair was in. 

~~~

“Tonight, we have lifted one of our rules for the sake of fairness to our esteemed hunters,” Uncle charmed the crowd, his fingers resting on the back of your neck. 

He looked down at you with that practiced mask of a doting uncle while he gripped your skin like you were an unruly animal that he had to control.

“My dear niece must remain within the borders of the island, but the sky’s the limit now.”

He stepped away with a smirk, and you were too drained from smiling to care what he meant. It was always a game at your expense. You were just glad that he wasn’t touching you anymore. 

Resisting the urge to scratch his eyes out like the unruly animal you were took a lot of energy, and you were going to need it tonight. 

The vultures were practically squealing while Prince Ichiji walked up the path, flanked on either side by his brothers. The ruffles on their shirts looked natural on them, and their capes just reminded you that they were royalty, even if they descended from vicious conquerors who claimed that status. From all you’d gathered, these current Vinsmokes seem to carry that violent legacy.

Except for when they looked at you. 

Ichiji held out the longest, but soon the three of them were staring at you like hungry puppies. Niji and Yonji knelt at your sides to kiss your hands, thoroughly. Ichiji leaned down, the swoops in his red hair casting distracting shadows across his face beneath the lanterns. 

“Everyone’s fighting to take home the lovely prize,” he breathed against your ear before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “But they can’t have you.”

“Oh,” you tried to tease, but the kisses still peppering your hands and fingers were too distracting. “Why is that?”

The three of them laughed, and you would have fallen if they hadn’t gripped your hands in time. The three princes had all touched their belts, and the colorful raid suits they were so famous for spread over them instantly, to roaring applause. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath before Ichiji lifted you into his arms.

“You’re our little princess now.”

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.

“Don’t be scared, pretty,” he comforted, though his pleased voice didn’t stop the world from disappearing beneath you. 

“Yeah, I’ll catch you if he drops you,” Yonji flew close to your cheek. 

“I won’t drop her.”

How does their hair stay like that in the wind, you thought, giggling to yourself while you watched the trees beneath you. 

“Can I touch the top of a tree?”

“You can touch anything you– ”

“Back off, Niji,” Ichiji growled at his blue haired brother that had flown too close this time before returning to that simpering voice. “Of course, princess. We can find every tree on the island, if you like.”

“Just one is lovely, thank you.”

Touching the top of a redwood tree had never crossed your mind, but the feel of it against your fingers gave you a moment of sweetness at the thought of telling your dad about it. He would be so excited, and he’d want to know every detail, until you both were scribbling on notepads to calculate how long it would take to touch every tree on the island. 

It was stupid. How could you stay numb when you kept reminding yourself of pain, or of something far crueler than that? 

Happiness and love would tear you apart. 

~~~

If you weren’t out of breath, you might have giggled again at how well the scene fit with your last thought. 

Another clearing on another stolen hill had come into view, during one of the brief glances you’d sent toward the ground. That ground was coming too close, too fast, but the scent hit you before your feet touched the ground.

Someone had planted a circular wall of roses that was taller than you’d thought possible for the flower. You had learned that the realm of possibility was vaster than you could imagine. What were some huge rose bushes compared to everything else in your world?

Ichiji set you down beside a gorgeous table of dark wood, with large, cushioned chairs in that matching rose-red.

He poured champagne, toasting to your beauty while you waited for him to sip first.

“Are you nervous,” the red head asked, the hint of laughter in his tone. “Don’t worry, princess, you can relax here. I made sure we’d have plenty of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Yonji called while he flew down into the tower of roses. “No one’s getting in here without catching some thorns.”

“We finished the rounds,” Niji reported. He stayed floating toward the top, lazily bouncing something in his hand. “This is the only snail left in a mile radius. Now you two can have some alone time.

“DON’T HURT IT! Please… don’t…”

Niji paused with his arm pulled back, stopping before throwing the transponder snail, cocking his head as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be so cruel, brother,” Ichiji purred beside you.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“Please, don’t hurt it,” you tried to keep your voice from shaking. It was already hoarse from that scream. “I… like snails.”

“So sweet,” Yonji swooned. He flew close, with Niji and the poor snail following behind him. “You should see our— “

“It’s my turn, brothers,” the eldest prince reminded them.

Yonji kissed your cheek before he flew away, but Niji grabbed your wrist. He placed the snail in the center of your palm before tracing his fingers down the side of your face.

“Such a pretty princess,” he hummed, “I’ll make sure this thing is safe for you. We can even let some watch our date if you— “

“This is my date, Niji.”

“Right. Have fun, you two.”

Thankfully, the blue-haired brother grabbed the snail before he flew away, but another set of eyes stayed glued to your skin.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. Let’s eat, I wanna know about all the other sweet things you like.”

Still cheesy. Still cocky.

Yet somehow his guiding hand on you lower back, and his hungry eyes reminded you of another sort of numb.

Nothing matters, so I might as well enjoy this.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

“Feel good, star,” Crocodile’s little clown mumbled in his sleep, the stench of liquor on Buggy’s breath rivaling his own.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to carry Buggy to bed instead of leaving him alone on that green couch. “Come on— “

“Just feel good, baby,” his clown whined softly, the sadness in his voice tearing at the scarred man even more tonight.

“Shh, Buggy. It’s gonna be okay.”

He hoped he wasn’t lying.

“I won’t tell, star. I know it was a— What the fuck?”

“It’s just me, little clown. Let’s go to bed,” he offered his hand. Buggy shook himself but followed him down the empty corridor to that empty bed. “Bad dreams again?”

“No— I mean, just the same bullshit,” Buggy coughed while his fingers tapped along his thigh. “Ha, I really thought the booze would help… What about you?”

Crocodile pulled the man close, and kissed that tangled, blue hair as he closed his eyes against this shitty world.

“We’re gonna get her back,” he vowed ignoring the scent of lies in the air. There had never been room for trust in this world, but Crocodile realized he didn’t care if his little lovers were lying to him. He just needed them back.

He needed to make a better world for them.

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: "I've still been disappearing from the world," is how I started my last author's note from Chapter 34. So much has changed in my life.

Personal Vent below! Mostly vague, but trigger warning for toxic, demanding work environments, and their affect on physical and mental health. Mention of bipolar and adhd.

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS unless you really want to, and have the space for it! I would rather you scroll past than to take on any of my stress.

I am okay, and I want Numbers Game to be a place for us to rest and enjoy some fictional chaos instead. This will be the last time I'll discuss this on a Numbers Game post, but I felt I had to share how much I've wanted to be here with y'all. Any future updates will be posted separately on my lynna's health updates tag.

I am free from the situation that was wrecking my physical, mental, and financial health for the past five years. That chaos sent me into an episode that landed me on medical leave last year. But that fucked up time is when I started writing, and joined this wonderful community. I wouldn't have made it though the past year without y'all. I was in full on crisis mode, and it had all come to a head over these past few months. Then I got out. I was so fucking excited to tell y'all about the new changes in my life, but I was overwhelmed with everything that I had to do to get out and prepare. Plus, my fucking thumb stopped working because I was typing the first draft of this chapter on my phone since I had no time to sit down and write, and I had to rest it for the new job that seemed perfect for me. I hope that it'll get better soon, but I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire. I am okay. I am safe. I am just tired as fuck, and needing to set boundaries with a new company that is even more demanding than the last. At least they are actually paying me on time, and it's less physically demanding, (unless you count a lifelong insomniac adjusting to waking up at 6am and getting home at 6pm, five days a week 🥴). The main reason I was excited for this job, besides relieving the crisis shit I was going though, was that it would have a regular schedule; I'd be able to focus on what I really want to do. Sorry it took me so long to catch my breath, but I'm fucking back, y'all. I'm not letting another company drain my soul away. I'm not working off the clock any more.

I've got smut to write 🥰📝🔥

With so much love,

~ Lynna 💜✨

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Part 36

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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