#and this thing is already 5.5k words long. and it's only the first day of the story.

[maulfucker]

Tbh I might share this someday. I put too much effort into it to not let the world see more than a few glampses of it.

[flowersforbucky]

higher than heaven

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky's first time smoking 🍃 since the 40s. bucky finds you smoking alone one night, leading to two of you growing much closer.

warnings/tags: use of marijuana, language, brief use of alcohol, nightmares, ptsd, anxiety, pining and tension, heated kissing, friends to lovers, pretty fucking fluffy, no use of y/n, fem reader, 18+ only

author's note: no smut? gasp! everything else i've written for bucky has contained smut so bare with me, i just wanted to take a break for some fun and fluffy (but still tension-filled) toking.

a/n 2: bucky and reader smoke in this, but i wouldn't say that's the main focus of this fic, just something that brings them closer together. i tried not to focus too much on that aspect, and also tried not to give too vivid of descriptions of being stoned so hopefully readers who don't smoke 🍃 can still enjoy this fic for the fluff and feels. however, if this is a triggering topic for you in any way, please be careful and read at your own discretion 🖤

word count: 5.5k

my masterlist

The Avenger's compound truly has everything you could ever need. A state of the art gymnasium and training center, indoor and outdoor pools, beautifully maintained grounds with walking trails and lake access.

And, one of your favorite things, no shortage of secluded smoking spots.

Tonight's choice? The roof directly above the living quarters. This is likely the spot that you frequent the most, out of sheer convenience.

You keep a couple of extra folding chairs stashed in the stairwell, for the rare occasions that you can convince Natasha or Wanda to relax enough to join you.

Tonight, like most nights, you're by yourself. You don't mind - you enjoy this alone time. You usually come up here after missions to unwind before passing out in your bed.

It’s a chilly night, with temperatures finally dropping down into the low fifties as the early days of fall approach. You're bundled up in an oversized hoodie, sipping on oolong tea to warm you from the inside. In your left hand you clutch the warm mug, and with your right you pinch the tail-end of a burning joint between your thumb and index finger.

You've been up here long enough to have already burnt through one joint, and you now take slow, heady hits of a second as you wait for the meteor shower that's expected to begin over the northeastern United States any minute.

The creaking of the large metal door that leads to the roof startles you, causing you to break your gaze away from the stars littered above you in the New York sky. All the times you've come up here to watch the sunsets over the lake, no one has stumbled upon you. You're surprised by who emerges from the doorway a second later.

Bucky freezes in his tracks when he notices you sitting just a few yards in front of him.

“Oh, sorry,” he pauses, seemingly glancing around the roof to see if there's anyone else here with you. “I didn't expect - I didn't think anyone would be up here right now,” he stutters out.

“You're good,” you smile at him over your shoulder before turning your attention back to the sky. “Trying to get a good view of the meteors?”

“Yes, actually,” he says, surprised. You hear his boots scratching the pavement of the roof as he walks closer to you. You look up at him when he comes to a stop right next to where you're sitting.

“Well, you've come to the right place.” You gesture towards the scenery in front of you - the endless inky sky overlooking the lake next to the compound. “There's some extra chairs stashed in the stairwell, if you'd like one.”

“I didn't know that you smoke,” he says curiously, eyeballing the blazing joint still clutched between your fingers. He visibly sniffs a couple times, as if to confirm that he is indeed smelling what he thinks he is. He doesn't acknowledge your offer of a chair, instead choosing to sit directly on the cement, criss-crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Are you going to tell on me?” You ask as if what you're doing isn't perfectly legal and your friends don't already know.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he smirks up at you, eyes flicking between you and the joint.

“Want a hit?” You offer, extending your hand towards him. He hesitates, uncertainty blooming across his features.

“I haven't smoked since the forties,” he starts with an awkward laugh. He reaches up, carefully taking the joint from you and pinching it between his own two fingers and inspecting it. “I still remember the last joint I smoked before finding out that I had been drafted. If I had known it was going to be my last, I would've appreciated it a lot more.” There's a hint of nostalgia in his words.

You picture it - baby-faced Bucky, in his early twenties, with glossy blue eyes and a lazy, content smile. The thought makes your cheeks warm, and a small, sad smile spreads across your own face. That was a literal lifetime ago, and you didn't know if he had felt as carefree since then.

“Well,” you begin after a sip of your tea. “You're no longer property of the United States Army, or HYDRA, or any organization. So if you want to smoke, then smoke. And if not, that's okay, too, but give me my joint back because you're burning perfectly good weed right now.”

He chuckles at your scolding before bringing the joint up to his own lips and taking a slow, long puff. There's a sharp inhale before he erupts into a coughing fit, smoke billowing out in a cloud in front of him. You give him a few awkward pats on the back while he works through the burn that he is undoubtedly feeling in his esophagus.

“Damn, I've missed that,” he sighs once he has regained his composure. He holds the dwindling joint back up to you.

You shake your head. “Finish it off,” you insist. “I've already had one tonight. It’s all yours.”

You expect him to argue but to your surprise, he takes a second hit. And a third, and fourth, while you sit next to him in an amicable, comfortable silence. Soon, there's nothing left but a small roach that he stubs out against the cement next to where he sits.

“How're you feeling?” You ask, knowing that his tolerance has to be in the negatives if he hasn't smoked in over seventy years.

“If twenty-two year old Bucky knew that I was this stoned off half a joint, he'd never let me hear the end of it,” he says with an amused smile, propping back on the palms of his hands to stare up at you.

“Well, I think one-hundred and six year old Bucky is doing just fine for himself,” you muse. “Twenty-first century weed has got to be more potent than whatever dirt weed you were smoking in the forties, so cut yourself some sla–”

“I did not smoke dirt–”

“Look!” you exclaim, cutting him off as you point up at the sky. He goes quiet, following your gaze.

You both watch in awed silence as flashes of bright white-blues and purples begin to dash across the sky above you. At first, there's a bolt here and a bolt there - but before you know it, there's dozens - too many meteors to count, here and then gone in the blink of an eye. Where one disappears, another takes its place.

You lose track of how long the two you sit there, on the roof, under the shower of the shooting stars - and it has nothing to do with being stoned. They are just that mesmerizing.

“I think we’re supposed to make a wish,” you murmur after a long while, remembering the old legend about shooting stars. You watch the last few meteors as they burn out, and then the sky goes dark once more. When he doesn't respond, you glance down at where he sits to find that his eyes are closed.

You smile to yourself - you didn't actually plan on making a wish, and you definitely didn't expect him to. You figure that he is just humoring you, but you can't help but think how adorable it is nonetheless. You can't stop yourself from snorting a laugh, causing his eyes to snap open and up at you.

“What? Did you make your wish?” he demands, his tone serious.

You hum. A familiar, glowing warmth grows from your lips and down to your toes despite the chilly night air as you stare at him. You tell yourself it’s a physical effect of the marijuana.

“I think I’m good, actually.”

••••••

Every year, a different member of the Avengers chooses a charity to hold a gala in honor of.

Sam's choice last year, Homes For Our Troops, build specially adapted, custom homes for severely injured veterans. Natasha's choice the year before that, Children of the Night, is a non-profit organization dedicated to rescuing and rehabilitating children who have been victims of prostitution.

Always funded by the Stark Relief Foundation, always held in the most high-profile and illustrious venues that money can buy, and always filled to the brim with every philanthropist and major news reporter in the state of New York.

This year, for the first time, it was your turn to select a charity. You decided on Women For Women International - a noble and worthy cause that you are proud to raise awareness and donations for. However, now that three hours into the gala, you are fucking burnt out. From the moment that you and your teammates arrived at the venue, guests and reporters began forming lines for their chance at interviewing you or getting their picture taken with you. You feel like you’ve talked to every person in the building, except for the one person that you truly wanted to. Add in a ten minute long speech addressing five hundred plus guests, you are drained. Physically, mentally, and socially drained.

“You did incredible with your speech,” a soft voice says from behind you. “All that worrying for nothing.”

You're exhaling a sigh of relief at the familiar voice before you've finished turning around to meet his dimpled grin and deep blue eyes. You think he might just be as ready as you are to get out of here with the way he's already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his tux. His hair is tousled - though you haven't had a free moment to speak with him since the car ride over here with Sam and Steve, you have no doubt that he's ran his fingers through the short locks a few dozens times throughout the evening - a habit that flares up every time he's out of his element. With this being the first gala he's attended as an Avenger, and possibly the first gala he's ever attended, you're surprised he has any hair left.

“I wouldn't say for nothing,” you turn back to the bar in front of you and wave a singular finger to the bartender, signaling your desire for another drink. “I stuttered at least eight times, and lost my place on the page twice. I felt like I was going to puke shrimp cocktail and espresso martini all over the podium.”

You can see him grimace from your peripheral vision. He pulls out the barstool next to where you stand, and then takes a seat. You're pinned between the chair on the opposite side of you and his thigh, the cool silk of his pants tickling the bare skin of your leg where your dress cuts off just above mid-thigh. Close enough that you can feel warmth radiate from him and smell the essence of his piney aftershave. Subconsciously, you relax for the first time all evening.

“You are your own worst critic,” he reminds you, repeating the sentiment that he’s been saying to you for the last few weeks, anytime the gala or your speech would come up in conversation. “No one else noticed if you stuttered. They’re all too full of liquor, or too concerned with getting their photo op with Iron Man or The Hulk..” he trails off, glancing over his shoulder at where Tony and Bruce are both striking signature poses for some selfies with guests.

“And what about you? Have any of your fangirls begged you to take a picture with them?” You smirk at him as the bartender slides your martini across the countertop. You angle your body so that you’re now turned to face him, leaving practically no space between the two of you.

“More than I can count,” he exhales, and you force a laugh to not roll your eyes - not that you were surprised or that you could blame them for wanting their picture taken with him.

“Well, I’m glad that we were able to raise so much money,” you sigh into your drink. “But I would be lying if I said I’m also not glad that it’s over with. I’m ready to get these shoes off, submerge myself in a hot bath, and then sleep until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Always the introvert,” he murmurs, a sly grin appearing on his face. He carefully tugs the lapel of his jacket to the side and reaches his flesh hand inside, pulling out a tin of wintergreen Altoids. You look at him curiously as he gives the small container a shake. It makes no sound, seemingly empty of mints. You cock an eyebrow at him, about to ask him what the deal is, when a familiar, earthy scent wafts towards you.

“What’s in the tin, Buck?” you ask rhetorically, as if the odor isn’t a dead giveaway.

“Just a little something I’ve been saving for when I could finally get you alone tonight,” he shrugs, slipping the tin back inside the interior pocket of his jacket. Your heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe he’d been wanting to talk to you, see you, spend time with you as much as you had him.

“I’m just happy to see that you finally have your own weed,” you tease, trying to polish off the remnants of your drink so that you can get the fuck out of here. “Now you can stop smoking all of mine.”

You’re just giving him a hard time, of course. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you have smoked together since the night of the meteor shower just two months ago, and you were more than happy to share your supply with him - he gives you a lopsided grin that tells you he knows you don’t actually mind.

“Hence why I have pre-rolled three joints just for you,” he quips back. “One for how much time and effort you put into this event, one for conquering your fear of public speaking, and one for how much of your weed you have let me smoke.”

Your cheeks warm at the thoughtful gesture. You swallow the last swig of the brown liquid and slide the glass back across the bar.

“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go get a cab.”

Half an hour later, you and Bucky are in the backseat of the taxi that drives you away from bustling downtown Brooklyn and towards a park that Bucky had instructed the driver to take you to. You didn’t object, trusting that he knows this area of New York better than you do.

The driver comes to a stop next to a nearly desolate sidewalk that appears to lead to a waterfront walkway. Bucky hands the driver a handful of cash, tells him to keep the change, and hops out of the cab before extending a hand to you as you scoot across the seat to follow his exit. You mumble a quick thanks to the driver as he helps you onto the sidewalk and shuts the door behind you.

You pull your coat tighter around you, attempting to shield yourself from the chill of the November air. Fall is now in full swing in New York, and the short cocktail dress that you wore to the gala does little to protect you from the night air.

“Me and Steve used to come to this park all the time,” he tells you as he pulls the Altoids tin and a BIC lighter from his jacket. “I vividly remember having to break up a fight he got into just past that fountain when we were teenagers,” he motions towards a large granite fountain ahead of you, “when some asshole stole a kid's frisbee.”

You laugh as he passes you a joint and the lighter, able to picture the memory he describes clear as day. It's far from the first time he's told you about a time that he had to get pre-serum Steve out of trouble.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you mumble as you pinch the tail of the joint between your lips, inhaling as you hold the flame up to the opposite end. A wave of smoke instantly fills your esophagus and lungs with a familiar, comforting burn and you pass the blazing joint back to him. “He’d still do the exact same thing, too,” you add as you exhale the thick cloud of smoke that mixes with the cold air. “Only difference now is that he can handle any fight that he gets himself into.”

“Some things never change,” he says before bringing the paper up to his own lips. You follow as he guides you across a small grassy area and to the walkway that runs alongside the river. Truthfully, it’s too chilly to be on a park stroll at this hour in your current attire, but with Bucky’s body heat radiating from directly beside you and the buzz you feel from the weed, you’re surprisingly comfortable.

“One thing that has changed however,” he continues as you’re inhaling a second hit, “is how well I’ve started sleeping on the nights that we smoke together. On those nights, I don't wake up over a dozen times. Hardly ever even have nightmares anymore.”

Your skin tingles at his admission - a whole flight of butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach that you push down. You know that he means this because of the weed, not because of you, but for some reason - maybe it's the way his arm keeps bumping against yours or the way the moonlight reflects in the pools of his blue eyes as he glances over at you - you let yourself believe, even for just a split second, that you're aiding in bringing him peace on those evenings spent together. On the roof above the living quarters right before bed, or at the edge of the lake's water when you stop after a late run to watch the sunset, or -

“I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful that I found you up on the roof the night of the meteor shower,” he continues when you don't respond, his voice now possessing a nervous edge. Your mouth suddenly feels dry - the worst cotton-mouth you've ever had times ten. “For more reasons than one.”

You both gradually slow until you've come to a complete stop in front of a boat dock. Between the martini you had before leaving the gala, the effects of the marijuana, and the way he's looking at you while standing so close, you think it's a miracle that you haven't tripped in these ridiculous chunky heels and fallen into the East River. You clear your throat, hoping that you don't sound like a lovestruck teenager when you speak.

“I'm really glad too, Bucky.”

••••••

You stare down at the picture displayed on your phone screen as you and Natasha take the elevator up to the compound's living quarters.

Rolled and ready for you to be home reads the text attached to the picture of the joint pinched between the thumb and index finger of his flesh hand that Bucky had sent you ten hours ago, before your flight from Arizona to New York was supposed to depart.

Our flight has been delayed due to a thunderstorm. No current ETA your reply reads with a frowny face emoji at the end.

Now, at 2:16 in the morning, you are finally back home hours later than originally expected.

You were sure that Bucky was asleep by this point, and you didn't blame him. You wished you were asleep right now, too. Natasha slept the entire plane ride back to New York.

You, on the other hand, may or may not have spent the plane ride reading back over recent text messages between you and Bucky and zooming in on the picture he had sent you because for some reason you really like his hands. Both of them.

You were acting like a goddamn fifteen year old.

“What are you grinning at?” Natasha's voice snaps you out of your trance. You quickly shove your phone into the pocket of your duffel bag.

“I'm not grinning,” you lie, but it's Natasha - of course she sees right through you.

“You were grinning,” she shrugs with a knowing smirk. “But it's okay. We'll chalk it up to sleep deprivation.”

“I am sleep deprived, actually. Someone snored the entire flight back home.”

“For someone who wasn't grinning you sure are being defensive right now,” she retorts with a shit-eating grin as the elevator dings and the door slides open. You roll your eyes as you both step out into the hallway that leads to the living quarters. You turn to the left, towards your bedroom, and she takes a right but then comes to a sudden stop, calling your name. You freeze, turning to look at her with a raised brow.

“For what it's worth, I think you should go for it. It's obvious to everyone around you two.” She looks at you expectantly.

“Get some rest, Nat,” you huff a small laugh under your breath, and try not to smile. She doesn't press the subject any further.

Before reaching your bedroom, you pause at the door to Bucky's room. You don't knock, but wait to see if you hear any movement from inside. All that you hear is a loud static from his white noise machine.

Although you expected him to be asleep at this hour, you couldn't help but feel a small pang of disappointment that you hadn't been able to get back earlier. You knew you would see him tomorrow (well, technically later today), but you hadn't gone this long - a mere three days - without seeing Bucky since the two of you had become close months ago.

You quietly make your way into your bedroom and toss your duffel bag onto the end of the bed before stripping off the dirty, sweaty tactical suit that you'd been wearing since the early hours of the previous morning.

In your bathroom, you turn the faucet handle to the hottest setting and watch as the small room fills with steam before stepping under the showerhead.

You think about what Natasha said as you scrub your body clean and let the harsh but satisfying stream of water relax your aching shoulder muscles.

You wanted to go for it. Goddamn, you wanted to go for it. Every time you are alone with him - whether he's helping you train with target practice, or you're paired up together for re-con, or you're just simply eating breakfast together in the common area - you want to go for it.

All you have to do is stare at his stupid, pretty pink lips for a split-second too long and you're thinking about going for it.

But for so many reasons, you don't.

Though your heart wants more, you love your friendship with him, too. And you would be devastated if you tried for more and it didn't work out and you lost that friendship altogether.

You also don't know if Bucky wants more. Natasha says that everyone around you sees it, but he's never directly said it. You know there's an undeniable chemistry, but what if you're the only one experiencing it?

You watch the last few suds of your body wash go down the drain and turn the shower off, deciding that it's too late and you're far too tired to be thinking about this right now.

You speed through your post-shower routine, desperate to feel the silk of your bedsheets against your clean, freshly moisturized skin as you drift off to sleep.

You're rolling some deodorant under your arms when a deep, loud cry thunders from somewhere outside of your room causing you to let out a shocked gasp. You drop the object in your hand immediately and it falls to the floor as you rush out of your bedroom, wearing only thin cotton shorts and a matching tank top.

As soon as you step into the hallway, you are able to identify where the screams are coming from. Pained, booming yells originate from behind the door directly across from your own.

Bucky’s room.

You don't hesitate to twist the doorknob, letting yourself and shutting the door behind you.

The pale orange glow of a small table lamp in the far corner of his bedroom illuminates the room enough for you to make sense of what is happening. The sight before you makes your heart sink to the floorboards.

He's asleep - his eyes pinched shut and his brows furrowed together in obvious agony. He's shirtless, and his skin looks pale and clammy with thick beads of sweat littered from his forehead to his torso.

There's a meek voice in the back of your mind that tries to remind you that you don't know what you're walking into, as you've never encountered Bucky while he's having a nightmare before but he looks so fucking pitiful that your only concern is alleviating him from whatever prison of torment his mind is currently trapped in.

You rush over to the side of the bed, nearly tripping on the comforter that he's apparently through to the floor in his sleep. Both of his hands form tight fists, his knuckles strained pale. He lets out another guttural yell that causes you to instinctively flinch away.

“Bucky,” you say, attempting to keep your voice from breaking. “Wake up, Bucky. You're having a nightmare.”

He gives no indication that he can hear you, his head thrashing violently and fists slamming down against his mattress as he makes a pitiful whimper.

“Bucky,” you repeat, leaning down to perch on the few inches of free space on the side of the bed. You reach out to place your hand on the flesh of his bicep, about to attempt to gently stir him awake, when he shoots straight up in his bed. You flinch again, but don't move from your position next to him, firming your grasp on his bicep in an effort to ground him. His blue eyes are as wide as saucers and his chest heaves as he takes in his surroundings.

“You're okay,” you assure him in a soft, uncertain voice, rubbing your thumb in circles against the skin of his flesh arm. “It was just a bad dream. Everything is–”

“I could have hurt you,” he interrupts you, his voice faltering on the last word. “I could have–”

“You didn't hurt me,” you interrupt him back. “You're okay, and I'm okay, too.” He nods, and you can tell he's trying to convince himself that the words you say are true.

You quickly glance around his room until you find what you're looking for. Strewn on the floor next to his bedside table, you see a black t-shirt. You reach over, picking it up. You hesitate for a moment before slowly extending the fabric to Bucky's face, where you delicately wipe away the thin layer of sweat that glistens on his forehead. He relaxes into the movement, his eyes closing until you pull away.

“I'm sorry that I woke you up,” he murmurs after a moment of heavy silence.

“You didn't wake me up,” you assure him quickly. He watches you with something akin to guilt across his features. “I had just gotten out of the shower. We didn't get home until half an hour ago.”

He glances down, noticing your attire. You suddenly feel naked in only the thin gray shorts and tank top. You awkwardly clear your throat, reaching to place the t-shirt on his bedside table when something catches your eye. Bucky follows your gaze to the joint laying on his bedside table.

“I tried to wait up for you,” he exhales a soft laugh. “Ended up passing out around midnight.” Your whole body warms at his admission. The idea that he tried to force himself to stay awake just so he could see you when you got home makes you feel dizzy despite the fact that you're sitting down.

“Do you want to now? To help you sleep?” you ask, gesturing towards the joint. You don't even care that it's three in the morning and that you're borderline delirious from lack of sleep.

He takes one of your hands in between his own and brings it closer to him, giving it a tight squeeze as he shakes his head.

“No, I know you're tired. But could you just..” He trails off, bringing your hand clutched between his up to his mouth to rest his lips against the skin of the back of your hand. It's not quite a kiss, but it sends goosebumps across your flesh nonetheless. You're holding your breath without realizing it. “Could you just lay with me for a while?”

You nod your head in agreement without even thinking about it. “Yeah - yeah, of course,” you answer, hoping that you don't sound too eager while simultaneously knowing that your voice has risen several octaves.

You lean over once again, grabbing his comforter off of the floor as Bucky scoots towards the middle of the king sized bed to give you room to crawl in beside him. He extends his flesh arm away from his body, a clear indication that he wants you to lay in the space between his arm and his chest. You lay down, tucking your head under his chin so that your cheek rests against the mildly clammy but soft skin of his chest. He helps you tug the thick blanket across your bodies before bringing his arm around your abdomen, pinning you to him.

Luckily, you’re far too tired, and he’s far too warm for you to overthink it.

“You smell really good,” he murmurs into your hair and you hope that his preternatural abilities don’t pick up on the way your heart skips a beat. “I probably smell like sweat.”

You hum a laugh against his chest, sniffing the skin next to your nose without thinking about it.

“You don’t smell like sweat. You smell just as good as you always do, somehow,” you assure him, reveling in his unique scent of vetiver and something citrusy.

You’re both quiet for a moment, sleep threatening to overtake you at any moment when he brings two metal fingers to the underside of your chin and gently tilts your face to look up at him. Your breath is trapped in your chest at the close proximity of your lips and his.

“Remember the night of the gala, when I told you that I’d started sleeping better and having less nightmares since we’d started smoking together before bed?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to answer verbally. He’s so fucking close, you can smell the spearmint of his toothpaste from when he’d brushed his teeth hours ago.

“That was true,” he continues, looking down at you with an indiscernible expression. “But what I’m now realizing is that I don’t think it has anything to do with the weed,” he pauses, a small smile forming across his face. “It’s just you.”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms in return, just as you can’t stop what you do next.

Closing the distance between your lips and his own, you kiss him as you’ve thought about doing for months now. You’re hesitant at first, worrying that you’ve crossed that line that you can never go back over - but then he’s moving his mouth with your own in a synchronicity sweeter than you could have dreamed.

His arms dart under the comforter, wrapping around your body and pulling you even tighter against him. You bring one of your hands to cup his face as he sweeps his tongue along the swell of your bottom lip. You open up for him, letting him inside your mouth as you move your hand from his jaw to his hair - lacing your fingers through the short brown locks as he explores your mouth. Your thigh hooks around his, and it takes everything in you to hold back - to not swing yourself over him and lay the full weight of your body flush against his.

He’s just had a nightmare, and it’s late, and you’re tired, and you don’t want to move this sweet, special thing that you have too quickly.

He pulls away, and you fight against whimpering at the loss of the sensation of his soft lips.

“The night of the meteor shower,” he starts, his voice strained and his pupils dilated. “You told me to make a wish, and I did. Now that it’s come true, I can tell you what it was I wished for,” he pauses, running his metal thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip as you look at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on. “I wished for as many moments like that as I could possibly get with you.”

Your heart swells in your chest. You're convinced that you're asleep because this is something straight out of your dreams. You remove your hand from his hair, placing it directly above his heart to make yourself believe this is real.

“Speaking of meteor showers,” you start as you trail the tips of your fingers over the defined planes of his chest. “There's supposed to be a cool show at the planetarium in Manhattan this weekend. Do you want to go with me?”

His answer is a soft smile before attaching his lips to yours once more.

thanks so much for reading! as always reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated. i hope you enjoyed 🩷

other recent works by me: love language • delirium • it's nice to have a friend

[just-jordie-things]

home run - inumaki toge

word count: 5.5k warnings: swearing, idk anything about baseball so it’s mostly made up summary: toge helps coach you on how to play baseball before the big game for the exchange event.  you can’t stop flirting with each other.  (unestablished relationship!) more info: aged up characters! jujutsu tech is a college, still usual first and second years a/n: remember when i said this edit had me in a chokehold well i wrote this forever ago for myself and the toge loving bbies :) ___

When it was announced that the second portion of the Jujutsu Exchange Event would be held via baseball game, (y/n) visibly paled.  So much so that she’d been instantly teased by one of her underclassmen for her obvious discomfort.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to play baseball!” Nobara threw her head back as she cackled obnoxiously.  “It’s the easiest sport!” 

“Kugisaki don’t be rude” Megumi grumbled, kicking his friend in the ankle as punishment for laughing at her superior.  He seemed to be the only one who cared about such formality.

The group of them, the first years and second years, had been heading back towards the building for a lunch break in between events.  She dragged her feet along the path, wishing time would slow down and stop altogether before she had to step foot on that field.

“I know how to play,” (y/n) defended herself, but her hold on the strap of her sheath tightened with her anxiety.  “I’m just not good at it” She admitted in a quiet voice.

“That’s okay! We’ll try to give you an easy position then!” Itadori offered kindly.

She gave the boy a weak smile, grateful for his positive attitude, but still feeling the pang of embarrassment.

How she sucked at such a simple game was beyond her.  Had it been a proper duel, she would be an excellent candidate.  Swinging a sword- or nunchucks or spear or axe- came easy to her.  Which she was able to demonstrate in the first part of the event.  She’d scored quite well for her school, even when outside forces interrupted the fun and games and things had gotten real very fast.

But when it came to swinging a bat and hitting that dumb little ball, she whiffed it almost every time.  It was humiliating, knowing she had the strength to cut a head clean off a body, but couldn’t play a game that was mostly catch.

Her pace slowed until she lingered behind the rest of the group, who were busy assigning positions for the coming game.  If the ground swallowed her whole for the next few hours, she wouldn’t complain.  

“Tuna tuna” 

Lifting her gaze she found Toge stopping in his tracks as the rest of their classmates headed up the stairs without them.  Even with his collar zipped up, she could see he was smiling at her, undoubtedly pitying her helplessness.

“Put me to sleep, Toge,” She sighed dramatically, to which he chuckled.  “I’m serious,” She mutters at him.  “This is going to be so embarrassing, I wish we could’ve just done something else.  Like archery” 

He shrugs his shoulders, before glancing back at their friends again, seeing they were already headed inside, and apparently hadn’t noticed their separation from the group.

He turns back to her again, and tilts his head for her to follow him.  She does so without question, partially because she didn’t want to sit through an awkward lunch where the group planned what position would be easy enough for her to handle, but partially because she had taken such a liking to him that she’d follow him anywhere he tried to take her.

This wasn’t new.  Since the day they met the two of them had been close, hitting it off like they were old friends reunited.  His cursed speech never proved to be an obstacle, it hadn’t taken long for (y/n) to understand him as if onigiri ingredients was her foreign language choice in grade school, and she made an effort to always ensure they were having proper conversations that she’d have with anyone else.

Well, not entirely.  She didn’t exactly flirt with everyone else or whisper with hushed giggles with everyone else, but you get the point.  They clicked.

It doesn’t dawn on her where he’s leading them until they’re approaching the baseball field, and when they do, she lets out an exasperated groan.

“Toge, no” She whines, giving him pleading eyes to spare her from more embarrassment.

He rolls his eyes back at her, and grabs her by the wrist to drag her along the rest of the way when she tries to plant her feet and stay put.  She could go boneless and let him literally drag her, but she stumbles and follows along anyways.  Perhaps once he saw how terrible she truly was at the sport, he’d give up on helping her practice and ditch her out here.

Although she knew this couldn’t possibly be a real possibility.  He wasn’t capable of doing such a thing.

“Salmon!” He cheers when he finds that all of the equipment for the event had been prepared, helmets and gloves sitting neatly on the bleachers, and a tall basket of baseball bats ready to be used.

He pulled one out, smacking the head of the club in his other hand as though to analyze it, even though they were all brand new and had never been touched.

He looks up at (y/n) with a grin that just barely peeks out of his collar.  She frowns back at him.

“Don’t do this to me,” She pleads.  “I thought we were friends” 

He laughs again, and tosses her the bat without warning.  At least her reflexes are sharp enough that she catches it without difficulty.

“Salmon!” He cheers for her, and she shoots him a more deadly look.

“I can catch things,” She mutters, turning her gaze to the bin of baseballs and the gloves lined up on the bleachers.  “It’s the rest that I’m shit at” 

He scoffs at her in disbelief, but he had yet to see the proof.  (y/n) chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched him select his own bat, and then nod at her to follow him to the plate.

If she ran away, he probably wouldn’t chase her down, she figured as she followed him up to the white rubber base- just as untouched as the rest of the equipment.  She dismisses the idea just as quickly as it crosses her mind though.  She wasn’t capable of ditching him, either.

Toge gestures for her to stand a bit in front of him as he takes his stance at the plate.  She does so, holding the hilt of the bat loosely as she rests it on her shoulder.  He continues to gesture for her to understand what he’s doing.  First it’s to his feet, spread evenly but not too far from one another, just enough to keep his balance solid.  Then he bends his knees the slightest, probably to give him a good range of motion.  She could understand this much.

Then he holds his bat out towards her as he carefully maneuvers his hands around it’s handle.  His grip tightens, and then he looks up at her expectantly, as though asking, got it?

She nods back at him wordlessly, and then he goes back into straightening up his stance.  Her eyes track every movement with intense precision, wanting to commit every detail to memory.  From the angle that his left elbow rests at, to where he holds the bat just behind himself, ready for the swing.

He raises his eyebrows at her, which she doesn’t notice right away since she’s too busy studying everything about his stance rather than his face.  She could almost hear the teasing voice behind the look he’s giving her.  Good, right?

“Mustard leaf?” He asks, in that exact tone she’d heard in her head.

“Yeah yeah, I got it” She nods.

He nods back at her, and then slowly goes through the motion of a swing, so she could clock every detail.  After he finishes the follow through, he repeats the motion properly, swinging the bat with full force.  Enough so that she can hear the aluminum cutting through the air.

He asks his question again when he’s done, and again, she nods at him.

“Yeah, I think I can handle that,” She says.  “Should I pitch for you?” 

Toge shakes his head and waves his hand for her to come up to the plate.  When she stops just in front of him, he giggles, and drops his bat to the ground so he can reach out and take hold of her shoulders, so he can properly guide her to the base.

Despite the way her face heats up when he keeps his hands on her as she tries to copy the way he’d just been standing there, she doesn’t mind feeling a little shy about it.  Feeling shy around Toge wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as having him teach her this simple sport.

In fact, it was never embarrassing to be reduced to a blushing mess around him.  It happened too often for her to feel any shame in it, but it helped that she often brought the same behavior out of him, too.  She just couldn’t see his pink cheeks when he’s standing behind her, mumbling unintelligibly as she took her stance.

She’s certain of herself once she raises the bat behind her shoulder, almost knocking him in the head, but Toge swerves and hopes she doesn’t notice.

“How’s that?” She asks with confidence.

His hands fall from her shoulders as he checks her over, and he winces behind his collar.  His lack of response has her looking over her shoulder with a frown.

“Really?” The confidence is zapped out of her straight away.

He chuckles, and shrugs his shoulders with a small smile as if to ease her worry.  Then his hands are on her again, guiding her arms to the proper places where she’d have the best range of motion.  The toe of his shoe taps the inside of her left foot, silently prompting her to slide it out just a bit further.  She follows the instruction until he raises his hand.  Then he gives her a beam and a nod of his head to confirm she was positioned just right.

“You’re sure?”

“Salmon” He reaffirms.

He steps back then, twirling his finger around in the air so that she could show him her swing.  She looks unsure, but she lets out a breath and lets her body follow through as naturally as she could.

She feels good about it, but she doesn’t know any better.  When she looked over to Toge again, he had just unzipped his collar, ready to cheer when she swung just fine.  Instead, he wears what she would call his polite smile.  It was his friendly way of displaying something wasn’t quite right, but he was too nice to critique harshly.  (y/n) frowns back at him.

“That bad?” She asks quietly when he approaches her again.

His smile brightens and he shakes his head at her.  He was far too nice to her.  If Maki was training her, she gladly would have laughed in her face before barking out orders on how to shape up.

Toge hand waves about, telling her to take her stance again.  This time her footing is just right, and he beams proudly at the improvement.  She manages a smile back at him, his silent praise giving her a little more confidence in learning.

He does a little circle around her, making sure everything is as it should be.  There’s a pause in his step just behind her, where she’s holding her bat.

“Bonito flakes” He pats his hand over once of hers, and she fixes up her grip on the handle, then turns to look at him.

“Like that?” She asks, not sure of what her mistake had been.

It must not have been fixed, because he reaches his hand to hers, gently fingers prodding at her hand in silent instruction until she loosends her hold.  He quickly raises his hand away again, giving her a thumbs up.  Her grip was still secure, but her knuckles weren’t white with tension now.

After that, Toge comes behind her again, poking at the top of the baseball bat before giving her an affirmative nod to take a swing.

She does as told, slowly of course, so as not to smack him in the face on her follow through.  He stops her before she even finishes, his hand patting her shoulder so she’d fix up her stance again.  Third time was the charm, and her posture and hold are perfect as she straightens up.

“Tuna” The quiet instruction to pay attention is whispered in her ear as he takes a small step closer so that he could guide her properly through the swing.  

One hand lays over hers on the handle of the bat, and the other slides around her opposite arm until it stops at her elbow.  Her face is so hot now she wishes she was wearing one of those dumb helmets to at least hide it a little.

He guides her through the motion slowly, his hand on her elbow wobbling a little.  It takes her a second to catch up, but she realizes he’s telling her that her swing was uncoordinated.  She nods in understanding.

Before she gets the chance to take her stance again, he’s already guiding her back to the proper position, his eyes studying her grip carefully to be sure everything is in order.

He’s so close now that she can feel his soft breaths on the back of her neck, and baseball is quickly becoming the furthest thing from her mind.  The hand that is resting on hers is so soft but so firm in it’s hold, making sure she didn’t strengthen or loosen her grip in the slightest.  If she shuffled back even an inch, her back would hit his chest.  It’s unbearably hot today, she’s grateful she thought to tie her hair up so it wouldn’t stick to the back of her neck, but she has half the mind to close those last pesky inches of space between them.

“Mustard leaf?” Toge’s hand pats at her elbow, beckoning her to pay attention.  He must’ve noticed she’d zoned out.

“Sorry,” She mumbles, snapping back to reality.  “You’re being distracting”

She’s scolding him, he can tell in the tone that she doesn’t mean it to be one of her more usual flirty comments.  Nonetheless, Toge preens, grinning down at her, even though she was trying to avoid looking at him.  It was hard, seeing as he was right there, and even standing behind her he was tall enough that he could see a blush creeping up her cheeks.

This time, rather than let her swing on her own, he moves her through the motions himself.  It’s horribly slow, especially when her swing reaches it’s apex and he’s pulled even closer from the motion.  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she struggles to keep her focus on paying attention to her form.

“Salmon” Toge gives her a smile as he finishes guiding her through the follow through.  He’s certain she has the technique down now, but when she looks at him, her expression is defeated.  His brows furrowed in confusion.  “Mustard leaf?” 

“This isn’t going to work,” She huffs, lowering the bat until it almost hits the ground.  “It’s too..” She trails off, waving her free hand around in a sporadic motion.  “Too much!” 

He seems to catch her drift, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles at her.

“Don’t laugh at me”

He sticks his bottom lip out at her in a dramatic pout.

Her brows pinch together before drawing upwards, pleading with him not to mess with her more than he already had.

“I’m sorry I’m not getting it!” She cried, her leg bouncing with her irritation.  “But you’re the worst teacher!” 

“Bonito flakes!” He took offense to the comment, and (y/n) gave him a deadpan look.

“You know what I mean,” She says in a quieter volume.

He tilts his head and feigns a confused expression, just to watch her blush and squirm.

“You’re being a jerk you know” She tells him, her eyes locked on his even when he walks closer and grins in her face.  He’s waiting expectantly for her to explain what he already knew.

He flustered her.  It wasn’t the first time, and most certainly wasn’t the last.  But truthfully, Toge hadn’t been aiming to flirt with her.  He just wanted to help her out with her swing.  Seeing her blushing and flustered was just an added bonus.

She’s the first to surrender.

“Okay fine,” She lets out a heavy breath and raises her bat again.  “Show me one more time, then you can pitch for me” 

Toge’s grin is plastered on his face as he repositions himself again, but this time she swears he’s standing just a little closer than before as he guides her hand and elbow through her swing.

He lets out a low whistle when he draws her back again so they can practice through it one more time, even though (y/n) was certain now that she had it down.  She starts to pull away, but before she can tell him that she thinks she has it now, he tuts at her and drags her back towards him.  This time her back does hit his chest, and she doesn’t protest again.  

Even though her footing is all off, and there’s no way she could deliver a proper swing when his chin is tucked against her shoulder where her bat should hover.  He’s close enough that he can see- and hear- the heavy gulp she swallows.  He giggles at her before pulling away the hand he had on her elbow.  He lets out a small mumble of an onigiri ingredient she doesn’t quite catch because his breath is hitting the crook of her neck and he’s just so close that she feels dizzy.  He brings his hand up to her neck, knuckles skimming over the nape and then along the junction of her shoulder so he could pull away the few strands of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail.

She giggles at the ticklish feeling, and he forgets that he’s supposed to be coaching her as he raises his fingers to brush over the spot again.  This time she tilts her shoulder as she laughs again, a jerky motion as the muscle reacts on it’s own accord, but it brings his face closer to hers as she does so.  He laughs to himself just from hearing her giggles as he continues to tease the sensitive spot.

“Toge!” She tries to shove him away, but he’s quick to drop his other hand from where she had a hold on the bat, wrapping his arm around her front and holding her hip firmly so she couldn’t wiggle away from him.  He laughs almost too joyfully as she continues to giggle and squirm in his hold.  “Toge! Qu-quit it!” She stammers over the relentless giggles he forces out of her, and it seems to only spur him on further.

She’s reduced to broken gasps between her fits of laughter, and the bat falls from her hand before she realizes.  Even when it bounces on the sand and rolls across the ground she doesn’t pay it any mind, too busy using her free hand to try to grab at his arm and get him to loosen his hold on her.

Her attempts are futile.  His hold on her is firm, and even when she gets a good grip on his sleeve, he retaliates by keeping her snug against him, and then lifting her off the ground altogether.  Her feet kick and scramble, somewhat from the lack of ground beneath them, more-so from the way her body reacts to his continued tickling.  Both of her hands are now occupied by gripping onto his arms to keep her anchored somehow, but even in the delirious state he’s sinking her into, she knows he wouldn’t drop her.

Eventually Toge’s laughing at her too much to care about continuing to tickle her, even though he took great amusement in it, he was now entertained enough by having her in his arms, even if she was kicking at the air for him to put her down.

She’s shouting his name between bursts of giggles that still escape her like after shocks.  The sudden bout of goofiness from him is a little lost on her, but even as she hollers at him to put her down, her threats are empty.  She sinks into his hold and accepts whatever fate he has in store for her.

Her head tilts back until it hits his shoulder, and she can just barely peek up at him.  His face is split with a grin, lavender eyes hooded and dazed as he gazes back down at her.

Toge’s never needed words to flirt with her.  Sure sometimes his texts had certain incriminating emojis, and the notes he’d pass her in class were also damning evidence of his affections.  But (y/n) could feel all of that coming from him just from the way he looks at her, like right now.  He had an intense gaze, and she was sure that if she was brave enough to not break away from the eye contact, that she could penetrate his mind and read his thoughts directly.

Finally, he sets her down, his grip on her loosening, just as her hands on his forearms did once she had her feet on the ground again.  She giggles at him, giving him a cheeky little smile as she turns to properly face him.  Her hands take hold of his wrists as she ensures the proximity between them doesn’t shift too much.  

Logically they should get back to perfecting her swing, the lunch break would be over soon and the game would begin shortly after.  Not that logic is able to cling onto a single thought in her starry eyed stupor.  She looked up at him like he was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen, softening before him in her gaze and the smile on her lips.

She had been patient, at least she thinks she has.  She’s enjoyed the little game they’d been playing, the lingering touches, the flirty remarks met with longing gazes.  Their mannerisms were anything but platonic, and if anyone were to snatch their phones they’d scramble to delete their messages with each other.

But it had been quite some time of this game as she’d affectionately referred to their… whatever this was.  And her patience was wearing thin waiting for him to make a move.  She didn’t know what he was waiting for, she was certain that she’d made her position clear.  Especially now, clinging onto him and staring up at him expectantly.  It was just the two of them, and they were so close, it wouldn’t take much for him to just fucking kiss her already-

Toge’s movements are quick as he pulls his arms so his wrists fall out of her hold, only for him to squeeze her hands quickly before moving past her.

“Tuna mayo” He beckons her to follow him back to the plate, but she’s stunned in place for a minute.

Did he really just brush that off? She shook her head as she went back to home plate, picking up her bat and tapping it against the ground to shake off the excess sand that had clung to it when she’d dropped it.  Had she not communicated well enough through her eyes? She’d stared at him with her best ‘kiss me now!’ look.  Her brow furrowed as she watched Toge grab a glove and baseball from the leftover equipment.

He jogs out to the pitcher’s mound, giving her a thumbs up and an affirmative cheer.  With a determined look on her face, (y/n) straightens up her stance, her hands curling around the handle on the bat until muscle memory took over and she found the correct hold on it.

Toge throws a perfect pitch, his movements clean as his long limbs work in harmony to send the baseball hurtling towards her.  Her eyes never leave the ball as she tightens her grip, takes the smallest of steps forward, and swings.

The crack sounds so loud the aluminum trembles in her hold from the harshness of her hit.  Even Toge’s impressed enough that he’s frozen as his eyes follow the flight of the ball over his head.  He was confident in her ability, after some coaching anyways, but he wasn’t expecting such a solid swing.  Had Jujutsu Tech gone the cheap route and got wooden bats, he was certain this one would’ve been ruined.

As if having the same thought, their eyes simultaneously rip away from the ball’s trajectory towards the outfield, and they look at each other expectantly.  

They both break into a full sprint in opposite directions.  (y/n) drops the bat haphazardly as she takes off for first base, and Toge’s racing to the outfield in the hopes of miraculously catching the ball before it lands.  However, it’s already begun it’s descent so the odds are slim to none.

(y/n) knows she should keep her focus on running and hitting all the bases properly, but she can’t help but throw her head over her shoulder to keep an eye on Toge.  He scrambles to grab the ball just as she’s touching second base.  

She squeals with delight when he makes a break for home plate, and tries to push herself to run faster, but she’d already decided to give this run of the bases her full power, seeing as it was just the two of them.

He’s gaining on her when she crosses third, and a string of laughter escapes her from the anticipation.  It’s not a real game, but her competitive nature had been tapped into as soon as she struck that ball, and now all she cares about is winning.

As home plate nears she can feel Toge getting closer.  She doesn’t dare look at him again, instead opting to do whatever it took to get her on that plate before he can.  Her heart is racing, she’s panting for air, the sun is beating down impossibly hotter, but she doesn’t care.  She’s about to take the win.

Toge has other plans, darting around her and coming up on the plate with more speed than before.  She gasps in offense at his drive to take this from her, but it sparks that competitive fire in her again, and she comes up with a faster plan.

With as much momentum stored as possible, she drops to the ground.  She falls with grace but hits the sand unceremoniously.  The course grit is uncomfortable on her skin as she slides across the ground with the force of her body weight.  Her dominant leg is outstretched, foot angled outwards in the hopes of touching that damn white plate before he can.

She cheers in premature victory when she feels the brush of solid rubber against her sneaker.

The pride is short lived when she feels another foot collide with hers just as the rest of her body is sliding over the plate, and before she can stop herself, she’s effectively tripped Toge right off his feet, and he’s falling to the ground.

They both barely let out a yelp in surprise before he’s crashing into her.  He just barely braces himself with his palms hitting the sandy ground on either side of her head, so his full weight doesn’t hit her, but she’s still properly knocked the wind out of him.

The look of shock on her face fades away as she begins to giggle.  The corners of her eyes crinkle and her smile only grows wider as the giggles grow louder.

“I did it!” She cheers loudly, even though his face is inches away from hers.  “I hit a home run!” 

“Bonito flakes” Toge mutters, and she’s not sure if he’s cursing for her knocking him down or if he’s correcting her because technically in a real game that wouldn’t be a home run, but she doesn’t care.

She ignores his indignation completely.  Her hands shoot up, grabbing either side of his unzipped collar, earning a startled look in response from the sudden impact.

Her eyes light up, and Toge blinks to make sure he’s reading this look right.  The way her lashes grow heavy as her eyes flicker in between his a few times, before lowering to rest on his lips.

His lips? She’s looking at his lips? 

In her moment of not paying attention, his own gaze lowers, mentally tracing the soft edges of her smile.  He thinks he’s quick when he brings his line of sight back to hers, but she’s staring right at him again, and her smile is brightening, having caught the glance.

“Just kiss me already” 

She’s barely finished the command and he’s obeying it like she was the one who bore the snake eyes and fangs.  Leaning down the rest of the way so quickly his hands shuffle in the sand to fix his center of gravity before his lips slant over hers.  She kisses him back instantly, and with fervor, her soft lips moving against his in a quick pace.

Once Toge has a good balance, he shifts so that he only needs to hold himself up with one hand, so that the other can gently cradle her jaw.  His fingers skim over her neck before resting in her hair.  He’s getting sand all over her skin, but she’s already covered in the stuff from her showboating slide to home plate, so he figures she won’t mind.

She hums in delight as her own hands begin to travel.  The sound is heaven to his ears, and his nose prods against hers as he moves to deepen their kiss.  She’s tracing over his shoulders and then the nape of his neck before diving into the soft strands of platinum blonde that aren’t even damp.  Seriously, didn’t they do the same amount of sprinting just now? He didn’t break a sweat? 

The thought makes her let out a little chuckle, and their kiss finally breaks when she does.

Toge’s brow furrows at her in the slightest, wondering what she could find so humorous, but she looks so pretty like this- laughing, beneath him, with kiss swollen lips that were his doing- that he doesn’t even mind.  He just admires her while she blinks a few times to ease her vision to the sunlight.

“It’s nothing,” (y/n) mumbles when she sees the faint confusion in his expression.  “Was just startin’ to think you’d never make a move” 

Toge chuckles back at her, finding some humor in the comment.  He’d been waiting for her, she was the one with all the flirty remarks after all, but he won’t complain.  He could tease her about it later.

He leans back so she could sit up properly, and takes her hand to help her up to her feet with him.  She begins to awkwardly brush the sand off of her clothes, but quickly realizes it’s no use and gives up.  They share a laugh at her weak attempt to dust off.

“Have you guys been out here this whole time!?” 

A distant holler steals their attention, and their classmates are making their way to the field.  Toge frowns at the realization that their alone time was over, and now they had to gear up for the finale of the Exchange Event.

(y/n) notices the sour look, and squeezes his hand to bring his attention back to her.

“Hey, how about another game?” She suggests with a glint of excitement in her eye that should make him nervous, but he nods eagerly.  “If we win this game, we can hang out in my room after,” She suggests, and then her cheeks turn pink.  “And make out some more?” She adds in a softer tone, the confidence in the offer evaporating as soon as she’s actually saying the words out loud.

Toge’s face lights up as he nods in agreement to her rules.

“What!?” Panda’s voice booms and echoes throughout the field, and was likely heard even past that.

Toge and (y/n) share a wince.  They’d conveniently forgotten about Panda’s enhanced hearing abilities.

Judging from the curious looks from the others and Panda’s erratic movements as he spoke, it was clear that he was telling everyone else what he’d overheard as well.

“Cheer for me when I hit a home run?” (y/n) beams at Toge, who nods back at her happily.  He raises his hand, sticking his thumb and pinky out before shaking his hand in a ‘hang loose’ motion.  A simple action he did often to show support for his friends.

“Salmon” He affirms.

“Okay, I’ll cheer for you too” She says sweetly, standing on the tips of her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, before making her way to their approaching friends, eager to tell them about her success with baseball.

They were more curious about the bases she hit with their resident cursed speech user rather than the actual bases of the game.  

… then again, so was she.

___

a/n: breathe if u want me to write a part two where they celebrate winning the game teehee

xoxo ~ jordie

[restlessmaknae]

your heart is the target // jay

The last thing Jay expected when striking a fake dating deal with you was to get jealous (and ultimately, to fall head over heels for you).

➳ Characters: rich business student!Jay x professional archer!female reader/you

➳ Genre: fake dating au, high society au, olympics au, fluff, comedy

➳ Words: 5.5k

➳ Warning: mentions of food & drinks; vocab related to archery such as the usage of the words 'shooting' 'aim' and 'target'; my knowledge regarding archery comes from watching the Olympics, online research and this archery glossary, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong! Jay is big time jealous in the first scene and big time in denial in the third one, so excuse him, he's just hiding his big heart!

➳ A/N: This story was heavily inspired by the Olympics, ISAC, 'Brought the heat back' aka the perfect jealousy song and this short on Youtube.

It's also a spin-off to 'how to cross the line?' with Jake and 'red light, green light' with Sunghoon which both take place before this one, but this story can absolutely be read on its own. ❤️

Apparently, Jay didn’t think through what kind of consequences the fake dating would bring about, and how he would react to them. To be precise, to boys around you.

But it did save him time, money, and let’s be honest, mental energy to not spend so much of his time going on blind dates his mother used to send him off to. Even though he would have plenty of time to meet girls at university, most of them only talked to him because he was 1) a rugby player for the college team 2) he had a lot of money and 3) he was handsome. He wanted more than that, but he didn’t seem to have too much luck, and it didn’t help that both of his university friends - Jake and Sunghoon - already had girlfriends, so whenever they spent time together, he felt like he was fifth wheeling.

So really, it was a sensible deal between you and him, even more so because you were a professional archer, training for the Olympics, so you had even less time to focus on dating than he did. So realising that both of you were fed up with the unfruitful blind dates you had to attend when you two had been set up, you had struck a deal. You would pretend to date for the sake of your families and yourselves, but if either of you found someone they actually liked in the meantime, you would call it off. Otherwise, you could take advantage of the other as a plus one at events, further minimising the chances of shallow-minded boys or girls coming up to you two in hopes of seducing you.

However, sitting through the opening ceremony of a music hall that Jay’s parents built where most people knew who you were wasn’t the same as accompanying you to your birthday party where all kinds of boys showed up he hadn’t seen before. Even the sight of them around you angered him, but the way they mistook him for someone else was truly dancing on his nerves.

At first, there was this tall, broad-shouldered boy who seemed younger than him, but multiple heads turned his way when he walked by, probably because of his handsome looks. Though Jay would never think of growing his hair long, he had to admit that he had a majestic feel to him because of his shoulder-length chestnut brown locks.

“Oh, noona!” The boy hollered when he caught sight of you, and Jay immediately stiffened beside you, but didn’t move when the other boy halted in front of you. As if he didn’t even see Jay, he boasted a wide grin as he handed you a gift box. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you so much, Leehan! I’m glad you could make it,” you reciprocated his wide smile, visibly comfortable even with the close proximity of the boy. Or maybe it seemed close only because Jay was also by your side.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Though we had a bit of an emergency because Jaehyun managed to spill coffee on my suit, but alas, I look dazzling in any suit,” he blabbered joyfully, and only after you asked a few more questions about his day and silence settled on you three, did the boy turn his head towards Jay.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me that you had a bodyguard,” he noted with curiously widening eyes, and Jay’s eyebrows immediately shot up.

“Pardon?”

“Who are you then if not her bodyguard? You look so serious,” he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders casually. Jay felt like he could combust from both the embarrassment and the fury he felt, but held himself back because he was better than that. Besides, he might have stood too stiff beside you, but every approaching boy was a target in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, Leehan, I didn’t tell you. He’s my boyfriend, Jay. Jay Park.”

Leehan let out a little giggle before mentioning that it was funny that he had the same name as the singer. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it didn’t seem to get old no matter how much he hated it. It was just a name after all. It was like joking to every Kitty about Hello Kitty.

“Leehan and I used to be neighbours when I was living in Busan,” you explained as you turned towards him, and despite the fact that he didn’t even know you used to live in Busan, he appreciated the fact that you shared it with him. The explanation soothed his nerves a bit, but he was relieved only when Leehan left to say hello to your parents.

It was crazy, he was crazy, Jay thought to himself. He wasn’t usually like this. In fact, he was never like this. You weren’t even his real girlfriend, yet he was acting like a real jealous boyfriend. Did he even have the right to act this way? After all, Leehan was right. He was standing there beside you like a stuck up person, waiting to judge the next person that came up to you.

You took note of his behaviour as well, and asked if he was alright.

“Why wouldn’t I be fine?” Jay sulked like a little kid, hoping that the tone of voice was as close to neutral as possible, but judged by the way you let out a resigned sigh, he had a feeling that he wasn’t very convincing.

“I’m sorry that I dragged you into this. Maybe it was a bit too soon to have you here today,” you mused out loud, biting on your lower lip as you looked around, at the hustle-bustle of the guests. He knew exactly what you meant by ‘too soon’; a month into your fake dating deal, but it was what he had signed up for, so it wasn’t your fault, and he didn’t get why you felt this way.

“I’m fine, really. I just hardly know anyone, and it seems that people think I’m either your brother or your bodyguard, not your boyfriend.”

Your lips curled upwards when he mentioned this, referring both to Leehan’s bravado and Mark’s who was a childhood friend of yours, but went to the States to study, and totally forgot how your brother looked, and mistook Jay for your brother, Heeseung. In Mark’s defence, he supposedly had not only horrible eyesight but a poor face memory, too.

Coming to think of it, these were pretty amusing conversations, but Jay didn’t feel like laughing even though the bell-like sound of your laughter did awaken something inside of him. He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder what this unfamiliar feeling was though because the next guest came up to you, and you immediately welcomed him with a tight hug.

A hug.

From a boy he didn’t know.

What on Earth was going on? Why did you know so many people? Why did you know so many boys? He met like six of your acquaintances who were boys, and there was only one girl. Just why?

“... and this is Jay,” he faintly heard your voice, and when you called his name, he perked up, looking at you. He was so lost in thought that he barely registered that you and the jet-black haired boy had already started talking. He seemed kind with his big brown eyes and lips that curled naturally into a genuine smile, and even his tone was friendly when he spoke up.

“Your boyfriend, Jay, right?” He asked in a casual, conversational way as he reached his hand out for a handshake.

Now, this boy… he was a keeper. Jay liked him.

“Yes, that’s me,” Jay greeted him with a relieved sigh and shook his hand. He had a firm grip, but his kind smile wouldn’t have made him think so.

“My name is Sung Hanbin. We are archery partners with Y/N,” he explained after he let go of his hand, and now Jay didn’t know what to say. Seeing his confused face, you rushed to explain that you and Hanbin were training together as a mixed team for the Olympics.

“I thought that only same sex teams were competing.”

“There are actually 3 different archery categories. Individual, team and mixed team. We’re in the mixed team with Hanbin. It’s only us two, it’s not like fencing when there could be 4 people in a team,” you answered him in detail, and you were patient with him even though he had no idea about archery as a sport, let alone how the Olympics worked. On the other hand, he would definitely look things up after this because he didn’t want to embarrass himself like he did so.

Not like Hanbin seemed bothered by his lack of knowledge regarding the field. Instead, he asked about his side, and was super eager to learn about all the business things Jay studied at university. He was even more curious when he got to know that Jay did rugby, and asked him to show him some moves one day, he would be looking forward to it.

“You should also come to one of our practices. Y/N is seriously so amazing on the field,” Hanbin suggested, awe lacing his words. There was something in the way he said it, but he wouldn’t think that it was because Hanbin harboured feelings for you. It seemed more like respect than infatuation.

“Ah please, I’m just…”

“I’ll make sure to come by. If you don’t mind,” Jay made up his mind about it quickly, and searched for your eyes. This was the first time you wouldn’t bring the other as a plus one to an event, you would do it simply because you wanted to. It could be seen that you were taken aback by the suggestion, but you composed your features within mere seconds, and directed a smile at him.

“Sure. I’d love that.”

There was a moment when you just gazed at each other, and he forgot about everything else around you. He simply focused on the way the shiny peach-coloured lipstick sat on your lips as they curled into a smile, and the way the lights from the grand chandelier above reflected in your ocean deep eyes. The way the foundation couldn’t hide your beautiful moles, and the way you radiated confidence and chicness in your feminine pink and white body suit.

“Okay, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to have some time to yourself. I might check out the drinks instead,” Hanbin announced, pulling you two back to reality. A hue of pink crept onto your cheeks at the reminder that you were not alone, but your smile didn’t waver as you bid your archery partner goodbye.

“I’ve also brought you a gift, but I left at the table where I saw people leaving them,” Jay announced when he looked down at the gift boxes in your hand. You thanked him, and told him that you would definitely check it out and let him know what you thought about his gift.

Not like you had a lot of time to open gifts because your birthday party was more than packed with conversations with familiar and not so familiar figures, and by the end of the night, Jay had no idea how you still had the energy to greet everyone as energetically as in the beginning. Thankfully, there were no more people who assumed that he was your brother or bodyguard, but some found it surprising to see you as a couple. Like the ever so talkative Keeho who analysed the future of your relationship based on your music taste, MBTI and star sign (whatever he meant by that), or one of your mother’s friend’s daughters - Giselle - who was convinced that Jay was Hanbin because she thought that you were dating your archery partner because that would be so YA book-like.

Nevertheless, Jay truly hoped that after this night, everyone would know that you two were dating, so he wouldn’t have to go through this again. He wasn’t sure he could take that.

You didn’t know what got into Jay when he gave in to Hanbin’s suggestion because he was usually reserved when it came to such events. You would think that he didn’t want to bother with it since he hated blind dates just as much as you did, and you weren’t even dating for real, so it could have been just another nuisance in his eyes.

Nevertheless, he didn’t go back on his word, but asked when he could come by, and so you settled on a date. He made sure to ask if you were comfortable by the idea of him coming to your practice, but you reassured him that you were totally fine with it. Even though you didn’t interact that much in person, you rather texted the other, your impression of him was quite positive. He was a just person, someone who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, but he was also very attentive, noticing when the screw of your earring let go and fixing it for you at the business event you had attended, or how he had gone around to find a blanket for you when you had been sitting outside in the garden at your birthday party. Even his gift was thoughtful: he bought an Avalon archery bag for you which was a good quality bag for professional athletes. You were in need of a new one anyway, so you brought it with you to practise ever since, something that Hanbin couldn’t not notice.

Ever since the two boys had met at your birthday party, Hanbin had been asking about how you had met and whether it was difficult to keep up a relationship with your training schedule and Jay’s university classes. To be honest, you didn’t decide on such details with Jay, so you spoke the truth, and told him that you had met on a blind date, and you had made it work through texts and calls because you wanted to. Which was actually true because you and Jay were getting to know each other, and sometimes it felt like it wasn’t just for the sake of the fake dating deal, but because you really did want to know more about the other. At least, you wanted to know more about him.

The indoor archery range had a security system in place, so only the athletes and the staff could enter who had a card to use the building, so you went out to let Jay inside when he texted you that he arrived. You inquired if he found it easy to get here, and he said that it was fine, and he found a decent parking place not far, so it was alright. Because of course, he knew how to drive and he had his own car. Jay was every girl’s dream after all, no wonder that title followed him around like second skin.

“So it’s just you practising today, or will there be others?”

“We’ve booked a range for us, so it’ll be me, Hanbin and our two coaches. I let the coaches know that we would have a visitor, but it’s alright. A lot of archers visit each other’s practice to learn about techniques, so you won’t stand out too much. Or maybe just a bit,” you pointed at his sleek black cotton pants, dress shoes and white shirt that he tucked into his pants, highlighting his slender waist.

Jay seemed a tad bit coy at your playful call-out, his lips slightly puckering as he looked down at his - probably usual - attire, but he went back to his usual self immediately.

“I hope I won’t be too distracting,” he mentioned with an unbothered look, but you couldn’t help but nudge him in the side.

“What was that? Were you flirting with me?”

“I-” He was about to protest, probably not thinking too much into his words, but then, it dawned on him why you teased him. “I’m your boyfriend after all, aren’t I?” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could see a hint of amusement prompting his lips to curl upwards.

No matter how many times you said the words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ out loud, it still seemed unfamiliar. Yet, there was a certain thrill to it too, something that you had never experienced before. Not since you had broken up with your boyfriend of three months in high school, at least.

After pulling yourself together, you guided Jay to the right room, and told him that he could sit in the spectators’ stand, you also put your bag there. So he took a seat in the front row beside your bag after greeting the ones who were present. Hanbin gave you a knowing look before he turned towards his coach who gave him some instructions. After warming up, you attached the quiver to your waist, and you held up the bow, testing the limbs and the hand. That’s when you realised that you had left a part of it in your bag, so you jogged up to the slightly confused Jay.

“Could you pass me the kisser from my bag?”

“The what?” The boy’s eyebrows shot up so high, you were afraid that his eyes would pop. That’s when you realised that you had used the jargon that he wasn’t familiar with.

“It’s this little black button in the right pocket of my bag,” you explained to him while you leaned onto the rail separating you two. Jay’s shoulders sagged in relief, and you found it difficult to hold back your laughter seeing his bewildered expression. Well yeah, the button was called kisser because it was attached to the bowstring, and your lips usually touched this part when aiming, to give consistent vertical reference. But he must have thought of something else.

Either way, Jay found the button, and handed it to you which you accepted with a grateful smile. Your fingers lightly grazed his hand in the meantime, and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks. No matter how many accidental touches you shared, it was still unfamiliar to you, the effect he had on you.

“Are you sure you will be able to concentrate with him here?” Hanbin teased once you jogged back to him, and you gave him a long stare.

“It’s not like it wasn’t your idea to invite him here.”

“Well, let’s just say I knew what I was doing,” he shrugged, a teasing little grin stretching on his lips. You nudged his shoulder in return and told him to focus on hitting the gold target face.

Despite Hanbin’s warning, the practice went well. What’s more, it went exceptionally well. You both scored high, and even if you didn’t perform that well in a set, you made up for it in the next one. One thing about mixed archery that you liked was that you could cheer on your partner without fearing for your own ranking, and it was easy to shoot beside Hanbin because he was very supportive, and even if he took archery seriously, he knew when to be silly to ease the tension. He was determined and hard-working just like you, and your coaches often said that you seemed like you were made to be each other’s partners.

Once your coaches left and it was nearing the end of your time slot, Hanbin inquired from Jay if he wanted to try it out himself. He objected vehemently, saying that after your practice, he didn’t want to embarrass himself. You didn’t force him either, but thanked him for coming by.

“I will give you a lift,” he offered gently when you walked up to him to get your bag.

“You really don’t have to. It might take about half an hour before I will get ready.”

“It’s alright. I don’t have other plans,” he protested firmly, and you didn’t have the heart to go against him when he offered it himself. He really wouldn’t say it out loud, but you had a feeling that he was offering to give you a ride because it was getting dark outside, and he didn’t want you to go home alone.

“Thanks. I will be quick,” you promised beamingly, and off you went.

After taking a quick shower, getting changed and putting your hair up into a high ponytail, you were fresh and clean, ready to head out. Jay was standing on the other side of the security gate, leaning against the wall while scrolling through his phone. You had a feeling someone let him out - maybe the security guard or Hanbin because he always finished earlier than you -, but still, it was nice to see him standing there even though he really did stand out in his business outfit while you had sweatpants and a knitted sweater on.

Jay’s nonchalant expression turned lighter when he caught sight of you, and he immediately reached for your bag, holding it for you without saying a word. Your face flushed when your hands touched again, but you looked the other way to hide your embarrassment.

You let silence fall over the two of you as you were walking towards his car, and when you stepped inside the vehicle, you felt like you were the one who stood out in your casual, sporty outfit. Alas, you preferred comfort over style when you were off to practise or coming from practise, and you were thankful that you didn’t need to wear high heels or dresses during these times. Plus, it’s not like Jay made a comment on it, instead, he inquired if the temperature was alright in the car, and if you preferred to have the radio on or not.

“So how did you like the practice? I hope it wasn’t too boring,” you inquired when the boy started the engine and drove out from the parking lot.

“It wasn’t boring at all. I didn’t know the distance for archery is 70 metres, so I was impressed that you could control the arrow from such a distance.”

“How did you know it was 70 metres?”

Jay’s Adam’s apple bobbed hearing your question as if he didn’t want to acknowledge that he clearly made his research. You definitely didn’t tell him about that.

“Well, I read it somewhere before,” he mumbled under his nose, but you couldn’t help this warm, embracing feeling bubbling up inside of you. He might have looked cold and composed, but you seemed to shake up his demeanour lately.

You talked a bit more about archery during the car ride because he was curious about the type of arrows you used, how you controlled the draw length and the aim, and whether you enjoyed individual, team or mixed archery the most. You found it heart-warming that he asked you about this because archery meant so much to you, but when you went to high society events with your parents, oftentimes the people there only asked about whether you had a boyfriend and when you would join your father’s company. Your parents never forced you to choose a different path, but these kinds of interactions came with the type of life they had chosen for themselves when you moved from Busan to Seoul, and your father set up his company that has since become one of the most important AI consulting companies in not just Seoul but the whole country.

Time passed by in a blink of an eye while you were talking, and you found yourself at home in no time. Yet, as his car drove out of your driveway, you realised that you wouldn’t mind if he gave you a ride back home more often.

Bit by bit, you and Jay got closer, and there was no denying it anymore. He went to your practices a few more times, you showed up at business events beside him other times, and in the meantime, you continued texting and calling each other. Jay also made it a habit to pick you up after practice when he didn’t have anything else to do, and sometimes Hanbin joined you, too. Jay liked him because he could see that he was a genuine, kind guy who would want nothing bad for you, and your archery partner also gave him his phone number, so Jay could reach out to him in case you didn’t pick up your phone or anything like that. Which was really attentive of him, and despite not saying it out loud, Jay grew fond of the other boy, too.

Alas, his fondness towards you could not be contained that easily, and it didn’t take long for his friends to pick up on his antics. Jake and Sunghoon teased him ever since Jay admitted that he “wasn’t feeling neutral towards you” which, in his dictionary, meant that he liked you, and they kept bombarding him with dating advice. He would never force you to date him though, and you had enough on your plate with the Olympics coming up, so he didn’t want to complicate things even further.

However, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t be supportive of you and your dreams.

“So… are you going to the Olympics with Y/N?” Jake inquired once when they were having lunch together between classes. Jay almost choked on his food, he was so surprised.

“Why would I go with her to the Olympics? She didn’t tell me that she wants me there,” he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at his puppy-like friend. Jake and Sunghoon shared a glance, and there was a knowing smile in the corner of Sunghoon’s lips when he spoke up.

“Jay, my dear friend, you really don’t know a thing about relationships, do you?”

“It’s not like you have that much experience,” Jay snorted, pointing out the fact that he and Chaerin had only been dating for half a year. To be precise, dating officially because they also had their fake dating period when Sunghoon had tried to keep Chaerin’s douchebag ex away by pretending to be her boyfriend. But he had already had a crush on the cheerleader, so his feelings had been genuine when they had started fake dating.

“Well, it’s still more than your experience which is close to zero,” he shrugged and reached for his bottle of water. Jake found the conversation amusing as he kept smiling while shoving kimchi fried rice into his mouth.

“Well then, enlighten me. Why should I go?” Jay gave up on trying to argue with them because as much as he wanted to deny it, the thought had crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too bad if he went to the Olympics to watch your competitions. Then again, you had never asked if he wanted to come or if he was willing to come, so he didn’t bother asking either.

“To support her. I’m pretty sure she’s all nerves, especially because she had a bronze medal in the last Olympics, so she must be feeling a lot of pressure. Not to mention that she and Hanbin are said to be the most promising duo for the team archery.”

“It’s mixed archery,” Jay corrected Jake’s choice of words, and his two friends immediately shared a glance. Oh well, he had really become a bit of an expert in archery, but could they blame him? He was trying not to be too nosy during practices, so he did his own research and watched your previous matches to gain more knowledge regarding your field.

Jay didn’t need to ask how they knew about your rankings because they pulled up your Wikipedia page the moment he told them that you were his fake girlfriend, and besides, he might have been dropping hints here and there. However, he had to give it to them that they were right, and despite the fact that you wouldn’t want to show it, he could see the dark circles under your eyes, and you had even managed to fall asleep once while he had been driving you home after practice. You seemed to lose a bit of your smile too, and he hated that he couldn’t do anything about it, except trying to be extra comforting and supportive.

He didn’t even need to be told twice. After asking Hanbin about your Olympics schedule, he booked himself a hotel and a plane ticket, and arrived the day before your first official match. He didn’t want you to worry about his safety while you were supposed to focus on your performance, so he only told you that he arrived when he got the green light from Hanbin that you finished with your last practice before your first day of competing.

Locks still stuck to your forehead when you rushed out of the stadium after a shower and changing clothes, and you hugged him so tightly upon seeing him that he immediately knew that coming here was the best decision that he had ever made.

“Thank you so much for coming! I can’t believe that you’re here,” you exclaimed giddily, and despite the fact that it was your first hug, somehow it felt so good, so right. You didn’t even seem embarrassed as you kept babbling afterwards about literally everything: the food in the Olympic village, how your room looked and how practise went that day.

He listened to you attentively, his heart a lot lighter that he could see you smile, and because you must have been hungry and tired, he treated you to a meal. You didn’t even want to talk him out of it, and enjoyed dinner with him to the last moment. He didn’t even want to let you go so soon, so he offered to walk you back to your accommodation.

“This morning, I was so nervous that I thought I’m coming down with something. I was also not performing as well during practice as I wanted to, but I feel like I’m a lot lighter now that you’re here. The fact that you carved time out of your day to come here willingly means so much to me,” you admitted coyly as he was walking beside you. He couldn’t go with you all the way because outsiders weren’t allowed in the Olympic village, but you still had some time as it was on the other side of the park you were currently strolling in.

“Even just the fact that you are here means that you’re doing great. I know you might feel the pressure to do better than four years ago, but know that you’re already a winner. You’re already one of the most excellent archers in the whole world,” he mused out loud, and if it wouldn’t have been for the bright lights in your deep dark eyes, he might have wanted to dig a hole for himself because that was quite cheesy. It came from his heart though, and you seemed to appreciate it so much that you were visibly touched.

“Don’t cry…” he shushed you when he noticed you tearing up, and reached out to wipe the first teardrop away that was racing down your cheeks. You looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, and he felt like time stopped around you as you two were standing still in the middle of the walking path, surrounded by the shushing of the trees and the watching eyes of the street lamps. To him, you looked vulnerable yet strong, someone who wasn’t afraid to face her feelings and though the sight of you with tears in your eyes churned his heart, he was also thankful that he could be there for you.

“I’m just… I’m just so happy that you’re here,” you choked up, hidden away emotions surfacing as you let it out. Jay let you cry as much as you wanted, handing you tissues and letting you hug him as long as you wanted. Before, he might have thought that you would be better off without him because you had a lot on your plate already, but now more than ever, he was sure that you needed him just as much as he needed you.

But he didn’t ask the question until you were finished with all of your competitions, until you were finished with all the celebrations for your gold medal in individual female archery and mixed archery alike and 4th in team archery, and until you were leaving behind the country.

Only as the stewardesses signalled that the plane was ready to depart in Seoul, did he dare to ask the question:

“Would you like to go on a date with me? A real one?”

The smile that you gave him was enough of an answer by itself, but when you confirmed that yes, you would be more than thrilled to go, he was the happiest person on Earth. Even if you managed to confuse Hanbin who was sitting on the other side of the aisle (after giving up his seat for Jay) by what you meant by a real date.

But he didn’t have to know that.

➳ Check out: my ENHYPEN masterlist

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[soobnny]

i hate that man — kim seungmin.

trope. enemies to lovers. college au. fluff. seungmin being a menace.

synopsis. the four times you think you hate seungmin, and the one time you think that might not have been true after all

word count. 5.5k words

warnings. a joke about jumping out the window, crying over a failed test exam, curse words

author’s note. inspired by that tiktok audio!! u know which one i’m talking about. credits to a dialogue i got from here (ur thoughts n feedbacks r always appreciated)

one.

Kim Seungmin is not your favorite person.

He is infuriating in the way he enjoys invading your personal space, always hovering around and blabbering his mouth nonstop every chance he gets. It doesn’t help his case (not that he wants to defend it in the first place) that he finds joy in hiding your things from you. You’d be damned if you left your notebook, even a pen, on your desk unattended. You already know the culprit is seated directly behind you, and the only thing you can do is ignore him in hopes that he returns it to you unscathed.

It’s much easier to not understand the reasons for why he annoys you. You would hate to find the truth behind his actions for the fear that he did it simply because he wanted to. This would only mean there was nothing to resolve to get him to stop.

Or worse, that he hates you. You admit with shame that you thought you’d actually get along quite well with Seungmin when you first met him. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, playful banter and soft smiles directed to each other and the hopes of meeting each other again. It was honestly like a fairytale — until it wasn’t.

And you’ve tried before, to find out. You’ve made sufficient efforts in scouring for answers as to why he was that way with you, going as far as to asking Hwang Hyunjin (as embarrassing as that turned out to be). But, you had come out of all that empty-handed. So, you leave the unknown unknown and since then decided to just endure it. But it still has you wondering from time to time, had you burned down an orphanage in your past life to deserve this? Had you done something so sinister to be plagued by the presence of Kim Seungmin on a daily basis?

So, while you don’t necessarily hate the boy, you’d go as far as to say he was probably your least favorite person. And that notion weighs heavy considering you know resident menace Choi Beomgyu.

Still, Choi Beomgyu had nothing on Kim Seungmin so he’d have to accept being second to the last on your self-proclaimed list.

Speaking of the devil.

Seungmin parades into your classroom like he owns the place, laughing aloud side by side his friends. You simply drown out his obnoxiousness, the way you always do, though it never works considering it’s apparently his top priority to get on your nerves.

“Another Mcdonalds takeout?” He inquires, picking up the discarded paper bag on your desk to look inside. “You really should stop eating this junk so early in the morning.”

“Wow, keep saying things like that and I’ll start to believe you’re starting to care about me.” You abruptly grab the bag from his hands, moving to the back of your classroom to throw your trash properly before the professor walks in.

“Don’t be silly.” He simply laughs, taking his seat on your desk. “What do you even order?”

“Food, obviously.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What food specifically?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Can’t I ask a simple question?”

You know he won’t leave you alone if you don’t answer him. And you hate that you know that. So, with a begrudging sigh, you answer the boy. “Just nuggets and a Big Mac, now get off my desk.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He’s being sarcastic, evident in how it’s obnoxiously dripping down his tone, but you can’t find it in you to care. As long as he’s out of your hair for a few minutes.

And you almost think the Gods have answered your prayers when you don’t come across him for the rest of the day. Something about that tells you there is a silver lining for the day, even if it is only ever a little line. You would hate to be blessed with his presence atop the Chemistry test you had at 7pm.

It’s one of the few advantages to signing up for night classes. The college halls were usually dead this hour, save for a few students on their way to the library after having their fifth cup of coffee for the day. And the lack of Kim Seungmin. It’s one sacrifice, giving up hours of your night, but honestly it really isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Especially when your professor always ends early in consideration of those who still had to commute back home — they had to catch the last train somehow.

To replace Seungmin, you had Yang Jeongin in your class, but he usually kept to himself more. He was a lot more civilized than his friend, and you’ve been hoping this would’ve at least rubbed off on Seungmin.

“You ready for the test?” Jeongin asks after you had taken your seat next to him. The first thing you discern is the lack of textbooks and notes on his desk compared to everyone else’s pathetic attempt to review last minute. It seems he’s given up like you did.

“Absolutely the fuck not. I haven’t even eaten dinner yet so this is going to be a disaster.” You laugh, dropping your bag down on the ground just as your professor walks in. Jeongin is on his phone for the rest of the free time you have left before test papers and answer sheets were distributed.

It’s a horrible hour and a half, and the difficulty of the test makes you want to fall to your knees and weep. The lack of dinner in your stomach doesn’t exactly help your case as by the last few minutes of the test, you couldn’t care less about why you use ammonium oxalate to precipitate Calcium and Magnesium. The only thing in your head is a picture of your go-to Mcdonalds order as you pass your paper.

A jumpscare greets you on your way out in the form of Kim Seungmin who is holding a Mcdonalds paper bag in his hands, the same one you had just been daydreaming about.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” The sight of the boy spikes up your blood pressure, and you have to pause in your step to catch your breath after not having dinner, suffering through a long test, and seeing Seungmin all within the span of a few hours.

Though, what he does next surprises you.

“I ordered too much for Innie so you can have this, I guess.” He mumbles, shoving the brown paper bag in your direction. It scorches your fingers as you reached to grab it before it can fall to the ground.

It was a strange sight for Seungmin to be giving you something without asking. Strange and funny for it had occurred to you that if someone were to tell you Seungmin would be your stomach’s knight in shining armor, you wouldn’t have been able to believe yourself.

“Oh, thanks? You didn’t… poison this, did you?”

“How little do you think of me?” He simply walks away before you can reply to him again.

You scrunch your nose in confusion, leaning down to look into the contents of the Mcdonalds paper bag he had just given you.

Nuggets and a Big Mac.

Was this also Jeongin’s go-to order?

When you look back up, said boy greets you with french fries stuffed in his mouth. There’s a hint of a smirk that’s barely visible from his puffed out cheeks.

“You know, you can be really stupid.” Jeongin giggles to himself, patting down your head and messing with your hair a little before waving you goodbye. “Bye (name)!”

You simply stare at their retreating figures, head tilted as you try to drink in what Jeongin had just told you.

Stupid about what? The test?

two.

What is the connotation of a very thrilled Kim Seungmin walking into the campus library as you’re struggling with your part for your joint project?

You’re almost convinced something significant had happened for him to walk in with a shit-eating grin on his face, but you know better than that now. So, you simply ignore him, turning back to your laptop as Felix and Hyunjin greet the boy. He’s late, but knowing him, he’s probably finished his part of the project. You hate to acknowledge his competence, but you have to give credit where credit is due.

You could obviously ask for help, but you’d run through the streets naked first before ever asking the boy to help you. You refuse to be subjected to his taunting more than you already were. Besides, you don’t need help from someone like Seungmin. He’d probably be so arrogant about how you needed his help.

Rubbing your eyes for a split second, you go back to furiously typing at your laptop — so aggressively that Yeji has to pull you back for a bit in fear that you’d destroy your keyboard.

The five of you work on the project diligently, finishing the monstrosity of your synthesis paper for Life Science at almost one in the morning.

When everyone moves to leave, you stay behind, telling them you still had a few deadlines to catch up on, namely a Statistics paper and a book review for your English Literary class. While it wasn’t exactly due yet, it doesn’t hurt to start them when the pump of coffee is already in your system.

“See you guys tomorrow!” You say in a hushed tone, waving at the group before moving your attention back on your laptop.

And maybe it’s the sleep deprivation getting to you but you don’t notice Seungmin still situated at the opposite end of your table.

He doesn’t say anything either. He knows you’re running 50% coffee and 50% restlessness, so he simply sits back in his chair with a book in hand.

He could use the time to annotate anyway.

When Seungmin glances back at you thirty minutes later, he can only watch in amusement when he finds you close to passing out on the wooden table of the library. Your eyelids are starting to droop, and even though it seems you’re trying your hardest to fight it, you find that your sleeved arm is far too comfortable to refuse.

He immediately puts down his book, moving across the table to wake you up. It seems the appropriate time to tell you to go home and get some rest.

When you don’t respond to the gentle shake of your shoulder, he choose the next best thing to wake you up. With a text book in hand, he drops it on the space right beside your head, creating a loud enough sound to jolt you in your sleep.

“Come on. We’re going home. You’re a lost cause, anyway.”

“Fuck you.” You grumble sleepily, sitting up and squinting at your laptop before shutting it down so you can start packing up.

“I’m flattered, really, but no thanks.”

You scoff, and he simply smirks in response as he helps you put your things back in your bag.

“Why are you still here anyway?” It’s a question you’ve been meaning to ask him since you finally noticed him an hour back, but you chose to bite down on your tongue and stay silent instead.

He shrugs. “Had to annotate this book, and I’m already at the library so I might as well.”

“Okay, whatever.” You move to grab a pen that had fallen on the ground carelessly, and in the process, you feel your head collide with Seungmin’s hand instead of the harsher corner of the table.

You see red almost immediately. You hate to admit the small gesture has butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls his hand back, so you don’t make a big deal out of it.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

You hum, thinking of how you were gonna get back to your dorm. It was probably still dark outside, and you weren’t exactly willing to put yourself in danger over finishing up a few schoolworks at the library.

“You can go ahead. I’ll just text Ode to see if he’s still awake.”

“Why?” He quips, pausing to stand next to you outside the doors of the building when you stop walking.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“There is a chance, yes. But I might not.” Seungmin smirks, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t wanna walk alone in the dark.”

If Seungmin wants to laugh and poke fun, it seems he’s doing a good job at holding back. “Don’t disturb his sleep. I’ll walk you back instead.”

“Wow, you’re actually being nice to me for once.” You say jokingly.

“I won’t make a habit out of it. Besides, I was the last person seen with you and I don’t wanna be responsible if you go missing.”

There goes being nice.

This is how you end up walking home with Kim Seungmin. You don’t remember much about the walk home, just the proximity from where he’s walking next to you and the warmth radiating from him in contrast to the cold night. He has his hands in his pockets the whole way home, and it’s the little details like what seems to be the first genuine smile you see from him that you remember the most.

When you reach your dorm, he simply stares at you in a way you’re not used to before bowing and turning around his step to start walking back to his own dorm.

three.

A month later, Chan from your university’s basketball team decides to host a party at his house.

Being friends with half of his friends had its perks in that he enthusiastically invites you when you walk past him by your department’s hallways. And while you had every intent to decline his offer, Ryujin had already accepted for you and told him he’d be seeing you both there.

And by 8pm, you find yourselves inside his packed house, trying to navigate your way through drunken college kids. The entire first floor reeked of alcohol and sweat which wasn’t a great combination by all means.

The music is loud from Chan’s speakers, and you immediately want to go home and jump into the comforting sheets of your bed to sleep the night away. Ryujin doesn’t let you flee as she leads you to the kitchen where she tells you of where Chan hides his secret stash of snacks and ice cream. Another silver lining.

You spend an hour chatting and laughing on the kitchen counter with Ryujin, a spoonful of ice cream in your mouths as you make fun of multiple people’s dancing — not that any of you could do any better. Actually, scratch that, Ryujin could probably take them all on. You continuously ask if it was okay for you to be stealing these expensive tubs of ice cream and Ryujin just tells you she’s done it before, and that Bang Chan could most definitely afford some more if he wanted to. So, you continue to eat the ice cream without guilt.

Well, until Chan catches the pair of you, and you apologize profusely. He just laughs it off, looking at the two of you fondly before feigning a scolding. Turns out, he simply wanted you two to join him and his friends in a round of truth or dare upstairs.

Another thing to add and check off your non-existent bucket list. To be deemed sociable enough to be included in an exclusive circle of friend’s truth or dare despite only knowing around 4 people there. You think it might just be Ryujin’s doing, but you happily tag along to escape the mass of people downstairs.

When you make it upstairs, you’re surprised to see you know a lot more people than you thought you would. Yeji was there, seated beside who you think is Karina. Jeongin is with his friends, Seungmin included. Some of them you know, and some you just learned to be Jisung, Changbin, and Minho. The rest don’t really matter to you as you prop yourselves down in the circle.

And then a round of the game starts, and you start to question the things in this world that perplexed you. You used to think it were simple things — wet doorknobs, tuna fish, cramps, back pains. But after tonight, you might have to start modifying your own list. You can start with someone’s attempt to rap freestyle, the sight of a shirtless Han Jisung whom you’ve barely exchanged a word with but now have seen him half naked, the sudden knowledge of who was wearing a Spongebob themed underwear, someone (you believe was Minho?) roleplaying a scene from Zootopia. The list is endless.

Who knew a game of truth or dare could be this chaotic? Though, you probably should’ve known that especially being thrown into a group of such dynamic people.

Before you know it, the bottle lands on you and you’ve never wanted to wipe the smirk on Jeongin’s face so much than right now because you know he’s probably planning something that has to do with Kim Seungmin.

You think you can keep your anxiety at bay, that is until he starts whispering with Felix and Hyunjin and you swear that if someone opened the window right now, there’s a high chance you would make a run for it and jump and simply hope for the best.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t anything crazy! You can stop chewing on your nails.” You flush in embarrassment when the group laughs, and Ryujin runs a comforting hand down your back to make sure the attention isn’t too overwhelming for you.

“I dare you to hug Seungmin.”

“Excuse me?” You ask him to repeat his dare to you as if you hadn’t heard him. But you did. Loud and clear in fact.

The smirk on his face only grows. “I said, hug Seungmin.”

Okay, you know what, that should be simple. You sigh out in response before getting up from your seat to make your way towards where Seungmin’s situated, thankful he didn’t let you do anything as embarrassing as the others.

However, the closer you make towards where Seungmin is, wearing a top that accentuated his broad shoulders way too perfectly, and sporting a smug grin on his face, you start to think this might be the most difficult one of the night yet.

Seungmin stands in compliance to your dare, and you feel all eyes in the circle shift to the pair of you, as if anticipating it more than you.

His eyes survey you, as if to question if you were really gonna do it. And to egg you on further, he decides to open his arms wide which earns a few howls and whistles from the room. God, you hate him. You really really hate him.

And then you do it, just to get it over with, and Seungmin’s expression switches to a more taken back one. He didn’t expect you to actually push through with the dare. The longer the hug lasts, the more a ghost of a smile threatens to spill from his lips.

You have your arms wrapped around the entirety of his body, and his own resting just around your waist, and he’s crouched down a little so he can match your height better without you having to tiptoe so much.

When he presses you closer, the whole room erupts in cheers; vomiting air, nudging each other, and whistling.

Seungmin allows himself a quick glance at you, but there isn’t much to see when your face is pressed firmly against his chest. Perhaps to try and hide from the embarrassment of your friends shouting “get a room” even if you were just hugging.

He feels so warm in the air conditioned room, and it seems he didn’t have much to drink tonight when he smells more like fresh laundry and the perfume he always wears. This feels nice actually. But you would never tell him that. In fact, you have every intention of taking that observation to your grave.

When you finally notice the glances of friends and acquaintances alike around you, you pull back from the hug and immediately make your way back to your seat without another word.

You make a vow to yourself to get back at Jeongin for humiliating you like that — however, there’s a persistent voice in your head telling you that maybe you hadn’t minded that hug one bit the way you let on.

You ignore it.

four.

The sound of a shutter going off and a flash of light greets you immediately upon entering your classroom another month later.

It seems Seungmin’s found an upgraded way to annoy you (as if hiding your things wasn’t enough). With a new phone gifted to him on his birthday, he seems insistent on catching you when you’re unprepared. It makes you frustrated — as if he wasn’t enough of an irritant.

You should be used to Seungmin doing stupid things all the time, but even after months, you find that it really is a difficult task to endure. Why is he so intent on irritating you? You’re starting to seek for the answers you told yourself to stay unknown. How could you keep letting him be without knowing why he enjoys getting a rise out of you so much?

To add insult to injury, his loud voice greets you a good morning as he waves his phone around at you. You hope it falls and shatters.

Too far?

“What? Are you camera shy?” He smirks mischievously, turning to focus his camera back on you.

“At what point do you become mature?”

“Hm, not for a long time, I don’t think.” You have to remind yourself he’s provoking you for the sake of it, and you really shouldn’t be as affected as you feel right now. So, you breathe in sharply through your nose and just let him be.

When class ends, you’re quick to rant to Ryujin about Seungmin’s new discovery at getting a kick out of you.

“He won’t stop taking fucking pictures of me.” You mutter indignantly, putting all your frustration into your words.

“You know, they say you only take photos of things if you have love for the subject.”

“What are you trying to imply?”

“Just that there must be a reason why he’s so intent on having your face litter the memory of his new phone.” Ryujin smirks when your face starts to flush red at the realization of what she’s suggesting.

“Oh, shut up.” Your words don’t come out as intimidating as you want it to, and you spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

You confront Seungmin the next day, just so you can stop thinking about it. “Why are you taking so much photos of me?”

You’re already expecting that smirk on his face, and a feigned confusion. But, to your surprise, he looks genuinely surprised at your question. You’d go as far as saying he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

You’ve unknowingly caught his tongue, but he catches himself before you can catch on. With a half-assed smirk on his face, he says the best excuse that comes in his mind.

“Just so I have multiple material to use when I need to blackmail you.”

You’re appalled, and frustrated at yourself for thinking what Ryujin was hinting at might be true. You don’t even know why you were hoping in the first place. You don’t like the boy, right?

Your lips press into a straight line, and you swear your blood vessels might burst if you stare at him any longer so you storm back to your seat and ignore him for the rest of the day.

five.

There comes a point in the semester when all you’ll know is the quivering of your knees and the bloodshot red of your eyes from crying too much.

For you, it’s the result of a failed test score on a subject you studied really hard for.

You draw your knees up to press your face against them, finding solace in the quiet of the night outside. It’s early enough that you aren’t scared to walk home alone just yet.

You hear footsteps around you, but you simply drown them out in favor of focusing on washing out your frustration over yourself and that stupid test. Though, it proves a more difficult task when someone slides into the seat next to yours. When you look up, you see Seungmin staring at you. And he’s looking at you with an expression you don’t quite recognize, but equally don’t have the energy to try and deduce.

“Seungmin, I’m not really in the mood—“ He shuts you up with a handkerchief shoved in front of your face. “Why are you offering me a handkerchief?”

“Because you’re crying and seeing your stupid tears makes me upset. So wipe them away.” You stare at the handkerchief before studying his features for any hint of malice, but you see nothing but honest concern. You can’t help but feel a little touched at the uncharacteristic gesture.

“Thanks.” He hums, smiling gently down at you, and you think you’ve never seen him look this small before.

When you take the handkerchief from him, you make sure to return what looks like a trial of a smile amidst your scornful face and Seungmin is genuinely shocked you’d actually direct the closest thing to a smile at him — as if he had expected you to brush off his own and reject it.

When he shifts a little closer to where you’re seated, you surprisingly don’t feel repulsed at the distance and the way his shoulders brush against yours.

“Is it something you wanna talk about?”

The cold and quiet atmosphere of the night and the way Seungmin is looking down at you encourages you to speak, the way you never thought you would with the boy.

“Not really. Just… I’m so stupid for failing that test. And, and maybe if I studied harder than I would’ve at least gotten a more decent score.” You sigh, playing with the handkerchief as you look down in humiliation.

Seungmin scrunches his face. “It’s not your fault. We win some, we lose some. What matters is that we keep going despite the losses.”

He doesn’t snap back at you with a snarky remark like he usually would. Instead, he gives genuinely useful advice, and you think your ears could be deceiving you if he wasn’t seated directly next to you.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you to say something like that.” You laugh a little, and you miss the way the tip of his ears heat in red at being able to solicit a laugh from you.

“You wound me.”

You don’t know what takes over you, but you find yourself leaning your head against his shoulder. For now, you’ll blame it on the exhaustion from crying so much earlier.

Your head against his body feels nice and comforting and warm against the biting air from the night, but you can feel him physically tense up at the contact and you almost pull your head back immediately if he hadn’t rested his head against yours.

The compromising position has Kim Seungmin in contemplation over something that’s been such a great concern in his life for the past few months, almost a year even. It had started when he met you, the first time he ever saw you and heard your voice, and the day he decided he’d spend every second thereafter trying to get your attention.

He mirrors the way you interact with your friends, and yet somewhere along the line, it had been misinterpreted into something it wasn’t and he had to live in pretense of irritating you when all he’s ever wanted was your attention. But, he thought, if this was the only way then he’d have to keep the facade up.

Besides, a little attention (even if it was with hatred) is better than none.

When Seungmin grows uncharacteristically quiet, you start to wonder what he could be thinking about and why there’s a small scrunch in his face as if he was deep in thought.

You never used to wonder what he could be thinking about. What’s changed?

“Seungmin?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you enjoy irritating me so much? Do you hate me?”

Seungmin peels his head from yours, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face. 

“Hate you?” He feels nauseous that you could even think that, and he’s shaking his head quickly, compromising feelings he’s kept hidden for quite a while now. He’s so confounded by your statement that he gets up from his seat on the bench for a second to stare at you before calming down and returning back to his spot. “I don’t hate you. I— I could never hate you.”

You look at him, and you’re surprised to see that he’s genuinely astonished and a little upset at what you had just tried to imply.

“Then why?” You swallow down a lump in your throat, asking him in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from you. This was the perfect opportunity to ask him why, being handed to you straight on your lap, so you bite the bullet and ask.

“I actually thought we’d get along quite well when we met. And then you just started to… I don’t know.” His eyes are soft as he listens to you, lips slightly parted as if trying to think of the perfect explanation to clear your misinterpretations.

When you finish, Seungmin closes his eyes to recollect his thoughts. For a second, you think he might be coming up with an excuse to save himself but the earnest way in which he looks at you the moment he opens his eyes again quiets the voice in your head.

“I just wanted your attention.” His face visibly cringes at the sudden confession. Seungmin feels like he’s floating, looking down at his physical body that’s trying to explain himself without embarrassing himself further.

“You… what?” You blink.

He sighs out, wiping the sweat that’s gathered from his palms down his pants before tilting his head back as if trying to ask strengths from the Gods so he can admit to you whatever he’s been hiding. And then, he looks back at you and he finally confesses what he’s been keeping from you for months.

“I thought that maybe if I acted the way you did with your friends then there’d be a higher chance we’d get along. But then you misinterpreted it as hatred, and I’ve had to pretend I enjoy irritating you when all I really want to do is hold your hand.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as if afraid of your response, but all you can do is stare at him with your mouth parted.

This definitely wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“But… but it really felt like you hated me. Like— when you’d make fun of me for my food choices or that time in the library when you stayed behind to taunt me for being a lost cause.”

“You have me all wrong, (Name). When I asked you what you liked, it was an excuse so I could get it for you. Do you really think I’d accidentally buy too much dinner for Jeongin, and have the excess be exactly your favorites? And… and that night at the library. I stayed behind because I know you’re afraid to walk home late. So you would be less afraid if I walked you home.”

You meet his eyes, breath catching in your throat when you gauge the level of genuineness in his eyes.

“You— You hugged me as a dare in Chan’s party and sometimes that’s all I think about.” Seungmin falls silent after that, simply letting out a breath he feels he’s been holding for too long.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a lot to take in.” He fiddles with the ends of the sweater he’s wearing, making sure to avoid eye contact.

“Seungmin.” The simple sound of his name from your lips has him looking at you despite trying his best not to. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. It must be a lot to take in.”

“I thought you hated me for months and now, you’re telling me the exact opposite.” Your voice gradually quiets down, and Seungmin finds comfort when you scoot in your seat closer. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Would it hurt to start over?” You’re greeted with his softening stare, and he bites his lips in anticipation for your response.

“I think… I think I’d like that.”

Seungmin immediately smiles, the kind of smile that’s difficult to hide even in the inky night, even if he tried.

You find yourself mirroring his own smile.

The thought of finding out the truth behind Seungmin’s actions has always scared you, but now you know you should’ve never been afraid.

Somehow, things are already starting to change, with an outstretched hand in your direction. You find yourself taking it in yours with ease.

“Hi, I’m Seungmin. It’s nice to meet you.”

[zorosimpclub]

late night at the office – Zoro NSFW

characters: zoro roronoa x fem!reader (he's your boss)

boss employee relationship, praising, degrading, light choking | smut | 18+ only – MDNI

word count: 5.5k

She glanced at the clock, it was 8PM and most if not all of her co-workers had gone home. She was assigned to this project by her boss, Zoro – the man was ruthless. He made her repeat her work if there was one small error. Sometimes even when there were 0 errors. That's how ruthless this man was. Today was no different, the client deadline was a few days away but he made her scrap her whole progress and start again.

Zoro sat in his office watching cameras his employees like a hawk, checking on each and every coworker he had. Until he looked at her, seeing her upset. His eyes narrowed and opened up his emails to write her one.

I need to see you in my office.

Minutes turned into hours until she received his email. She held her breath when she saw a small pop up flash on the corner of her laptop screen.

This can't be good, she thought. Sighing, she got up and made her way to his office, stopping right outside. She hesitated a little before finally mustering the courage to knock on it.

Zoro leaned back in his chair, checking through emails as he heard her footsteps outside his office.

“Come in.”

He looked up from his laptop, and fixed his gaze on her. He gestured to a small seat in front of his desk and waited for her to take a seat. She gulped slightly and sat down in the chair, she had no idea what to expect. Zoro was usually really hard to read and today was no different.

Zoro had folded his hands on his desk, looking at her with his sharp eyes. He didn’t waste any time – he didn’t believe in sugarcoating things and was a man of practicality.

”I see you work so hard yet you can’t seem to meet my expectations. I don’t know it your not trying hard enough or you’re just not good at your job."

She felt her lip quiver, he was harsh…there was no surprise there. She bit her bottom lip to fight herself from crying and waited for him to continue talking, knowing that he didn’t just call her into his office to just tell her that.

“I want this project done by the end of the week, I don’t want to hear any excuses. If you can’t get it done by the end of the week…you’re fired, is that understood?”

He wasn't really going to fire her, at most, he was planning to transfer her to another department. He didn't know why he was being such a dick to her...well, he did. Lately his bright eyed employee has been pissing him off. She keeps occupying his damn mind... that infectious smile of hers, her beautiful, innocent eyes...all of it. He didn't know how to feel and it was easier to get rid of her than just dealing with.

"I understand." She spoke up meekly, holding onto her composure so that she didn't burst out crying.

Zoro could see her eyes, they were filling with tears. For a brief moment, he almost felt bad for her. Almost. He let out a sigh and spoke softer whilst remaining stern.

“Good. You can leave but I want the first version of the draft first thing in the morning."

She gasped a little and looked at the clock in his office, "But Mr Zoro, it's 9PM now..."

She already knew what he'd say, it didn't matter because he was definitely going to ask her to pull an all nighter if necessary. It's not like he cared since he usually left the office quite late and in fact, this wasn't the first time she was working late. She wasn’t entirely sure that he had a life outside the office. He was the hardest worker she had ever met, always the last to leave but somehow the first to arrive.

Zoro's eyes locked onto hers.

“Do I need to repeat myself? I don’t care if you have to pull an all nighter here or at your house, as long as you submit the first draft tomorrow morning. That’s all I care about right now.”

At least she had the option to take her work home and work from there if needed. She stood up and excused herself, "Understood."

In the end she decided to finish as much as she could before leaving, she did work better here after all. She began typing away before she heard her co-worker Sanji settled down next to her briefly.

"Y/N my love, you're still here? I'm about to leave now, did you want me to give you a ride?" Sanji asked.

Zoro let out a soft groan as her placed his head against his palms, thoughts racing in his mind. He couldn’t take it. After she left his office, his heart pounded a little. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t going to fire her and that he was harsh on her. He got up and walked out only to see Sanji next to her.

Zoro smirked a little sadistically, he knew what was going on with them. He wanted to hear Sanji ask her out and he wanted her to reject him. Again and again. He went to the water cooler to hear their conversation more clearly.

"Ah thanks Sanji but I don't think I'm leaving any time soon, I have this due tomorrow and it's much more peaceful here than home so I figured I'd stay until I get this done." She smiled softly at Sanji before typing away at her laptop.

Sanji huffed and leaned closer to her before whispering a joke in her ear, to which she giggled.

Zoro rolled his eyes as he heard Sanji’s whisper, hearing her giggle. His jaw clenched a little, he didn’t like her so close to another man, especially Sanji. It felt like he was so close to seeing her date this man, she’s too beautiful to be with someone like Sanji.

He drank some water, hearing Sanji make another remark, hearing her giggle again. He was getting jealous by the second.

He walked towards her desk and raised his brow at Sanji – he had always hated this man. Something about the way he spoke to her made him despise him.

"Why are you still here? Aren't you from the sales department?"

Sanji let out a chuckle, seeing Zoro walk towards his desk. A smug face on Sanji, as he spoke.

“Ah, yeah I’m in the sales department. I was just here for a client, I just happened to see her beautiful face and decided to visit.”

Zoro rolled his eyes again, he knew he was trying to make a move on her. Anyone with eyes could see how desperate he was towards her.

Zoro was furious but kept his calm, tone stern. "Yeah? Well she has something due in the morning so why don't you just leave instead of slowing her down?”

Sanji gave him a playful grin, his eyebrows raised.

“Wow! Mr. Zoro you are pretty protective of her, you should be careful otherwise someone might think you have a thing for your pretty little employee.”

Zoro's face got red as his fists clenched, he didn't like when people saw through him. He couldn't even respond to Sanji’s claims.

"Shut up." Zoro stormed off to his office, feeling a little embarrassed. Did that moron just practically confess for him?

Y/N blinked once. Twice. Thrice. What just happened? It all happened so fast. Why did Zoro get flustered like that?

She shook her head and sighed, "Anyway Sanji, I'm going to get back to work, please feel free to leave. Thanks for offering me to take home but I think I'll just get the late night bus back."

Zoro had his fists clenched, he wasn’t expecting Sanji to be so loud and put those words in her head. It made his blood boil in his veins as he slammed the door to his office with one hand. He sat at his desk, pushing his fingers through his hair. Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did he care so much about another man calling a woman beautiful? He didn’t know. He shook his head, this was getting ridiculous.

Time went on as he heard Sanji leave, the office became silent. It was all him and her.

Zoro couldn’t stand it, he watched from his desk. Seeing her stretch and hearing her tired yawns. Something in him got him to stand up and walk over to her desk. He towered over her.

“Its late, you should go home. You look tired.”

"But I haven't finished yet. I work better here." She shot him a soft smile and continued typing, feeling awkward that he was just standing there. She sensed some tension – what type of tension, she wasn’t sure quite yet.

With him, it was a mixed bag. He has been really kind to her but in a professional, stern way. But he’s also straight up been a dick to her, she wasn’t sure what to think.

He let out a sigh, his attention locked onto her soft smile, he couldn’t look away…it’s like he was mesmerised.

“I know I gave you that deadline earlier but I’ll give you more time. Just leave and get some rest, you need it.”

She perked up a little, "Thanks but I think I can finish up in a couple of hours..." It was obvious that he felt bad, he always does and she was grateful that he showed care for her. But she really wanted to prove to him and herself that she wasn't just going take the easy route.

He stayed silent, watching her type away on her keyboard. He felt like time was going incredibly slow, watching her fingers type. His eyes roamed from her hands to her face, back to her hands then back to her face. His face only got redder at the sight, damned feelings he thought.

–

He left the office and grabbed both of them some takeout before returning – he convinced himself that he would do this for any employee and that it was just him fulfilling his duty as a boss. He pushed open his office door with his shoulder and placed the takeout on his desk.

He should email her to come have dinner since it seems that she hadn't already had it.

After hesitating for the tenth time, Zoro opened his email and wrote to her.

I need to see you in my office.

He wasn't going to tell her that he got takeout, she probably wouldn't come if he did.

She sighed and got up as soon as she saw the email pop up in the corner of her screen. Walking over to his office, she rubbed her temples to prepare herself for whatever the man was about to throw at her.

Zoro watched her walk over to his office, the sight of her just walking over was enough to make him lose his mind.

The moment she walked in he gestured for her to sit down, he put the takeout in front of her. She had no idea the amount of willpower he was exerting to not just kiss her.

She raised a brow not knowing what he asked her here for, there's no way he called her in here because he got her food...right? Maybe he was going to eat in front of her knowing that she hadn’t had any dinner yet but he can’t be that cruel…right?

"You called sir?"

Zoro stayed silent, his heart pounded in his chest. What if she thinks it's inappropriate he bought her food? He felt like the air in the office got thicker as he looked at her. He spoke up with a firm tone, trying to get away from his thoughts.

"Eat."

She looked taken aback and looked at him as if he said the most incredulous thing ever, he was joking right? She didn't know what to say but on cue, her stomach grumbled. She had completely forgotten to eat dinner…

He watched her stomach grumbled, making him feel a little amused. His lips twitched, his eyes darted to the takeout and back to her, wanting her to eat. She hesitated for a bit and leaned in to grab part of her portion. He leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes off her as she began eating.

His lips twitched into a little smile watching her eat, she looked so cute eating. Hell, she looked cute doing anything he thought. Zoro reached for his food and started to eat, his gaze never leaving her form. She ate nervously in silence, the food was good but she didn't know how to take this. Maybe he just felt bad for barking at her earlier.

His gaze was fixated on her eyes, occasionally his stare would wander to her lips as she chewed. Her nervous look only made her all the more gorgeous to his eyes.

He knew she wasn't aware of how attracted he was to her, to be fair, he didn’t know how attracted he was to her until it was just them alone. It was getting harder for him to hide it, every time he looked at her he wanted nothing more than to hold her close to him.

Everything was fine until she bit into the hotdog, causing the sauce to squirt on her cleavage. She panicked and wiped it off with her finger before licking it clean.

Zoro almost bit the side of his mouth as he saw her. She was eating the hotdog so innocently. He nearly lost it when the sauce made contact with her cleavage.

The sight of her innocently licking the sauce up with her tongue was enough for him to want to pin her to the wall and kiss her. But he snapped back to reality, he quickly cleared his mind and coughed a little.

"Thank you for the food." She squeaked, breaking the awkward silence that had built up.

Zoro let out a small chuckle. He looked at what she was wearing and had an inappropriate thought that he immediately pushed away.

“You’re welcome, you still have sauce on you,” He pointed to a spot of sauce on her cleavage that she had missed.

Y/N squealed a little and got flustered as she looked down to the sauce. Zoro got up and walked around his desk, sitting on it. He was directly in front of her now. She felt incredibly self conscious with the sauce still on her cleavage but for some reason she froze. She couldn’t move or say anything.

Zoro could feel himself getting more and more attracted to her. He watched as she seemed to freeze, it made him want to do something about it. He leaned forward, his face getting closer to hers.

“M-Mr Zoro?”

Zoro smirked a little at her squeaky voice. She looked so adorable right now, it made him want to close the gap between them.

“You’re so adorable...” He whispered leaning forward even more, his face inches away from hers.

She was shocked, this is so unexpected. Was she so tired that she was hallucinating?

“Y/N…" He called name her softly. He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. He couldn't help but think about how badly he wanted to kiss her right now.

She closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath on her lips. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t think of him late at night, as harsh as the man was on her, he was often the object of her fantasies. In fact, she’d moaned his name as she pleasured herself countless times.

Zoro couldn't take it anymore, his eyes burning with desire. He couldn't resist any more, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. It was more of a teasing kiss than anything else, but it she felt intense sparks.

The soft moan from her only fueled Zoro's passion. He deepened the kiss, his hands gently holding her face. He could feel her trembling against him, and it only made him want more.

He broke the kiss and dipped his head to her chest only to lick the sauce off without breaking eye contact. She gasped at the sight and tightened her grip on her chair. She wanted to touch him but she was too afraid to, she didn’t know how to approach the situation. Zoro pulled back slightly, his eyes twinkling with lust as he looked at her. He could feel the tension in the air, the desire radiating off of them both.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, "You taste even better than I imagined.”

“Y-you’ve imagined tasting me?” She blushed deeply and locked her gaze onto his eyes.

“Well, you are pretty irresistible."

Zoro teased, his gaze never leaving hers. He wanted her, there was no denying it. He reached out and gently traced his fingers along her cheekbone, his touch sending shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes and leaned it to his touch, which left behind burning heat. Her body ached for him, it wasn’t a want anymore… it was a need.

Zoro could feel the heat radiating off of her, his desire for her only growing stronger. He leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from hers.

"I want you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

She looked up at him with those big doe eyes that he loved so much and nodded slowly.

Zoro's heart raced with anticipation as he leaned down to claim her lips once more, his hands running through her hair as he deepened the kiss. He knew he shouldn't go this far with her, but he couldn't help himself. He’d worry about the mess tomorrow. She fluttered her eyes shut and kissed back passionately, letting her hand roam his body shyly.

The kiss was intoxicating, and Zoro found himself lost in the heat of the moment. He groaned softly against her lips, his body responding to her touch. He broke the kiss for a moment, their breaths heavy and ragged.

"You're so fucking beautiful.”

She watched as he loosened his tie and smirked at her. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her thighs together in response to how attractive he looked.

“Mr Zoro…”

Zoro reached out and undid the first button of her shirt, his eyes burning with desire.

"Don’t you think you need to be punished? For flirting with other men, hm?” he questioned, his voice husky with need.

He took of his tie and tied it around her eyes, blindfolding her. She gasped and stayed still, part of her feeling like it was on fire.He trailed his hands over her skin, unbuttoning more of her shirt as he went.

"I can’t believe I get to do this to you.”

She didn’t stop him, after all she did want him in every way. He took this as a sign to continue unbuttoning her shirt. His heart pounded in his chest as he exposed more of her skin to the cool air. His hands were shaking slightly, not from fear or hesitation, but from the overwhelming desire coursing through him.

"You’ve been driving me crazy.”

She gulped visibly and leaned her head back, exposing her naked neck and clavicle. Zoro's fingers brushed against her soft skin, tracing delicate patterns on her skin as he leaned in closer. His lips grazed her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

"You're making this very hard for me," he murmured against her skin.

He leaned down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, flicking his tongue sensually around it. A moan escaped from under her blindfold as she arched her back, offering more of herself to him. Her other nipple hardened at the sensation, begging for the same attention. He chuckled darkly and grazed his teeth against her as he gave her other nipple a pinch.

Her body trembled with anticipation and need. "Zoro," she panted, her voice filled with desire and longing. "Please...”

“Patience sweetheart. I did say that you were going to be punished didn’t I?” He sucked, bit and licked her nipples before lifting her skirt and moved her panties to the side. His rough hands slid over her mound, teasing her sensitive folds with his fingers.

"Look at you, dripping for me to touch you." he growled against her skin. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream, is that okay sweetheart?”

She grinded her hips on his fingers and nodded, begging to feel them inside of her. Unable to resist any longer, Zoro thrust his fingers inside of her, groaning at the feeling of her slick walls squeezing around him.

"You're so tight," he moaned, his pace becoming rougher.

She moaned and bucked her hips faster. It felt so good, she couldn’t even think straight. That however changed as soon as he slipped his fingers out of her, she moaned in protest and she heard something ruffling near her. She felt herself be lifted from the seat by her waist and laid down on the table.

“I think I have some space for dessert.”

Before she could ask what he meant, she felt something wet trail along her pussy. In an instant, she gripped his hair and ground herself against his tongue. Zoro moaned around her clit as he alternated between licking and sucking, loving the way she was writhing against his mouth. He moved to the side, sliding his tongue inside of her as he thrust two fingers inside of her.

“Mr Zoro!" she cried out, her body shaking with pleasure. Her hips bucked against his hands as she came undone, her moans echoing in the empty room.

As she finally came down from her orgasm, Zoro pulled his fingers out of her and stood up. He gave her a wicked grin.

"Now it's my turn." He pushed his pants and boxers down, freeing his already hard cock.

He took off her blindfold and yanked her to his chest.

“Now look at me when I fuck you," he growled, his voice dangerously low. He pushed her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes as he thrust into her, claiming her body completely. Her body was slick with their combined fluids as he slowly started to pick up speed, slamming into her with a primal groan.

He gripped her hair, pulling her head back as he took what he wanted from her. He peppered kisses and bites on her neck as he pounded mercilessly into her tight hole.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of fucking you like this?”

She gasped, her body arching into his as he hit her sweet spot. "Mr Zoro…" she moaned, her voice filled with desire and lust.

"T-Too much." she panted, her body trembling under his relentless thrusting.

“Good. Your punishment is cumming over and over again until you can’t think straight, are we clear, princess?”

“Yes," she whimpered, her body throbbing with need. "Please.”

He thrust into her so deep, she swore she could feel him hitting her cervix. She could feel every inch of him pulsating inside of her, claiming her like he would never get to touch her again. His fingers found her clit, rubbing it roughly and sending waves of pleasure through her.

He withdrew from her slowly, only to push back in hard, his muscles rippling as he hit the spot that made her scream out his name. His hips snapped with each hard thrust, driving him deep inside of her.

She held her breath as his balls slapped against her ass in all the right places. She could feel herself getting closer but the pleasure was overwhelming, making it nearly impossible to think straight. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around him in anticipation.

Her cries of pleasure and pain mingled together, echoing through the room. Her climax hit her hard, her body shuddering underneath him. Zoro’s own climax was imminent, his cock throbbing inside her.

“Look at you, you’re such a little slut aren’t you? Pretending to be innocent with those big pretty eyes but here you are, taking dick from your boss like a cumslut.” He chuckled dryly and pushed her against the door, her chest rubbing against the door every time he thrusted into her.

Zoro lightly gripped her neck and fucked her senseless, he wanted to have her like this every day. Everyday whilst everyone outside had no clue what was going on inside. Her eyes widened, both from the pleasure and surprise of his grip on her neck.

She couldn't help but moan loudly, her body arching off the door in response to his rougher actions. "Y-yes, Mr Zoro!”

"That's it, moan my name princess." He groaned out, thrusting harder into her. His grip on her neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt her but enough to leave a mark if anyone were to find them like this.

She moaned his name, her body trembling from the intense pleasure and the sensation of being taken by him. "Ahh...”

Her eyes rolled back in her head, lost in the pleasure he was giving her. "Mr Zoro!" She cried out, her body shuddering under his rough treatment. She couldn't believe how much she craved this dominance from him. Zoro leaned in, his free hand running up her leg and over her thigh, his fingers finding her clit again.

He circled her clit slowly, teasing her further as he continued to fuck her against the door. "You're mine to claim whenever I want, understand?”

Her body convulsed around his fingers and his cock, her voice barely more than a whimper now. "Y-yes, Mr Zoro!" She panted, her eyes locked onto his. There was no denying the truth in her words—she belonged to him completely.

Feeling her submission, Zoro groaned deeply, his hips snapping faster as he took her roughly against the door.

"And you'll always remember this, won't you?" He asked, his voice thick with lust and possession.

"Y-yes, Mr Zoro," she panted, her voice barely audible over their heavy breaths. "I'll always remember this."

Hearing her confirm his words, Zoro felt a rush of power course through him. He gripped her tighter, biting his bottom lip as he drove deeper into her, claiming her in every sense of the word.

Her cries of pleasure mixed with his name filled the room, echoing off the walls. Her body arched off the door, meeting his brutal thrusts with unyielding desire. This was their dance—one of dominance and submission, pain and pleasure—and she was his perfect partner.

“I’m going to fill you up with my cum, got it?”

"Please, yes!" she whimpered, feeling his thick cock throbbing against her sensitive walls. The thought of him filling her up with his seed sent shivers of anticipation down her spine.

"That's my obedient princess." He groaned out, his voice low and rough with lust as his hips pistoned into her. His pace grew more rapid, his cock sliding in and out of her with brutal speed as he prepared to unleash his seed inside her.

“Fuck! Take my load!”

“Mmph!" She gasped, feeling him pulsing inside of her. His cum filled her up, claiming her in the most intimate way possible. She cried out his name as the intensity of the sensations washed over her.

She screamed, her body shuddering under the pleasure. Every muscle in her body was taut with anticipation as he continued to empty himself into her. His hips bucked wildly against hers, driving him deeper still as he claimed her completely.

"Look at me when you take my cum."

He snarled, yanking her head back by the hair, forcing her to meet his gaze as he exploded inside her. His words snapped her back to reality, and she finally registered the loud grunts of his orgasm echoing around them as his cum shot into her, filling her up and making her sob out his name again.

He pulled out of her and carried her to his chair before sitting down with her in his lap. Panting heavily, she felt him shift her so that she was now sitting in his lap, her legs dangling slightly. Her body trembled from the aftermath of their intense lovemaking, her heart still racing from the sheer intensity of it all.

“So…” she started.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark and smoldering with lust. "So," he drawled, running a rough thumb over her swollen lips, "you just fucked your boss huh?" His voice was rough with satisfaction and pride.

She blushed and hid her face with her hands.

Chuckling softly, Zoro wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

“It's alright, I won't fire you.” he teased, his other hand traced gentle patterns on her stomach, trying to soothe her blush. “In fact…from now on, this is your duty.”

He growled low in his throat, nibbling on her earlobe as he started to grind his hard cock against her still-sensitive core.

"Every day during work, you come to my office and let me have my way with you, understood?”

“Y-yes, Mr Zoro," she whispered, shivering in pleasure at the thought of the things he would do to her.

“Good girl." He murmured approvingly before leaning down to capture her lips in a slow, deep kiss that left her reeling. As he held her close, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that from now on, this beautiful woman was his to claim whenever he wanted.

“Oh and your work is actually good, I was just being harsh on you because I wanted to not like you." He admitted sheepishly “I was never planning to fire you, sorry for being rude to you.”

She blushed and cuddled against him, her heart fluttering with happiness. "Thank you, Mr Zoro." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with adoration and desire. "I'm glad I didn't disappoint you.”

“Zoro.”

“Hm?” She looked at him, a little puzzled as to why he was saying his own name.

“Just Zoro.” He smiled at her and captured her lips into a sweet kiss.

"Yes, Zoro," she breathed, returning his kiss eagerly. A warm shiver ran down her spine as he continued to touch her in ways that made her body tremble with anticipation. She was his now, completely and utterly.

"That's a good girl." He whispered against her lips before pulling back to look into her eyes.

"Now, let me drive you home." His tone was both commanding, leaving no room for hesitation or refusal. He wasn’t going to let her get the bus alone, definitely not at this hour. She nodded.

–

Once they reached her home, he parked the car carefully. His hand gently guided her out of the vehicle, their connection undeniable. As they stood on her porch, he leaned down and captured her lips once more, his tongue teasing and tasting her mouth.

He pulled away and stroked her hair lightly, “In all seriousness, this wasn’t driven by lust. Well, part of it was… but I do like you. A lot.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, making her heart race even faster. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with desire and a hint of admiration.

"I... I like you too, Zoro…do you want to come inside?" she whispered softly, biting her lower lip nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he took her hand,

"Alright then, let's continue this inside." His voice was sweet but seductive, his grip firm yet gentle.

-–

As always, feel free to request a fic! :) Here's my third Zoro fic (I cannot stop writing about this man helP RJSGIOEJ) anyway, please lmk if you enjoyed this one! seeing comments on my last few fics made my day (maybe that's why i'm churning out these fics so fast??? LMAO) <3

[profound-imagination]

Come Back, Be Here - Ruhn Danaan

A/N: Longest Ruhn fic I’ve ever written! Did I break my own heart while writing this? Yes. Did I make myself cry while writing this? Also yes. Please enjoy! Angst to Fluff I think? Not properly proof read!❤️

T/W: Talks of injury and torture. Memory loss. I think that’s it! Let me know if I’ve missed any!

W/C: 5.5k

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beep…beep…beep…

“Sorry, what was that?” You asked Declan, pulling yourself back from listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the buzzing of the hospital lighting. Six months. He’d been held captive and tortured for six months until Bryce had returned with help and they’d rescued him. Flynn was sporting some nasty wounds and Ithan had a broken leg but both of them looked a damn sight better than Ruhn apparently. Dec himself was covered in dust and blood and sporting cuts and bruises. People always seemed to underestimate Declan but he was a warrior, just like his brothers.

“I said you need to be prepared for what you’re going to see, he looks bad Y/N and it is bad but the witches say he’s fighting to come back to us.” Unconscious, that was how they’d found him, breathing, but unconscious and he was yet to wake up. You had been told it was his body’s way of working to heal itself. “I’m scared.” You admitted to them for the first time since he’d been taken, pulling your hair out of the button on your coat it had tangled itself round in your haste to get here after Dec had called you to say they had him. “I’m prepared, I need to see him Dec.” He nodded and Flynn grabbed your hand and limped into the room beside you as Dec opened the door.

It was like your mind couldn’t comprehend what you were seeing. It was the little orange bottles of various medications that you spotted first, lined up neatly on the table next to Ruhn’s bed. Your grip on Flynn’s hand tightened as you took him in. Broken. Bruised. “His hair.” Was the first thing you said. Gone was the long midnight blue hair you’d spent so many hours braiding and styling, it had obviously been shaved at some point and was at the beginning stages of growing back. Then your eyes roamed over his face, black eyes, a tube up his nose, that was clearly broken, cuts and bruises littered his beautiful face.

It was his arms you saw next, again, littered with cuts and bruises but something else, something else was different, wrong, about his arms. It took a few moments for your brain to catch up and Dec and Flynn waited for you to catch up with what they already knew. “Where’s his tattoos?” You asked quietly, your lunch trying to make its way back up your throat. “They, uh, I mean we think, we think they cut them out or that his arms were completely skinned.” Flynn told you as gently as he could, squeezing your hand tighter. You swallowed the vomit that had crawled up your throat and closed your eyes, letting the tears fall. It only got worse when you opened your eyes again to look at Ruhn once more and you saw his chest.

What appeared to be letters had been branded into his skin. T.R.A.I.T.O.R. Other words had been carved into his skin using what you assumed was a very sharp, very thin blade. You threw up then, falling to your knees and spilling the contents of your stomach on the hospital room floor. Ruhn’s brothers were by your side in an instant. Flynn holding your hair out of your face, Declan rubbing your back in soothing circles. “What else?” You croaked when you finally stopped retching. “We assume plenty of mental trauma and just a lot more cuts and bruises, he’s been whipped, his back was in ribbons but Paxia managed to heal a lot of it, it’s all scabbed over now. We aren’t sure how much he went through though, how many times they took him apart and put him back together again.”

Days, weeks you spent sitting at his bedside waiting for him to wake up. “You should go to the house, have a shower, get changed, have something to eat and a nap, we’ll let you know if he wakes up.” Tharion said gently, you’d had this same argument with Ithan, Dec and Flynn all separately over the last few weeks. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.” You muttered weakly from your seat on the chair next to his bed, knees to your chest and head resting on your knees. “He won’t, I promise I’ll stay right here until you get back.” He told you. “Why hasn’t Bryce been to visit?” You asked him instead, trying to change the subject. “She’s with Hunt, trying to break through to him, he’s her mate.” You huffed “Ruhn’s her brother.” You’d also had this argument with the others as well. “He wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself, Y/N.” You sighed, he was right. “They sent you as a last resort to get me out of here didn’t they?” He nodded, “They know you can’t say no to me.” He smirked.

“I never told him.” Tharion crouched in front of you, “Told him what?” He asked, tucking a greasy strand of hair behind your ear. “How I feel about him.” Tharion smiled gently, “I think he knows kid, I think he’s known since you were a kid and you told him he could come live in your treehouse because his dad was always mad and you thought it was because his house was haunted.” You flushed with embarrassment. “He must’ve thought I was a stupid kid.” Tharion laughed, “I can picture little you, having the biggest crush on him.” You nodded, “You and Bryce were always the most important things in his life, still are, he just doesn’t see one of you as a little sister anymore.” Dec’s voice pulled your attention towards the door. “Go home, come back in a few hours, we’ll be here.” Tharion held out a hand to you and you took it and let him pull you to your feet. You placed a gentle kiss on Ruhn’s forehead. “I won’t be long.” You told him and then followed Tharion out the door.

“Wake up, Y/N, wake up!” You startled awake at Tharion shaking you, “He woke up!” You shot off the sofa and beelined towards the door, “Wait!” Tharion called after you, “You need to put trousers on!” You stopped and turned as a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie hit you in the face and you pulled them on as quickly as you could.

You hated running, detested it in fact, but as you ran down the hallways of the hospital to Ruhn’s room it seemed like you couldn’t move fast enough and that the halls stretched on forever. As you rounded the corner to his room you saw Ithan, he took a step towards you as you approached, “Y/N-“ you breezed past him and into the room. “Where is she? Dec? Where is she?” You heard Ruhn ask as you rounded the curtain that surrounded his bed. “She’s coming.” Dec told his brother “Ruhn?” You choked out as you approached his bed and threw your arms around him and sobbed. “Dec, who is this? Where’s Lidia?” His words hit you like a physical blow and you reeled back from him. “Ruhn it’s me, it’s Y/N.” You told him as he studied you. “I’ve never met you before.” He said, “Did you help Bryce?” You looked at Dec and Flynn who both looked equally confused. “Bro, do you really not know who she is?” Flynn asked, gesturing to you. Ruhn shook his head, “No, I told you, we’ve never met.” He said, your throat felt thick and tears stung your eyes. “You’ve known me since I was 5-“ your voice cracked and you backed towards the curtain.“You’re my biggest hero.” The tears fell and you turned and fled.

They found you at the house, staring blankly at the floor. Tharion approached you first and crouched in front of you, much like he’d done earlier that day. “We spoke to Pax. She thinks his mind has blocked things out, that he blocked them out while he was down there as a way to protect those he cares about.” You didn’t move, “But he knows all of you, why was it just me?” You sniffled, he sighed gently,

“She doesn’t know, maybe because you’re half fae and you haven’t made the drop yet, he wanted to protect you but she seemed confident the memories would come back, that you should visit and talk to him, tell him stories and help him remember.” You shook your head, “I’m a stranger to him now, he won’t want me there.” Flynn sat next to you, “That’s rubbish and you know it.”

You didn’t go back. It had been two weeks and he was coming home today. You’d cleaned the entire place top to bottom and changed the sheets on his bed from where you’d stayed there while he was being held, erasing any sign of yourself from his bedroom. Ithan had text you that they were on their way back as you flicked through the scrap book you’d made. Hypaxia had insisted his memories would return with a little help so you caved. You’d filled the pages with everything you could think of from his friendship with his brothers, to Bryce, to his favourite places.

The door swung open and there he was, arms wrapped around Dec and Flynn as they helped him into the house. “Hey kid!” Tharion beamed at you and you gave him a small smile in return as Ithan wrapped you in a hug. Dec and Flynn sat Ruhn on the sofa and took their place next to him. “Can I get you anything?” You asked him, shier than you’d ever been around Ruhn. He shook his head, “Y/N, right?” He asked, you nodded, “That’s me.” You said quietly, “They tell me you’re important to me, I’m trying to remember why but I can’t” You shrugged, “It doesn’t matter, you’re alive and home, that’s what’s important, besides, I think you were always more important to me than I was to you.” You didn’t miss the pitying looks from everyone else in the room.

“What’s that?” Ruhn asked after the others had dispersed. The assholes leaving you alone with him. You handed him the scrapbook you’d made with a bashful smile on your face. “They said to make something for you to look at to maybe help jog your memory, so, uh that’s what I did.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, you felt pathetic, desperate. You watched his hands instead as he took great care in opening the book. You watched him smile at the pages with his brothers and his friends, he beamed at the Bryce pages. “You went to Embers?” He asked, a shocked look on his face. “You told me once you wished she’d been your mom, even though she’s younger than you. She was like a mother to you, plus she had adorable pictures of you and Bryce.” He studied your face. “That’s like 8 hours each way.” You shrugged, “It was for you.”

You watched mortified as he got to your pages. He ran a deft finger down the first picture. “Is this us?” He asked showing you the picture. Ruhn was beaming down at you, sat in his lap, hands on his face smiling back up at him. You smiled bashfully. “Uh yeah, that was the day we first met, I was 5, I think you were around 55. Ember and my mom were friends and I was a super timid kid, super shy and awkward so they organised a play date with Bryce who’s always been my polar opposite. Then you turned up and Bryce was so excited to see you, and quite literally dragged me over to you. She made me tell you my name and then she made you play with us. Except I didn’t play, I just stood there as she started setting up the tea party we were having that I had no interest in. I just wanted to go back to my colouring. You coaxed me over to you telling me that you wanted to show me a magic trick. Well of course I couldn’t resist so I stepped closer and you showed me your starlight. I remember being amazed, like absolutely captivated. You told Bryce to bring my colouring pens over with her, which she complained about because we weren’t colouring, we were having a tea party but she brought them over anyways. You showed me your tattoos, they didn’t all have colour then and you weren’t covered yet and you asked me to colour them in and fill the gaps. I spent the afternoon sat on your lap colouring your arms while you had a tea party with Bryce.” He smiled warmly and turned the page as you told him “I think you’re why I’m a tattoo artist now. I did some of your ink in fact.”

He was silent for a while as he took in the various pictures of the two of you at parties, at the beach, at the White Raven. He hesitated on a particular photo, a look on his face you couldn’t decipher. It had been taken from the back door. Ruhn was lying flat on his back and you were straddling his hips. He was looking at you like you were special, you were completely unaware, laughing at Flynn who had caught you both and was taking the photo. “What were we to each other?” He asked quietly. Your stomach twisted. “Um, I never knew if I’m honest. You’ve been in my life since I was 5 and I was like a little sister to you and you had been my favourite person in the world since that first day, but at some point around my 23rd birthday, when Bryce came back into your life that seemed to change, like you saw me as something more like I’d always dreamed of, but we never talked about it, if we were friends or more, if we had feelings for each other. You pulled away from me about 6 weeks before you were taken, I didn’t know why until Flynn told me about Agent Daybright.” You turned the page to find a certain picture. He studied it, a selfie this time, taken where you were currently sitting with him.

“This was my 24th birthday, last year. It had been really shit for everyone. Do you remember the demon attack? Bryce making the drop?” He nodded. “My parents died in that attack, I had nowhere to go so you let me move in here, in fact you wouldn’t hear of me living anywhere else. My first night living here was my birthday. I was miserable all day, I refused to come out of my room, when you’d finally coaxed me out of my bedroom with the promise of desserts and whatever take out I wanted for dinner you’d sent everyone else out. You knew I wouldn’t be able to handle the love they’d smother me with. So we sat and smoked, ate take out and watched my favourite movies. You kissed me for the first time that night and I smiled for the first time in weeks. You told me that you’d kiss me a million times over if it meant I’d smile at you like that.”

He continued to flick through the book, taking in the pages. “Can I ask you something?” You asked softly, he met your eyes and nodded. “Who’s Lidia?” He froze for a half a second, “Lidia is Agent Daybright, Lidia Cervos.” You gasped, “The Hind?” He nodded. There was so much you wanted to ask, did he really think she was his mate? Was she actually his mate, did he love her? But he didn’t need that right now so instead you asked, “Is she safe? Is there anything I can do for her?” He studied you for a while, choosing his words. “You made this whole book to help me remember you and anything else I may have forgotten, you’ve just sat and been really honest with me about how you feel about me and then you offer to help her? You’d do that?” You fought the tears, “For you? Yeah I would. Happiness is all I want for you Ruhn.”

“She’s safe.” He finally said, “She went back with Bryce’s friends, there was no life for her here anymore, we both knew whatever we could’ve had couldn’t be fixed now.” You nodded, “I’m sorry you lost her.” He gave you a sad smile, “I’m sorry I can’t remember you, what I felt for you, I do know that I want you around though, as soon as you left my hospital room I wanted you to come back.” A tear escaped your eye and he brushed it away, “I want to remember you, little one.” He said, his face morphing into horror when you started crying harder. “I’m sorry, don’t cry because of me!” He said, grabbing your hands. “No, it’s just, you always called me that, little one, well that or-“ he cut you off “Princess.”

Your laugh was watery as you looked up at him, “Yeah, Bryce hated it when you called her that, she kicked off about it when we were 7 and you just laughed at her and called her trouble instead as she crossed her arms and huffed but you just picked me up and said ‘Y/N can be my Little Princess instead.’ and it stuck. I’m nearly 25 and you still call me that, even when Flynn teases me for it.” He smiled slightly, and asked “So you’re human then? If you grew up around Bryce and Ember?” “Not quite, there’s a little bit of Fae in me but I didn’t get the ears or the glow that you all have, that Bryce has, just the long lifespan but I haven’t made the drop yet.” He placed the book down carefully on the coffee table and turned to face you, “Why not?” You gave him a small smile, “You were going to be my anchor, it was what we were going to do on my 25th birthday.” He seemed to be registering just how intertwined your lives were, “I’ll do it eventually, I’ll get Tharion to be my anchor or use the one they provide.”

“When is your birthday?” He asked and you flushed, “Um, it’s today actually.” You both flinched at the crash from the kitchen and Flynn who appeared in the doorway, Dec just behind him. “We missed your birthday?! Why didn’t you tell us?” You shrugged, “Wasn’t important.” Flynn huffed, “Yes it is! We’re terrible! No presents, no party! We just did nothing!” He pointed at Ruhn, “I blame you, you normally remind us of all the Y/N related events!” Ruhn held his hands up in mock surrender, “My bad man, lemme go back in time to yesterday so I can remind you that it’s the girl I don’t remember birthday tomorrow!” You laughed at them, “Stop it, it really doesn’t matter!” Dec shoved Flynn out of his way, “Yes it does, you need to stop playing things off like you aren’t important, you are! Can we have a do over? What day is it now? Thursday? Give us Saturday as a do over, please?” You sighed, “Guys it’s not a big deal! Helping Ruhn heal and get better that’s what’s important, not re doing my birthday.”

Another crash, this time, “It’s your birthday?!” Ithan shouted as he skidded at the bottom of the stairs. The front door opened and Tharion strolled in, a gift bag and a balloon in hand and waltzed straight over to you, “Happy birthday, kid!” He smiled as he dropped a kiss on the top of your head and handed you the bag and balloon. He took in the others, the looks on their faces, “Was I the only one that remembered?” Dec nodded, Tharion pointed at Ruhn, “I blame you, you normally remind them of all Y/N related events.” Flynn threw his hands in the air “That’s what I said!!” Ruhn rolled his eyes, “Thank you, Tharion.” You smiled up at him as you took in the freshwater pearl earrings he’d gifted you. “You’re welcome kid, I know you loved those ones you pawned to get to Embers the other day so I-“ he seemed to realise what he’d said, “I wasn’t meant to say that.” Dec, Flynn and Ithan all looked confused, Ruhn’s expression was unreadable as you muttered, “No, you weren’t.”

Ruhn took that scrap book with him everywhere, studied it for hours as if it’d force his brain to remember what it had blocked out. You’d agreed to let them give you a birthday redo in the end. Flynn wouldn’t stop whining about it. Ruhn had been quiet for the most part. He asked questions as and when they came to him. You’d just gotten out of the bath, your hair wrapped in a towel, one of Ruhn’s old T-shirts thrown onto wear while you got ready for the party they were throwing you. You’d just finished your skincare when you heard a crash from down the hall, Ruhn’s room.

You didn’t knock on his bedroom door. You strolled in to find Ruhn sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands wearing only his boxers. You saw the full extent then, the bruises and healing cuts, the lacerations that were now scabbed over on his back from where he’d been whipped. “Ruhn?” You said his name quietly so you didn’t startle him, “Are you okay?” He didn’t move as he mumbled, “My hair.” His long locks gone, it had been shaved at some point, it was now more like Flynn’s boy band hair as Ruhn like to joke. An adjustment you were sure. “What about it?” You asked him, approaching carefully. “It’s gone, I don’t know what to do with this!” He exclaimed tugging at the strands. “Can I?” You asked, gesturing towards him, he nodded and you knelt behind him on his bed.

“I loved your long hair, but y'know I think I love the short hair too.” You told him as you ran your fingers through it. “Really?” He asked and you hummed, “I used to spend hours braiding and styling your hair.” He raised an eyebrow at you through the mirror on the wall opposite the bed, “I gave you some right questionable hair styles over the years, you wore them all with pride.” You ran your fingers through his hair again, “I can do something with this for sure, if you’re okay with that?” He met your eyes in the mirror, “Please?” You nodded and got up and walked into his bathroom to get the products you wanted, he watched you go.

“Nice shirt.” He said as you returned to his room, “Oh this old thing? Some guy I hooked up with once gave it to me so I’d stay and sleep in his room rather than going back to my own.” He looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said, “That’s my shirt though.” He said, so he remembered the shirt then, you smirked, “Yeah, I was talking about you.” His mouth dropped open and formed an O. “We? When?” He stuttered out, “You didn’t mention that the other day!” You laughed, “The walls had ears the other day! I mean they probably all already know.” He looked at you still waiting for an answer. “Christmas eve, after too many mulled wines.” He contemplated, “What?” You asked him with a laugh, “Was that the first time?” You nodded, “That was the only time.” He hummed, “Drunk after too many mulled wines?” You laughed again, “Yup.” He hummed again, “What?” You repeated, “It just seems like if you’re as important as the guys say you are to me I’d have made it special, not a drunk hookup on Christmas Eve.” You smiled at him as you walked past him and crawled behind him, “It was kinda perfect actually. I know it sounds like it was just a quick drunk hookup but it wasn’t, it was slow and sweet, we giggled a lot, it was special, because it was us.”

He didn’t say anything else as you styled his hair. When you were finished he was staring at his arms, “I’ll fix them for you, if you want, when you’re fully healed.” He smiled slightly, “I’d like that.” You nodded, “No problem, but for the time being a might have a solution!” You sprang from his bed and ran down the hallway to your room. One you had found what you were looking for you walked back to Ruhn, grinning ear to ear. “Glittery stick on tattoos?” He laughed when he read the packet. “I volunteer as a big sister for a little girl who lost her parents in the attack, I got these for her but I can replace them and I think they’ll look amazing on you.”

By the time you were done you were both grinning and laughing, Ruhn had arms full of glittery tattoos and he’d stuck one on your cheek. It took you both a moment to realise you’d ended up straddling his hips as you stuck the last two on his neck. Ruhn cleared his throat, a blush rising on both of your cheeks. You lightly traced the letters burned into his skin, “If this heals well I can cover it,” you told him, “How do you feel about an awesome chest piece?” He gently removed you from his lap and smiled, “I feel pretty good about that, princess.” You weren’t sure he even realised he’d called you that and you weren’t about to question it. You awkwardly scratched the back of your neck and said, “I should probably go and get ready.” And hightailed it out of his room, he watched you go for the second time.

You had to hand it to the guys, they threw together an amazing party and they had spoiled you rotten with gifts. You were currently handing Flynn’s ass to him in beer pong when Ruhn approached you and offered you a hand, you met his eyes for a couple of seconds and then took it without question. He led you out of the living room and front door and out onto the street. “Where are we going? The party is back there!” You asked him, “Do you trust me?” He asked, “Always.” He smiled down at you, “Good, I have something to show you.” You followed him through the streets until he stopped outside a building. You gave him a questioning look, “Why are we outside an abandoned building?” You asked him, he rolled his eyes, “Look up, Princess.” It was then that you spotted the sign, brand new and freshly done, it read, ‘Starborn Tattoos’ you gasped, “Dec said the studio you worked in got destroyed during the attack and that you’d been living on your savings since then, he also said it had always been your dream to own your own shop, so, Happy Birthday, Princess.” He said as he handed you the keys from his pocket. “I-I don’t know what to say, Ruhn, this is too much! You aren’t just doing this because you feel bad that you can’t remember me are you?” He shook his head, “I’m doing this because it feels like the right thing to do.” Tears escaped your eyes, “Thank you! Can I hug you? Is that okay?” He laughed and pulled you into his chest.

He gave you a tour inside the shop, “It’s perfect!” You sequeled as you told him your vision for it. “You’ll be the first person I tattoo in here!” You circled the space once more, “Starborn Tattoos, how did you know? Did Dec tell you the name?” He shrugged, “Lucky guess after you told me you thought I was the reason you’re an artist.” You nodded, you couldn’t believe the heart this man had, after all he’d been through. “We’re not done yet, we’ve got once more place to go.” He told you and you span to face him, “Ruhn this is more than enough, like seriously, you don’t have to get me another present for the rest of my life.” He rolled his eyes and took your hand again, “Come on!”

You stopped dead when you realised where he was taking you. “We don’t have to do this, Ruhn.” You told him as you looked up at the Drop centre. “Yes, we do, we made a deal.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, “But you don’t even know me anymore.” You felt his hands on your face and opened your eyes, “Trust me, Princess.” You nodded and followed him in.

You were falling, and falling, and falling. It seemed to go on for an eternity before you hit the bottom. All you could see was white and a runway. You could hear the clock ticking down, you needed to run, to make the leap to go back but then there he was. Long hair, covered in tattoos, smoking a rolled cigarette as he walked towards you. “There’s my princess!” He cheered as he flicked his cigarette off to the side and pulled you into him. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. The clock was still counting down but Ruhn was here, the one that knew you. The one that maybe loved you. “You need to go back, you know that right?” He asked as you wrapped your arms around him tighter. “I want to stay here with you, you know me.” He kissed the top of your head, “I’ll always know you, Princess. You’ve been so strong for me, so kind.” You cried into his chest. “It hurts that you don’t know me!” You wailed, “It hurts that you asked for her when you woke up and everyone was convinced you were asking for me!” He ran a soothing hand down your back, “I know little one, I know.” You let out a shuddering breath, “I can’t say any of this to you though, because it isn’t your fault and you’re trying, I know you’re trying, but I’m so sad without you and I can’t voice that because it isn’t fair! None of this is fair! You never should’ve gone and got caught up in Bryce’s drama and obsession with Danika, she hasn’t even been to visit!” He pulled you away from his chest, “She’s my little sister, baby, I’m always going to get involved.” You nodded, “I know.”

He wiped the tears from your face, “You left me Ruhn.” He kissed your forehead, “That’s not true, I’m waiting for you right now.” You heard him then, the Ruhn that was waiting for you, the one that had bought you a building. “Come back, Princess.” You looked into his eyes, “Go.” Was all he said, “Will you come with me?” You asked, “Of course, I’ll always come with you.” He said as he took your hand. “Come back, you can do it!” You both took off at a sprint and when you reached the end of the runway you jumped, Ruhn with you. A quarter of the way Ruhn fell behind and pushed you, still grasping your hand, half way he started to fade, three quarters of the way, “I love you, little one.” He said, his voice quiet, he was gone as you reached the top and your eyes shot open.

Ruhn was hovering over you, “I know you.” He said, he voice a whisper, “What?” You asked, your voice just as quiet as he helped you sit up. He cupped your cheek and stood between your legs. “I know you, Princess.” Your eyes welled at what you thought he was telling you. “As you ascended, my memories of you came flooding back.” You let the tears fall, “You were there, you before, you jumped with me.” He smiled down at you, “You bought them back, baby, gods you’re amazing.” A sob escaped your throat, “Do you really remember me?” He leant down and kissed your forehead. “I remember.” More sobs followed his confession, “I’m going to kiss you now, something I didn’t do enough of before.” You let out a tearful laugh as his lips met yours and a golden thread tied the two of you together. “Marry me?” He asked when he pulled away and you gasped, “What?!” “I asked you to marry me, I’ve wasted enough time.” You cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, “We haven’t even been on a date, Ruhn!” You laughed, “Let’s start there, let’s get you healed and finish dealing with the mess Bryce made, then, when you ask me again, I’ll say yes, hel I’ll marry you then and there. But I want to be your girlfriend first.” He smiled, “Anything you want princess.”

[embossross]

From His Mind to Hers

chapter 13 >> Chapter 14>> masterlist

✣ Pairing: Hanma x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+, minors DNI; unhealthy relationships & dark content

✣ Chapter CW: Processing trauma from abuse and sexual violence (rape aftermath), unhealthy coping mechanisms, revenge porn, slut shaming/misogyny, suicidal ideation (sort of – threats)

✣ Story CWs: patient/doctor relationships; smut (oral, ptv, pta, etc.), degradation, stalking, torture (not of y/n), murder, dubcon & abuse in c13, discussions of trauma and abuse, drug use, and more

✣ Synopsis: Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

✣ Word Count: 5.5k+

The janitor deserves a raise.

The floors gleam, pearlescent and buffed to a shine that threatens to serve your reflection back to you. Where you sit, elbows to knees, staring at the floor, you notice every shoe scuff and dropped luggage tag. Fleeting messes that the janitor is quick to erase from existence. A few sweeps of the mop and everything returns to its former state, beautiful and shining.

“Flight NH451 to Okinawa is now boarding,” a crystalline voice announces first in Japanese, then English, then Mandarin.

No one else has time to study the floors. Compared to the bustle of Tokyo-Narita, Haneda Airport is calmer, but all airports in your experience share an atmosphere of restrained anxiety. For many people, it’s the one time they must completely surrender any pretenses of control over their lives and accept that they are subject to the whims of weather, technical failure, fate.

You know a thing or two about that.

Fussy babies burp and cry while their older siblings fare little better. The line for the Hong Kong Express baggage check stretches around the corner, creeping forward at a pace that promises a missed flight for whichever fool arrives with only two hours to make it to their terminal. A group of college-aged girls kneel on the floor, bags spread out as they shuffle the contents around, trying to find the magic formula that will sneak them below the weight limit. Hunched like they’re already exhausted from standing for so long, an elderly couple waits in mute silence, in a place beyond words. Nearly everyone else stares at their phones, willing the minutes to pass. It’s a fair difference from the energy you’d find over in arrivals, where half the passengers are haggard from a long day of international travel and the other half sprint, energized, into the arms of waiting loved ones. It churns your stomach to think about all those people, crying through tears of joy.

It may appear like the line isn’t moving, but it’s like the Argonaut. From where you’ve sat to the side watching for the last four hours, you know an assemblage of new faces will gradually replace these, the line somehow never shorter but its components entirely new.

In all this time, not one person has taken note of the woman rooted to one spot, the perpetual observer of the thousands of people who all have better places to be.

The promise of invisibility is what drew you to the airport this morning. Amid the minutiae and petty concerns of the mob, you may as well be furniture. Surrendering to that invisibility evokes a blissful relief.

It is your natural habitat.

As a child, you mastered the art of being there and not there at the same time. You remember miserable days spent locked in your room whenever you caught so much as a sniffle. Your mother would banish you to the narrow three tatami mat room, terrified that your germs might spread and infect her.

At first, every minute would tick by with the weight of eternity. Staring at the ceiling, phlegm draining back through your sinuses and stomach in a pounding knot, you would count each tile one by one. The trick was to stretch the count as long as possible, to sit and savor each number in your mind’s eye, because you knew when you finished it would be back to one again. No windows opened to the views outside, no toys to distract you. The most the little room offered was its thin walls through which you could hear your mother move about the house, her loud laugh down the receiver of the phone, the hum of the TV. All while you shook from fever, unattended.

Time would pass so slowly in that room. Gradually, impossibly, it would slow even further as your stomach grumbled, your throat spasmed from thirst. Your mother never thought to leave you any food or water to survive those long days in that room.

The thirstier you grew, the less you could ward off the realities of the body, thoughts fixating on each ache and pain, until finally, you learned to stop your thoughts altogether. To be there and not there at once.

Then, time would resume in a sprint, a long blink and night would fall. Once the sounds of your mother’s untroubled life ceased, you would make your move. On sock-covered feet, you would slip from your prison and edge your way to the kitchen, praying for invisibility, for no one to spot your midnight heist.  You never dared fetch a glass, mimicking a thief’s caution as you leaned into the sink, mouth closing around the tap, where you would turn it onto a trickle and let the life-giving water permeate your cracked lips. In those moments, you would be there, brilliantly, blindingly there in spirit, but your body remained locked away in that room.

The tricks you learned in those days in that house have served you well over the years. Invisibility sometimes feels like a curse, resigning you forever to the periphery of life, but it also greets you like an old friend when you are most in need of protection.

How traumatizing then to search for it last night and find that old friend missing. When you needed it most, the old detachment abandoned you.

Hyper-present, you suffered every moment of Hanma’s pain and perversion. Countless times, you reached for your invisibility, hoping to slip out of yourself like a specter and leave your body to Hanma’s cruel hands, but you were only left twice as terrified to find yourself trapped inside yourself. Your mind, body, and soul were devastatingly one as you experienced the certainty that Hanma would shoot you dead as he brutalized you, as he held you with the gentleness of a lover, as he…

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You know it’s him. It must be. His smell still lingers on the fine hairs of your nostrils, singeing them with the stench of bourbon that bled from his pores. In the blue-black dark, you could barely make out his features as he threatened you – a masked intruder hovering above you – but fuck if you couldn’t smell him, stinking up your once safe, sterilized bedroom.

Just thinking about it makes you want to…

With trembling fingers, you hunt through your purse until you find a wad of tissues to wipe the sweat that beads across your brow. It is swelteringly hot in Departures, a mix of the unseasonably warm weather and the heat of hundreds of bodies thronging together, their every exhale warming the room.

Searching through the mass of bodies, you find the janitor still at work, fix on the friendly lines of his face. He gives no indication that he notices the heat, the throngs of people, or anything else but his work. The janitor mops the floors, contented. Like you, he has no designs to go anywhere else.

The line moves several meters forward while you watch the janitor. Eventually, he lifts his head and notices you for the first time. The muscles in your face ache as you summon a smile. The result must be obscene or hostile because he hurriedly returns to mopping, a few half-hearted brushes just for show before he scurries away entirely.

Now, you are alone again.

You put your head between your legs and try to breathe like they suggest people having panic attacks do in the movies. The position does help chase back your rising gorge and settles your rolling stomach. It does nothing for your thoughts.

You remember when Hanma’s long fingers found your clit, how he exploited his knowledge of your body to rub you to a forced little orgasm, like he wouldn’t be content until you were made an active participant in your indignity, his forever accomplice, the Stavrogin to his Fedka.

A thundering accompanies a plane taking off from the tarmac, loud enough to chase away the memories. You watch the massive passenger plane soar north until it becomes a speck on the horizon. It will never cease to amaze you how for the hundreds of people aboard that plane, each knows exactly where they are going and why. Their destination is well and truly decided. Too late to change their minds or second-guess.

Whenever you try to think of where you will go next – because surely you can’t live in the airport departures lounge, surely someone, anyone, will eventually realize the ghost of a woman has made a home there, will recognize that you’ve overstayed your welcome, will chase you out, right? – your brain throws up nothing but roadblocks. You imagine returning to your cold, hostile apartment, and the contents of your stomach dance in protest. Your apartment is no longer a safe space.

Your phone vibrates again, and this time, you don’t have the strength to ignore it. Fished from your pocket, you stare at the characters in Shuji’s name, tracing them one by one. Your finger hovers over the button to answer.

What he did last night – did to you – is unforgivable. You may not know what happened to Haitani, but it doesn’t matter. You did not deserve that.

And that should be that. A definitive break with Hanma is the only logical next step. Everything you built together is decimated, just so much sawdust stamped beneath his paranoid feet.

But where does that leave you? You know there will be no returning to your old life? The apartment will never be safe again now that Hanma’s been inside, not since you invited him inside. It will never be clean after what happened.

And maybe you won’t be either. Something inside you is fundamentally changed. Because even now, some part of you wants to go to him. Perhaps want is the wrong word. Without the old survival tools that carried you through the years, you feel cast adrift, weaker than when Hanma found you.

Eventually, Hanma will escalate from ignored phone calls and, vulnerable as you are, will you be able to say no to his face? Worse, will you lean into him, longing for his protection from the demons he himself unleashed on your life?

You don’t take his call, but you don’t leave the airport either. Nothing can change so long as you stay here, but then again, nothing can hurt you either.

Stuck, your return to staring at the floors.

--

You choose to take the elevator up to your apartment, spending the better part of the ride convincing yourself that no demons will await you, so all five senses revolt when you find the hallway outside your door laden with cardboard boxes. They’re not taped up like a delivery would be, and besides, you pick your mail up from the mailroom downstairs. Peeking into one box, you see it’s filled with your old textbooks from university, the ones that should be neatly shelved and collecting dust in your bedroom.

Inside, pornographic moaning greets you. Stopped in your tracks, you almost miss the changes: the photographs in the entry hall have been removed, your shoes are missing from the alcove. There is no mess, just gaps where your life should be.

While taking an itemized inventory of what’s missing appeals to you, the lewd sounds coming from the living room force you forward. On the TV, a naked woman rides a man. She carries on like it’s the best damn dick of her life, touching her own body like something sacred as she cries out.

The woman is you, of course you can see that much, but your brain struggles to play catch up and process this baffling, foreign view of yourself. It’s almost harder to comprehend how wanton you appear in the video rather than that such a video exists in the first place.

“I think we can agree there’s no need for a scene.”

Emerging from the bedroom, Takashi’s doesn’t spare the screen a second glance. It would only take one to confirm that the woman in the video is you, and that the man is decidedly not him.

Between self-indulgent rounds of sex with Hanma, you often wondered how you would feel if Takashi discovered your affair. Secretly, you longed for guilt. A great tsunami of devotion to Takashi and the concept of monogamy would rise within you, the tears would fall, and seconds later, apologies would follow. You hoped for a scene out of the soap operas, something normal.

The reality is less fraught as you are too stunned to summon up any response at all. If only Takashi would turn the video off. Then, maybe your brain would work again. There is no room for coherent thought around the wet, slapping sounds intermixed with moans coming from the TV.

“I knew you were sleeping with patients for months now. It never bothered me too much. So, when I saw the videos, I didn’t understand at first why I was so repulsed by it. But then, I put it together. I had figured some fat, rich fuck at work offered you enough money, and I could hardly blame you for that. If a client offered me money to fuck, I’d do it, too. But watching the videos, I realized, you weren’t just fucking this yakuza creep for money, were you? You liked it.”

There is a forcefield around Takashi that repels your gaze. You can test its parameters by starting at the juts of his knees and slowly climbing upward. It’s around his neck, the first bit of exposed skin, that the forcefield kicks into effect, and you find you cannot bring your gaze higher than the hollow of his throat, and even that takes a supreme effort. You turn back to the video playing out on screen.

“So you’re leaving me, then?” you say because it must be said if things are to continue from here.

“Things are busy at work. I don’t see why my life should be disrupted when I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sure you’ll take responsibility as the offending party and move out without a fuss.”

“That would be sensible,” you agree.

Heady with the realization that this is actually happening – you are truly breaking up with your boyfriend – you force yourself to look at him, one last look to imprint forever in your mind. Immediately, you wish you hadn’t.

Takashi looks past you to the video on screen, where the you of only a few weeks back is loudly and visibly announcing how much she likes every stroke of dick before erupting into a shaking orgasm. Lips curled as if tasting something foul, Takashi regards the woman in the video like something subhuman. You try to watch the video through his eyes, but you can’t break free from the chains of your own perspective, a fuzzy migraine cresting in your temples at the sight of Hanma’s body, memories of this pleasurable tryst weeks ago mixing with last night’s events until you feel like the edges of your brain are collapsing inward.

There is no point to torturing yourself with the video or further conversation. Ignoring the shame in your gut, you follow numbly a step behind Takashi as he finishes packing your things. Most of your meager belongings are already stacked in the hall, but still, there is something stunning about how quickly your life is packed up out of sight. After living together for eight years, you would have left such an indelible mark that only industrial strength tools could strip your essence from the walls of this place. There are a couple overlooked items: the vase of artificial flowers Shuji gifted you, a box of tissues if you care to be petty, the spoons with scalloped edges, but, functionally, your life is stripped, relegated to boxes, and pushed aside within a measly half hour.

All the while, the video plays on. When it finishes, autoplay kicks in and offers up a second to continue your humiliation. The second is slightly preferrable as you make less of a spectacle of your delirious pleasure in it, yet worse because it shows Shuji more clearly, the dragon tattoo on his back flexing as he pounds into your prone body, face crinkling in animal pleasure. You can’t stand to look at him.

These videos…the only explanation for their existence is Shuji. They’re an abomination, something that shouldn’t exist and can’t be allowed to continue to exist. The gall of their existence builds in you until you discover enough anger to break the silence that’s drawn tight between you and Takashi.

“Takashi, if I go quietly, will you please delete these videos?”

“Sure,” he agrees simply, but at their mention, Takashi then looks back to the sex tape on screen, and that same revulsion morphs the contours of his face into something unfamiliar. “I suspected it for months, and then after reading your diary, I knew it for certain, and still…seeing it? When I watched the first one, I debated if it was even real. It had to be some kind of tasteless hoax. Because that’s not you in these. You’re like a stranger. I mean, look at it,” he says, gesturing to the screen. “That’s not you. And that guy…How does touching that criminal freak not disgust you? It’s like watching a pig take a mud bath. Disgusting.”

The shelf where you once stored your medical magazines is barren. Naked. There isn’t much dust though. You had spent a few hours cleaning last Sunday. That’s good, you think, one good thing. Everything Takashi says about you is true. Your lack of fear or righteous hatred of Hanma signals a great moral failing on your part. You are a failure, Monstrous.

Spinning out in self-loathing, you stand mutely for a solid minute before your brain hooks onto a single detail and everything clicks firmly into place.

“Wait, you read my therapy diary?”

“Don’t go crying about privacy now. I could tell you were running around on me and wanted to know,” Takashi snaps.

The finer details of what you recorded in that diary escape you, but you know you frequently wrote about your conversations, encoding but not entirely skipping over references to his business. It was stupid, of course, but the diary was intended for your eyes only, an exercise in self-reflection. The same Takashi who told you he was coming into an unexpected windfall of money at work. The same Takashi who had ripped your bedroom apart, supposedly looking for signs of your infidelity. The same Takashi who had demanded details about your patients. If that same Takashi had read your diary months ago he would have known about the HKJ deal, about Haitani soliciting you, about far too much.

“You weren’t reading my diary because you were jealous. You were paid to spy on me, weren’t you?”

And you know just who paid him as well. Based of your three interactions, you should have predicted that Haitani is not a man who accepts defeat easily. He is like a river. When he can’t force his way through an obstacle, he finds a way around.

“I did what you should have done in the first place,” Takashi sneers.

It is not defensiveness, at least not as far as you can tell, that spurs Takashi to confess. In his mind, you’ve already been reduced to something subhuman, a creature undeserving of consideration let alone sympathy, someone he could justify the worst abuses against, so convinced of his own righteousness. But whatever grievance Takashi may imagine against you, nothing can compare to what Takashi cost you. If he hadn’t betrayed you to Ran, then last night…Hanma…

You think you could gouge Takashi’s eyes out and he still wouldn’t understand the hurt he caused you. Minutes prior, you felt completely extinguished, like your flames had been put out forever, but now a pilot light flickers and it’s enough to bring forth an inferno, a heat you didn’t dare hope you would ever feel again.

“How dare you! You want to lecture me about getting into bed with the yakuza when you’re climbing into the bank with one! What if you had gotten someone hurt or killed? Did you even think about what would happen to me? You’re a slimy, despicable, cowardly –”

Shouting over you as you continue to levy every imaginable invective against him, Takashi spits, “Like you’re some paragon of virtue. Were you thinking about your patients when you started screwing them? Or did you not give a fuck who you hurt? Last time I checked, they don’t let yakuza whores keep their licenses. Speaking of which, you should know I’ve already sent these videos to the Japanese Psychological Association. You can look forward to a call from the ethics board.”

The bomb drop has the desired effect. It collapses the floor beneath your feet, gobbles up the words in your mouth, and implodes the tiny sliver of security that you still clung to. A life gone in a moment.

You are going to lose your license.

No job.

No home.

No friends.

No boyfriend.

No security.

Nothing.

The last box of your things and the vase of flowers are shoved into your hands. They feel weightless in your arms. On autopilot, you accept them and Takashi’s pushing hands on your back as he shepherds you towards the door.

This is the last time you will see this apartment that you called home for so long: the warped wood that’s risen under the heat of the window, the lightbulb in the kitchen that flicks if your run the dishwasher at the same time, the dent no bigger than a thumbprint, or more accurately, a door handle in the wall from where the front door slammed into it with too much force.

You want to press pause, to slow down the moment. You would take a final photo if you could, breathe in the smell of this place and bottle it for a future date. Anything to linger for one second longer before you are cast out into the unforgiving cold.

Takashi does not take mercy on you.

“You should be thankful you don’t have a family to shame,” he hisses.

And then the door slams shut. With you on one side and your life on the other.

Everything you once were is gone forever.

On second look, there are fewer than a dozen boxes stacked in the hall. Such a small life. You thoughtlessly heft a small, light-seeming box onto the bundle already in your arms. Dazedly, you stumble past the rest, leaving them behind with no plan for when or who will come to collect them, and even less of an idea of where you’ll send them.

There is no hurry. Nowhere to go. Yet, you too quickly find yourself pressing through the revolving doors that lead out onto the street and the blinding midday sun, which fittingly leeches the color from the world, so that everything’s cast in long shadows. On instinct, you raise a hand to shield your eyes, dropping the little you own to shatter on the sidewalk. A pitiful relief wells in you as you drop to your knees to retrieve your belongings; it is something to do.

Since Takashi cratered the foundations on which your entire existence rested, the normally persistent voice in your head – the one that would caution you against calling a taxi when a subway ticket cost less than 200 yen or would push you to stay that extra hour in university, the one that essentially kept you alive – has been traitorously silent, and so you know that you ought to figure out a place to stay for the night, to calculate how long your savings will last, and brainstorm a strategy to fight the ethics board, but you can’t keep any one thought in your head long enough to develop something concrete. Each stirring of a thought drips through the cracks between your fingers, like trying to collect water in the cup of your palm. You can’t make a plan. What you can do is kneel on the dirty sidewalk and clean up your mess.

First, you right the little box you scooped up from the hallway. Peeking inside, you see it’s mostly filled with socks and underwear. The second box that Takashi forced into your hands is less useful. Inside are shattered picture frames, the photos inside detailing the lives you shared or, at least, lived in parallel. You can’t tell if they cracked in the fall or if Takashi ritualistically broke each as a parting gift. Even less useful somehow is the vase of fake flowers Hanma gave you, now lying scattered, a collection of jagged ceramic shards.

You herd the broken pieces into a little pile, careful as you do to avoid slicing your fingertips against the sharp edges. As you delicately lift one piece, you feel out something small and round affixed to the inside. With an emotion milder than curiosity, you peel the coin-like anomaly off. Holding it to the light, you puzzle at what looks like a microchip.

And then, all you can do is laugh, as your memory offers up an old spy movie where you saw a device just like this, hidden in a flower vase. It’s a bug.

Of course, he bugged your apartment. Even a gesture as simple as gifting you flowers in apology is warped, twisted into something malicious with Hanma. He’s been laying the foundation for your downfall for months now. Just waiting to crumble you to dust in his hands.

A familiar car pulls up to the curb where you sit, laughing maniacally to yourself. You laugh harder when you spot it. Perfect fucking timing.

The window rolls down, and for one terrible second, you lock eyes with Shuji. Terrible, venomous eyes, the gaze of a viper, hidden away behind glass lenses as if without that layer of protection, he might penetrate you to your core. No, not a viper, a basilisk.

The way he’s dressed, hair perfectly coiffed and in the tailored suit that is his work uniform, offends your sensibilities. From his height advantage, he peers down at you like a scientist watching a bug through a microscope. You feel as small as a mite.

“You can spend the night at my place,” Hanma says, without so much as a greeting because he need not dignify you with niceties. A person needn’t spare a termite a hello before stepping on it.

A plane flies overhead, so low it tricks the eye for a moment, makes you think it’ll crash into the skyscrapers dotting the cityscape. You follow it with your eyes until it’s long out of sight, retracing the chemtrail it leaves in its wake. You almost forget Hanma is here, watching.

Pressed through a sigh, Hanma says your name. His voice, toneless and impossibly deep strikes you like a whip, a thousand times worse than seeing him. It is the charge you need to act.

Bursting to your feet, you leave all but your box of underwear and march determinedly in the other direction. Adrenaline courses through your veins, a jittery but appreciated focuser, and for the first time, you are able to think outside your fugue state. You will find a hotel for the night, something cheap that pays by the hour. If you walk for five minutes, you’re sure to find something.

Anything is better than Hanma’s offer.

“Get in the car.”

You ignore Hanma’s first call and his second, pretending his voice doesn’t make your hands shake so hard you fear you’ll drop the box. The Bentley keeps pace with you to the right. At the first intersection, a redlight stops the Bentley dead.

“For fuck’s sake!”

The curse is a warning before Hanma charges out of the car, arms extended as if to grab you and drag you into the cavern of his Bentley. The dark interior beckons ominously, hinting at a cacophony of horrors. To go into that car is to die.

His fingers don’t so much as graze yours before you start to scream.

Hoarse, guttural screams that turn the necks of every passerby in the area emerge from your bruised throat, a scream that must be tearing your throat apart, but you can’t feel the pain through the adrenaline rush. Heads pop out of nearby shops to see who is making such a ruckus and why. Amid the animal shrieks, the occasional curse takes place, a well-timed “motherfucker” or “waste of space.” To anyone watching, you appear unhinged. A lifetime of pain and rage unleash in one concentrated exhale of agony. If you could bottle the force behind your bellows, they would blow a hole through Hanma’s brain and vaporize what’s left. You scream in his face like you hope to erase him from existence like he did you.

Time holds no meaning now, and you think you might black out or suffer a psychotic break that blacks over just what you say or do in those precious moments of freedom. Whether Hanma is appalled by your behavior, if it makes him want to hurt, fuck, or kill you is irrelevant. Blissfully blank, you become the beast Takashi thinks you are and growl and rage and bare your teeth.

Stunned into stillness by the spectacle, Hanma’s gaze darts between you and the spectators who could intervene, but as no one steps forward to help the crazy woman having a breakdown, Hanma loses his patience.

He slaps a hand over your mouth, muffling your hysterical shrieking. His body is so much larger than yours, something you once craved, but now it crowds and bullies you toward the parked door, where the wide-open passenger door signals your doom. You go silent. You transfer every bit of energy from your throat to your body. Biting and bucking, you fight him with every ounce of strength you possess.

No amount of thrashing could overpower Hanma at full-strength, but he treats you gently with none of last night’s brutality. Kid gloves try to handle you with care as if he would never think to harm you, no not you, his precious, beloved pet. How could you even think such a thing? Unwilling to hurt you, Hanma grapples against your flailing arms for a full minute before backing off, hands tugging at his hair in frustration. He is panting though not half so hard as you are.

“Would you fucking stop!” Hanma snaps. “You should be grateful for what I did. You should –”

Whatever lovely suggestion would have topped off that sentence, you don’t wait to hear, lashing out with a closed fist before he can finish.

You aim for his cheek, but Hanma sees the blow coming, so your fist glances off his neck.

The next punch is somehow more pitiful. Powered by your righteous indignation, you throw your full-body weight behind it, but Hanma bats you aside, so that your shoulder collides into his chest and the punch dies out against the air. Hanma folds the leftover arm behind your body and pins you to his chest, so that all the bucking in the world won’t be enough to break free. He is a titanium wall of muscle and violence, and he has you in his grasp. You think you might vomit.

All the energy in your body evaporates, and you slump into his embrace.

“Finally,” Hanma mutters but without frustration. There is a hint of satisfaction there. A hint of humor at your suffering.

“Let me go,” you whisper.

“Will you behave like a good girl if I do?”

“Let me go.”

Hanma sighs, “Oh, Doc, come on. All this carrying on over limp-dick Takashi? He’s not worth it.”

“Didn’t you hear? While you were eavesdropping, didn’t you hear?” you chuckle a little, a sound strange enough that Hanma eases up on his grip, enough so that he can peer down at your face. You are both equally surprised to discover that you are crying, little matte tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t just lose my boyfriend and my apartment. Oh no! I’m also going to lose my fucking license!”

“What? Why would you lose your license?” Hanma visibly startles, and on any other day, you might have enjoyed one-upping him, but not today. And never again.

“Is this what you wanted from the beginning? To lay me completely low? Did you think that when I was broke and starving, I’d have no choice but to rely on your limited generosity? To let you play with me until you get bored? Because I have nothing left to give, Hanma. I’m not even a human being anymore. I’m nothing.”

“Listen, Doc, relax. This is a panic attack. I’ll take care of Takashi and whatever he did. I’ll make it go away. You just come home with me, and I’ll take care of you and –”

“I may be nothing, but I’d rather be nothing than be with you,” you spit in his face.

His hands slacken for a moment, and you use that moment of weakness to break free.

Once more, Hanma’s hand reaches out as if to grab you, but you turn to him and with every bit of solemnity in your soul, so that the words read with all the gravity of a blood oath, you swear, “If you force me to go anywhere with you, I swear I will find a way to kill myself.”

The fingers on Hanma’s hand flex. The veins pop and strain like his body is rebelling against him, urging him to clutch, grab, cage. But then that hand falls to his side, stills.

This time, when you walk away, he doesn’t follow.

[triplexdoublex]

Chlorine and Nicotine

Pairing: Jaden Hossler x Reader

Warnings/tags: Smut , Age Gap (reader is in her 30’s) tipsy hookup (consent implied) mentions of prior divorce, pregnancy, c section and children. Body image issues /self conscious reader . Mention of coopers death/fentanyl poisoning.

A/N: 5.5k words! This one’s for the self conscious and tired mamas on this app. Go find yourself a Jaden lol

You and your two other friends, Ashley and Liz, had planned the perfect getaway to celebrate your messy divorce being finalized: A child-free, 7 day, all-inclusive, 21+ cruise to the Bahamas. Tickets were purchased, excursions were selected, trustworthy babysitters were hired and bags were packed, there’s only one thing you all forgot…

“Is it just me or are we like the oldest ones here?” You ask your friends, looking around as you all board the cruise ship.

“Yeah, I noticed that too— seems like mostly college kids for some reason?” Liz responds.

Just then you all notice the banner on the side of the ship ‘Spring Break 2023’!

The three of you, having been out of school for close to two decades already, had completely forgotten this week was usually spring break.

“Ugh,” Ashley groans, “I can’t believe we forgot. I was hoping we could all get some much needed rest and a full night's sleep this week without our kids, not be kept up by a bunch of frat boys and sorority girls partying.”

“Hey, you know what? As long as I’m with you guys I’m sure we’ll still have a great time, even if they do keep us up. Besides you know the saying ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. When was the last time any of us got to let loose and party a little?” You reply.

“True,”

“Yeah, you’re right,” your friends answer in unison.

“Ok,well now that that’s settled, first order of business is finding our cabin, changing into our bikinis, and working on our tans while we sip margaritas pool side.” You instruct. “Let’s go!”

**********

“Whooof!” You exhale. “I’m getting hot. I’m gonna go take a dip in the pool and cool off real quick. I’ll be right back.” You head into the pool.

“Ash, do you hear that? I think those guys next to us on the right are talking about Y/N. Listen,” Liz says, keeping her voice low..

“— yeah the one in the yellow floral two piece… right there … she just got into the pool… she’s a total MILF bro—“

“Okay, I’m back, mmmn that cold water was refreshing. Did I miss anything?” You joke, knowing you were only gone for a minute.

“You did actually,” Ashley speaks in a whisper “Apparently you’re a Milf!” Liz adds.

“Says who!?” You laugh.

“Shhhh! Liz warns. “That little cutie right over there,” She nods in his direction. “The one in the black swim trunks.”

Descretly, you turn to see who your friends are talking about.

“Oh my god, I’m pretty sure I have jeans in my closet older than him! You scoff before taking another look. “I mean… he is pretty cute though— solid body, lots of tattoos.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you actually do,” Ashley laughs. Which reminds me we need to go shopping and update that wardrobe of yours, I haven’t seen you in anything but leggings for the past 6 years.”

“Ugh I know! It’s because nothing fits! It’s been 6 years since I had the twins and I’m still not back to my pre-baby weight,” you sulk. “Plus I’ve been so busy taking care of them and putting them first, I haven’t even had time to think about me. And now with the divorce and paying my lawyer— money’s tight. If it wasn’t for you guys paying my share of this trip, I wouldn’t have been able to go, and lord knows I need the break. I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“Aww you’re so welcome,” Liz hugs you.

“You deserve it,” Ashley says, patting your shoulder.

“Sorry, I’m being a negative Nancy. Fuck all our problems! We’re here to escape them and have fun!” You state. “Anyone else getting hungry, I could totally go for a burger?”

**********

At night, the pool area transforms into somewhat of a night club, with drinks, dancing, swimming and fun events— tonight’s is a singles lap dance competition.

“Good Evening,cruisers!!! The lap dance competition is about to begin,” the event organizer announces. “I need three single people to volunteer to receive a lap dance, raise your hand if your single and would like to receive a lap,” he shouts loud and enthusiastically as if announcing a wrestling match.

“Oh my god y/n! You should totally do it!” Ashley squeals, trying to raise your hand for you.

“No way, are you crazy?” You laugh pulling your hand back down.

“C’mon y/n, you’re single now , and when was the last time you had a hott guy on top of you?”

“Not within the last eight years, I know that much!” Liz sasses, wide-eyed taking a sip of her drink, and making you spit out yours.

“Fair enough,” you cough out after practically choking. “Fine I’ll do it,” you agree,the liquid courage you’ve been sipping on, helping to release your inhibitions.

“Alright, I just need one more volunteer!”

You adjust your bathing suit and raise your hand.

“ Ok pretty lady, c’mon up,” the DJ calls out. You head up onto the stage, your friends laughing, screaming and cheering you on. “Now I’m gonna need some volunteers to give the lap dances. Let’s start with this pretty lady right here,” the DJ motions to you. “Who wants to give this beautiful woman a lap dance?”

You look out into the crowd watching as a few hands go up. One in particular catches you eye, and you try to place why he looks slightly familiar, and then it hits you; it’s the young guy your friends overheard calling you a MILF earlier in the day.

“Alright, take your pick,” the DJ tells you.

“Him—the one with the dark hair and tattoos,” you point into the audience, before taking a seat on the folding chair on stage.

“You heard her, my man, c’mon up,” the DJ calls him to the stage.

He stands in front of you wearing his black swim trunks from earlier but is now also sporting a white tank top and a forward facing baseball cap. You can feel his eyes looking down at you, checking you out while waiting for the other contestants to choose their lap dance partner.

“Let’s get it started!” the DJ announces. “At the end of the song, y’all are gonna help me decide the winner,” he says, speaking to the audience. “Let’s gooo!!”

Sam Smith’s ‘Unholy’ starts bumping from the speakers and your tattooed partner throws his head back in a brief laugh at the song choice, before locking eyes with you. He wastes no time getting close; stepping forward so that both of your legs are sandwiched between his wide stance. With one hand on your shoulder he begins rolling his body in your lap, his free hand quickly grabbing his hat and turning it backwards so the brim doesn’t hinder his view of you. He glides that same hand down his torso over his white tank to its hem, bunches the material in his hand and slides it up, exposing his perfectly toned abs. You smirk, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight. He removes his hand from your shoulder and uses both hands to peel his tank off completely, tossing it down on the stage. Then he slides his thumbs into the waistband of his swim trunks purposely lowering them, his prominent V-lines on full display, along with a fuzzy line of hair descending from his navel. Your eyes follow the trail down until it meets a small patch just barely visible peeking out the top of his swim trunks. Your mind wanders, imaging what’s below—imaging what he’s working with. The trance you’re in is broken when he places one of your hands flat on his chest, inviting you to touch him while he moves in your lap. You let your hand glide down over the topography of his body, your fingertips exploring the hills and valleys of muscle as you go, stopping when your hand reaches the horizon where flesh meets material, even though your hand craves to continue its descent. As if he can read your mind, he pushes your hand lower, pressing his half hard bulge against your palm as he rolls his hips insync with the last ‘unholy’ of the song before it ends.

“Alright it’s time to vote. Let me hear you give it up for couple number one,” the DJ instructs. The audience claps, cheers and hoots. “Alright, a alright, now make some noise for couple number two.” A slightly louder roar of cheer and applause echoes under the night sky. Your sexy partner stands behind you with his hands on your shoulders as you both await your turn.“And last but not least couple number three.” The crowd goes wild with thunderous clapping,and high pitched whistles —your friends cheers the loudest of them all. “We have a clear winner here tonight, folks,” the DJ announces. “Winning by a landslide…couple number three!”

Tattooed arms unexpectedly scoop you up off the chair, running bridal style off the stage and towards the pool with you. You playfully shriek and laugh the whole way until … splash... he jumps in the water with you. When you both surface again, your hungry mouths are attacking one another like prey: desperate and determined. He moves forward in the water, pinning you against the side of the pool with his body as you devour each other— all lips, tongue, teeth and flesh. His skin tastes like chlorine, his kisses- a hint of nicotine; and just as addictive. Underwater, he teases a hand up your inner thigh and begins gently rubbing you through the fabric of your bathing suit. You allow it, encourage it actually—rocking your hips to press yourself firmer against his fingertips. You can feel how hard he is through his swim trunks and you opt to help him out, grasping his hard cock through the thin veil of fabric. You work each other into a sexual frenzy and it’s not long before his fingers transcend the boundary of your bathing suit bottoms, pushing the fabric aside and inserting two slender fingers inside of you. You follow his lead, sinking your hand into his swim trunks and wrapping your fingers tightly around him.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a complete stranger who’s name you don’t even know, or that he’s much younger than you, or perhaps even because no one besides your ex-husband has touched you this intimately in years, but you feel a familiar sense of heightened arousal that can only compare to the giddy exhilaration of your first sexual experience. God the nostalgia!—Back when just the novelty of making out, and touching each other was enough. Back when foreplay still existed, before the busyness of life and motherhood had you trading sex for sleep. Or swapping making love for quickies during naptime.

Every swirl of his tongue, curl of his fingers, and flick of your wrist has you feeling renewed, awake and alive again. You never want this to end but your body is chasing after the high it so desperately wants bucking against his palm while his fingers caress that sweet spot inside of you. As your orgasm begins to build, your grip on him falters so he places his free hand over yours, helping you stroke him. The feeling of your walls squeezing his fingers as you cum is so sexy to him that he finishes shortly after you.

Since the moment he jumped into the pool with you in his arms, you’ve been in your own world, oblivious to anything or anyone around you. It’s not until you start coming down from your high that the outside world starts to trickle back in: the music, the people, the sounds of your friends cheering your name. You turn to the direction of the noise in search of your friends, but a series of cannonballs by a group of guys momentarily blocks your view before you finally spot them. When you turn back after locating them, the boy is gone.

***********

The next morning in line for the breakfast buffet you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, sorry about last night. My name’s Jaden by the way,” he holds out his hand.

“I’m y/n,” you shake his hand. “What exactly are you sorry about? I may have been a little tipsy, but I remember having a great time.” You give a small smirk.

“Ok, good,” he smiles “I was worried I got a little too caught up in the moment and took things too far,” he admits. “But mostly I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that. My buddies almost drowned me with their cannonballs and I wanted to spare you from having to see me choke to death and squirt water out of my nose.” He laughs.

“Fair. You’re forgiven,” you joke. “Can I ask you something?

“Of course, ask away.”

“How old are you?” You brace yourself for the answer, but at least you know he’s at least twenty one.

“Twenty two, you?”

“Oh god, umm let’s just call it mid 30’s” you answer, slightly embarrassed, and worried about how he might react.

“Can I ask you a question now?” He asks.

“Sure.”

“I’d like to spend some more time with you today. Would you like that?” He asks.

“Wait, so your not bothered by me being much older than you?” You question.

“Not at all,” he smirks. “Sooo is that a yes then?”

“I-I dunno..” you're sure he just wants to hook up again , and you don’t want to give him that impression. Last night was just a heat of the moment thing.

“I just wanna talk, get to know you. Hands to myself this time, promise,” he replies as if he’s read your mind.

“Okay,” you agree. “My friends and I have a dolphin excursion during the day and dinner reservations at 6:00, so why don’t we meet somewhere around 8:00?”

“That works for me. Meet at the hot tubs?”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then.” You answer.

**********

You head down to the deck with the hot tubs after dinner; bathing suit on and towel in hand. You know you’re going to be a few minutes early but you figure you’d get there before they get crowed. When you arrive however you see Jaden already in one of the hot tubs; his elbows resting on the edge, and a cigarette between two fingers. You know it’s a nasty habit and not good for his health but fuck - why does he look so good doing it.

“Hey,” you say, grabbing his attention.

“Shit!” He blows out a mouthful of smoke and ashes the cigarette out on the edge of the hot tub. “Sorry, bad habit, tryna quit. I wasn’t expecting you for like another ten minutes, thought I could sneak one in.”

“No worries,” you smile, stepping into the hot tub with him. “I expected there to be more people out here, thought I’d come early before they filled up.”

“Yeah, same,” he says as you scoot over next to him . “But apparently there’s supposed to be a rainstorm some time tonight, so maybe that’s why. Although I don’t really see why it would matter, like you’re in a bathing suit literally sitting in water anyways.” He shrugs. “So anyways, tell me about yourself. I’m guessing you’re not here on Spring Break too.” He laughs.

“Nope, celebrating my divorce actually,” you admit, holding up your left hand and wiggling your ring finger— a lighter band of flesh, where a ring once sat.

“Ooh brutal, sorry to hear that. Did you guys have kids together?” Jaden asks.

“Dont be. I’m glad it’s over. And yeah twin boys actually. They’re six. My moms watching them while we’re gone.”

“Aww, sweet” he smiles.

“How ‘bout you? I already know you’re here on Spring Break. Sooo ummm—ooh I know, tell me about your tattoos, do they have any special meaning or anything?

“Some I just liked, and some have meaning but this one’s the most important to me,” he points to a scrawling of repeated sentences that goes from his chest down his side. I got it for my best friend Cooper who passed away from fentanyl poisoning last year. I just didn’t know what say, didn’t know what to do after he passed , ya know, it’s like — “ he pauses a moment and swallows hard . “Fuck, I’m sorry. Let’s just talk about something else,”

“Sure, no problem. I understand” you say supportively, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The rest of your conversation is much more happy and upbeat —sharing your favorite movies, music, and books, where you both live and what you do for work. Also telling silly anecdotes about your childhoods, college life, motherhood and so on.

And then the rain starts; which you both agreed was no big deal but, unfortunately this rain is accompanied by thunder and lighting.

“Ugh, I was having a great time talking with you. Sorry the rain cut our little date short.” You say, sounding disappointed as you both quickly exit the hot tub.

“Is that what this was?” He smiles.

“Maybe,” you answer coyly with a shrug and flirty smile.

“If you’re okay with it, you can come back to my cabin and talk a little more, hangout, watch a movie or something,” he suggests. “But I totally understand if you're not comfortable with that. No pressure.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you agree.

***********

“Shit, I just realized I don’t have anything dry to change into” you state upon entering his cabin. “And my rooms like on the complete other side of the ship. Do you have anything I could just throw on for now?”

“Uhhhm, sure,” Jaden looks around the room for something to give you. “Here you can wear this bathrobe,” he says, tossing you the white, terry cloth covering before sitting down on the bed.

In the corner of the room you turn, facing away from Jaden, put on the robe, and then descretly remove your bathing suit from under it.”

“What, no show?” Jaden jokes.

“You don’t wanna see, trust me.” You say, sounding down.

“Oh, but I do,” he laughs, but then stops when he notices you aren’t laughing too. Hey, what’s a matter. I’m just joking.I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable that wasn’t my intention. I don’t want you to think that’s why I invited you back to the room. You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that. I’m just really not comfortable in my own skin these days—haven’t been for a while actually. I love my kids to death but let’s just say pregnancy didn’t do my body any favors. You're young, you can have any hott girl with a tight little body. Why would you wanna see mine, it’s nothing to look at, I promise you.”

“I promise you you’re wrong. Let me show you how beautiful you are.”

You’re not sure what that consists of exactly, but you nod in agreement anyways. Jaden makes you feel so safe, and you could definitely use a confidence boost.

“C’mere,” Jaden leads you by your hand into the bathroom, and positions you in front of the mirror. “Can I take this off?” He whispers in your ear from behind you, as he places a hand on each of your robe covered shoulders. You meekly nod yes and he slips the garment off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet, leaving you completely nude. You fight the urge to cover yourself but the look of awe in Jaden’s eyes as he surveys your naked body helps melt away some of your insecurity. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breaths against your our neck. “Now what I want you to do is look in the mirror with me,” he instructs. You flick your eyes up to the mirror meeting his in the reflection. “I want you to tell me what you see when you look at yourself in the mirror—give it all to me, the good, the bad, the ugly, then I’m gonna tell you what I see.”

“I see someone I don’t recognize anymore. I used to be pretty, but now I have crows feet by my eyes, and my breasts have lost the perky fullness they had before breastfeeding two kids. It’s been six years and I still haven’t lost all the baby weight,” You poke at your stomach. “And I have this C-section scar from when my body failed to do the one thing it was literally designed to do!“ You start getting emotional. “My hips are so wide now, and my ass is huge , and don’t even get me started on the stretch marks on my inner thighs,” you sigh, holding back tears.

“First of all, you ARE pretty, I think you’re absolutely gorgeous. When I look at your eyes I don’t see crows feet— I see a million smiles and childhood summers spent having fun in the sun,” he says, making you smile. “That’s a million and one now,” he teases playfully. “Now, before I continue, do I have permission to touch you?”

“Permission granted,” you snicker “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to feel your hands on me again,” you admit, blushing.

“And my lips too?” He begins kissing slowly up the side of you neck, making every hair on your body stand on end with arousal.

“Mmmhm, yeah, that too.” You giggle coyly.

“And these,..”he continues, cupping you from behind, “I see breasts that nourished two beautiful babies,and still look plenty perky to me, especially these nipples,” he rolls the buds between his thumbs and pointer fingers. “I love how erect they are for me.” He tugs on them gently before moving his hands to your stomach. “You don’t need to lose a single pound, all I see is curves and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not the 90’s anymore where women had to be rail thin to meet some ridiculous standard of beauty— all bodies are beautiful. And besides you don’t give yourself enough credit for growing two human beings inside you, this was their home for nine months!” He grips your soft belly tightly as he speaks. “And this scar,” he traces his finger over it, causing a ticklish chill to run through you at the ghostly sensation— you still don’t have much feeling there. “This is not a failure, it’s a reminder of how your babies were able to safely enter this world when things didn't go quite as planned.” Your eyes begin to well with tears again, not with sadness, but from the joy of a guy you met less than twenty four hours ago helping you fall back in love with your body and realize all its accomplishments. “And your ass and hips— fuck, that might be my favorite part of your body. Do you know how many women literally pay thousands of dollars to make their hips and ass look like this?” He rubs his hands over the swell of your backside. “It’s literally perfect.” He says with a firm squeeze. “And these—” he places his fingertips on the jagged pink and white lines on your inner thigh and begins to trace them upwards. “These are a map, leading me to where I wanna be the most,” he slides his middle finger through your wetness, “God damn you’re soaked and we’re not even in the pool this time,” he teases. “I think you want me here too, huh?” He begins rubbing slow circles on your clit, “and I mean more than just my fingers this time,” he smirks at you in the mirror before pressing his growing erection against your backside, and his mouth to your neck.

“Mhm, fuck—“ you moan, tilting your head and reaching back to run your hand through his dark hair while he marks you. “Mmmm, Jaden… do you… do you have a condom? I mean, my tubes are tied but—”

“I just got tested before the cruise baby—I’m clean.” He states breathily, before reattaching his lips to your neck, and pulling himself free from his swim trunks with his free hand.

“Okaay,” you moan. “I-I trust you.”

He slips in with ease; both of you releasing a shaky breath at the feeling. And while you haven’t exactly seen his dick yet, you can tell that it’s big.

“Fuccck, you feel incredible!” He nips along your jawline as he begins to thrust — one tattooed hand on your hip and the other, full of your breast, holding you against him so you can watch. He begins with a slow, gentle rhythm, taking his time to fully appreciate your warmth and tightness with each lengthy stroke.

“Ohhhh, Jaden!” You moan breathily.

“Mmmh yeah—am I making you feel good, baby?”

“Ss-so good.” And you mean that in every way- not just sexually.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror. I want you to see how beautiful you look while I fuck you,” he rasps in your ear.

You watch Jadens thrusts grow more urgent, his hands more hungry as he claws and grabs at every square inch of flesh he can get his hands on. Because of him you’re able to watch unashamed, as your soft body jiggles everytime Jaden’s hips crash against your backside, the movement spurring him on even more. You’re able to see the undeniable desire in his eyes, hear the truth of his words.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy!” He grunts through clenched teeth, increasing the intensity and depth of his pace even more, as he grows close to orgasm.

You grip the bathroom counter in front of you and let your head hang down in overwhelming pleasure. With a firm but gentle hold of your throat, Jaden lifts your head back up to face your reflection.

“Don’t want you to miss the best part,” he teases.

And with one final thrust, he cums hard, filling you to the brim. The warm eruption triggers your own orgasm, splashing against Jaden’s pelvis and dripping down his tattooed thighs.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard before,” you admit after finally catching your breath, your legs still weak and trembling.

“I can believe that,” he laughs looking down at the mess you’ve made of him. “It was so fucking hott though…Shower then room service?”

“Sounds perfect” you smile, stepping into the shower with him.

The shower starts off innocent, with the intent of actually washing up and getting clean but when Jaden asks if he can help wash you, things heat up rather quickly. As he soaps up your breasts you feel something brush press against you and look down.

“Are you really hard again, already? You just came!”

“I’m young, I got the drive and the stamina to go all night if you want,” he smirks.

“I just might have to take you up on that,” you smirk back, reaching to grasp his cock. You give it a few teasing tugs before dropping to your knees.

He watches with his bottom lip between his teeth as you tease your tongue along the underside of his shaft , tracing the vein from hilt to tip. He lets out a low and breathy “Fuck” as the head disappears inside your mouth— the rest of his length soon to follow. He tastes of you, and the scent of chlorine still lingers on his skin, especially when you take him deep, your nose pressed into the neatly trimmed patch of hair on his pelvis. The same patch that was just slightly visible last night above the waistband of his low hung swim trunks. You remember the way your eyes followed his happy trail to it, your mind wondering what was below it. Now just barely twenty four hours later it’s been inside of you; first your pussy and now your mouth. Every bob of your head brings him closer, his pleasure building so much he can’t help but buck his hips, gently fucking into your mouth.

“Ohh, shit —Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He moans out, grabbing the back of your head with both hands holding you in place as he spurts down your throat. “Mhgmmmmmmmmm” he lets out a long and pleasure-filled moan, still pumping his hips in short stokes, enjoying the last tendrils of his orgasm before pulling out. “God damn, that was so good!” He praises your skills, making you blush. “Ok” he starts with a laugh “let’s try this again, shower then room service”

*****************

By the time room service arrives after your shower, you’re at it again, this time riding Jaden in bed— a position you haven’t been brave enough to do in quite some time. You’ve already cum and Jaden is dangerously close when you both hear the faint knock followed by “Room service.”

“Shit, don’t stop,” Jaden whispers to you before shouting to room service “Just—fuck, j-just leave it by the door!”

Another roll of your hips and he’s done for, eyes rolling back, chiseled body twitching under you, calling out your name as he cums for the third time tonight.

*********

“We definitely worked up an appetite,” Jaden laughs looking at all the now completely empty pile of dishes on the room service cart. “You save any room for dessert?”

“No way, I’m stuffed,” you answer.

“Well I did.” Jaden smirks pushing you back down on the bed, and spreading your legs, his head disappearing between your thighs.

“Ohhh Jaden …”

**********

In the morning Jaden wakes before you, he can’t help but watch you sleep, sofly swiping a single knuckle along your cheek as he admires your beauty. The sensation stirs you from your slumber. Your eyes still heavy with sleep blink open and Jaden’s face comes into focus.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Jaden says, his husk, sleep laden, voice sounding so sexy. “It’s just that you're even beautiful when you sleep.”

“S’ok,” You murmur, with a smile. “Gotta get up anyways,my friends are probably wondering where the fuck I am.”

***********

You put your key card to the door of your cabin and the door clanks open rousing your friends from their sleep.

“Shit, what time is it?” Ashley asks, squinting at her phone. “Ten thirty two, sorry we woke up so late. I think me and Liz had a little too much to drink last night. I hope you weren’t bored waiting around for us.” Ashley apologizes. “Have you already been swimming this morning?” she asks noticing you're in a robe with your bathing suit dangling from your hand.

“Wait!” Liz interjects, “That’s the bathing suit you had on when you left for your date with -with that college boy, what’s his face—“

“It’s Jaden” you remind her.

“— you’re just getting back now, aren’t you!! You spent the night!?” Liz exclaims accusingly.

The hue of your cheeks and your guilty smile give you away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed and wait for the slew of questions you know you’re about to get pummeled with.

“Oh my god, did you sleep with him?” Ashley asks.

You answer wordlessly, pulling back the collar of the robe, exposing the numerous wine colored markings that decorate your flesh.

“Jesus! I haven’t seen that many hickeys since highschool” Liz teases. “Ok, spill, how bad was the sex? I’m cringing just looking at your neck.”

“It was honestly the best sex I’ve ever had,” you blushed. “He made me feel like a fucking Goddess!”

“ There’s no way,” Liz scoffs. “How much experience can he even have.” She says with an eyeroll.

“Yeah I’m not buying it either,” Ashley laughs. “C’mom you don’t got to lie to us. We’ve all had our subpar hookups, especially when we were in college. Guys that age are all confidence and no skill.”

“No I’m dead serious, it was amazing!!!” You gush. “And not just his dick, but the way he made me feel…”

You proceed to tell them every detail of last night, from how he praised and appreciated your every flaw and gave you your confidence back, to just how good his dick felt inside you and how talented he was with his mouth and fingers. When you're done talking Liz gets up and starts walking towards the cabin door.

“Where are you going?” You ask perplexed.

“Going to find me one of these college boys” Liz laughs. “Does he have friends?” She jokes, making her way back to the bed. “Seriously though, sorry we teased you, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” Ashley agrees. “I’m a little jealous— good dick AND body positivity, sign me the fuck up!”

“What are you guys gonna do when the cruise is over?” Liz asks, “You’ll probably never see eachother again.”

“Oh my god, that’s right! I forgot to tell you guys the best part! Earlier in the night when we were just talking in the hot tub we figured out that he only lives an hour away from us!”

“Holy shit, what a small world, that’s awesome.” Ashley exclaims.

“I’ll tell you what’s not small,” you smirk.

[daegall]

Lee Donghyuck is definitely drunk.

↳ Sober Donghyuck doesn't have the balls drunk Donghyuck has.

pairing: rival/enemy!hyuck x reader

genre: angst, fluff, crack, college!AU, party!AU, rivals to lovers!AU

warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, much swearing

word count: 5.5k words

a/n: HI GUYS this is actually the long awaited part 2 of the 'is lee donghyuck drunk?' drabble HAHA i didn't expect it to get this long but uh yeah it is now ^^ my writings a bit rusty after a break so i hope that isn't a problem, do enjoy the fic, love u guys ^^

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy <3

In freshman year, Lee Donghyuck went to his very first college party, got wasted with his fellow freshman friends Huang Renjun, Lee Jeno, and Na Jaemin, and woke up the next day missing 3 classes. The fact that they were miles away from campus and didn’t have a ride definitely did not help.

Even then, Donghyuck still treasures the memories, keeping them close to him. He has a picture of him and his friends grinning in the bathtub at that very party in his wallet. (he had to pay Johnny Suh 30.000 won to not post the photo on facebook, as they were already completely wrecked.)

Apart from that party, Donghyuck has only been drunk thrice at other parties. He’s usually the driver, so he can’t drink that much. When Jeno takes over, however, Donghyuck goes crazy.

The second party he got drunk at, he ended up filling up a whole bathtub full of milk and cereal and convinced Jaemin to come and eat with him as Renjun took photos of them. Those photos he keeps by his bed. Jaemin is the one who keeps it in his wallet.

The third party he got drunk at, Donghyuck ended up getting the host’s trampoline in the pool, and attempted to have some fun, only to sprain his ankle. The picture Jeno took of him in the ambulance with a drunk smile and a thumbs up is now his lockscreen.

And the last party Donghyuck got drunk at, he made the pretty girl from most of his classes hate him. He doesn’t know how, or why, but all he knows is that whatever he said, made you mad, and made you two rivals now.

Time to add another party in that list, none other than the party he hosted himself.

Donghyuck doesn’t remember much. He remembers meeting you at some point by the couches, bringing you outside, and… kissing you. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t remember much about last night’s party, but he does remember the smell of your perfume, the taste of your lips, your fingers tugging at his hoodie strings to bring him closer.

Everything about you makes Donghyuck completely sober, but at the same time completely wasted, drunk on you. Drunk on the way your eyes shine as they stare into his, the hope that they hold, the small smile on your swollen lips.

Lee Donghyuck remembers some things after that. He remembers frantically getting up, he remembers asking Jeno for a ride to his dorm, he remembers completely shutting himself in his room after that.

Donghyuck remembers that night, he remembers the anxiety sitting at the pit of his stomach, the guilt he feels for leaving you hanging, the regret of kissing you.

There’s no doubt he wanted to kiss you, he’s wanted to since the moment he met you. What stopped that urge, however, was the confusion clouding his mind. Why did he kiss you? Without your consent? Did he even kiss you well? Did you like the kiss? Fuck, wait, do you hate him now?!

What Donghyuck doesn’t know, is that you feel the exact same way. You go back to your dorm heavy hearted, almost heart broken, anxiety hazy in your mind, sick in your stomach, everywhere.

God knows you’ve liked Donghyuck for a while now, after Jeno told you his mistake of making you hate him, of how he regrets it every day and night, how he wishes you two could just be friends.

That night you go to bed with a head full of thoughts as well. Does he regret it? Was it a mistake? Was it a dare? Perhaps he did it for fun. Were your kissing skills just that bad? Shit, does Donghyuck hate you now?!

In the morning, you don’t want to get up.

Neither does Donghyuck.

However, his lucky charms cereal calls out to him, being hungover on an empty stomach sucks.

His breakfast buddy for today is just Jeno, in charge of driving last night, and he senses Donghyuck’s struggles. Donghyuck never plays with his food, especially when it’s lucky charms, and especially when they’re watching TV together on the couch.

“Yo, you good bro?” Jeno mumbles through a mouthful of his food. His eyes leave the daily morning news on the TV to focus on his best friend, who’s clearly way out of it.

Donghyuck hums mindlessly, taking a big bite from his cereal.

“Why are you up so early?”

Donghyuck shrugs, eyes glancing at Jeno, only to land back on his cereal once again.

Jeno grimaces at the lack of responses, placing his bowl of rice and egg on the coffee table. “Jesus Hyuck, just tell me what happened last night,”

Donghyuck sighs, and decides it’s better to tell Jeno than to leave him hanging, he would have some good advice about his situation, right? He clears his throat slowly, gulping, before his arms cross awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“I, uh, may have kissed Y/n last night.”

The words come out slowly, softly, as if Donghyuck said it any louder, everyone on campus would know.

Jeno’s eyes widen, and he moves his body to face his friends completely. “Hyuck, are you serious? This is great!”

Donghyuck swallows the rest of his cereal, before nodding, "No, yeah, I agree—well, I would agree, if I just hadn't ran away right after."

Officially, this is the worst thing Donghyuck has ever done at a party. Jeno spent a good 20 minutes scolding Donghyuck, repeating the expression of how disappointed he is, when this could have been the very chance to get you to finally like him.

With Jeno's class only 10 minutes away, he had to stop, but didn't leave without telling Donghyuck to talk things out with you and apologize.

It's way easier said than done, he realizes, as the moment he sees you on campus, Donghyuck feels the thumping of his heart in his eardrums, his knuckles growing white and numb as he grips harshly on his backpack straps.

He tries to push away the anxiety and the urge to turn around and run away and wallow in self pity, and somehow it works. The urges are gone the moment Donghyuck takes a step closer to you, who's lining up by the burrito stand to get some lunch, it completely vanishes when you look up and notice him.

Donghyuck's mind his completely blank, mouth hanging lightly, as he makes his way towards you slowly but surely.

Nothing can stop him from thinking you look pretty much perfect right now, grabbing your burrito and swinging your backpack around to stuff your phone in the front pocket, nothing is ever going to stop the heat travelling ever so quickly to his neck, cheeks, nose, just at the sight of you.

This is it, Donghyuck is right in front of you. One of his hands releases its deathly grip on his backpack, as he reaches out a hand to wave at you. On his lips is an awkward, lopsided nervous smile, and despite that, you can still see the genuine happiness and softness in it.

God, why is he suddenly so attractive to you now?

"Hey, Y/n—"

Donghyuck stops in his tracks, his body freezing, and going limp at the same time, as he feels your presence completely brush by him. Not only have you ignored him, you left a slight nudge to his shoulder.

Donghyuck doesn't enjoy the sensations in his stomach because of what had just happened. He feels regret, the regret of even thinking of walking up to you, and the guilt. All the guilt, from all this time. From the moment you met, to every single snarky and very uncalled for comments he's made about you, every teasing and so fucking frustrating smirk he's given you that's visibly made you the slightest bit upset, the kiss last night.

You don't talk to each other for a hot moment.

Even in class, where everyone expects the both of you to go back and forth about a certain topic, both your mouths are shut.

Every time Donghyuck tries to talk to you, you ignore him, or avoid him.

You have a right to ignore him, right? He ran right after the kiss at the party, he had the guts to try and act normal with you, he's clearly trying to play with you, right?

Some part of you begs that whatever you remember from that night is true, that it was Donghyuck's lips on yours, kissing you so tenderly and lovingly, that it was his hands in yours, his skin burning against your own.

Another parts begs of you to not get your hopes too high, you might get hurt more than you'd like to. And what's your problem, suddenly finding him so very cute and attractive and everything just because he kissed you?

What, just because he made the effort of escorting you outside when someone bumped into you, just because he genuinely asked if you were okay, just because his kiss felt way to genuine, now you're gonna like him?

As much as it is hard to admit, yes. Completely. You've fallen head over heels in love with Lee Donghyuck overnight because his tone was not snarky or snobby like you remember it to be, because even when he's supposed to be inside the party, being with the people as the host, he went out of his way just to make sure you were feeling well

, because Donghyuck looked at you so lovingly, because you know exactly what his look was, because you bet you were looking at him the exact same.

The next time you see Donghyuck other than in lecture halls or hallways or the back of your mind, is a christmas party.

Mark Lee’s Christmas party.

Lee Donghyuck and Mark Lee are known for being two peas in a pod, so there’s no doubt he would be at this party. You just didn’t expect him to look… so fucking cute in his rudolph-the-red-nose-raindeer ugly christmas sweater and raindeer ear headband. The glow in his eyes is captivating to you, instantly drawing you to him.

You hope he doesn’t see you. Partly because you have a god awful santa ugly sweater on you, and also the fact that you’re quite literally gawking at how fine he is tonight.

But alas, the night flies away. You spend most of your time talking to your calc friend Shin Ryujin, who’s excited and jumping around telling you how the girl she’s had a crush on for a solid 8 months has finally agreed to go out on a date with her.

You also spend some time talking to Mark Lee as well, catching up on a lot of things as the last time you talked was months ago. He’s telling you and Ryujin about how his songwriting progress is going, when a certain song gets played by DJ Johnny Suh.

It’s none other than Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas is You’, a holiday classic, and Mark is not going to let you just sit down on one of the best bops of the century.

As you’re waving your hands up in the air, Ryujin spinning you around with less-than-innocent giggles, you catch just a slight glimpse of Donghyuck. He’s with his usual friends, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, and they’re all grinning and smiling and dancing like there’s no tomorrow.

Though he looks so happy, the moment he opens his eyes, it’s not as bright as you anticipated them to be. There’s a certain darkness, and you suppose it’s because he’s staring straight at you, but you might have been tripping.

After that, no sign of Donghyuck.

Some part of you tells you to go after him, to just be with him and get back your playful fights and bickering and everything because god, you miss him. Another part tells you to stay put because it’s your fault you got in this whole mess. If you hadn’t been a coward and ignored him, maybe you could be talking, maybe you two could be something more.

You don’t know why you brushed by him that morning, you didn’t even mean to bump shoulders with him. You panicked is all, which caused him to think that you may even hate him now, when it’s the complete opposite.

You hope he knows.

Lee Donghyuck has no idea, however.

He thinks you absolutely hate his guts now, completely ignoring him in class, and in a party, and anywhere you two go. He has nowhere else to confront this too, other than his friends.

As always, Jaemin passes him a drink, and Donghyuck accepts it unknowingly, still speaking to Renjun.

“I mean, whatever I did, can’t be that bad… right?”

Jeno grunts and takes the drink from his hands, shaking his head at Jaemin, and they start arguing, as Renjun gives his response. “Hyuck… you ran away. That’s like the douchiest thing you could do.”

“It’s not like I had bad intentions! I panicked and my feet moved on their own, okay?”

“Okay well, you better explain that to Y/n, because you sound like a douche to me, so she probably sees you as a douche too.”

Donghyuck, stressed and shitting his pants of fear and frustration, slumps in his seat, and starts playing with the Christmas lights taped to his sleeves. Though there could be a thousand different things distracting him right now, hundreds he could be focusing on instead of you, (Jaemin wrestling Jeno for no reason) all he can think about is you.

The way you’re wearing the exact same reindeer headband as him, the way you pick on your sweater as you talked to a beaming Ryujin, how happy you looked on the dancefloor as you danced with Mark. Then his thoughts drift off to that very night he kissed you. He relives the scene in his head, he can feel your breath against his lips and your eyes staring into his, but when he opens his eyes, you’re not there. And he has to change that.

Before any of his friends realize, Donghyuck snatches the abandoned bottle of alcohol that Jaemin left on the floor, and takes a big swig of it. Instantly, all his friends freeze, all gaping at Donghyuck.

“You said you were gonna drive home tonight,” Jeno mumbles grumpily.

Donghyuck smiles wryly at him, before taking another sip. “Need some of that liquid luck if I wanna get with the girl.” His words are lightly muffled by the back of his hand wipes across his lips, and albeit that, he still gets it all over his face again as he takes another drink.

And after 3 more gulps, Donghyuck realizes he really isn’t confident enough to get through this. “Actually, I think I’m gonna need a lot of that liquid luck.”

It’s 11pm, you’re in Mark Lee’s room, looking for some painkillers.

Ryujin had a little too much to drink tonight, and she is in Mark Lee’s bathroom, with Mark Lee himself taking care of her as she throws up into his toilet.

Finally finding the pills in Mark’s drawer, you quickly make a beeline towards the bathroom, which is right down the hall.

However, your course to the bathroom is rudely interrupted by someone who bumps into you quite harshly, and to your surprise, they fall right into your arms. The person who had bumped into you was none other than Lee Donghyuck, all with his rosy cheeks and droopy eyes staring up at you.

Well, this seemed familiar.

“Y−Y/n?” Your rival's confused face finally contorts into a very delighted, joyful and drunk smile as he realizes it’s really you. “Y/n!”

“Donghyuck?”

He stands up straight, only to tumble right back into your arms again, but this time, with his arms circling around your waist. His cheek buries snugly into your shoulder, and you can feel Donghyuck’s breath right by your neck, his lips softly brushing against your skin.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you drunk?”

Much to your surprise, he nods against you, his arms tightening. “Yup,”

“Wha—Hyuck, why are you drunk?”

You have the biggest urge to melt right there in that spot, to throw Donghyuck off you, dig your own grave right in front of Mark Lee’s bedroom, and bury yourself for eternity. Another urge you have, is to place a kiss on Donghyuck’s cheek.

Shit, that name. It has Donghyuck's heart spiraling in ecstasy and bliss, a warm feeling blooming from his stomach and disperses in no time. It causes a grin to spread on Donghyuck’s lips at, and before he can stop it, it's spreading to his lips, and they land clumsily, but softly, on the skin of your neck.

It's warm and loving and so very special, especially when Donghyuck starts giggling and mumbling nonsense into your skin. Why is he so adorable now?

You resist the urge.

“Hey, come on, let’s get these pills to Ryujin and Mark, and then we’ll get you some water, okay?”

Donghyuck is alright with anything you say, as long as he gets to hug you and bring you close to him, he’s down for anything.

Mark is confused why you’re taking such a long time, did you maybe come across something life changing in his room, or something? It can’t be that bad, he doesn’t own anything that crazy, after all.

When you arrive, however, he can say it is life changing.

Because who would have guessed that Lee Donghyuck, your rival and sworn enemy, would be clinging on so dearly to you and grinning into the base of your neck?

“Jesus Christ, what happened to him?”

You throw the pills at Mark, to which he catches very easily, “Man, I don’t even know.”

Ryujin's head pops up at the sound of your voice, twisting around to grin and throw her arms up in the air. “Y/n!! Come here babe!”

Even if you wanted to, you are physically unable to, with a human sized koala stuck to your side and never letting you go.

Donghyuck’s nose scrunches at her words, and he sticks his head out at Ryujin to stick out his tongue childishly as well. “No! Y/n is mine!”

They then start yelling at each other, with Donghyuck pulling you closer to him, and Ryujin attempting to crawl to you. Your breath hitches when you feel Donghyuck’s fingers fit clumsily between yours, and he digs his nose into your neck with more yells at Ryujin.

To your luck, Mark grabs Ryujin, before shoving the pill into her mouth, and passes her his bottle of water. “Drink it, or you’re going to get 10 times sicker.” You take your friend’s distraction as a chance to bolt, but with Donghyuck bolting with you as well, of course.

When you reach Mark’s room once again, you practically throw Donghyuck on his bed, but he doesn’t seem to mind, giggling the moment his head meets the pillows.

“Damn it, Hyuck, why did you have to bump into me…”

Donghyuck’s head springs up at the question, the pout on his lips ever so tempting as he messes Mark’s bedsheets up and brings it closer to his body. “What’s wrong with that?”

You can’t help but sigh, and climb onto Mark’s study chair, squeezing your eyes shut.

You can’t completely tell how you feel about this whole situation. You’re glad you can finally interact and talk to Donghyuck, but at the same time you’re so disappointed that it’s while he’s completely batshit drunk. But then again, if the both of you were sober, there’s no doubt you’d turn the other way and run away from each other. Who knows how long it would have lasted like that.

“Fuck dude, I don’t know! Why did you run away after you kissed me?!”

At your question, Donghyuck squirms around, sitting up, before his eyebrows furrow harshly, and he huffs. “I don’t know! I wanted to stay! I wanted to kiss you again and again and again, especially when you looked so f-fucking pretty, but my legs moved my themselves man!”

He looks up at you, his eyes glazed wet with a sort of clarity, lips pursing, and he grabs your wrist to pull you onto the bed with him. You nearly scream at the sudden action, but instead you groan out in pain when the top of your head knocks into Donghyuck’s jaw.

He doesn’t seem to mind it at all, not a single bit, simply rubbing at the spot. He’s too occupied with something, and that is to make things up with you. Donghyuck still feels a little bit tipsy, but he’s gained so much more consciousness than before, and the surge of adrenaline and alcohol in his veins give him more confidence than he would like.

“Y/n, I like you.” He states blankly. There’s an urge in you to refuse to believe it, to save yourself from some sort of rejection or heart break, but another urge to listen and believe and have hope feels so much better to have. You hope you don’t regret it later.

“I like you, so much. So fucking much, Y/n, I cannot express how frustrated I am because of all my actions.” Donghyuck scoffs, cringing at the memory of your falling face when he ran away, how could he be so fucking stupid? “That night, I meant everything. Every word and action, and the kiss, I wanted to kiss you again, I wanted to love you, call you mine and finally be yours after months of wanting to be yours, but I was scared.”

“Look,” Donghyuck’s hands slide to press against yours, observing each and every crevice and line, tracing the tips of his fingers along them, touch so soft you almost melt. “I know what I did was wrong. And I regret every moment spent away from you after that. I’m glad I’m here, drunk, because if I was sober, I’d be thinking about how fucking stupid this could be, but Y/n, I am stupid!” Donghyuck’s eyes reach up to gaze into yours, his emotions sincere and loving. You can feel the weight on both your shoulders lift as he looks at you so longingly, as if you were the reason for every moment he spends alive, every laugh he’s let slip through his lips, every second he spends smiling.

“So fuck sober Donghyuck, he can go screw himself.” You almost want to laugh, agree, but instead you quietly chuckle and look away. When you look back, Donghyuck no longer looks at you longingly. He looks at you, as if he knows you’re going to spend every moment of his life with him, he’s scared to lose you, but knows he won’t. “I love you,” he whispers.

And suddenly, his hands are released from your hands, one reaching behind you, clasping the small of your back, the other by your waist, pulling you closer. His breath grazes against yours, noses bumping, and you swear your eyelashes brush against his own.

And when Donghyuck’s lips finally come connecting with yours, you realize, Lee Donghyuck is sober.

Well, not completely, but mostly.

You can tell by the way his lips barely taste of any alcohol, he barely smells like alcohol. His kisses are slow, tentative, your lips molding on his softly, unlike all the messy and clumsy drunk kisses you’ve shared.

His hands that hold at your waist are gentle and comforting, sliding up and down to ease your tension. Instantly, you do. Your hands finally release from their previously clenched form, and instead find Donghyuck’s sweater, pulling him closer.

With every kiss you share, with every breath he takes from your lungs, with each touch, you know this is real, he’s not lying, and you’re definitely in love with Lee Donghyuck.

It takes a while to pull away, with slightly tipsy Donghyuck still chasing after your lips, pecking the corner of your mouth, your chin, your nose, your cheek, even, and it leaves you laughing with glee. Donghyuck finally halts, only stopping just to lean back and look at you so adoringly, so lovingly, to sit and bask in your presence and listen to your blissful laughter.

God, how much more perfect could you get?

“You’re so pretty,” Donghyuck finally mumbles under his breath. His fingers trail up to tuck your hair behind your ears, fixing your sweater just after. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your heart swells and jolts in giddiness, your stomach churning with butterflies when Donghyuck leans down to leave one last kiss on your jaw. There’s a permanent smile practically glued to your lips, as he flops down on his bed.

And before you can say anything, before you can ask if everything was real, you turn to see that Donghyuck is completely passed out on his bed, quiet breaths slipping from his lips. Your heart sinks and flips both at the same time because of the sight.

It sinks, because you’re worried. What if Donghyuck didn’t mean all this? Yeah, he might be a little sober, but what if there’s a possibility?

Your questions are all debunked a moment after, because of the reason your heart flips. Donghyuck’s arms are still circled around you, fingers curling around yours, before he tugs you to him roughly, causing you to tumble right next to him on the bed. With a content smile, Donghyuck hums, before leaning forward to tangle your legs together, and stuff his face into the side of your face and ear. You try not to laugh at the ticklish sensations, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter, because not only does Donghyuck laugh along instinctively, he enjoys the sounds of your laughter.

And before you know it, you’re out like a light as well.

Donghyuck wakes up with an aching head, his whole body numb and slightly sweaty, hair stuck up in every single direction. He vaguely recognizes the room, but it still takes him a few minutes to realize he's in Mark Lee's room.

Why is he in Mark's room? What did he do last night? Oh god, did he get drunk again?

When Donghyuck attempts to sit up, he instantly tumbles down due to the immense spinning of his mind, and he falls back to the bed. No, yeah, Donghyuck was definitely drunk last night.

He can't remember what happened last night, just a few fragments of memories here and there, but he won't think too much about it. He'd for sure throw up if he forced his brain to work a little more.

But he doesn't really have to force his brain. Not that much. Not when you come walking in with Mark's apron hanging by your neck, a piece of what seems like pancake between your lips.

Clearly, you don't expect to see Donghyuck awake, and neither is he to see you. When he sees you, your surprised eyes, cheeks stuffed with your breakfast, to the breakfast between your teeth, his memory relieves.

Oh my god Lee Donghyuck kissed you last night. Donghyuck is surprised he can remember it, he usually doesn't remember it, but with an event so big, he's sure he's going to think about it every single night.

You quickly gulp down your food, fixing your apron and appearance in front of Donghyuck, "Y−You're awake!" You cough awkwardly, socks shifting against Mark's carpet, "G−Good morning,"

In Donghyuck's opinion, it really is a good morning.

“Hey,” Donghyuck murmurs, looking away from you. Why did you have to look so adorable in your ugly Christmas sweater and Mark’s damn ‘kiss the cook’ apron?! There’s a light heat that travels to his cheeks, and that’s all Donghyuck needs to know that he’s blushing, and there’s no way he can face you without literally melting.

But to you, you see this as a sign of something negative. You’re not sure, maybe regret, or embarrassment, perhaps he was going to tell you last night was a mistake, everything was a mistake.

Donghyuck bunches up all the courage left in his bones, his blood, everything, just to face you with pursed lips, red cheeks, and soft, shy eyes. It’s really all he can muster, along with his words, “Look, about last night—”

“—Did you regret it?”

Instantly, Donghyuck freezes. “What?”

You shift uncomfortably in your spot, squishing yourself into Mark’s bedroom door frame, hoping it would ease the anxiety blooming in your stomach.

Donghyuck’s shyness and worried state flies away in a second, when he sees the worry in yours, and he knows that his shyness and blushing cheeks won’t do anything to you.

“I mean, you were drunk, so you didn’t mean it… right?”

“Y/n,” Donghyuck’s voice is laced with an emotion, an emotion so deep, one you recognize as a bittersweet fondness. “Y/n…” He repeats. Your heart is beating in your ears, your head almost going light, as he beckons you towards him.

With every step you take towards him, Donghyuck can feel his love tenfold, heart swelling at the way you tug awkwardly at your sweater sleeves, falling deeper in love with you when you sit next to him on the bed.

His eyes furrow when he sees the amount of space you put between you two, his hand reaching out to wrap one of his arms around your waist, the other softly seizing your wrists to pull you closer to him.

“If you can’t tell already,” He murmurs as his fingers fit between yours to play with your fingers. “I don’t.”

His gaze leaves your intertwined hands, glancing back up to yours. Finally, they’re bright with hope, love, surprise, they glisten with adornment and relief. His eyes reflect your own emotions.

“I don’t regret it. Not a single bit. If anything, I should be thankful, because god knows I would never even have the balls to talk to you, not after that one party when I ran, and definitely not when my feelings were scaring me so much.”

Donghyuck’s chin rests on your shoulder, the tips of his hair tickling your ear. “But now, I’m sure of my feelings.” He smiles. “I love you, Y/n. I have ever since that day you stole my answer in calculus.”

You snicker, knocking your head on top of Donghyuck’s, your hands tugging at his to fully intertwine them. “That’s funny, I remember you cursing at me at the end of that class.”

“Hey, I was nervous!”

The room is left in an atmosphere full of laughter, love, actual fucking love, and you realize that you are so butt crazy in love with Donghyuck. A moment later, the room is left in a silence, one so comforting that you don’t want to say anything.

Donghyuck’s rumbling stomach says otherwise, and he hides his face shyly into your shoulder.

“Hey, I was making pancakes for you, want some?”

His head suddenly shoots up from your shoulder, and you’re surprised at the tears that quickly form around his eyes.

“Wha—”

“—Can I kiss you?”

Well, that’s one way to have you swooning. “What?! Hyuck, I just made you breakfast!”

“And that’s a very valid reason for me to kiss you. Heck, marry you!”

And when you’re left speechless, your lips slightly gaped, Donghyuck panics a little. He just got you, how could he already freak you out?

However, the way the corner of your lips curl up indicates that you don’t actually hate the idea, and before he can stop himself, Donghyuck is reaching out and connecting your lips into a kiss.

Oh my god, when you kiss him back, it feels like a dream come true. This time, you still taste like the peach lip balm you use, but with a little tinge of peppermint (he suspects from the stash Mark keeps in the kitchen), and he loves every second your lips spend between his.

Your hand creeps up to tangle in his messy bedhead hair, and you smile lightly into the kiss at how messy it feels.

It seems like the both of you want to kiss forever, never let go, after years of pining, and you truly think that situation is happening, but the thought is short lived as the door slams open.

“Hey Y/n, is Hyuck—Jesus christ!”

You both part, but your plan to fly to the other side of the bed is ruined, with Donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you.

Not only is Mark Lee at the door, but Ryujin, awake and very much sober, is there too, cackling on the floor.

“On my bed! My fucking bed!”

Donghyuck merely shrugs, wiping the corner of his lips smugly, “Do you mind? We’re kind of having a moment—” His façade shatters in a moment, when you smack at the back of his head.

“No pancakes for you.”

“Wait, no, I’m sorry!”

So, does that answer the ongoing question of 'is Lee Donghyuck drunk'? Yeah, he's drunk.

Lee Donghyuck may be sober everyday, but he feels drunk in love every time he’s with you. (You cringe at his words as you try to dodge his kisses on your cheeks, shaking your head, “Hyuck, that’s way too corny.”)

[mi6ato]

Late Night

Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x Fem!reader 

Word Count: 5.5k

Content Warning: heavy nsfw, pet names , degradation, dry humping, praising, profanity, masturbation, choking

Synopsis: Whilst "finishing" some paperwork with your co-worker, things start to become a bit heated, and not just by arguing.

Playlist

18+ - Minors don’t interact.

Make sure you complete the remaining paperwork which is due by tomorrow and if not, then you’ll be working extra hours next week :) - Makima. 

Fuck. You’ve been stuck in the Public Safety building all day, and even though there were several files to proof-read and store in the cabinets, you accomplished absolutely nothing for the last five hours. Sighing, you lazily prop yourself up from the black chair and walk to the illuminated window. 

Nights like these, where the buildings shone iridescent colours of yellow and white, hearing people bustling around to get to their desired places and most of all, beginning to see the moon make its way up the cloudy sky, casting a dim but surreal light over the city, are what you couldn’t get tired of. 

You seriously craved a break, considering you killed around twenty devils this week alone, a pay-rise is certainly needed for accomplishing that much. Placing your hand against the glass, you admire the atmosphere, purely wishing to escape this damned hell-hole and live a life at ease, just like those people down below.

"Quit fucking day-dreaming."

Oh, and him. 

Aki Hayakawa, the absolute worst nightmare one could imagine. You only started working here around a month ago, but you already established how much of a prick he was. Ruthlessly cold and arrogant, Hayakawa wouldn't even bat an eye towards you whilst he was working alongside you. 

Even when you were trying to get to know him and asked the simplest of questions such as: How long have you been working here? Do you have any hobbies outside of work? Favourite manga? He'd give incredibly dry responses like why do you need to know. It doesn't matter right now, can't you see we need to work? and I don't have time to read fucking nonsense. 

At other times, he chose to scream at you if you unknowingly messed up the smallest amount. It was a distant memory, though his voice resounded within you deeply. 

Two weeks ago, you and Aki were sent out by Makima to handle a cockroach fiend. You managed to kill it, but only through 100 rough swings, leading you to bleed excessively soon afterwards. 

 You didn’t even use the devil you had a contract with, which could have obliterated the target within seconds. Your co-worker, well higher-up technically, was mad. Incredibly mad. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, thinking that you could beat the thing up just because it was a fiend. Why the hell did Makima employ you in the first place, and most importantly, why did she make me work with you.”

So he was going to be like that, huh. You figured at that point, there was no way you could approach him casually again, or else he'd act like an ass towards you. But at the same time, you couldn't wrap your head around the idea that he behaves like this all the time.

"Himeno, you've worked with that bastard, does he really always act so harsh?" 

"Eh, I mean, so long as you don't push his buttons, then he's not too bad, why?" 

"Well to be honest, I only see him as a cold-hearted bitch with no intent to at least try and get friendly, what's even the point in working with him? All he does is shout at your fucking face and expects you to do what he asks every single time, it pisses me off."  

"If it makes you feel better, when the division went out for drinks a couple of months ago, Aki got totally hungover, couldn't even speak at all so I had to drop him off to his apartment. Funny thing is, he started spewing tons of bullshit, like how he felt the urge to fuck this girl he saw whilst walking to work and how sad he was because he barely receives female attention. Everyone was dying of course because of how insane he was acting. So, don't worry if he's being bitter towards you right now, he definitely has a certain side to him that's blind to the naked eye." 

A certain side, sure. Clearly, there must be a side to him that no one has uncovered. A side that he's hiding because he doesn't want to be seen as weak or idiotic amongst his co-workers. He still has to remain at the top, maintaining the role of the most renowned devil hunter in the prefecture. If he slipped over, even once, he'd never make an appearance again because of the way people would change their entire perspective of him. Pathetic. 

Through all of this though, one thing you'd definitely admit is that he has a striking appearance, slick dark hair done up in a top-knot, his uniform ironed to perfection and his body. Holy Shit. Okay, you might call him a prick most of the time, but sometimes, when you're feeling curious, you wonder how good he'd be in- 

"Are you deaf, I asked you to stop zoning out.", you snap out of your daze and shudder, slowly turning around in order to see Aki's looming figure. 

"My bad, I'm just tired, how come you're here?" , you mutter, genuinely wondering why he's here so late since everyone else has gone home. 

"Makima told me to stay and check on you, since you're still new and what not. Seems to me you haven't done shit though during the last couple of hours, have you?"

Fuck no. You can't get into trouble with him again. There's no way you could deal with it this time round. You'd probably end up shouting the most incredulous stuff at him, like how shallow and brash he is towards you and even if you managed to slice a devil in front of his goddamn eyes, he'd still tell you to try harder next time ,making you feel like utter shit. Things like that couldn't be said out loud, so you figure it'd be best not to argue and instead just listen. But you don't. 

"I haven't, so why don't you come and do something instead of just standing there so idly, if you think you're the best worker around here". 

Aki grits his teeth and you could see, ever so slightly, that his left eye was twitching in frustration. It looks like he wants to say something, something that he usually wouldn't say. After what seems to be forever, He lets out a long sigh and replies "Fine. But for the record, I'll be informing Makima about the "work" you've completed today, don't even think you can get away with this, especially with me". 

He strides to the desk, where you left all the papers to fill out and begins sorting them with ease. It was in this moment, where you wished for him and you to just get along, if he wasn't acting so impertinent. Maybe you'd actually enjoy being in his presence if he started being nice to you. Maybe, just maybe, if you rile him up a bit, he'll listen to you. 

"And I'll inform her about how much of a self-centred bastard you are.", you retorted. 

Aki cocks his head towards you, with a grimacing look on his face. You don't care though right now, focusing instead on what you want rather than giving in. 

"Y'know how much of a pain in the ass it is to deal with hearing the same bullshit spewing out of your mouth on a daily basis? I fucking physically recoil whenever Makima tells me I have to work with you out of all people. And get this, even she says that you can be persistent with work at times, like a little try-hard." 

That'll do the job, you're sure of it. You may have lied about the last part, but you were willing to go over the edge if you wanted Aki to budge. Instead though, there's a deadly silence in the room. Saying nothing at all, he just looks at you with those dark blue eyes of his. One minute goes by. Three minutes go. For fucks sake. It's been nearly five minutes but he still stares hard into you, making your entire body shiver in fear. 

Shit, shit, shit. You realized that he'd probably tell the higher ups everything you've said to him, regardless if it was true or not. Not only that, but he'd tell your fellow co-workers, and they'd definitely despise you after that. Ah, working in the streets didn't seem so bad after all. 

"Come here." Aki places the papers onto the desk, neatly stacking them and leaving it to the side. You remain still, unable to move an inch, afraid of the endless possibilities of what he'll do next. 

"I said come here, you seriously can't hear a fucking word, huh." , he repeats, adjusting his blazer as he stands up. 

You start making your way towards him, even though you might piss any minute because of how terrified you are. If anything, you'd rather cause an accident and make an excuse to leave instead of hearing whatever he has to say to you next. Once you finally approach him, he motions you to sit on the chair. He bends over slightly, and you can already smell the musky cologne blended in with cigarette smoke from him. 

“Tell me, did you really mean everything you said?”, Aki questions, slowly placing a hand on your shoulder. Oh God. The touch of his palm alone sent a shiver through your entire body. You felt yourself blushing red, Jesus Christ , he was obviously going to catch on that you were unreasonably warm. Your mind felt hazy, but you had to keep talking or else there’d have been utterly no point in provoking him. 

“Y-yeah, of course I meant every fucking word and what are you gonna do, tell your superiors that some random girl who you believe doesn’t do shit at work insulted you, like a coward? Go on then, see if I-” , your words are abruptly stopped as his hand shuts your mouth. Shit. It reeks of cigarette, but it feels oddly tender against your lips. You want to break free from his hold but right now, at this moment, you give in, slumping down. 

"Listen, I don't fucking care whether you like me or not, in all fairness, I couldn't give two shits if you told Makima, because at the end of the day, I’m still your higher up, so even if you went around telling our entire goddamn division that I've been acting hasty towards you, chances of them actually caring are low as hell.", he sneers, his grip tightening around your mouth ever so slightly, but the sheer slightness made you wince, sinking you downwards on the chair.

In this position though, you came to realize how huge his hands are compared to your face and holy hell, his fingers. They were gracefully slender and oh, so intricate. Your mind began to wonder elsewhere, those unwanted thoughts slowly beginning to creep in.. you were helpless at this point. Aki let go, lightly tapping his foot whilst he waited for your response, but you were still immersed in your little fantasy, evident by the way your eyes were dozing off. 

“Am I talking to a fucking dog right now, or are you just going to keep spacing out with that hideous look of yours.” Oops. 

“Uh-huh, I mean- No, I heard you the first time.” 

“Is that it? You’re not even going to apologize? After everything you’ve just said to me in the span of ten minutes.” Aki answers, his tone deeper than it was before. He straightens his already taut posture and glowers at you. Oh God. 

There was something rather thrilling about seeing him so worked up about you, knowing that this was the first time you garnered so much attention from him. All other attempts of trying to at least hold a small conversation whilst you were partnered up with him never seemed to be successful. But now, now that you’ve finally got him under your control, he’s forced to take notice of you. You yearn for more. 

“Apologize? Pft, I was speaking the truth, you scolding me isn’t going to do anything and quite frankly, I have friends in our division who are amusing and fun to be around. Unlike some people who think it’s okay to act like a bitch 24/7.” 

His eyes widen but nevertheless, he keeps that cool, stoic composure. How much more did you have to say for him to snap? You ponder for a bit, trialling the different ways you could approach this situation in your head. 

“So you’re going to be like that, chatting like a runt to me when you clearly don’t fucking understand who’s in charge here” , an enraged expression forming as he speaks, “ If I were you, I’d try and actually get some shit done if you don’t want to get fired, but it seems that everything I say to you goes through one ear and out the other.” Letting out a heavy exhale, he re-adjusts his blazer, trying so hard to keep his cool. 

“A runt. Is that what you really see me as? Maybe this is why I choose not to listen to a fucker like you. I’ve worked my ass off this week, but you’d clearly know, wouldn’t you?” you insisted. 

Aki chews his lips, fiddling with his fingers before remarking “I think, if you’re going to continue acting this way, you need some lessons retaught, I’m talking the basic principles since filth like you have no fucking clue what it means to respect those who are only trying to help.” 

Stress mounts your head, “Help? Yeah, as if you’re helping me at all. What lessons do you even need to re-teach me anyways, I'm not a goddamn child.” What the hell was he going to explain to you, how to show some decent manners? Of course you knew that, for God’s sake. 

Wasn’t it clear to him that you’re fed up with his antics, that you’re just trying to get him off the leash a little. This is gonna take so long. Way too long for your liking. 

“Get over here then, and I’ll show you”, Aki tilts his head a bit, signalling you to come over with his finger as he walks to the desk. 

You stroll with him, taking a peek at how neatly the papers are stacked on top of each other, and how they were arranged in alphabetical order. Wow. He certainly takes attention to detail seriously. You want to praise him all of a sudden, for how agile but engrossed he is with his tasks that weren't even meant to be assigned to him. 

“Hey, did anyone ever mention how well you sort-” 

Out of nowhere, you feel something seize the back of your head, shoving you onto the desk. You smack against the concrete wood and cry out in pain. 

“Jesus, what the fuck are you doing”, you yell, shaking around frantically to try and loosen the ever-strengthening grip at the nape of your neck. 

“Dirt doesn't deserve to be taught shit I realized, and you undoubtedly seem to be the dirtiest of them all. I don’t fucking know why I bother with lost causes these days, all they do is make my head writhe in disgust.” , he goads, digging his hands into your neck until it turns bright red. He’s cut access to air, rendering you unable to breathe properly. You struggle within his grasp, failing to break free. God, you were going to die right now in the most wretched way possible. But, the harder he latched onto you, the more you wanted to let out a- 

“H-hah.” Oh. no.  

“Oh? What was that, I didn’t quite catch you” , Aki chides, but you see a smirk beginning to form on his face. He fucking heard. 

“I-I want you to let go of me, it fucking hurts like hell.”

“Really? It seems to me that you were enjoying being pushed around, or did I mishear that noise coming out of you”, he slowly began to release you but as he did , Aki angled your body, so that you were facing directly at him.

“God, please can you go, I’m already tired enough as it is.” And in distress. How on earth were you going to work with him again, after he heard you moan whilst fucking suffocating you. You can’t even register why you did that, you were on the verge of passing out, yet you couldn’t repress that disgusting sound coming out of your mouth. 

“That’s not a good enough reason, and you didn’t even answer my question” he countered, narrowing his eyelids. 

For fucks sake. This man was clearly going to push you on and on, to the point where he’d drive you mentally insane. You couldn’t even deny the allegations he hurled at you though, filling you with fervent anger. 

“Okay, maybe I did fucking moan when you were choking me, but that doesn’t mean I felt good from it. If anything, I feel sickened by you. A bit traumatized even.” 

“You’re a shit liar.” 

His words bang in your head, making you feel unsteady. Those 4 words alone made you want to retch, he wasn’t buying into your games anymore. He most certainly wasn’t planning on feeding into them either. 

You had 2 debilitating choices. Leave so you could get away from him, but ultimately you’d get nothing done and probably get fired. Or, you could stay, but you’d be suffering in the hands of your higher up, who was already giving you a fucking hard time. 

No matter what though, everyone in your division would find out about what you did, and soon enough, it’d spread to the entire workforce. 

You might as well just die at this point. 

“I’d never lie, Aki. You’re a bastard, and I hope everyone finds out about your feeble antics”, you scowled at him, attempting to maintain your coolness so that you wouldn’t lash out like a feral cat again. 

Aki looks at you, but doesn’t say anything. You wonder what’s going through his mind right now, whether he actually cares about what you’ve said or if he’s just trying to process the fact that you’re fucking crazy. You honestly couldn’t tell at this point. 

Checking the time, it’s already gone past 1. Now it’s been 7 hours. You’ve roughly completed 25% of the work, but the 25% was Aki’s doing. Great. 

“God, we’ve wasted so much time arguing, please can I just finish my assignment, you’ve done enough helping as it is”, you affirmed. 

The throbbing pain in your head finally eased, so you managed yourself up, slowly but surely. It would have given you great joy if you passed out in front of Aki, the fucker would have realized how drained out you were. Flashes of black and white entered your periphery as you tried to regain vigour, exactly how long were you slammed down for… you didn’t have a clue. The last time you felt like this was when you accidentally snorted cocaine whilst peeking in your dad’s cupboard. That certainly was an interesting time. 

“I’m gonna continue, thanks for helping I guess, and for the record, whatever happened here stays here. I think that’s a pretty solid plan, don’t you think?” , you propose as you sit down on the desk chair. 

Aki moves closer, leaning his face in so that he can get a clearer view of you. You didn’t realize how tall he was, probably 6 feet, or more to be fair. The feeling of superiority lingered between you both whenever you worked alongside one another. Though he was your higher-up, even if he was an average colleague or loosely something along those lines, you’d still feel like a fucking ant compared to him. 

“Nah. I think I have a better idea in mind.” , Aki muses, his navy eyes piercing into you yet again. This time though, there was no hint of distaste or pure hatred coming from them like they used to. It seemed there was a hint of compassion and even, you refused to believe it, a trace of lust. Lust. There was no way that Aki had any intention of doing anything of the sort with you, considering the terms you were on with him currently were not great. Although… The smallest thought lingers through your mind;

Maybe he does want to fuck me

Another thought races into you; 

And I want to fuck him. 

Ah shit. As much you hated to confess, your love life wasn’t exactly exceptional. Occasional hook-ups, sure. The ones that you got into though, were boring and mundane. You couldn't even remember the last time you had a one night stand with someone, one, no, two years ago. It was heart-breaking. When you first started working at Public Safety, you knew it’d be best to cast your concerns of romance aside, it was an issue to deal with another day. 

Now… maybe this could be your chance. Your chance of finally satisfying that unkempt desire burning deep within you. What you were about to do was ludicrous but fuck it, you only lived once. Heart pounding erratically, your hand traces up his shirt and to his collar. 

Seizing him, you murmur “Oh really, what kind of idea?”, pulling him closer to your face. Rubbing his chin, you whisper into his ear “If I were to guess, I think your so-called idea is fucking me right here, right now.” You can feel Aki’s neck suddenly become more heated, and you can’t help but grin. 

He slaps your hand away. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, just shut up. I’ve had enough of this, I’ll tell Makima to give you an extension or something.”, Aki stutters, his face becoming flustered so much that he turns away. He starts making his way towards the door, ready to unlock it and leave.

 You can tell how agitated and disoriented he is, by the way he fumbles the keys out of his blazer pocket and the uncoordinated movement of his legs. 

No. 

After all of this, you can’t just have him leave you. You’d be so fucking embarrassed if you turned up to work tomorrow and saw him again, after all the things you said and did to him. It’d permanently haunt your mind as long as you continued working here. You rise up and hurry to him. Grabbing Aki, you turn him around and shift his focal point towards you. 

“Look at me Aki, please, I can already tell how frustrated you are by all of this. By me. I’m sorry for all the bullshit I’ve said to you, but I can’t tell what you want from me. One minute, you’re yelling at me because I’m apparently not doing my job correctly, and the next you shut your mouth and refuse to even acknowledge my presence. Just tell me what you want.”, you insisted, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He stays mute, yet again. 

Beginning to lose hope, you mutter “See you tomorrow then.” and start heading back to your desk to try and complete the paperwork that was supposed to be finished hours ago. 

Out of nowhere, you feel something grip your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. It was Aki’s hand. 

“I hate you. I hate you so fucking much” , he states, tightening his hold on you. 

“Well no shit, I figured so why don’t you just le-” , your words are halted as his lips press onto yours, begging for you to indulge in this moment. 

His tongue slips into your mouth, whirling around your inside. Fuckk. You can’t help but groan, it was so sudden, yet you felt so good. Craving for more, you push his head further in, so that his tongue drives itself deeper into your throat. Oh God. You were struggling to breathe, but if he wanted to play like this, you’d do the exact same. You force your sloppy tongue inside him, exploring the crevices of his mouth. The sweet taste of him made you twitch, it was other-worldly. Aki pushes you against the wall hurriedly, so desperate for more. Pulling away from him, you catch a few breaths, wiping the sweat that was already forming on your face. Wow. Aki’s hands cup your face and you hear him mumble

“And y’know what else I hate? I hate that you’re so fucking addicting. It hurts my dick every night.” 

What. 

“The hell do you mean by that? I- please elaborate.” you stumble upon your words, attempting to process what Aki just said to you. 

He raises his voice ,“You heard me. Ever since you stepped foot into this damn building, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The way you strolled to Makima’s office without a care in the world, and spoke with such transparency even though you knew no one, made me fucking envious. I simply despised the way you were being praised and held so highly by everyone, and you hadn’t even been here for a week.” 

Your face plasters with shock. Aki, Aki Hayakawa, the most esteemed devil hunter at Public Safety, was jealous of you. Despite how slightly amused you were hearing that from him, your mind was mixed with confusion and chaos. He still didn’t explain what he meant by those last words he uttered. 

“I get that, well, most of it since I really can’t comprehend why you out of all people would be so irritated with me. After all, you’re the most driven individual at work, how could I get in the way of anything?”, you implore, running your hand down his silken face. Aki pursed his lips, turning the faintest pink and looked down.  

“What did you mean by those last words too? Or was it just in the moment.” God, you seriously intended for it be some shitty prank, it sounded demented coming out of his mouth. 

He glanced back up at you, smiling slyly as he took your hand and began kneading your fingers. 

“Oh, I wasn’t lying. You have such an alluring figure and fuck, those lips of yours. So pink and luscious. I wanted to savour you so badly, every single day. Every goddamn day, as soon as I arrived home, I headed to the bathroom and stroked my dick relentlessly whilst I thought about you undressing, sucking me off, all sorts of obscene shit. I came so much, so much to the point where I was in pain. It hurt that I couldn’t approach you because you joined Kishibe’s division and not mine. It hurt that you managed to shit talk every guy you stumbled upon, but not me. And most of all, it hurt that even if I did attempt to speak to you, I’d shy away, afraid of messing up my chances.”

“Chances of what?”, cocking your eyebrow at him. Everything he was saying to you, it was definitely surprising but holy shit, you couldn’t get enough of the fact that you directly consumed his mind. It felt electrifying, knowing that he pleasured himself because of you. And God, that sultry grin of his. It’s as if he wanted you to give in, solely wanting you to get on with it. You wanted to as well, but curiosity got the best of you this time round. 

Aki clasped your shoulders and whispered into your ear ,

“Of making you mine.” 

The sonorous intonation made you quiver with delight. His hot breath trailed down your skin, squeezing your legs as the sensation tingled throughout your entire body. Dear God. 

Pure adrenaline entrails you and within seconds, you shove him onto the chair and propped yourself on his lap. You catch a glimpse of his arm making its way up to your waist, clutching your hip. He’s seriously desperate for this. For you. 

“Tell me Aki, do you really need me?” , you muse, brushing his bangs away so you could get a better look at those divine sapphire eyes. They reminded you of the ocean at night, the waves hitting the coastline ever so softly, but its next moves were unpredictable. The wave could either be calm, or surge with malice. Aki was the exact same. So perplexing he was, you wished to uncover each sophisticated layer of him, no matter how long it took. 

“Yeah, I do need you, so fucking badly. I crave for every single inch of you, I want to be inside you”., his voice is strained, trying so hard to hold back. 

“How much Aki, hmm” , you begin grinding on his crotch, pressing your hands onto his chest for balance. He was needy, and you were going to make him ever more so. Quickening your pace, your body worked into him harder, feeling his bulge throbbing beneath you. It already felt so huge, fuck, it was exhilarating. You’d never felt this aroused before, not like the other times. He didn’t even have to do anything, but you could already feel your panties dampening at the sheer sight of him screwing up in libido.

“Hn-ngh, so, so much, f-fuck, too fast, you’re going way-” 

“A-Aki, you wanted this, right”, your hands enfold the back of his head, bending in to smother succulent licks down his neck. 

“Of course I do, a-at least let me touch you, I wanna make you feel high, so high that you cum for me as much as I did for you.”

“A-ah, please, please touch me Aki. Fuck me up so badly that I can’t even breathe after we’re done.” , you purr, frantically moaning out as the friction between his fully erect dick and your soaked clit rises. 

That does it for him. Those vulgar words slurring out of those seemingly innocent lips, the way that you arched your back whilst dry-humping him, God, he was ready to do this all night. Ready to strip you down and fuck you senseless, that you’re only calling out his name whilst you’re at your tipping point. Even if his cock was aching to fill you up, he wanted to take his time, focusing on each intricate part of you that he’d be fantasizing about for so long. 

It happens so fast, too fast that you couldn’t even fathom what he’d do next. He’s untucking your shirt, lifting it up and planting small pecks on your stomach. His warm touch on your bare skin alone was enough for you to squirm. He wasn’t done though. Far from it. 

His hands reach to your bra, and it’s as if he’s skilled in this profession. Unclipping it swiftly, he tosses it onto the floor, taking no time to fondle your tits, stroking circles around. 

“D’you like this? Tell me you like this baby.” Aki pants, seeing your face blossom with pleasure as his thumbs press into your breasts fervently.  

“Y-yeah, I do, need more, hah, so much more.”, your pupils shimmering with intense desire at him. 

“Beg for me then. If you don’t, you aren’t getting fucked. Simple.” 

Right. This was payback for much you toyed with him, but you’re too caught up in the moment to even care.

 “Aki, please-” , he pinches your nipples, twisting them as you squeal out in pain. 

“It’s Sir, already forgetting how to address your higher ups?”

“F-fuck, Aki sir, I only crave you. Your touch. Your voice. Give me all of it, please.” 

"Oh hell yeah, been waiting to mess you up for so fucking long.” , his formal tone fully leaves him, though he honestly couldn’t have given two shits whether or not he sounded professional anymore. Aki was already overwhelmed with all the work he had to finish, particularly this one. 

Sticking his tongue out, he proceeded to your left breast, dragging his hands down to your hips. Rolling it against your tit, you convulsed within his touch. His mouth was skilled, way too skilled for your liking. Saliva trailing between your nipple and his mouth as he released, a smug grin formed on his face. 

“God Aki , you're so good, so fucking good” , you whimper, digging your nails into his back skin.

“Y-yeah, this isn't enough for me though, not in the slightest" Aki says through harsh breaths, moaning at how brash you scratch his back. 

He returns to suck on your right tit, this time with incessant movement, making sure he feels how hard it's becoming. You could tell how desperate, how frustrated he was. He wanted you for so long, yet he waited until you gave the call. This only made you wetter. 

"Ha-, fuck Aki , I'm gonna-" 

You feel your underwear slick with cum and pant heavily. Aki notices and wastes no time to unbutton your trousers and throw them aside. 

You're embarrassed. If you were aware of the events that would occur today, then you could have put in a little bit more effort with what you were wearing underneath. Your underwear wasn't even laced either, they were pink. And striped. 

"Shit- I swear I don't wear these all the time.." , you mutter. 

"Honestly, I couldn't care less, you've already coated them with your juices”, he tugs you and leans in to mumble 

“Now I can finally have a taste of you.” 

[molly-ghuleh]

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 2

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You start work on Elizabeth's diary, and finally get a good look at Papa.

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Hey hello, I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a bit of a monster, but worth it, I promise!

Warnings: Mentions of reader having religious trauma

AO3 Link / Chapter 1

~~~

You’ve been hunched over this damned diary all day. 

Sister Imperator was right. None of the Abbey’s translators or archivists would have been able to read Elizabeth’s writing because she had written in a cipher. With no spaces between words and with no obvious keyword to decipher her entries, the first page of her diary looks like nonsense. Just absolute gibberish. 

But to you, it isn’t. 

With each passing hour you spend at a small table in the restricted room, you admire Elizabeth more and more. She was smart as a whip and even more clever. You figure that, if she wanted her diary to be kept secret, she could have simply destroyed it. Burnt it, ripped it, buried it, dipped the whole thing in black ink—anything surely would have been easier than creating a cipher which has no discernable pattern. 

She didn’t destroy it, though. She wrote on each page, front and back until the entire book was filled, and then she hid it. If something is truly never meant to be found, it won’t be. Which leads you to believe Elizabeth’s diary isn’t a diary at all. It’s a record. 

A record of what, you have yet to be sure. It is secret enough for Elizabeth to want it to be discovered someday, but only after she is long gone. That intrigues you enough to sit hour after hour over this book, trying every word you can think of that might be the key to the cipher. So far you have crossed off ‘Satan’, ‘Lucifer’, ‘Beelzebub’, and other aliases of the Dark One. You hadn’t expected those to work, because Elizabeth seems smarter than that, but you had to try just to rule them out. You also tried words like ‘chapel’, ‘altar’, and other imagery of the Satanic Ministry, with no luck. You thought perhaps the first five letters of the entry were the key to the second five, or vice versa. You tried again with the first six letters, the first two, three, four. Nothing. 

The only words you have been able to read are the dates of each entry, the month and the day, which she wrote in the top-left corner in plain English. Those were not much of an accomplishment to decipher.

You sigh and sit up straight for a moment. Your back is sore after hours of slouching and writing. The once-crisp notebook under your pen is nearly half full of incorrect keywords and mistranslations. The small window on the far wall of the restricted room has grown dark and no sounds echo to you from the hollow of the atrium. 

You’d gotten up to find something to eat (and to uncross your eyes) during the dinner hour. Tonight you opted for a hot meal but decided not to stay in the refectory. You don’t know if food is even allowed in the library but all the Siblings who work there were at dinner, so you snuck it in anyways. You aren’t careless, though, so you ate your dinner at a different table, far away from the one where Elizabeth’s diary and your notebook sit open. That had been a few hours ago. 

As far as you can tell from the small window in the door, the lights in the library have been dimmed for the night. No one came and fetched you to tell you that it was closing, so you assume it stays open at all hours. Your own desk lamp is the only source of light in the restricted room. 

You rise from your workstation and move towards the closed door. Such an enclosed room tends to get stuffy and humid, and it’s still too chilly outside to open a window. You gently prop open the door to let in the relatively fresh air of the library. No one said you couldn’t keep the door open when you’re inside the room, only that the door must be locked when you aren’t. 

Returning to your desk, you can already feel the cooler air drifting through the bookshelves. You’re content to work for a few more hours like this. It feels wrong to give up for the night when you have nothing to show yet. It feels wrong to stop working when you have something to prove, and somewhere to return. 

The night here is eerily silent. At home in Marseille, if you open your dormitory window and sit on the end of your bed to look out over the water, you can hear the soft lapping of water against the marina docks. If the wind carries just right, you can also hear the creaking of masts and cables as the sailboats list back and forth in the water. Sometimes the gulls stay out at night during the summer months, calling for one another from their perches on a bow pulpit. The breeze carries the saltiness of the water and the sweetness of the hillside wildflowers into your dormitory, illuminated only by a small desk lamp and the moon—

A sound from outside the room breaks you from your reverie. Your consciousness whips back to the present, to the Abbey. The ghostly scent of salt and flowers fades, replaced by old leather and dust and ink from your pen. 

You raise your eyes to look through the open door when you hear another sound. There’s no one visible to you—whoever they are must be between shelves, looking for a late-night romance novel to put them to sleep. 

You haven’t figured out why the romance section is so tucked away yet. Though, perhaps if erotica is shelved nearby, the librarians would want any wandering hands to stay hidden. Not that lust is shameful here—it’s the Satanic Ministry, it’s actually encouraged—but the library is not the place to get hot and heavy. 

Knowing that someone is nearby distracts you terribly, and you decide to stop for the night. The little analog clock hanging next to the door reads past midnight. At this hour, you likely won’t get much done anyway. You need sleep and a proper breakfast to let your mind work. 

You take the time to gently wrap Elizabeth’s diary in the white linen and return it to its lockbox. The rest of your things don’t take long to gather, having only brought the one notebook and a few pens, plus your empty dinner box. You close the door behind you as you exit, fishing through your habit pocket to find the key. It and the key to your dormitory are affixed to a single keyring which jingles as you fumble with it one-handed, but you lock the door successfully and turn to make your way to the staircase. 

Rather, you try to make your way. 

As soon as you turn around, a figure emerges from the bookshelves. You promptly run into him, which sends your materials to the floor and your mind reeling with apologies. “Oh, je suis vraiment désolé—Er, I’m so sorry!” you bluster, holding your now-empty hands out to plead for forgiveness. You kneel to gather your things into a messy pile, then stand and finally meet the eyes of the poor soul you’d accosted with your body. “I should have been more careful, but it’s late so I thought…” 

They’re the same eyes you’d met yesterday, in the refectory. Still striking, still surrounded by black, but up-close and more relaxed. And no white paint. Just the black upper lip and the black eyes of Papa Emeritus the Fourth. 

“It’s, eh, it’s quite alright, Sister,” Papa says with an awkward little laugh. You notice he’s not wearing his robes or his mitre. In fact he’s not wearing anything that might remotely indicate that he’s the Antipope. He wears a simple black t-shirt and red sweatpants, and gray fuzzy slippers that have the eyes and whiskers and pink nose of a rat which you thought looked cute when you’d knelt down. 

But he’s still Papa, and you still barreled into him like a brute. 

You try to smile but it feels more like a grimace. “Still, I shouldn’t have just…” you gesture with your free arm. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” 

Papa pats his chest like he’s searching for injuries. You hit him hard, but not that hard, and it makes you laugh softly. “I’m fine. Quite good. Still in one piece,” he says. “Are you? And why are you here so late?”

You blush. “Oh, does the library close at night? I’m sorry, no one came and told me, I just assumed…” 

“No, no,” Papa reassures you, waving a hand in front of himself. “No, it doesn’t close. But it’s usually empty at this time of night, you see.” 

You nod in understanding. “It is pretty late.” 

“It is,” Papa echoes. “So… pardon my asking, Sorella, but why are you still awake?”

“I was, um,” you try to explain, looking down at the messy pile of translation work cradled in the crook of your elbow. “I was working on Elizabeth’s diary, but it may take longer than I expected.”

Papa’s face seems to light up at your mention of your work. “Oh! Forgive me, yes, I should have known,” he rushes out. “You are the, eh, visitor? From Marseille?”

You nod and give him your name. He repeats it softly to himself, as if to remember it. You doubt he will, but you won’t hold it against him—there are many, many Siblings at the Abbey and many names to remember. So if he manages to distinguish you from the rest of the crowd, you will be pleasantly surprised. Not to say you don’t have faith that he could, but… well. You’re running yourself in circles. 

He narrows his eyes slightly, but pauses for a moment. “I saw you yesterday, at dinner,” he tells you. 

So much for not remembering a face in the crowd. You mentally kick yourself. 

“Ah, yes,” you chuckle nervously. “I’m not the biggest crowd person.” Papa chuckles. “Yes, I noticed. To be honest, neither am I.” 

That’s hard to believe, coming from him. To be Papa is to be a figurehead, a symbol of unwavering faith and devotion to the Olde One which the entire Satanic Ministry worships. One must be a bit of a crowd pleaser in order to be successful in his position. “It doesn’t seem that way, Papa,” you tell him. “You command a room very well, from what I’ve heard.” 

A smug little grin grows on Papa’s lips, and it suits him. Smiling suits him. “So word of my immense charisma has traveled all the way to Marseille, yes?” he asks, mostly teasing. But a small lilt in his voice betrays that he really does wonder. What does this foreign Sister think of him based on word of mouth alone? And does his person size up to his reputation? 

You laugh. “It has,” you say. “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing you are uncomfortable in a crowd.” 

Papa tuts his tongue, his grin growing into a fond smile. “You should have seen my brother.” There’s a small sparkle of reminiscence in his eye as he says this, and you wonder which of the three other Papas he speaks of. You’ve heard different stories about all of them. 

His eyes drop to the papers and notebook in your arm, then back up to your face. “But, eh, you are settling in well, Sorella?” he asks. 

You can tell he wants to change the subject, so you let him. “Yes, Papa, thank you,” you smile. 

“That’s not very convincing.” 

You release an airy laugh and drop your head. He can see right through you. “It’s very different here,” you say. “Marseille is… small. Cozy. Secluded. Not to say that I don’t like it here, because it really is very nice—”

“It’s crowded,” Papa cuts you off. It’s soft, and not intended to be rude, but to agree with you. “And big. I understand.”

Your shoulders drop, but you hadn’t realized they were raised in the first place. “It’s not home,” you find yourself admitting. 

He nods. “And so you work late into the night because you do not want to sleep in an unfamiliar bed.” 

You stare at him for another beat. He seems to know what you’re feeling even before you do, because yes, your bed here isn’t the same as the one back home, and suddenly you’re very close to crying. Don’t cry, don't cry, don't cry…

“May I tell you something, in confidence?” Papa asks. His voice is low and gentle. It soothes you. His eyes search your own, flicking back and forth between them, and you begin to understand how this slightly awkward man in rat slippers is able to enrapture an entire chapel of people. 

You nod. 

“I miss being a Cardinal,” he tells you. “Truly, I do. Becoming Papa has been the only goal I can ever remember having, ever since I was old enough to care. But as soon as I ascended I…” He pauses. His mouth opens and closes, like he’s trying to decide whether or not he should finish his thought. 

He sighs. “What I mean to say is, There is no shame in missing where you used to be.”

You hold his gaze for another long moment, wondering what it is he was going to say. His words linger in the silence between you and you let them. As soon as he became Papa he… what? 

“Thank you, Papa,” you say quietly. The moment feels almost intimate, like he’d confided his biggest secret to you. But for all you know, he tells every Sibling he comes across the same thing. It’s his duty to counsel everyone under his roof, visitors included. 

No, you chastise yourself. Papa doesn’t seem like the kind of man to have practiced lines for serendipitous meetings… but you are still learning not to assume the worst of people. You had been far too young when you learned not to trust anyone, even those deserving of it. But Papa… he seems genuine, and it’s all you can do (for yourself and for him) to believe that he is. 

You realize that this is the natural end of your conversation. That now is when you should say goodnight, nice to meet you, see you around, but you don’t want to. You can’t tell if it’s because you’ve been on your own all day, or because it’s late and you’re tired, or because the air around him seems to grow warmer and more… comfortable. Papa radiates an aura of peace that you haven’t felt since you received Sister Imperator’s letter nearly a week ago.

“If I may ask, Papa,” you start, just as the silence begins to grow awkward, “what are you doing awake at this hour?”

Papa’s eyes turn down, and a small smile graces his lips. “Ah, I was just looking for something to read,” he says, and you nearly laugh at yourself for asking such an obvious question. Of course he’s looking for something to read. The two of you are standing deep in the bowels of the library. 

Oh, who are you kidding? Papa likely came here to find a book in peace, not speak to some foreign Sister. Who are you to keep his attention? 

“I see,” you say, in your practiced voice. “Well. Good luck, and I hope you find something, Papa.” 

Before you can blurt out any more feelings to him, you turn and walk briskly towards the winding staircase that leads you to the first floor. 

~~~

Copia watches you retreat, slightly confused and halfway ready to call your name to make you stay. Something had changed in your demeanor just before you left, and he wants to ask if you’re alright, or if he said something wrong and caused you to close yourself off like that. Was it his little comment about missing the past? No, no, it couldn’t be—your eyes had been wide and searching, but you weren’t offended. Your brow had furrowed but not out of disgust. 

He’s not as clueless as most people think he is. Just because he has a hard time finding the right words to say what he’s thinking doesn’t mean he’s stupid. In fact, Copia prides himself on his ability to read people. His ability to speak as eloquently as he does in his head… that’s another story. 

When he’d first seen you in the refectory yesterday, you had already been looking right at him. He was curious about the straggler who’d wandered in so timidly. Your face isn’t one he’d seen around the Abbey. If he had, he would’ve remembered you because frankly, you’re striking. 

Copia doesn’t know why he hadn’t connected the dots sooner. It seems obvious that a brand new Sister should appear only weeks after Sister Imperator mentions bringing someone in to translate the document that had been found. Your presence had been a single talking point during some meeting or another, and if he’s perfectly honest, most Clergy meetings seem to blend together into nonsensical mush when he thinks back on them. Your mention of Elizabeth’s diary had reminded him of a few vague details. But the rest of that discussion, unsurprisingly, slips his mind. 

He finds himself feeling guilty. He’d been at that meeting, he knows for certain. The paperwork to confirm your temporary transfer had landed on his desk and he’d signed it. He must have. Your file must have been sent over from Marseille ahead of your arrival, why hadn’t he seen it?

Copia runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. He should have welcomed you to the Abbey himself. He should have sought you out and personally offered his hospitality, because he knows what it’s like to be across the world from home. He knows how lost and alone you feel. He’d felt it himself, after he transferred to the Abbey as a newly-appointed Cardinal. 

I miss being a Cardinal, he’d told you. And it’s true, he does, but he misses being an Archbishop more. He held less sway within the Satanic Ministry as an Archbishop, but he was allowed to stay in Italy. His home. 

As soon as he’d ascended to the rank of Cardinal, Sister Imperator had called him to the Abbey as a permanent transfer. Sure, his brothers had all been transferred from Italy one by one as they were called up to the Papacy, so he had family at the Abbey. But they had all been busy, constantly, and so had he. 

You’d told him you miss home, and a very strange, very tender part of him wants to comfort you. 

~~~

You replay your conversation with Papa all the way back to your dormitory. Stupide, stupide, stupide… 

He told you that he’s not much of a crowd person, and then you go and tell him that his Abbey doesn’t feel cozy enough for you? And you nearly knocked him over in your haste to return to a bed that you told him isn’t as good as the one in Marseille. What a way to thank him for opening his home to you! Thanks, Papa, but here are all the reasons why your Abbey sucks.

“Fille stupide,” you mutter to yourself. The sound echoes off the walls of the dark, empty corridor. The wall sconces are dark for the night, so the only illumination comes in the form of pale blue stripes of moonlight along the tiled floor. 

When you finally reach your dormitory and softly shut the door behind you, you take a moment to breathe. You’d been walking rather briskly in order to get back. Your fingers clench so tightly on the edge of your notebook that your fingernails are white, and your joints creak as you release your hold. The slap of the spiral-bound book seems loud when you drop it onto the small desk below the window, reverberating around the room. There are no posters, no tapestries, no curtains to absorb the sound like there are at home. 

You loathe the sound. You loathe the echoes. You loathe the tip-tapping of heels on the pristine floors of the Abbey. You loathe the muffled sounds of laughter coming from a dormitory a few doors down. You loathe how desperately you want to find something to hold onto here, something that feels personal. And you loathe how you crave familiarity despite the fact that you’ll return to Marseille as soon as that little book is translated. 

You practically rip your habit off—a habit that is uniform in France, but sets you apart here—in favor of your sleep clothes. Climbing into the small bed, you begin to recite your prayer in every language you know. It’s a habit you’d developed as soon as you began learning a second language at the ripe age of nine. Only then, the prayers had been directed at the cruel, unforgiving Catholic God. 

Salut Satan, notre Ténébreux juste et indulgent…. Ave Satana, il nostro Tenebroso giusto e indulgente…. Salve Satanás, nuestro justo y perdonador Oscuro…. 

You continue until you’ve exhausted all the languages you know, and then you start over again with a different prayer. And again. And again, until somewhere in the middle of your Portuguese Hail Lilith you drift to sleep. 

~~~

You wake the next morning in a much better mood. Perhaps last night you’d just been frustrated and overtired from working from dawn til far past dusk, but the bright birdsong from outside sounds happier today. It follows you from your dormitory, down the corridor and to the main hall, where the sounds of the breakfast hour echo out into the large space. 

You could walk into the refectory if you wanted, without feeling intimidated (at least not as much as the day you arrived), but you don’t have much of an appetite this morning. Instead you take your time walking the length of the main hall. There are sculptures in spaces between the wood benches that you hadn’t noticed before. You find one you recognize, and it doesn’t surprise you that the Abbey houses a replica. 

La génie du mal is a welcome sight. The Marseille Abbey also keeps a replica, although it is slightly smaller than this one. It’s a depiction of a fallen angel chained to a rock, with a crown held loosely in one hand while the other runs through his hair. His stone face is solemn but the bat-like wings splaying from his back seem to welcome you, as if saying, Hello child, do you remember me? 

Yes, you do remember. You remember being eleven years old and traveling to Liège at the whim of your parents. You remember touring Saint Paul’s Cathedral and pretending to marvel at the Catholic imagery that you didn’t understand (or care for) at the time. Every depiction of Jesus on the cross looked the same. Every statue of a veiled Mother Mary reminded you to be chaste and pure and subservient to a God who thinks you a lesser being. 

And then you’d seen him in the chapel of the Cathedral, placed at the back of a pulpit which wrapped around a stone pillar. The four sculptures of saints (whose names you don’t bother to remember) stood at the front of the pulpit, facing in towards the pews, as if standing guard over the sculpture. La génie du mal was tucked into the back, hidden from view, but you knew something must have been there. Why else would not one, but four saints be guarding a single pillar, when there were dozens lining the interior of the chapel? 

So you’d slipped from the watchful eye of your parents while they were distracted by the tour guide, and rounded the pulpit to see the backside. He was there, carved in white marble and stationed in the niche between two curved staircases. The elaborate stained-glass windows cast speckles of yellow, blue, and violet over his body, and he glowed in the sunlight like he was a real angel fallen to Earth right in front of you. 

You visited him a lot, afterwards.

You learned later that the pulpit was commissioned to represent “The Triumph of Religion over the Genius of Evil,” but you thought—and still think—that it was executed rather poorly. The four statues facing inward protect only the Cathedral from La génie du mal, but he, facing outward towards the windows, can see the rest of the world. Anyone looking into the chapel for refuge or guidance would only see him, colorful and bright, through the holy scenes of the stained glass. 

You jump nearly ten feet in the air when a voice beside you snaps you from your thoughts. “Beautiful, isn’t he?” 

You look to your left and catch the mismatched eyes of Papa. You hadn’t even heard him come up beside you. “Oui—ah, yes,” you say, swiftly correcting your French to English. 

“You know,” Papa says, looking back to the marble replica, “the original was commissioned because the first version of it was too, eh, sexy.” 

You do know, but the fact makes you laugh anyway. “The first version is nothing compared to this. It makes me think that the artist made this version even sexier, just to spite the Catholics. And to avenge his brother.” 

Papa turns to you fully now, with his hands clasped behind his back. He wears a smart black suit adorned with an elaborate grucifix on the lapel. It’s a far cry from the sweatpants and t-shirt from last night, but no less comfortable. You can’t help but notice that the suit is tailored to perfection. 

“His brother?” he asks. 

You nod. “The original sculptor was the younger brother of this artist,” you explain, gesturing to La génie. “It’s a bit of a slap in the face for them to ask his own brother to redo his work. I can imagine they both felt a little slighted.”  

Papa chuckles. “Perhaps just a little.” 

A brief pause falls between the two of you, and you begin to wonder just how long it will take for the silence to grow awkward. So far you haven’t reached that point. Not with Papa, at least. 

“It would have been nice to have the original piece,” Papa says unhurriedly. “I can’t imagine the Catholic Church would have agreed to let us buy it.” 

You turn to look at him briefly, letting out a small laugh. “If the price was high enough, I’m sure they would have,” you say with an almost imperceptible edge of bitterness. “But I do think its place at Liège is where it belongs.” 

“Have you been?” Papa asks you, his eyebrows slightly raised as he turns to meet your gaze. 

“I have,” you answer. You don’t elaborate further on the nature of your visit. “That’s not to say I don’t believe it would have a good home here, Papa. I just think that the irony of its placement is lost on the Catholics.” 

He asks about it, and you explain. His eyes never leave your face as you talk. You don’t feel scrutinized like you had under Sister Imperator’s gaze, though. Papa’s eyes are warm and interested and you could swear they almost glow in the morning light. He nods and hums with each point you make, seeming genuinely intrigued by your argument that La génie holds more influence facing outward rather than inwards. 

It’s a subject you’re passionate about. La génie had set you on a path towards the Satanic Ministry that day. By age eleven you already knew you didn’t want to be Catholic despite your parents’ efforts to instill their beliefs on you, but you didn’t know exactly what you believed in. Until you saw him, solemn and still, his magnificence hidden behind a stone pillar at Liège. 

Despite Papa’s careful listening, you realize you must be rambling and cut yourself off. “Sorry, Papa. I don’t mean to talk your ear off.” 

“Oh, no!” Papa says, shaking his head. “No need to apologize, Sister. I enjoy listening to you speak.” 

Heat blossoms over your cheeks. You almost miss how his own face flushes a slight shade of pink. Almost. 

“Eh, I mean—” Papa begins to fiddle with his own fingers. “What I mean to say is that you make a lot of good points. Yes.” 

It’s obvious that he’s nervous over the comment he made. It was straightforward and a little flirty, and you know that in the bright hall he can most likely see the pink beneath your skin. Maybe he hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so… well, flirty. Or maybe he thinks he overstepped a boundary, that he said something he shouldn’t have? It was just a comment about listening to you talk, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Satan, why are you so flustered all the sudden? 

You give him a small smile. “Either way… thank you, Papa. I should, uh—”

“Yes, me too—”

“Right, have a good day,” you say, a bit quicker than is necessary, and turn on your heel to start towards the library. 

~~~

Once again, Copia finds himself watching you go. 

Rationally, he knows that you’re not upset with him. You didn’t leave because of something he’d said or done that made you uncomfortable. If that was the case, he hopes that you’d tell him. He would hate for you to feel unwelcome or upset, especially because of him. 

But oh, how your eyes shone while you spoke about La génie. 

Hearing footsteps approaching from his right, Copia turns and finds Terzo looking rather smug as he strolls towards him. He wears a big, stupid grin on his face and looks at Copia like he’d just discovered the stash of sweets on the bottom drawer of his bedside table. 

“And who was that?” Terzo asks with feigned innocence. He comes to a stop next to Copia and clasps his hands behind his back. They both stare at La génie. 

Copia chews the inside of his cheek. “Who was who?” 

Terso tuts his tongue. “Oh, don’t be coy with me, fratellino. We both know I’m talking about the Sister you were just ogling.” “I wasn’t ogling,” Copia protests. Terzo is always teasing, always nudging, always subtly poking fun at him for no reason other than he finds it fun. That’s what little brothers are for, Terzo says. To poke fun at, and to teach the ways of the world. “And we both know that you know who she is.” 

“Ah, yes, I do know,” Terzo says with a shrug. “But I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

Copia looks at his brother. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Terzo says, “you seemed quite invested in that conversation just now. And then you turned a very obvious shade of red, and she walked away. Forgive me, I’m a gossip.” 

Copia laughs. “There’s nothing to gossip about, Terzo. She told me about this sculpture and where the original is housed. That’s it.” 

Terzo tilts his head, leaning in slightly. “That does not explain why you both were so red in the face, fratellino.” 

Copia sighs and runs a hand through his hair. So it was obvious, even from down the hall. “I… may have said that I like listening to her speak.” 

“Oh,” Terzo says flatly. He sounds almost disappointed. “I thought you might have told her something else.” 

“What? Why?” Copia asks. “Was that a weird thing to say?” 

Terzo chuckles, shaking his head. “No. It’s a perfectly good compliment. But you both turned so red that I thought you invited her to your chambers.” 

Copia nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Wh–what?” he sputters. “Terzo, I barely know her.”

“Well, I wouldn’t think so with the way you were looking at her!” Terzo says, his voice pitched higher to his own defense. “‘My darling, you speak so beautifully, it is like birdsong in the early morning. I simply cannot resist the way you look—’” 

“Stop—”

“‘—in the sunlight. Your eyes shine so brightly and your mouth moves so gracefully—’” 

“Terzo, I—”

“‘—that I can’t help but wonder what it might feel like on my—’” 

“Okay,” Copia throws his hands up. He storms off towards the refectory for breakfast. 

Terzo’s laugh echoes through the main hall as he jogs to catch up with Copia. “What? I’m only saying what I thought you said.” 

Copia hadn’t said any of those things to you, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t thought them. It’s true; your eyes did shine in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and your mouth did move gracefully. Although those parts of you are attractive to him and he’d readily admit that you’re beautiful, it was the way you spoke that caught him. You seemed to forget your timidness, your reservations. You spoke freely and enthusiastically, like you’d forgotten you were speaking to Papa and instead spoke to a friend. Copia wonders if La génie holds some significance to you outside of just being an interesting sculpture. 

Copia resolves to ask you the next time he sees you, and he finds himself hoping that it’s soon.

[softboynick]

forged by fire and crafted with care

firstprince | Henry holds the high expectations of the Crown on his shoulders, and it crushes him to the point of self-doubt and self-sabotage. That is, until he finally chooses a life for himself and chooses to live truthfully. He refuses to hide among the shadows no longer. He is Henry Fox, and no one will take that away from him.

OR The story of Henry's bravery and journey towards happiness as told through different pieces of jewelry.

5.5k words, rwrb-compliant, henry-centric, based on this beautiful piece of artwork by @artofobsession

Also read on AO3

--

Bea makes him a bracelet of beads and thread when he is six years old. It’s pink and sparkly and fits loosely on his small wrist when she puts it on for him. He can spell his name out just fine—he tells his Papa he’s a big boy almost everyday—so he can see that his sister added beads to spell out his name. 

H-E-N-R-Y. 

He traces his fingers over the letters and the sparkly pink beads around his wrist. It’s very pretty. 

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a friendship bracelet, Henry. All my friends at school were making one, so I thought I could make one for you, too.”

“But you’re my sister.”

“Sisters can be your friend, too, silly.” 

“Oh. Well. But I don’t want you to be my friend. I want you to be my best friend, Bea.” 

His sister laughs, and it’s the best thing he’s ever heard—well, second best, next to his Papa’s voices when he tells him his bedtime stories.

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll be your best friend, Hen. As long as you’re mine.” 

That night, when he is all tucked in under the covers and in his warm pajamas, he traces the black, blocky letters of his name and smiles, big, unrestrained, and most importantly, happy. He doesn’t have to wonder what his grandmother truly thinks about boys who play with their sister’s dolls and wear pink, sparkly bracelets. That will happen another day. 

For now, as he falls asleep with Bea’s friendship bracelet secured around his tiny wrist, he doesn’t have to worry about the entire world’s burdens bearing down on his shoulders just yet.  

****

His grandmother gifts him a watch that sits heavy on his wrist. It is a present fit for a man—fit for a king (even though he is only the spare)—and at thirteen years of age, he is already expected to act like one. She tells him that the watch will build character. That it will finally make him focus on playing the part of the dutiful Prince of England. 

“A prince’s wardrobe will not be complete without a solid timepiece,” she tells Henry as she passes the box to him on the evening of his thirteenth birthday, and her voice has yet to adopt the tinge of disappointment that always seemed to be reserved for her two youngest grandchildren. That will come at a later time. 

While the craftsmanship is objectively beautiful, the watch is rather bulky, interlaced silver brackets for the wristband with a deep blue face, gold accented numbers, and sturdy hands fixed meticulously to its center. It is the kind of accessory a boy his age is expected to wear. If it is quiet enough, he can hear the solid ticks and tocks of the watch’s inner machinations, a foreboding countdown to something further down the line.

But the line doesn’t seem far enough, and he is sent to Eton that following fall. He is terrified.

He is a sensitive soul, or that is what he overhears his family, but mostly his grandmother, says about him. He doesn’t know what it means, but he guesses it has something to do with why he’s so poor at making friends, even if he is a prince. During the first few months at school, he struggles to open up to the other boys in his year, choosing instead to hide away in the library or in his dormitory and bury his nose in a book when he isn’t in his classes. 

The extra-curriculars he is expected to accomplish break open his shell, but only just. It isn’t until Percy Okonjo forcibly inserts himself into his life that he starts to feel the armor around his heart begin to crack. 

****

Pez is a whirlwind, a summer storm, a rogue wave violently crashing into a wall of stone. He barrels into his life and never leaves, taking him by the hand and showing him a new world beyond the palace walls. He chips away at his armored heart with relative ease, and Henry has no idea how he is able to let his sensitive soul be placated by this boy of ultimate exuberance. He is gregarious where he is not. He is the extrovert that somehow has given one look at Henry and decided to keep an introvert like him forever.

And somewhere along the line, he decides he wants to keep him, too. 

Their later years at Eton are spent hopping between dormitories, with the other uppercrust boys in their year and above, who are one day going to run England to the ground. They sneak in liquor from their father’s cabinets, the head boys pointedly looking the other way so they can join in on the merriment. They do ridiculous, stupid things, and drink themselves even stupider. 

For the first time in a while, he feels free. 

Henry is absolutely sloshed from stolen vodka and sambuca shots when Pez suggests he stick a needle through his earlobes. At least he has the wits about him to ask him why.

“Because! It’s what the cool kids do, Hazza.” 

“You are fucking mental. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Just live a little, darling! Look, I’ve done this before, so you just need to hold still, sit pretty, and let Auntie Pezza do all the work. And besides, don’t you just want to absolutely piss off your old Gran?” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but the rebellious part of him takes over, and he decides that yes, he does want to piss off the Queen of England . He doesn’t need much convincing, piss drunk and all, and against his better judgment, he takes another huge swig from the vodka bottle right before Pez pushes the needle into the fleshy part of his ear. He chases down another mouthful when Pez has to the other one, and all he’s thinking about is how horrified his Gran will be if she sees the right state he’s in now.

The alcohol does enough to mask the stinging pain, and everything becomes a right blur after that. When he wakes up hours later, head pounding and mouth dry as sandpaper, his ears are throbbing, the skin pink and angry, and there is a silver stud in each of his earlobes. 

“Oh, bloody hell.”

 ****

His father leaves and the only thing left of him is his memories and the signet ring on his little finger, the one he had presented to him when he’d just turned eighteen. He presses his thumb hard against the ‘H’ engraved into the face of it, feeling the grooves etched into the metal and thinking about his father all the while. He can almost feel his warmth embedded in the metal, but he knows it is only his grief blinding him with wishful thinking and a vibrant imagination. 

He twists the ring round and round, mimicking the downward spiral he feels himself succumbing to as he watches his father’s coffin being lowered into the ground. 

Then, he loses a mother, a brother, and a sister not long after. Mama loses her heart. Pip loses his love. Bea loses herself. And he is all alone with nothing but the memories of his loving father to remind him of what he has lost.

The world is heavy on his shoulders, and he doesn’t know what else to do. 

****

It’s his birthday, and he feels a little less like the world’s closing in on itself now that his psychiatrist has re-adjusted his medication. He still doesn’t sleep all that well at night, but it is still a start. 

He doesn’t hear from his mother, but he does receive a message via Shaan to “buy himself something special” along with an envelope full of banknotes. He understands why she travels so much, but one can only do so much to distract themselves from the pain of losing a loved one. He tried. Bea tried. Even Philip tried. It’s been years, and his mother is not the same person he used to know. 

He asks Bea to accompany him for lunch, their PPOs trailing a few paces behind them. He hopes he can use his birthday to establish some kind of normalcy since it is just the two of them. Twenty-two, after all, is just a number. There isn’t anything significant about the age. No extravagant milestones attached to its connotation. But still, there are only two things worth noting on the day he turns twenty-two years old: Bea is sober, and he is gay. 

After lunch, Bea takes him shopping to make use of the money their mother sent to him to spend, but nothing catches his eye. That is, until they’re in an antique shop, and he sees a pearl necklace sitting in the display case. 

The string of pearls is delicate, reminiscent of the friendship bracelet Bea made him all those years ago. It looks as if it is glowing, like tiny moons held together by a gossamer of stars, and he wonders, wistfully, how it would feel on his skin.  

“Oh, Hen. It’s so beautiful. I think you should get it.”

Bea is the only one who knows who he truly is. She is the first one he tells, after all. She hadn’t judged him then, and she still doesn’t judge him now. In fact, she openly encourages him to explore the part of himself that he keeps hidden away because of the watchful eye of the Crown. 

“I- I don’t know. It’s just- It isn’t fitting for a prince, is it.” 

Even he can hear how defeated he sounds in his own ears. An echo of his grandmother’s biting tongue, tutting at his behavior like an ever-present devil. A prince like him would have never been allowed to wear, let alone have, a piece of jewelry so…feminine, so insinuating of a life he isn’t meant to lead, a life his own grandmother would never approve of. Heavy is the Crown he wears, and it is suffocating. 

He leaves the shop empty-handed and heavy-hearted. 

Days later, he finds a box addressed to him sitting on his bed. He lifts the lid and what rests inside it knocks the air right out of his chest. 

“I know it’s a few days late, but…do you like it?”

“Bea…you didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to. You’re my best friend, Hen. I like seeing you happy.” 

He looks down at the pearl necklace, delicate in his hands, and his gaze becomes blurry with tears. 

“Can you…can you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Hen.” 

They stand in front of the mirror as she helps him close the clasp around his neck, the pearls sitting perfectly, gently, against his collarbone, and the boy staring back at him looks inexplicably…happy. 

****

The constant appearances and camera-ready smiles have slowly begun to whittle him down to a shell of himself. The engagements have only seemed to ramp up since his father’s death marked the beginning of the Fox family’s detriment. The Crown has a reputation to uphold, and so under the orders from the Queen herself, Henry is carted off around the world, as the family’s sole representative, to make sure everyone sees how normal and happy the royal family is, when truly, they are anything but.

But it all becomes too much eventually, and he sneaks off needing a moment alone, a moment to be Henry Fox and not Prince Henry of England. To breathe and not have the heavy weight of the Crown looming over him.  

He buys the earrings on a whim. He tells the jeweler they are a gift for his mother as he watches her pack them into a small velvet box. She gushes to him about the pearls, telling him how they’re ethically farmed from their supplier in Japan. She explains how the cooler waters in which they’re farmed cause the pearls to grow more slowly, making them more compact and giving them more luster than the average pearl. 

He simply smiles and nods, half-listening. He glances over his shoulder and sees the lone PPO he wrangled onto this impromptu journey and his equerry still stationed at the door. 

He takes the bag, cream and discreet, and turns to leave immediately. 

“Finished, Your Royal Highness?” 

He wordlessly nods at Shaan and disappears out the door and into the black car waiting for him at the curb. When they arrive back at Kensington Palace, he goes to his room, feigning exhaustion as an excuse. Shaan fortunately leaves him be, letting him know that he does not have any more engagements for the rest of the day. 

Henry sits on the edge of the bed, pulls out the small felt box containing the earrings and sets it down. He then reaches into his bedside table and pulls out the box that holds the necklace Bea had gotten for him on his twenty-second birthday and places it down next to the earrings. 

He releases an unsteady breath and waits a beat, before getting up to check that the door is locked. He knows no one will bother him at this time of day—Shaan will make sure of it—but he still goes to check anyway. He takes both boxes to the dresser, the mirror sitting right above it. He takes the necklace out first and caresses the pearls with his fingertips. He doesn’t have Bea’s help this time, so it takes some moments of fumbling before he manages to clasp it around his neck. He runs his fingers along the smooth surface of the pearls once it’s secured, cool against his skin, and lets out another breath. 

Then, he opens the second, smaller box. The hinges are smooth as he lifts the lid and reveals the pearl earrings sitting prettily on a bed of felt. He lifts one to examine it. The silver hoop is cool between his fingertips, and a droplet of pearl hangs from it with a chain of delicate filigree. 

He takes extra care to put them on. The left ear goes on first, and then, the right. They slip right through the holes that have miraculously not closed up after years of not wearing any earrings. 

He stares at himself in the mirror for a long moment and watches as his eyes turn bright with tears. They spark with a newfound confidence that had laid dormant for years, beaten out of him by his grandmother’s incessant rules and expectations. But he sees now, as he stands there adorned in pearlescent jewelry, that she was not successful. 

This is Henry Fox. Not the Prince. Not the grandson of Queen Mary. And absolutely no one is allowed to take this away from him.

Continue on AO3

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: a glimpse, a touch, a tease

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: before the main story; weeks after 'intrusive thoughts'

Summary: You're being plagued by vivid dreams of you and Loki that threaten to spill into vivid daydreams as you're striving to resolve the mess of organizing the Autumnal Equinox festivities.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k [get some wine ready]

Warnings: 18+; smut (minors and pearl clutchers DNI); themes of incest (he's adopted but still); mentions of Astrid

Things to be aware of: reader is now an idiot falling in love and she's having a whole crisis over it; some slight sad reader hours; the smut is literally the first scene brace thyself

"Relax, darling," a voice crooned in your ear. "Let me take care of you."  There was something deliciously sinful about your situation, shrouded in darkness as night befell Asgard, your surroundings lit only by sparse candlelight few and far in between, your gaze transfixed to the ceiling as you felt your lover press his lips to your neck, sucking and biting with a ferocity that ensured your skin would be marked. 

"Please—" Your voice barely sounded like your own as you whined, begged, for more. He'd been teasing you for so long tonight, you needed him to bring you to the precipice of your release and actually push you off the edge. 

"Darling Y/N. Pleading already? The night is still young." His hand traveled up your bare body, a large hand palming your breast as a thumb deftly and much too lightly ran over your hardened nipple. "So responsive," the voice murmured. "Such a beguiling form and you've chosen me to surrender to." You arched your upper back as you felt him take your other peak into his mouth, rolling his tongue expertly over the sensitive skin and making you squirm and mewl under his attentions. 

"Please, I need—" you cut yourself off as you heard a wet pop from him releasing your stiff peak, words muffled as his tongue slipped past your lips, gliding against your own as he dominated your kiss. 

"Have you any clue what you do to me, darling? And you've not even snuck a glance, just like I asked you. You're such a good girl for me." He kissed your lips again. "My darling princess." You kept trying to arch into his touch as his hand traveled down your body, slipping between your thighs and traveling up, his fingers tantalizingly running along your folds. Still teasing you. "My good girl."

"Yours," you affirmed breathlessly, keeping your eyes closed as you still felt his breath on your lips. "Only yours." 

He captured your lips in a decadent kiss once more, groaning into your mouth as he began to rub firm, tight circles on your clit, making you elicit an obscene moan muffled by his kiss as you bucked your hips at his touch. You could feel yourself weaken as you felt him let out a dark chuckle against your lips. "Mine," he growled. "Open your eyes, Princess. I want to look into your eyes as you come undone."

You opened your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as your gaze focused on the chiseled features, the raven hair, the stormy eyes. The simpering grin. 

"Eyes on me, darling." He slipped two digits into your entrance, curling them upward and nearly sending your body flying off the bed as he stroked that spot inside you relentlessly, no longer demanding your release. He was taking it as he pleased. "Say my name," he commanded as you whimpered under his touch, his gaze. "Scream it."

You did exactly that once his thumb made contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance, sending you well past the edge of your pleasure. "LOKI!!"

You jolted off your bed with a sharp gasp. These dreams of yours were getting more and more detailed by the night. More haunting. Staying with your conscious mind well past your first waking moments of the day. "Norns, what's happening to me?" you said into the emptiness of your chambers. 

You rushed into your shower, turning your water as cold as you could tolerate, hoping that the shock to your system would be enough to shock these lustful fantasies about Loki from your mind. Though you already knew it wouldn't. You'd been trying this for weeks now, and your efforts in the morning did nothing to quell the salacious images that your mind conjured once you were alone in your chambers at night. 

Wasn't this the very definition of insanity? To try the exact same effort time and time again hoping for a different outcome? "Perhaps I am losing my mind," you groaned in the shower, frantically washing yourself as if to clean yourself of your arousal from your dream was the same as cleaning your mind of these lurid images of the man across the hall, the Prince, your family, being the one to pleasure you with such intimate expertise of your body. 

Once you'd dried off your body and slipped on your usual day dress set in black and gold, a knock on the door had jolted you from your spiraling thoughts. You already knew it was a pair of palace guards come to escort you to one of the smaller war rooms throughout the palace. You were to meet with your grandmother this morning before you all broke your fast to discuss the upcoming Autumnal Equinox festivities, and how horribly it had been coming together until a few weeks ago, when you'd taken over its planning. 

You hastily grabbed your scrolls and journal, throwing your door open and giving the guards a curt nod as you rushed out of your chambers and down the hall, eyes trained to the floor so as to not be tempted to look at the doors to the chambers across from yours. 

Depraved heathen, you hissed at yourself. Do you not realize you could lose him completely if he has even an inkling of the thoughts that plague you about him?

Your wandering thoughts distracted you from realizing you'd already found your way to the war room the queen indicated to meet with you in. The guards opened the doors for you and you gave them a quick nod to thank them before walking in. 

"My dear granddaughter, why do you look so dazed at this hour? Have I set our appointment too early?" 

You shook your head abruptly at the sound of concern in her tone. "No, Grandmother, nothing like that. It was just…a strange dream is all. The kind that refuses to leave you even after you've awoken."

"Violent? Gruesome?"

"Salacious," you answered her, making a small smile form on her face. 

"The best kind." You wouldn't think so once you realized my dream was of your son. Your mischievous baby. She motioned toward the seat next to her. "Sit, my dear. Tell me of the state of the festival before you'd taken over." 

Her words felt like a soothing balm over your troubled mind, finally giving you something to focus on far away from your lascivious fantasies. You proceeded to tell her about how the vendors that were approached before your takeover were rioting over being paid barely anything, that they were told they'd be paid more than enough with the foot traffic of the festival itself, that it was a privilege to even be chosen to participate and they should behave as such.

"But then why did Astrid ask for a budget of 10,000 gold coins?" Your grandmother was understandably perplexed at the inconsistencies of the situation, but the longer you had to ruminate on her motives, the clearer you were able to see her character. Her true character. 

"I believe she intended to be painfully frugal when it came to compensating the vendors, the suppliers, and the entertainers. So that she could pocket the remainder of her allocated budget for herself, and use that money to procure her wardrobe and accessories for the culminating ball."

The Queen let out a disappointed sigh. "It's becoming painfully evident now why there were so many whispers of silent protests against the festival. She's destroyed the faith of so much people in us, and for what? Vanity? Luxury?"

"Royalty," you answered simply. "I'm convinced that ultimately her goal was to secure a place in the royal family. Father was obviously a non-starter, so she went for his heir, and had she been without a choice she most likely would have attempted to seduce me. But then another choice became known to her."

She simply nodded her response. Neither of you needed to revisit those memories; the problems that Astrid attempted to cause were nipped at the bud. You needn't deal with her schemes any longer. "Would you be able to remedy the damage she's done already?"

You nodded your answer. "It will take time, but I do believe that if we make it known that her actions were not a reflection of our values, and compensate them the way they deserved, we can begin to take the steps to mend their faith in the palace. In us." You winced at the next thought that crossed your mind. "I only hope that you hadn't already credited her the money before I had her removed from your staff."

"Thankfully, not yet. We can credit that to you if you believe that figure is sufficient."

You shook your head slightly. "That may not be enough. She pulled the number out of thin air, I found nothing in the documents she'd left behind supporting her final amount. Let me do the necessary computations, and I can give you the final figure in two days." 

She took your hands in hers, gratitude and pride shining in her eyes. "You've taken this in such great stride, my dear. I can already see you making a fine queen now, exactly as you are." Concern entered her face once again. "I just hope that you will not have to rule alone."

Once again your thoughts wandered to Loki, the obvious state of his requital (or lack thereof) making a sad smile appear on your face. "I may have to. Who I desire…I don't believe the sentiments would be returned." 

Your walk back to your chambers felt sobering, insisting the guards not accompany you so you could move at your own pace without feeling as if you were forcing them to keep with it. It also allowed you to take a longer route, hoping that the exercise would help in further sobering your thoughts. 

If only you'd done the same thing you did on your way from your chambers earlier this morning as you did returning to them, keeping your gaze to the ground so as to not be tempted to look upon the doors across yours. The taunting reminder of something you can't have. Someone you shouldn't be lusting after.

But instead your gaze wandered as your mind did, flickering to the door left slightly ajar, no doubt by the staff who found it too heavy to close. And you couldn't look away. Not as you caught sight of the dark-haired god leisurely walking across his chambers without a care in the realm. Not as your gaze wandered down the skin exposed by his untied emerald green silk dressing robe. 

In fact the only thing that had you look away was the breath catching in your throat with a hideous sound, choking and coughing on your own breath the moment your gaze wandered past the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, past the diagonal lines framing the light dusting of hair that led to the lengthy, girthy appendage that bobbed against the middle of his thigh in rhythm of his steps.

And then your thoughts were suddenly overtaken by how you'd undoubtedly choke if you took him into your mouth, and then wandering to the line between pleasure and pain you would certainly be treading once your walls stretched to accommodate him as he pushed the entire length of him inside you.

Now here you were, hand desperately clutching the door handle to your chambers, your other arm holding your documents and notes for the festival in a death grip as you sounded like you were trying to exorcise your lung from your body. 

"Y/N?" you heard him call from inside his chambers. Fucking hell, stop coughing and run inside. You're fine. You're fine. But you sure as fuck won't be if he touches you after what you've just seen, you tried to psych yourself.  You heard his footsteps approaching you, your body freezing the moment you felt his hands on your shoulder and upper back. "Darling, are you alright?"

Absolutely not, you wanted to shout. There's something severely broken in me if I caught sight of your cock and instead of looking away mortified, as I should have, I'm plagued by thoughts of pushing you onto a bed and riding you until the entirety of Asgard knows what my name sounds like from your lips. Instead of saying anything, you proceeded to heave, trying to calm yourself. 

"Oh, my darling princess," he said softly, immediately throwing your mind back to that lurid dream from earlier. He placed his hand over yours, removing it from the door handle as he pulled you into his arms, his hand rubbing circles on your back. "Breathe, dear Y/N," he whispered into your hair. You stifled a groan as you felt him pressing his lips to the top of your head as he shh'd you. 

"I'm alright," you said weakly, making a motion to move away from him. "Really, Loki, I'm fine. I was most likely simply out of breath." 

He released you from his embrace, gently turning you to face him before tenderly framing your face with his hands. "You've been working yourself too hard, Princess." His tone was soft, but almost admonishing, as if he was holding back. "I fear one day I'll walk out of my chambers and find you passed out on the ground. Or be informed that you're with the healers, recovering from exhaustion." He tucked your hair behind your ear, gently running his fingertip across your cheekbone. "I've barely even seen you these last few weeks."

Now you knew there was certainly something ailing your mind because that last sentence almost sounded like a lover in yearning to your ears, and your more rational mind absolutely knew better. There was no way that his words were uttered with the meaning you desired for them to hold. 

You scrambled for a reason to give him, because in truth, ever since the morning after you removed Astrid from the palace, you'd been actively avoiding him, staying out of the paths that he frequented, using your instincts to guide you in the opposite direction of where you'd seen or heard him. Save for the day you had to rifle through Astrid's  belongings to send them back to her family's home; he refused to leave your side that day and in truth, you needed him more than you cared to admit.

"It's been a trying few weeks," you tried to explain with a convincing smile. "I've had to do much in order to untangle the mess that that wretch Astrid left behind when she began to arrange for the Autumnal festivities. I'm beginning to see the end of it, though; all that's left to do is determine the budget that would compensate everyone fairly, arrange for the entertainment, and all the other pieces should begin to move of their own volition. I can take a few steps back and…you'll start seeing me around again." You finished with a scrunch of your nose, making him break out into a brilliant smile that had your heart skipping a beat. 

"You know that if it gets to be too much you can always come to me, darling," he uttered softly. You couldn't trust yourself to not say something out of turn, like telling him to kiss you, or dare you even think it, tell him to take you to bed right this moment, so you simply nodded your response with a timid smile. This seemed to appease him, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "You should get some more rest, sweet girl," he cooed. "It's far too early for you to be up and about the way you are." 

"I could say the same about you," you shot back with a playful smirk, though your skittishness flew right out the window the moment you watched him lick his lips and answer you with a mischievous smirk of his own.

"Well I was awoken by a particularly vivid dream, if you must know."

You and me both, you thought to yourself, a significant part of you holding on to the fantasy that perhaps his dream and yours were of the same nature. And of each other. 

Loki took your hand in his as he opened the door to your chambers with the other. "Rest, dear Princess," he ordered softly. "I promise to wake you in a few hours." He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand before releasing you from his hold and closing your door.

That was the only time you deemed it safe to put down the documents you'd been clutching and unceremoniously fall back onto your bed, groaning at the predicament you found yourself in. "Of all the people in Asgard, Y/N, why the fuck did you have to lust over him?" 

Another day of walking through the palace halls in the ungodly hours of the morning, as you always did, relishing in the quiet of the world and the strange comfort in knowing that you were awake and cognizant at a time when most were slumbering away in their beds. But just like every night that came before, it was now time for you to retreat to your quarters and get some winks of your own.

Once you'd made it to the  hall of your chambers, you'd once again noticed the door left slightly ajar across from yours. You decided to sneak a surreptitious glance, biting your lip at the sight of the God of Mischief slowly, leisurely running his hand up and down the length of  his erection, his whimpers into the assumed emptiness of his surroundings faintly reaching your ears.

You stifled your own moan at the sight, turning back to your door to enter your chambers when you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling your body against a taller, muscular frame. "Didn't anyone ever teach you it was rude to stare, Princess?" The doors to your room flew open as Loki walked you both inside, closing them by pushing you against them before claiming your mouth with his in a rough, demanding kiss. 

Your body froze momentarily before completely melting against his touch that had graduated from a rough grip into more gentle caresses as your mouths moved against one another. His arm once again wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him and making you whimper into his mouth as you felt his hardness pressing against your stomach. 

"Now you know what you do to me, darling," he teased, lips moving against your own. You placed your hands on his shoulders, coaxing him to pull away from you. "What are you doing, little princess?" he asked the moment he saw the smirk playing at your lips as you sank to your knees. 

"I may have been asleep the day they taught me that it was rude to stare," you cooed. "But I definitely remember being taught that I should finish what I started," you stated with a wink before taking him into your mouth. 

You woke from your nap with a sharp inhale of air, your breaths after that shallow and labored. This was getting to be too much. It felt like your mind was actively working against you to make it impossible to even be around him without your thoughts wandering down such deliciously forbidden paths. 

The sharp knock on your door startled you enough to gather your wits about you, standing up from your bed and straightening your dress, wiping the traces of sleep from your eyes. You didn't think to check the mirror for the downright shocked witless expression on your face, though, which is precisely what Loki saw once you threw open your door. 

"Oh, my darling girl," he whispered as he took your hands in one of his and cupped the side of your face with the other. "What happened?"

You swallowed your instinctual words of You. You happened and now I'm a lecherous wreck, and instead weakly answered him with, "Bad dream, 'tis nothing." Your words and the equally weak smile you gave him did nothing to appease him, however, as the concern remained evident on his face. "You don't happen to have a potion or a spell that could prevent me from dreaming altogether, would you?" you joked. 

He chuckled at your question, stroking your cheek softly. "No, little princess, I don't." You suppressed a groan as his endearment struck memories of your latest dream. "I can, however, keep your nightmares at bay when they come. You can always come to me, Y/N, you should know this by now." He gently ran his fingers through your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple; you found yourself closing your eyes, relishing the moment, committing to memory the feel of his lips on your skin. 

Then all too soon he stepped away from you, his hand outstretched toward you, and you weaved your fingers between his and you two walked hand in hand toward the dining hall. On the way there you were struck with the thought of how glorious it would have been if you two would walk through the palace like this as a couple, in courtship. It was a beautiful image in your mind, almost like something out of a Midgardian fairytale, with the prince and the princess finally coming together and getting their happily ever after. But that thought was soon replaced by an image too painful for you to fathom.

The image of him finding his actual princess, because it could never be you. The twisted jealousy that would course through your veins, the anguish that would pierce at your heart, as you realized that one day those tender moments, those walks through the halls of the palace and through the streets of Asgard, those comforting embraces, would belong to someone else. 

Your dreams would become another's reality, and you were powerless to do anything about it. For you weren't meant to be his. How could you be? 

As night began to befall the realm, you rubbed your eyes, mentally exhausted from working since you broke your fast with Loki and the rest of your family. You'd made significant progress in determining the budget for the Autumnal Equinox festivities, only having the concert for the school as well as the masquerade ball to compute for. You decided that a change in scenery was needed, so you gathered your notes for the remaining events in your arms and made your way from your chambers to the library. 

When you made your way to your favorite spot in the far corner, away from the usual foot traffic of the palace dwellers, it took everything in you not to stop frozen in your tracks at the sight of Loki's tall frame taking one of the two empty seats. 

The motion from the corner of his eye undoubtedly already alerted him to your presence, as he looked up into your eyes and greeted you with a soft smile. "Darling Y/N," he crooned. "To what do I owe the fortune of seeing you once more this day?" A smirk tugged at his lips as he finished with, "Dare I think my words from earlier this morning made you miss me, too?" 

You felt yourself involuntarily clenching at his words, at the notion that he missed you. He missed your company,  you depraved wench, not your body. Not your touch. He does not desire you the way you do him. He's rational and reasonable, not like you. Lustful idiot. You did your best to shield the way you winced at your thoughts, hiding it behind a smirk of your own. 

"I needed a change of scenery," you answered. "Imagine my surprise to find that you've decided to occupy my spot." 

Your words made him laugh. "This seat has been mine long before you were even born, little princess. You've simply been keeping it warm for me."

That's not the only thing I want to warm. The words sat at the tip of your tongue, desperate to come out. 

You felt the ache between your legs intensify when he patted the seat next to him. "There are two seats here for a reason, darling. This place was never meant to be monopolized; I'd always set it up to be shared." He held his hand out for you to take, and he helped you along to situate yourself in the seat positioned so closely to his. 

Once you'd set up your documents on your side of the table, you could feel the god's gaze looming from over your shoulder. And you wanted more than anything for him to press his lips to your exposed shoulder, to feel his kiss on your neck. 

To have him sweep away all your documents to the floor and have him ravish you on the table.

Stop it, Y/N. You're yearning for someone you can't have and it's pathetic. It's pitiful. Norns, is this what Astrid felt like? 

He reached past you to trace his finger along one of the documents, pressing closer to you, his chest against the back of your shoulder. "Am I reading this right, darling? The roster for the school concert?" He rested his chin on your shoulder as he pointed at the document, drawing your eyes to the names. "Truly, you got Fandral to perform? At what cost?" he asked with a breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin in the most delicious manner.

Before you could respond, a rumbling sound cut the silence between you. The humiliating indicator that you'd skipped a meal and now your body was demanding it be given its due. 

Your mind whispered protests you didn't even remotely mean as you felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace. "Darling, when was the last time you ate, and please do not answer me with 'this morning when we broke our fast'." You opted not to answer, hoping he'd receive the message loud and clear. "Norns, my reckless little princess." He placed a small bowl filled with small pieces of chocolate bark on top of your papers. "Eat, Y/N." 

"I'm fine—"

"So help me, Princess, if you don't I will feed you from my own hand."

How delicious, your inner thoughts all but moaned. Please do. Instead of saying those words, however, you huffed and reached over towards the bowl, popping a small piece into your mouth. 

"Anyway, before my stomach so rudely interrupted, I was about to tell you I got Fandral to perform for free," you said in an attempt to cut the tension that his protective air had created between the two of you. Your heartbeat hitched in your chest as you saw how he eyed you as you reached for another piece from the bowl, taking a small bite. Why was he doing this? Acting the way he was. Did he always behave as such and you were only aware now because of the turn your thoughts had taken? Or was it possible that perhaps he knew—

Norns please, let it be anything than him knowing where your thoughts currently laid when it came to him. Your pride couldn't take the blow of having him toy with you so only to make it known how repugnant he found you once he'd have you in a vulnerable enough position. When would the devastating blow come? The fraction of a second before his lips touched yours? Would he already have you naked and begging for release by his hand? 

Would it be the morning after? When you were sated and blissful, thinking that the affections had been returned only to have the rug pulled out from under your feet? Could he be capable of such cold cruelty, that he could wait out your complete submission to him before he shamed you to your core?

"Darling, you look like you lost yourself in your thoughts." He shook you slightly in his arm as if to jostle you back to cognizance. "Come back to me, little princess." When your eyes met once again, he smiled softly at you, briefly touching his nose to your cheek. "There you are." He sounded as if his words were caressing you, your heart, your soul. "Now how in the Nine Realms did you get him to perform for nothing?" 

You chuckled at the memory of your negotiation with the warrior. "Well I'd told him to name his price and he jested that if I were to perform with him he would do it for absolutely nothing, so I called him on his bluff and now I don't have to include him in the budget." 

You briefly felt his body go frigid against you before he spoke again. "Are you sure that was his only reason for accepting it? You calling him on a bluff? I'd think any warm-blooded man would see getting to spend time with you as enough incentive to do just about anything." 

His words had you giggling at the notion. "Are you trying to insinuate that perhaps Fandral's developed feelings for--" You pointed at yourself, taking this moment to eat the remainder of the chocolate you were holding, and he nodded at your unfinished question. "No," you spoke around the morsel. "That's absolutely ridiculous. Besides, I made sure I got him there for Narda. I'd be holding up my end of the deal, performing with him for one number, and bringing her in as my reliever." 

"And how would that--"

"Narda's in love with him," you said with a conspiratorial gleam in your eyes as you cleaned the melted chocolate off your fingers. "And hopefully getting them in such a setting would put him on the path to seeing her the way she does him." 

"Dare I say it," he muttered. "Mischief becomes you, my darling girl." You allowed yourself a smile as he pressed his lips to your temple. "And what of you, Princess? Do you share your friend's affections for the warrior?" There was something apprehensive in his tone, as if he'd asked a question he did not wish for the answer to.

You laughed at his question. "No," you answered simply. "Fandral's not my type." 

"And what, pray tell, is your type, Princess?" 

You are, your mind answered. Instead of saying those words, you gave him a coy smile and simply said, "Not Fandral." 

You cleaned off another piece of chocolate from your fingers and his free hand reached up to wipe a spot on your bottom lip with his thumb, your eyes widening ever so slightly when you watched him then place his thumb in his mouth, cleaning off the chocolate that was just on you. Almost as if you kissed each other, a stray thought spoke in your mind, your pussy clenching as he playfully winked at you, the pad of his thumb still between his lips.

The actions made you question whether you were imagining things or could there have been the remotest possibility that perhaps your desire wasn't as one-sided as you'd led yourself to believe. But you quickly shook the thought out of your head, admonishing yourself for even believing that Loki would be as mutually depraved as you were. 

You scrunched your nose at his antics and reached for the bowl once more, pulling out the final piece and placing nearly half of it between your teeth, making him let out a strangled whining sound. You eyed him, as if commanding him to explain what made him react as such.

"That was the last piece," he said simply.

You simply shrugged your response and spoke around the morsel once more, "Tough luck. Guess you'll have to learn to share." 

"I suppose I do," he murmured before placing his hand on the back of your head, holding you in place, and leaning in, placing the remainder of the morsel between his teeth and breaking it off from your piece. For the briefest of moments, you felt his lips brush against yours, sending your mind into a frenzy. "Thank you, darling." 

You quickly flicked the remainder of the snack into your mouth before he thought to let his mischief get the best of him and try going for seconds, returning to the task that you'd set out to accomplish when you first stepped foot into the library, determining the festival's budget.

There was not much you could to to react, what with you still being held by the god, so you kept your smiles, your squeals, your heavy breathing to yourself, willing your body to remain stoic in its movements.

But you'd already succumbed to the knowledge that your dreams about him were about to get even more vivid after tonight. 

A/N: Bb's first attempts at smut, please go easy on me, I will repeat: I am babie.

But also someone bonk their heads together already they're turning into horny idiots in love.

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

Loki: @calumance @severuslovebot

[autumnsnuggling]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thanks for the tag @maesterchill! I haven't done something like this in so long lol.

I took a leaf from your book and put my answers under the cut :D

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Somehow I have 103 lol. Most of them drabbles, but a few mid-length fics.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

170,290. Told you lots of them are drabbles lol.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter!! And 99% of them are Drarry lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. It Began with a Royal Sticky Mess - 5.5k, T, too many adjectives lol. 2. The Boy Who Lived (To Not Be a Boy) - 26k, T, the long fic I'm probably proudest of. 3. Healing Scars - 2.2k, T, heed the warnings but I enjoyed writing it lol. 4. Then Time Stood Still - 4.2k, T, sequel to It Began with a Royal Sticky Mess, still too many adjectives lol. 5. Worth It - 8.7k, T, my last TransFest Fic, also super proud of it!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try, but I have failed epically for the last year or so lol. I always want to because I feel like it is so nice to hear back from authors, and because I want people to know how much I appreciate their comments, but I struggle to because life is busy and I find it a little draining, tbh

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooh, good question. Um, probably He Didn't Know (270 words, T). It's from my early writing days so the style isn't great, but it's definitely angsty lol.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

God, somehow that's even harder. Um... okay, having reviewed my fics, the funny thing is, many of them don't have what I would consider to be 'happy' endings lol. I do lots of endings where the angst is resolved and they're comforted, but I wouldn't call it happy lol. It's because I'm a real sucker for showing life often continues so more is out to be resolved. That means that the main happy ending fic I have is The Boy Who Lived (To Not Be a Boy).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, no!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I am dabbling in it, but it's definitely not my comfort zone. I currently have 1 explicit fic, and 4 mature lol.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Absolutely not lol. I haven't ever really been interested in crossovers, or been passionate about another fandom to want one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A few, actually. It's always such an honour.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Definitely! @stargazing-enby and I have written a few, and I got to trade WIPs with a few others, which has always been fun and really helpful!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

No points for guessing lol.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I am yet to give up on ANY of mine lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

Um? Coming up with ideas? I have no idea lol

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Uuuhhhh... Genuinely feel this changes lol. Though I suppose a theme that's come up is figuring out how to translate the story into words...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't think I have thoughts on it lol. I love the idea to provide diversity and depth to character, though!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stealing Maester's answer as it's the same lol Harry Potter. First and only!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

A lot of my favourites have already been mentioned, but I really like Another Way! (1.1k, T)

Thanks so much for the tag, I don't know who's done this, but I'll tag @stargazing-enby, @ununquadius, and @nv-md (no pressure).

[foundtherightwords]

Headlights on Dark Roads - Chapter 2

Pairing: Eddie x Chrissy (No Vecna/No Upside Down AU)

Summary: Eddie and Chrissy are in a relationship, having reconnected after they both moved back to Hawkins. However, Laura's disapproval still looms over them, and when Eddie has an opportunity to reunite and revive Corroded Coffin, Chrissy has to make a difficult choice between going with him to LA and staying in Hawkins to take care of her ailing mother.

Warnings: angst (oh so much angst), abuse (Laura Cunningham is her own warning), implied/mentions of ED, implied/mentions of homophobia, some smut (non-explicit - in this chapter)

Chapter word count: 5.5k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chrissy felt almost lightheaded with excitement as she walked through Indianapolis Airport with Eddie, their hands clasping each other tightly. Followed closely behind them were Gareth and his wife, Nicole, pushing their daughter in a stroller. Both wore the same half-giddy, half-bewildered look that Chrissy knew she had on her face and saw reflected on Eddie's as well. The three of them—except for Nicole and the baby—were on their way to LA.

It had been a pleasant surprise when Gareth jumped at Eddie's suggestion to rejoin Corroded Coffin. Eddie had stressed to Gareth that if they got this deal, it would turn their lives upside down, but apparently, Gareth wanted the change. Nicole told Chrissy that Gareth had been thinking of quitting his soul-sucking job anyway, and he had never seemed so happy since he started playing the drums again. Eddie and Gareth had spent the weeks after Thanksgiving rehearsing to get Gareth up to speed, and they'd planned to arrive in LA a few days before their meeting with the label to rehearse with Jeff and Grant as well.

Looking at Eddie now, Chrissy wondered if he knew how much he'd inspired his friend. How much he'd inspired everyone around him, including her. When he asked her to accompany him to LA, he'd said he wouldn't be able to do it without her there to provide emotional support, so she had happily accepted. It was the week before Christmas, the cheer team only had one game left to attend, and she had never been to California. What Chrissy didn't tell Eddie, though, was that this trip would be her first step to truly, truly severe the apron strings.

Laura, predictably, had wailed about being abandoned when Chrissy announced the trip, but Chrissy had tried her hardest to ignore the usual prickle of guilt. "It's only for a week, Mom," she said firmly. "I've stocked the fridge and arranged for someone to come check on you every day. You have your cell phone and your Life Alert. You'll be fine."

Laura had spluttered indignantly, but there was nothing else for her to say.

Of course, Chrissy had thought about what it would mean for her and Eddie if Corroded Coffin got this record deal. Though they hadn't discussed it, she was sure that if he was to relocate to LA, Eddie would ask her to come with him. They had already talked about moving in together... but that was only a few miles away. When it came down to it, would she have the strength to move far from her mother, all the way to the other side of the country?

She turned to look at Eddie again, at his profile that she'd grown to love, his sharp jawline, the cute nose she liked to tweak playfully to get him up, the tender mouth she couldn't stop kissing, and felt slightly ashamed that she was only thinking of herself when Eddie's career was at the brink of something so monumental. Sensing her gaze, Eddie turned around with a smile, and Chrissy smiled back at him, relieved.

"Nervous?" they both blurted out, and both laughed.

"Not as long as you're here," Eddie said. "You?"

"What do I have to be nervous about?"

"I don't know, leaving your students... your mom?"

So he understood. He always understood.

"No, it's fine," she said, squeezing his hand. Yes, she would have the strength. He would be her strength.

Her phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. Chrissy dug it out of her bag. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the number—Rachel, the school nurse whom she'd asked to keep an eye on Laura. Perhaps Rachel just forgot something...

"Chrissy?" Rachel's frantic voice immediately dispelled Chrissy's hope for a simple check-in. "Your mom just had a fall."

Chrissy could feel blood draining from her body, leaving her numb and cold. All around her, the usual hubbub of an airport seemed to increase tenfold, drowning everything out. Scattered phrases came through the phone, "unconscious", "stroke", "ambulance", "hospital", but they barely registered, skimming over her brain like pebbles across a frozen lake.

"Chrissy, what's wrong?" Eddie's voice came through the garbled noises in her ears, and his hand gripped her shoulder, shaking some life back into her. "What's the matter?"

"My mom's had another stroke," she said, surprised that her voice was so steady. "I gotta go."

There was a moment's confusion as the others crowded around her, trying to figure out what had happened. Then Eddie said, "I'm coming with you."

"No!" She seized his hand. "You're not. You have to go to LA. It's more important."

"The meeting's not until next Wednesday—"

"No," Chrissy said again, softer. "You guys have to prepare. I'll be OK. There's nothing you can do anyway."

Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but Chrissy turned away, afraid her resolve was going to waver the longer she looked at him. Nicole stepped up. "You two go. I'll drive her back." Chrissy nodded at her thankfully. They had all driven to Indianapolis together in Gareth's station wagon to save on gas and parking.

What followed was flurry of kisses and goodbyes and good luck wishes, and then Chrissy was in the parking lot, buckling the baby into her car seat while Nicole folded up the stroller, and before she knew it, they were driving down the highway, back toward Hawkins.

"If they found her in time, she'll be OK," Nicole said. "Don't worry."

Chrissy could only nod. The truth was, she wasn't exactly worried. She didn't quite know what she was feeling. Anxiety was twisting her insides, much like the strap of the bag she was winding and unwinding around her hands, but she wasn't sure if it was anxiety for her mother or herself. She spent the rest of the car ride focusing on the baby's babbles in the backseat and the sound of the highway, to tune out her own jumbled thoughts.

Dusk was falling by the time Nicole dropped Chrissy off at Hawkins Memorial Hospital. Chrissy thanked her and stumbled into the searing light of the reception area, toward the front desk. She gave her mother's name. The receptionist typed something into the computer and explained that her mother was in a coma and they were still running tests, but they would let her know as soon as there were any changes.

Chrissy collapsed into a chair in the waiting room. The anxiety she'd felt in the car had spread outward, pulling at her limbs and her body, threatening to tear her into a thousand pieces. A thought, a hideous thought, half of hope and half of fear, kept circling her mind like a bird of prey, waiting for the moment she lowered her defenses so it could pounce on her and devour her. She twisted her bag strap again, anything to keep her hands and mind busy, anything to keep that predator from alighting.

"Chrissy?"

She looked up, not believing in her own eyes. Eddie was walking toward her, worry lines etched across his face. She wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him, but shock and exhaustion rooted her to the seat.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He took her hands. "I can't leave you to deal with this alone."

"But—the flight—"

"I changed the ticket. I'm flying out on Monday. Plenty of time."

"I told you—"

"I know what you told me. I want to be here," he said. There was no more arguing after that. Eddie sat down next to her, pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and Chrissy felt herself relax. The circling bird of prey was gone for now. She put her head on Eddie's chest, certain that nothing could come for her as long as he was here.

***

Laura was in a coma for five days. Eddie stayed with Chrissy for three of those, making sure she ate and slept, accompanying her during those endless hours in the hospital room while she sat and stared at her mother, trying not to give shape to the thought that was still circling her head. When they were not in the hospital, she stayed with him at his apartment, spending the night lying awake in his arms.

She called her brother Ryan. He asked if she needed help, but she heard the reluctance in his voice and said no. If it was this hard for her, she couldn't imagine how difficult it would be for Ryan to try to care for their mother, after all the horrible things she'd put him through, after she'd left him homeless and penniless at the age of eighteen. Chrissy had been unable to help Ryan then, and she wasn't going to put this burden on him now.

On Monday, the doctors said Laura's condition was stable, though she still hadn't woken. Chrissy had to all but threaten Eddie into getting on the flight to LA. "If you don't go, Eddie," she said, "I'll never"—she wracked her tired brain for the worst thing in the world—"I'll never talk to you again!"

So he smiled and kissed her and left, with a promise to call her as soon as the meeting was over to let her know how it went.

With Eddie gone, the bird of prey in her mind was back, only it was a different one this time, not a circling raptor waiting to attack, but a vulture sitting and waiting patiently, staring at her soul with its baneful eyes, impossible to ignore.

On Wednesday evening, Eddie called. Chrissy went out into the hallway to answer.

"How did it go?" Chrissy asked. Her voice was shakier than when she asked the doctors about her mother.

"It went... well."

"Well as in they love you and want to sign you, or well as in they were polite but it went nowhere?"

"The first one. They want us to play for some execs on Friday."

Chrissy let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Eddie."

"I know." She could hear the smile in his voice, and it made her miss him so much she almost burst into tears. "How's your mom?"

"She woke up."

"That's good."

"Yeah, she's going to have to stay a while, but looks like she's out of danger."

"Great! How are you?"

"I'm... OK."

There were some noises on the other end, people calling for him. "Listen, I gotta go now," Eddie said quickly, "but I'm coming back next week, and we'll talk then, OK?"

After she hung up, Chrissy leaned back against the sterile white wall of the hospital corridor. The vulture was still there, waiting. Let's talk then, you and I.

Eddie's moving back to LA, and he's going to ask you to come with him, the vulture said, in her own voice.

"What of it?" she snapped.

You're going to turn him down.

"And why would I do that?"

Please. You can't even have a full meal without him holding your hand. How are you going to handle living in a strange city on your own, while he's on the road for months on end, getting up to God knows what? You're going to fall apart, and he'll have to come running back to take care of you, like he came back from the airport that day. The vulture was gloating, its words like a sharp beak tearing at her heart, and Chrissy couldn't think of how to respond, because it was right, right about everything. She slumped into a chair, suddenly exhausted.

And what about your mom? the vulture piped up, sounding eerily like Laura now.

"What about her?"

You're going to leave her, to swan off to LA with your boyfriend, after all those thoughts you had about her?

"I'm not!"

As soon as Chrissy thought this, an agonizing, resigned feeling of acceptance settled over her. It was true. Laura was going to need 24/7 care now. Chrissy couldn't leave her. And she couldn't saddle Eddie with all her troubles either. She'd decided that when he came running back from the airport to stay with her at the hospital. At that moment, she'd known. She knew that if she asked him to, he would throw everything away to be with her, and so she made up her mind that she would never, ever ask.

It was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she had to do it.

Good. The vulture flew away, satisfied.

Chrissy spent the next seven days waiting for Eddie's return with both hope and dread, while steeling her resolve and rehearsing what she was going to say to him. She never got very far.

On the day Eddie came back from LA, he insisted that he didn't need her to pick him up, so Chrissy got a nice dinner waiting for him at the apartment. Even as she heard him taking the stairs two at a time, her tears were threatening to flow, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to put on a happy face.

Eddie ran in and swept her up in a hug. He smelled of sun and dust—exotic smells for an Indiana winter, which, strangely enough, made it a little easier for Chrissy to pull away from him. Already he felt distant, like he belonged to another world.

But there was no fooling Eddie. The moment he looked at her, he noticed something wrong.

"What is it?" he asked. "Is everything OK with your mom?"

With a herculean effort, she smiled and shook her head. "Everything's fine. Let's eat before it gets cold, and then we'll talk, OK?"

Somehow she managed to keep calm through the meal while Eddie told her about the meeting and the contract. Unfamiliar words flew over her head—album cycle, rights, royalty, advance, touring—but she heard the excitement in his voice and saw the happiness on his face, and it pained her that she was going to have to bring it all down.

"How did Gareth and Nicole take it?" she asked.

"They're freaking out, but in a good way," Eddie said with a grin. "Nicole's really looking forward to moving to LA, actually." She must have winced at that, because he put his fork down and peered at her face. The tenderness and worry in his eyes tore at her heart, and she had to look away.

"That's what this is about, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "About me moving back to LA?"

Chrissy could only nod, afraid her voice would betray her if she spoke.

Eddie reached across the table to grab her hand. "Listen, I know you've got a lot on your mind right now, with your mom and everything, but I've been thinking..." She held her breath, waiting for the axe to fall. "Would you move to LA with me?"

It broke her heart to think that if he had asked a week ago, or even three days ago, her answer would have been an enthusiastic "Yes". Now she looked at him, unable to speak. In her tear-filled eyes, he saw her answer.

"You're staying here," he said. It wasn't a question. "Because of your mom." She nodded again. A teardrop fell from her eyes to the table and spread, darkening the wood like blood.

He took a moment to digest that. Then he pushed away from the table and stood up, tugging at his hair with an irritable hand. "Is there any way—any other option?" he asked. "Like hospice or a nurse or—"

"I can't afford that," Chrissy said, finding her voice at last.

"I can help. I've got my advances from the label—"

"No." She shook her head once. "I can't let you do that."

"But I want to."

He knelt down in front of her, and now it was her turn to stand and walk away so she didn't have to see his pleading look, the hurt in his eyes. The grand speeches she'd been preparing all went out the window the moment he looked at her like that, and she could only mutter, "I can't keep letting you fight for me."

"Can't your brother do something?"

"He doesn't want to have anything to do with Mom. I don't blame him."

She could feel Eddie's questioning eyes on her as she paced around the apartment in restless, tortured steps. Part of her wanted to get this over with and run from here as far as possible, while another part wanted to stay, because it would mean she could be with him for a little longer.

"So it's OK for you to make the sacrifice, but not him?"

"She's my mom!"

"She doesn't even let you eat. If she could, she'd probably have a stroke on purpose just to keep you tied to her!" Eddie shouted.

Chrissy recoiled, as if he'd just hit her. From the look on his face, it was clear Eddie realized he'd gone too far as well, but it was too late. She turned to face him, her eyes hardening.

"How dare you," she said. "She may not be a good mother, but she's not a—a psychopath!"

She pivoted on her heels toward the door. Eddie dove at her and grabbed her wrist. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, pulling her to him. Chrissy fought against him, but something much stronger than his arms wrapped itself around her heart, making her weak. "I'm sorry," he said again, softly, as she melted into him with a sob. "Look, I'm not asking you to move to LA this instant. We're getting the new record out, and then touring for at least a year after that. You'll stay here. We'll call each other. I'll come back to visit, or you'll fly out when you can—"

For a moment, Chrissy almost let herself be convinced. But she had been in a long-distance relationship once, after she dropped out of nursing school. She'd moved to Chicago to escape her mother's wrath, leaving her boyfriend at the time in Indianapolis. They'd tried to make it work. He'd promised to follow her as soon as he graduated. Then one missed call turned into ten, canceled visits piled up, and affection and longing had turned into resentment and doubt, and eventually, it had broken them up.

She didn't want to go through all that again, not with Eddie. She told him as much.

"It's only for the first year or so," he protested. "And then once the band is settled, I can move back—"

"Do you see much of a music scene around here? There's a reason all the big artists are based in LA and New York, Eddie."

He took a deep breath. "OK, maybe we can take your mom with us then."

She gave a shaky laugh, knowing how much it cost him to even offer that. "I can't do that to you."

"And yet you're doing it to yourself?" Eddie held her out at arm's length and looked her in the eye. "Why?" She heard the unsaid words behind his question. Why are you doing this, when she's so horrible to you?

"Do you know what my first thought was that day at the airport, when I found out she's had another stroke?" she said. "I thought, I hope she doesn't survive. All those days we were in the hospital, while she was in a coma, I kept thinking, I hope she doesn't wake up." And there it was, the bird of prey that kept circling her mind during those long hours, when time seemed to stand still between the white, featureless hospital walls, the thought that she couldn't bring herself to face, to admit. Now she shuddered with self-disgust and buried her face in her hands. "What kind of a daughter am I, to wish my mother dead?"

He seized her hands and held them between their chests. "You're not a bad person for that. I wish my dad were dead all the time."

"But if he came back and asked for your help, would you?"

Eddie laughed, a mirthless sound. "No. I'd tell him to go to Hell."

Chrissy wished she had his conviction. "I've failed as a student, as a sister, as a wife," she said. "I'm not going to fail as a daughter as well."

He pressed her palms to his cheeks. "You haven't failed me."

His gentleness hurt so much worse than his anger. Chrissy shook her head. "Don't." She tried taking a step back, but Eddie was holding her hands tightly, and she found herself drawn forward, inexorably, until they were locked together in an embrace.

"I'll be OK, Eddie," she said, to herself as much as to him. "She can't hurt me anymore."

"I know."

She didn't know how long they stood like that, looking into each other's eyes, not saying anything, not even quite breathing, as if they could just exist together in that moment, outside of time and space themselves. Then Eddie leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, so all that she saw were his eyes. The expression in them squeezed at her heart and her throat.

"We can't end it like this," he said. "I won't let you."

"It doesn't have to end."

"What do you mean?"

"We'll spend these remaining weeks together, like we always do. No talking about the future. And when you leave, you just leave. No goodbye."

The little spark of hope in his eyes died away, and the knot around Chrissy's heart tightened.

"Maybe we can figure something out," he said.

"How? What?"

"I don't know. But we have three weeks. We'll think of something."

For once, Chrissy allowed herself to hope.

***

They never figured anything out in those three weeks.

They were too busy. Chrissy spent her days shuffling between the hospital and work, before going back to Eddie's apartment for dinner and sleep. They enjoyed each moment together but never talked about the future. If their nights together were a little more poignant, more passionate, they didn't comment on it. If Eddie was packing or preparing for his move, he didn't let Chrissy see it. Luckily, he didn't have much stuff to pack anyway.

On Christmas morning, Chrissy visited her mother. Laura listened, bitter-eyed and silent—the stroke had affected her speech—as Chrissy explained how things were going to be different between them from now on. "I'm done trying to please you, Mom," she concluded and left to spend the rest of the day with Eddie and Wayne.

In the no-man's land between Christmas and New Year, Chrissy got her house ready for when her mother was discharged, adding a ramp outside, installing bars on walls and guards on sharp corners of tables and counters, and putting in a hospital bed. The work was dull, but it kept her busy, and Eddie was there to help her, always.

On New Year's Eve, neither Chrissy nor Eddie felt like going out, so they stayed in Eddie's place, put on some music, and opened a bottle of champagne. Neither mentioned that Eddie was leaving the day after, though the knowledge hung over them like a heavy cloud. Chrissy wondered how Cinderella ever managed to enjoy the ball, knowing she only had until midnight. They'd had three weeks, and it still wasn't long enough. It was never enough.

Fireworks and cheers started going off on the street outside, yet they remained as they were on the couch, leaning against each other with their arms locked around each other's waist, her head in the crook of his shoulder, neither wanting to say "Happy New Year", neither wanting to accept the passing of the time.

"You'll come out to visit," Eddie said. "I'll show you Hollywood, and we can go down to Santa Monica. And when we have a show in Chicago or Detroit, you can come too. You still haven't seen us live yet. Make that your New Year resolution."

Every single word he uttered, no matter how innocuous, was like a needle in Chrissy's heart.

"Don't," she murmured. "No goodbye, remember?"

"That's just pretending," he said.

"Yes." She lifted her head to look at him and tried to smile. "Aren't you good at that? Think of it as a long D&D campaign."

Eddie snorted. "You've never even played D&D, Cunningham."

"I'll play this one."

He gazed at her for a long, long time. Then, quietly, almost inaudibly, he said, "OK," and kissed her.

His hot, languid lips brushed over her face, lingering over her features, forehead, temples, eyes, cheeks, then nose. Despite the pain in her heart, Chrissy couldn't help but laugh a little when he kissed the tip of her nose.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Memorizing," he said. "I'm going to memorize every inch of you."

Even that was a painful reminder of his imminent departure. But the next moment, he kissed the pain away, and Chrissy let herself get lost in his touches, his soft lips and strong hands, and forget everything else. 

When he finally reached her mouth, she parted her lips for him, and both exhaled, their breaths mingling into one. He cupped her jaw with one hand, while the other splayed across the small of her back, pulling her even closer. But there was no need for him to grip her so tight. She wasn't going anywhere, not when his tongue was dreamily tracing a path over her lips and her arms had tangled themselves around his neck of their own accord. Their bodies seemed melded together, the layers of clothes between them unable to contain the heat that kept building the longer they kissed.

Still, they refused to hurry. Why hurry, when time no longer existed? They lingered over every step, finding pleasure in every tiny action, or perhaps even the tiniest action had become so much more pleasurable when they knew each would be the last.

Chrissy felt Eddie's hand move under her shirt and rest on the bare, soft skin of her stomach for a moment, before he slowly unbuttoned her cardigan, pulling it off of her shoulders, and holding out his arms so she could do the same for him. His sweater got stuck, and both laughed as they struggled to peel it off. They managed eventually, though the sweater tore a bit at the neck.

"I'll sew it back for you later," Chrissy said without thinking.

Then she remembered that there would be no later, and her smile disappeared. The pain came crashing back, choking her, as if Eddie had already gone. This was a mistake. She shouldn't have stayed. She should've made a clean break. Yes, it would have hurt like hell, but at least it would have cauterized the wound. Staying only made it fester.

Chrissy rose from the couch, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as she tried to fight off the stinging tears rising to her eyes. Eddie got up with her and took her wrists in his gentle hands, anchoring her to him. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere." The word yet hovered between them like a ghost, unspoken.

She met his eyes, those big, brown eyes that she didn't know how much she loved until now. Like everything in her life, the realization came too late.

No. It wasn't too late. Like he'd said, he was still here, and she was still here, and somehow, she would find a way to fit a lifetime of love into the few hours they had left.

"What do you want to do?" Eddie asked. "Just tell me."

She waited until her breath slowed. There was no time to waste in crying and regret. She had to make the most of this. "Roll for initiative?" she joked, using the only D&D phrase she knew.

It got a laugh out of Eddie. "Oh, I have so much to teach you."

Like a miracle, his laugh wiped away the pain gnawing at her heart. Their lips collided again, their kisses becoming more urgent, more incendiary as he lifted her up and she locked her ankles behind his back, not letting go even when he laid her down on the bed. Off came her shirt and her bra. She briefly unhooked her legs from around his waist so he could remove her jeans, with the solemn and reverent manner of someone uncovering some secret of the universe. His ever-busy mouth set out on another mapping journey, this time starting from her ankles, to her calves, to behind her knees, left leg and then right leg, left, right, left, right, higher and higher, his gossamer breath skimming over her skin, tickling and caressing, until she was arching her back and aching for him.

"Please, Eddie..." she panted.

Maddeningly, he just kept going higher and higher. "Patience, sweetheart," he said, and she could feel his smile against her skin. "I said I'm going to memorize every inch of you, and I meant it. Every"—her leg shook as he placed an expert kiss on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh—"single"—another one, on the other side—"inch."

But she had no patience left. She'd forgotten her resolve to make the night last as long as she could. She only knew that she wanted him, and she wanted him now.

And just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he was there, where she wanted him. That was Eddie all over. Always knowing what she wanted and how to give it to her, without her ever having to ask. As she came apart against his mouth, the cry that escaped her was almost a sob, part relief, part ecstasy.

Chrissy didn't realize she was crying until Eddie shuffled up the bed to join her and brushed his fingertips over her wet cheeks.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know," she whispered back.

"Did you just quote Empire Strikes Back at me?" He grinned. "Have I turned you into a nerd at last?"

Laughing, she tugged his shirt over his head, making his hair crackle with static. With one hand, she tucked the loose strands away from his face and rested the other on his chest, feeling with pleasure the thundering of his heart under her palm. He may tease and taunt, but he was getting impatient as well. Catching her hand, he placed a kiss on her palm and trailed his lips up her arm, to her shoulder, her throat, over her breasts, the heat from his breath seeping through her skin.

Then their faces were level again, and the heat wasn't just over her skin, but inside her, gradually filling her, warming her to her very core, until she started panting again like she was on fire. Her legs instinctively found purchase around his waist, and as his pace grew faster, wilder, she clung to him, thighs pressing into the lean hollows of his hips, fingertips sunk into his back in a desperate attempt to slow him down, to make this last as long as they could.

As always, he understood without her having to say anything. His movements became lingering, almost dreamy, while the air between them became heavier, throbbing with a pressure that grew and grew. She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle the moans that escaped her, but his hands found their way to cradle her cheeks and ease her head back on the pillow again.

"Let me look at you," he said between heavy, heaving breaths. "I want to look at you."

She looked into his eyes, so dark they appeared almost black, shining in the dimness of the room, and it was the expression in them, vulnerable and tender and trusting, that finally sent the pressure exploding through her in waves after pulsing waves, turning their bodies into a sea of trembling nerves that washed around and over each other, drowning them both.

Afterward, they didn't sleep. They stayed awake, talked, made love, talked some more, made love again. At some point, though, they must have drifted off, because Chrissy remembered waking up with Eddie's arms around her, holding her to his chest. The window was a square of gray punctuated by the sharp lines of the blinds. Gently, she extracted herself from his arms and slipped out from the warm nest of blankets and bodies into the cold. It was late, but it was New Year's Day, and the entire town was still wrapped in a stupor of champagne and fireworks and half-forgotten resolutions, so it felt like just another early morning, another normal sleepover. Almost. Even the kiss she dropped on his lips was normal, not prolonged or teary. Eddie stirred sleepily but didn't wake. Chrissy wondered if he was pretending to be asleep, to make the parting easier.

She never found out. She just left, quietly closing the door behind her, without looking back. No goodbye.

Epilogue

I originally had this in just 2 chapters, but that made the 2nd chapter a bit too long, and there's a time jump anyway, so there will be a little epilogue after this. Stay tuned! (Or... don't, you know, since it's still not going to have a happy ending.)