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julymusings · 3 days ago

Note

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded.

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp.

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field.

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

#jason todd #red hood #batman #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #jason todd x you #batfamily #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #robin #bruce wayne

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grizzlyofthesea · 1 year ago

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#MANY UNHAPPY RETURNS #you get lou jitsu leo kicking ass AND mikey throwing a barge?#and super sneaky super smart leo #and donnie triangulating the group's final resting place #and april using her crane license #and raph being just as smashy and punchy as ever #rottmnt #polls #reblog #and also leo in lou jitsu cosplay

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ceilidho · 5 months ago

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The catfish price things is giving me vibes of “I’ll make her pay for daring to play with me like that, I’m a god damn respected man” and then just stalking her for a few days until he finds the perfect opportunity to make the pretty little thing pay, maybe take *real* pictures of her, after he messed her up pretty cute, filled up holes.

"Oh, you're fine," John clucks, verging on dismissive when she tries to twist out of his grasp again. He yanks her back by her hips before she's managed to wriggle even an inch away, relishing in the sound of her ensuing yip.

She squeals from where she's bent over the back of the couch, little feet kicking out, her painted toes barely grazing the floor. Her pleas come out garbled, muffled by the ring gag in her mouth. It's more than fair after what she's put him through. As much as John enjoys the sound of her pleasure, he prefers this, only the squelching sound of her pussy every time he fills it up and her pathetic little mewls.

He likes the way she looks like this. Hands bound at the wrist, toes curling and flexing every time he bottoms out, still a bit too tight to take him to the root. She clenches deliciously around his length, tighter than sin, hotter than hell. Everything he'd imagined she'd be like in the weeks since they started chatting online. The only thing he's thought about since the first time she messaged him unprompted and he laid eyes on the sweet thing smiling back at him from the photo next to her name.

"Miserable little thing," he murmurs, fingers squeezing into her hips hard enough to bruise. He'll have to tend to those later when they bloom. "After everything I've done."

John likes to think that he's a good man, but even his patience has its limits. He can handle being blown off once or twice, but five times in a month? While still brazenly asking him to send her another month's worth of rent? If he's going to be taken for a sucker, then he thinks some taking of his own is well deserved. Earned, even. He's paid three times over for the wet peach between her legs.

No one would call him the most technologically adept, but what he lacks in know how, he makes up for in resources. It hadn't taken him long to find her - or, more accurately, it hadn't taken the intelligence analyst whose shoulders John had held in an ever intensifying grip long to find her. After that, all he'd had to do was put in for his leave and pack an overnight bag before plugging her coordinates into phone.

"C'mon, 'nough of that. Can't push a man this much without expecting him to snap."

She wails something unintelligible behind the gag, but he's long learned to tune her protests out. She'd been full of them when he'd barged into her apartment earlier, steamrolling past her. The display of innocence would've been more impressive if he weren't in such a foul mood, in no right mind to hear the woman that'd been bleeding him dry for weeks claim to have never so much as heard his name before.

He lets go of her hip just long enough to pull his phone from his back pocket, sliding the camera open and framing everything from the line of her back to the soft curve of her ass. The soft shutter of his camera is loud enough for her to crane her neck back, eyes going wide at the sight.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," John tuts, tossing his phone away and bearing down over her until he can run his nose down the sweaty line of her neck. She shakes when he widens his stance, seconds from letting his mind go blank while he thrusts into her like a rutting bull. "You'll get yours too."

#john price/reader #price/reader #john price x reader #price x reader #price x you #ceil writing

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

Text

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

699 notes · View notes

improbable-outset · 9 months ago

Note

I hath a steamy scientist Miguel suggestion

Imagine he’s working on an aphrodisiac and is being as careful as he possibly can be. However he didn’t consider how his spider biology makes him immune in certain doses. So he keeps the cap on the bottle off for just a few moments. Enough for you to walk in and immediately get a whiff.

But you don’t notice at first and take it as some horniness, however the drug comes in waves. And as Miguel goes in to hug you. You can help but hump him. The rest you decide :3

I love this idea omg- I know I posted saying I was gonna post this on Friday but I got too impatient lol

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Wife!Reader, Aphrodisiac influences, dry humping, innuendos. Reader just being extra horny lmao

𝐀/𝐍: You know, in my two and a half years of writing smut, I’ve only written a dry humping fic once (forest sex lmao a clusterfuck bc I stepped out of my comfort zone for that one) so it’s not the best 😭 but I guess practice makes progress

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s a routine for you to come into Miguel’s lab every once in a while, but this time you feel a strong sense of arousal out of nowhere

You could see him through the big glass window that offered a wide view of his lab’s interior. He had his back facing you, perched on the swivel chair, but you noticed him tinkering with some test tubes on the bench in front of him.

Nothing new; he would always be working on something whenever you came here. He still hadn’t noticed you were just a few feet away from him, too engrossed in whatever it was he was working on.

You stepped towards the doors, clutching the paper bag in your hand with food you were planning to share with him. The lab doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, finally catching Miguel’s attention.

He craned his neck towards your direction. He held a hard gaze, obviously annoyed with whoever just barged into his lab, but that immediately morphed into a tender smile once he saw it was you.

As you stepped further into his lab, the sterile smell got stronger— a scent you were all too familiar with. But this time there was another faint underlying scent that you couldn’t fully capture.

It tingled your senses but you brushed it off as just another compound he was probably synthesising. Again, nothing new.

“Hey you…” he said, his voice rich like honey.

He peeled off his latex gloves and stood up from his chair abruptly in jubilant, the swivel chair squeaked from the sudden absence of his weight.

Your lips tugged up in a shy smile. “Hey there stranger,”

He had his lab coat on that shrouded the digital spider suit underneath. A testament of his dual life as a superhero and a scientist.

You’ve always seen him like this whenever you would visit him on the clock, but for some reason as he stepped closer towards you with long strides, you felt your heart rate increase and a sudden heat rushing to your core.

“Sorry about the mess, I didn’t expect you to come so early,” he finished his sentence by dumping the gloves in a nearby bin.

Your senses were tingling more prominently now and the new scent you smelt earlier was getting more apparent. There was a sudden alluring shift in the air and you couldn’t tell if it was the smell that was getting to your head or your husband's sudden accelerated sex appeal. Either way you could feel your mind slowly turn into mush.

“Are those for me?” Miguel asked, pointing to the bag. His question quickly forced you back into the present, away from your chain of thoughts.

You nodded quickly, too afraid to open your mouth. Instead you thrust your hand out with the bag for him to take.

He took the bag from you and peeked inside. “Tres leches cake?”

You could feel your heart almost leap out of your chest the way his face lit up. A sight you would forever burn into your psyche. He placed the bag down on the nearest bench and cupped your cheeks.

The coldness of the platinum from the wedding band brushed against your flushed skin as he held your face in his hands. His touches felt like fire to you, making you jolt ever so slightly.

“You're really spoiling me here, mi alma. Really helping me forget about how terrible today was going,” he uttered, slowly leaning his face closer to yours.

His words would’ve tugged your heartstrings but right now, you couldn’t fully focus on what he was saying. The tingling feeling was too strong for you to ignore now, and his gaze he had on you wasn’t helping either.

He kissed your lips, soft and tender, yet you felt like you were going to combust. Those few seconds his lips were on yours felt like a lifetime before he pulled away, but his broad arms now enveloped around your waist, keeping you in his warmth.

The close proximity between the two of you was making you dizzy. You were hyper aware of how his body was pressed against yours, and you could almost feel your clit brush over his crotch.

If you were to grind your hips right now, you could probably rub the sensitive bud just right.

You really didn’t want to ruin a sweet moment. He was just showing his appreciation to you but you couldn’t help yourself from rolling your hips against his crotch just once.

You weren’t surprised when you got no response. He probably just saw it as a mishap. Reluctantly, you did it again, a little rougher this time.

It definitely didn’t go unnoticed by him now because you heard a stifled groan against your neck. He pulled his face away just enough so you could see him.

“Mig…” you whispered. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going through your head. If only he knew.

There were several reasons why this wasn’t the best time to be doing this, in his workplace more specifically, but your mind was too hazy to even come up with one.

Your senses were thrown out the window and you started to grind against his lower half, desperate for some sort of friction.

“Easy…I’m-” Miguel's words were cut off when you felt a sudden jab between his legs. He was getting aroused just as you were. You angled yourself so you had better access to his hips, with your arms wrapped around his neck. His hardened dick gave the perfect pressure you needed.

“So, is this what you wanted? You missed me this much, hm?” The words escaped in a breathy tone, and you could see his fangs emerging from his canine as he opened his mouth to talk. You could sense the underlying teasing in his voice that had your wetness pool your panties.

You didn’t know where this sudden urge came from. You were actually fully intending on spending this time sharing the cake you made. But the euphoria was coming in strong waves and you couldn’t resist anymore.

Your clit was starting to throb as you felt his dick grind against your clothed cunt. Even if he only had a digital suit on that could easily disappear with a few taps of his watch, it still felt painfully restricted.

Your walls were clutching onto nothing, desperate to feel him inside you and reach every crevice.

You didn’t expect him to start grinding his hips onto you too. You had to bite back your desperate moan from the sudden shift in dynamics. The way he was rubbing on you made your panties press onto your slick folds as more of your wetness was spilling out of your cunt.

Your arms reached to his waist to pull his hips further against yours, a desperate attempt to get more friction out of him. Your knees were about to give in and you could only just about hold yourself up. A staggered moan was heard from him before he halted suddenly.

“The window.” He managed to spatter out. Your line of vision quickly turned to where he was looking.

The window, the first thing you would see before you would come into the lab. All the moisture dried up from your mouth and it was not just from your breathless moans.

There was a momentary pause in your arousal that was quickly replaced with frustration. You were so caught up in trying to chase your high, you weren’t focusing on your surroundings.

Any Spider Person could walk past here and catch you both. The last thing you wanted was your husband, a leader that had so many people relying on him, to be caught red handed in a predicament from something you initiated.

He withdrew himself away from you, taking all the warmth with him to pull up the sleeve of his lab coat. It was an easy fix, all he had to do was tap on his watch, turning the glass opaque and giving the privacy you both needed.

Just when he was about to pull you in again, he froze. Something else was on his mind. He turned his face to his bench where he was working before you came in. You frowned from his lack of attention.

“What now?” You huffed, your torment evident in your voice. Was he going to go back to work? Did he not want you here anymore? His sudden dismissal made you feel ill with unease.

“Shock, the aphrodisiac was uncapped.” He said as he swiftly moved to the bench. You blinked, trying to process if you heard him right.

“What?”

“The aphrodisiac, it was an oversight. Explains why you were acting so…needy just now,” he placed the cap back onto the vial, the scent from earlier slowly fading away. You cocked your brow inquisitively.

“Why are you messing around with an aphrodisiac in the first place?” You didn’t think he would need a sex enhancing substance as a geneticist.

Even after he secured the cap back onto the aphrodisiac, your clit was still throbbing and you were still desperate for some sort of release.

“It’s not what it looks like. I was working on an experimental chemical compound for a project. I guess I underestimated how strong the reaction could get,” he said sheepishly, turning back to face you again.

“My God, Miguel…” you sighed. It was all making sense now. You wouldn’t be feeling this turned on without some sort of stimuli.

“But we don’t have to stop. I could pause my work for a little longer for some ‘us-time’” he said before lifting you and placing you on a clearer bench. A smirk crept on his lips and you could see the lust swirling in his eyes.

Despite the air being charged along with your flared libido, you still didn’t forget the main reason you came in here.

“What about the cake?” You gestured to the bag that was still sitting on the other end of the bench.

“The cake can wait, we might as well finish what you started without any unintended side effects,” he ended his sentence with a tap on his watch, disengaging his suit.

Precum was already leaking from the tip…

Eager and pent up.

I hope I did you justice here lol. A wise women (one of my fave fic writers) once said, your clit throbbing is your second heartbeat ;)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @mybvalentine @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @monarchberrysblog @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @safixiovi @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @rosegnome @ghost-lantern @famouscattale @maomaimao @ultravioletrayz

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @club-danger-zone @lauraolar14 @beckberin-xo

Made it this far? Help families in 🍉 here!! (Might as well use my platform here for something good)

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miniwrites1 · 9 months ago

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The Target On Your Back - Theodore Nott

Words | 600 Warnings | Fighting, Theo being a raging dick Pairings | Theo Nott x Reader | Neville Longbottom & Reader (Platonic)

“What did you just say?” You hear as you round the corner, an audible crack ringing above the hushed mumbles of other students surrounding what you assumed was a fight unfolding. You couldn’t see anything as you approached the back of the circle that had formed. You craned your neck to see a glimpse of what was going on, another cracking sound, followed by yelling.

“What’s going on?” You spoke, slightly panicked to the Ravenclaw girl who was stood in front of you.

“Nott and Longbottom. Nott’s winning.” She spoke nonchalantly, as if she didn’t care that another student, your friend, was getting beaten.

You felt an unfamiliar feeling surge inside you. Anger. You barged your way through the surrounding students, bursting through the front line and finally witnessing the scene that had unfolded. Nott had Neville pinned up against the wall with one hand in the middle of his chest, his other laying punches into his face and stomach.

Something snapped inside you.

You couldn’t help yourself, charging into Nott’s side at full force and throwing him off balance, causing him to lose his footing and fall to the floor. You pulled your wand out and aimed it at him.

“You ok Nev?” You asked the shaken boy, keeping your eyes fixed on Nott, who was beginning to get back up.

“Yeah, I-I’m ok.” Neville mumbled, wiping his bloody nose with the sleeve of his cloak.

You watched at Nott got back to his feet, glaring at you. He took a step towards you.

“Take one more step and I’ll hex you into next year.” You stood your ground, defending your friend with unwavering confidence and anger coursing through your body. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Neville stared at you in disbelief, as did many other students that had been watching the fight. You were known for being the quiet, kind Hufflepuff who sat in the back of the class and often carried round a bag of sweets from Honeydukes, handing them out to anyone who looked upset.

This was a side of you no one had seen before, it was a side of you reserved for those who hurt the people you cared for.

Your eyes narrowed, your wand still trained on Nott, searching for any sign of movement towards you. His glare was piercing, ice cold. If looks could kill.

He stepped away from you, turning and shoving his way through the crowd, sending students falling into one another as he left. You let out a sigh of relief as you watched him leave, only turning to Neville after he was out of your sight.

“Let’s get you to the hospital wing.” You spoke softly, wrapping Neville’s arm over your shoulder and helping him through the corridors.

As you arrived at the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey rushed over to take Neville to a bed, firing questions at you. There was an unspoken rule between the students, if you fought each other and were injured, say nothing. Your explanation to Madame Pomfrey was that you’d just found Neville like this and had no idea what had happened. You knew she didn’t believe you, but she had no proof that anything you said wasn’t true.

She shooed you from the wing shortly after Neville was placed into a bed, stating that he needed to rest and would be back to class in a couple of days. You nodded, remaining silent, afraid that anything you would say may give away too much information. You really didn’t want a target on your back, even though you now had one from defending your friend.

#slytherin boys #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x you #neville longbottom #neville longbotton x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #oneshot #theo nott one shot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic

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peoniesnro · 1 month ago

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In Another Universe

#9. Make It Right

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/SMUT- Making out/ Dirty talks/ Brief breast play/ Protected sex/ Unportected sex/ Cockwarming/ Riding/ Car sex/ Word 'slut' (I don't know if I've missed any)/ Angst / INFIDELITY

Word count- 15k

a/n- Another very late update... I'm so happy I was able to finish this. Hope you'll find this exciting. And like always thank you for reading and then for your patience. Luv u.❤️

Taglist?

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

You stare into the faces that stare back at you. Innocent. Curious. Afraid. Blinking at your stupid figure just standing there. When Jungkook called you an alien, it didn’t feel like it. Now though, you do feel like an alien with ten tentacles, five antennas, and two heads. That’s how they stare at you. That’s how you exactly look in your cozy pajama shorts and an oversized tee. Your feet are only covered by knee-high woolen socks. No shoes. No jackets. Shivering. But above all, scared and confused like an abandoned puppy in the middle of Seoul.

In hindsight, you have no idea what the hell is happening. Just like the first day you woke up next to Park Jimin. Only that you didn’t wake up on a cozy bed this morning. And instead of a godly looking shirtless man, you faced at least 30 young people. Staring you down. In fact, a couple of harsh nudges on your ribcage were what woke you up. Probably a five minutes ago. When you opened your eyes, you experienced the same level of feral panic. Like the day you saw Park Jimin for the first time. You screamed. They screamed too. You got up to your feet in light speed. They stepped away from you in light speed. Then you stared, stared, and stared. Still, staring. At the bunch of kids in front of you. With their mouth hanging open. One look at your surroundings is enough to tell you that you’re definitely standing in a classroom.

Holy fucking……

You take an uncertain, scared step back. You’re standing in a classroom. You woke up in a classroom!

How?

Where are you?

Are you in your world? Jimin’s?

Your panicked brain doesn’t get enough time to wonder over what’s happening when hurried footsteps reach you. Followed by several voices. Belonging to adults. Not to kids who have to crane their neck upward to look at you.

“Who are you?” An innocent, adorable voice asks that question at the same time some strange man barges inside. Then another one enters the room. Then another. You assume they are teachers. You can hear some whispering going around. Soon turn out to be mumbling and a noisy babble. Funny questions and assumptions start to flow as you look at the newcomer with wide eyes. You swear you hear someone say something about you being a witch from a movie you’ve never heard of.

“Stay put. Don’t move.” One of the men stretches his hand into a defensive position. Taking a cautious step forward. You listen. Not daring to even move a finger. Catch several women enter the room as well. They are here for the kids. Evacuating. Practically dragging kids out. You just watch. Raise your hands in the air to let them know you surrender. Cause no harm to anyone. They don’t believe you, however. It seems. That’s how you find yourself dragged out by two men in blue uniforms no more than three minutes later.

It happened all so fast. One moment you were trying to explain that you’re not a threat to anyone. That you’ve no idea how you ended up here. The people you assumed to be teachers didn’t really listen to you. Only parting their ways for the police officers. Then you’re dragged away.

What the actual fuck?

In your confused state, you can’t even bring yourself to say anything. Just letting them take you away. Looking at the eyes staring at you in shock.

……………………………………………….

You spent the whole day being restless and antsy in your apartment yesterday. With Key by your side. She was restless too. For a whole different reason. You were worried to death because you didn’t know if your wish had really worked. Because you didn’t know if you would see Park Jimin again. He asked you to stay after all. No scratch that ─ he begged you to stay. And you’re weak. He wanted a chance to make it right. You don’t know how. Hell, you don’t even know what you’re doing. It didn’t matter though. All that mattered was being able to see him once again. So, of course, you were afraid. Afraid that you might not wake up in his bed again. Then Key was afraid whatever you did, won’t work. You went to sleep late last night. After praying for every higher entity that you would be waking up in another world in the following morning. Ridiculous, considering you were asking for the complete opposite few months ago.

Then when you know your prayers had been answered, shouldn't you be the happiest in every damn universe? Well, you are. Or you were. For a split second when you noticed a license plate. Just like how you knew something was wrong that day inside Park Jimin’s car. But that happiness was very short lived. It popped out like a bubble. You were forced inside a police car for the first time of your life. While you were in your pajama shorts, for fucks sake. And now you’re sitting in a very uncomfortable plastic chair in front of a messy desk. A middle-aged bald man glaring at you like you’re Rafael Caro. Or any other dangerous criminal that exists in this world. You sigh heavily.

“Listen officer, you have to trust me when I say I’ve no idea how I ended up there.” You reason. Leaning forward over the messy table. He scoffs.

“Yeah? So what? Someone drugged you and took you inside a middle-school?” Questions. Entwines his fingers. “You listen to me, filth, you could very well be a sick headed psychopath that we need to lock up immediately─” You try to protest but he holds his hand up stopping you. “─then you refuse to tell us your identity. What’s that make of you?” Points out. Well, you don’t exist in this world. You made the mistake of giving your real identity which they couldn’t find. Then you had the option of using the name Kim Liya. The thing is you’re simply worried what problems it’ll cause later. So, you stay put. Keep it shut. And by the look of it, it’s not going in your favor. You are angering this man before you. You by no means know how these things work. Will they put you behind bars just like that? Only if you can call someone and let them know. Ask for help.

The thing is, yet again, you don’t have a method of communication. Your phone, the one that works in this world, is not in your possession. It wasn’t there when you woke up yesterday. You must’ve fallen asleep after tiring yourself to sleep with Jimin. You can’t remember how that night ended. Only that Jimin asked you to stay, and you agreed. Told him your stupid theory of making a wish. Of course, he became difficult. Because he is Park Jimin. You had to talked it over until your eyes were droopy. So, he just laid back in the couch. Dragged you with him. You didn’t protest. Last thing you remember is him asking you to try the only way you know. And maybe him begging you not to leave once again. You obviously didn’t remember to take your phone with you. Now, you don’t have it.

The sigh police officer lets out brings you to the present. “Well, at this rate this is not a simple breaking in, you’re intentionally hiding your identity, you’ve no documentation you could provide us. In that case, I’m sorry, lady, I would have to follow the regulations.” He more of mumbles to himself. Your eyes go wide. What regulations? What is he going to do? Oh no, no, no. This can’t be happening. You really don’t want to experience a single second inside a holding cell. You’re not a criminal.

“No, no wait! Wait.” You nearly stand up as you practically yell. Making the officer throw you a disapproving glance. “I can prove my identity. But, uh... can I call someone?” You look at the man uncertainly. Worried that he would say no.

“Call who? Your lawyer?” He questions after a minute of silence.

“No. But someone who can vouch for my identity. And vouch that I am no criminal, and all of this is a huge mistake. C’mon, I know you can’t deny my rights. I’m allowed to call someone.” You regret saying the last part the moment it leaves your mouth. It’s not like you’re trying to make this person more pissed at you. But then even though his face turns stony, you’ve said the truth. After another sigh he points you the phone. Tells you something about it being recorded. And something about a time limit. You just nod. Jumping at the chance and already dialing Jimin. See, each and every experience in this world has prepared you for the unexpected. The day you bleed through your vagina and had to ask Jimin’s neighbor for a call. You made sure to memorize Park Jimin’s number like it’s your own name. Everything, in the end, comes in handy.

You keep the receiver presses into your ear. Heart pounding as you worry that he wouldn’t pickup. Then after the fifth ring he does. His groggy voice reaching you. Probably still sleeping.

“Hello?” Asks slowly. You feel a rush of relief wash over you.

“Jimin.” You say eagerly.

“Lil?” Suddenly, there’s not a trace of sleepiness in his voice. If anything, you can hear the alarmed quivering.

“Yeah.” You glance at the police officer. Don’t know if he’s being kind or not.

“Wait? Where are you? How?” There are sounds of rustling following his sound. There’s no time to explain things over the phone.

“I’ll explain. But can you come?” You ask calmly as you can. Not wanting to panic him as well. Which turns out be a complete waste of effort once you say where you are.

The last thing he says sounds like a ‘hold on baby, be right there’. You couldn’t tell since he has already hung up.

………………………………

“Are you fucking kidding me? You just dragged her here? And what? You assholes couldn’t even give her a fucking jacket?” Jimin bangs the desk with his palm. You flinch. Oh, this is not a very polite behavior. Especially since you’re in the wrong. Not that you intended to trespass, but the police did their job. Just that. They haven’t even pressed charges against you. You were the one who couldn’t prove your identity. And Jimin here is causing unnecessary trouble. Why would he be so mad? Apparently, it’s because they’ve not given you a jacket. Isn’t that silly?

“No Sir, but I need you to calm down.” The same police officer who stared you down for the past thirty minutes, called you ‘filth’ and a ‘psychopath’ shows his palms. Trying to calm Jimin down. The bugger is bowing down to you now, all because he thinks you’re the CEO of The SE. You’re playing Liya it seems. Yet again. That’s your identity. He is bowing to Jimin deeply because there’s money involved here now. Power. Well, simply how the world works. Or all the worlds in that case. Officer had already apologized to you for causing trouble. And he didn’t even care how or what you were doing at a middle school anymore. The problem is resolved now. It should be if it isn’t for Jimin throwing tantrums here.

This scene is getting attention and you’re becoming embarrassed. You tug at his jacket. “That’s fine Jimin.” Mutter under your breath. He gives you a look. Scowling deeply.

“That’s not fine.” He shoots a glare at the officer. Then looks at you again. Eyes cast down to where you’re still sitting. Slightly shivering. He sighs in resignation. Gaze softening as he takes his jacket off. Wraps it around you. Ignores the little sounds of protest you let out. Crouches down in front of you, taking your hands in his. Squeezes. “You okay Lil?” Wonders. Voice so soft. You nod. Not that you’re completely okay, but ever since your first day, you learnt to expect the unexpected.

“Can we leave please?” You mumble that out. Watching Jimin’s eyes reflecting something you can’t quite decipher. He smiles softly. A crooked one. Then gives you a few nods in agreement.

“Yeah, c’mon.” Takes your hand in his. You stand up. Finally, feeling relaxed.

You bow to the officer and mutter an apology at the same time Jimin shoots another glare at him. You can hear the officer apologizing once again as you leave.

……………………………………………….

“What happened? How? Did you wake up early and left? How did you end up at a darn school?” There are so many questions spilling out through Jimin’s plump lips. While you’re now comfortably sitting inside his car. Warm, thanks to the heater and his puffy jacket. You look at Jimin’s wide eyes.

“No. I mean, do you think I’m crazy to leave like this? That’s a stupid guess.” You gesture at yourself. Jimin follows your movements. Eyes darting from your head to toe. That familiar amused smile paints his lips.

“Exactly! Why are you? Gosh, Lil, you were like what, wearing clothes that covered every inch of your skin while you were waking up with me, and today out of all the fucking days you decided wear that? And why are you wearing those socks?” He looks away from you as a chuckle rumbles his chest. You gasp.

“Okay first, Mr. Park, I won’t sit my pretty ass here and listen to you criticize my clothing choices─”

“Who said you have a pretty ass?” Jimin interrupts your venting. You feel your face heat up. A moment of insecurity gets to you before you see his coy smile.

“Yeah? I don’t? If I can recall correctly, last time you saw it you couldn’t keep your hands away and─” You nearly smack his head when he opens his mouth again. You point a finger at him. Not letting him interrupt you again. “─listen to me. This is not about my ass anyway─”

“You have a pretty ass.” Just like that you’re interrupted again. This time though you’re really blushing hard. Oh, fucking Park Jimin. “I mean it.” He says as you look away through the window. Can hear the amused tilt in his voice. Can’t even understand if he’s teasing you or being truthful. Decide you need to let the subject slip.

“Thanks! But it doesn’t make me forgive you for saying my socks are ugly.” You throw a brief glance at his grinning face.

“Never said they are ugly.”

“You don’t have to use the exact words all the time. And I didn’t wear this knowing I would wake up in a fucking school.” You successfully turn the conversation.

“Yeah, about that. How did that happen?” Grin that’s adorning Jimin’s face disappeared. Replacing his expression with a serious scowl. You shrug simply. Sigh. Throw your head back against the headrest. What a parallel this is. Just like that day where you sat in this same car. With Jimin. Feeling frustrated as you do now. Confused. Not understanding a single thing. Only now it’s morning and you’re not trying to rip your throats off by shouting at each other. It’s not been long but how far you’ve come.

“I have no idea. All I know is I was sleeping on my bed and then instead of waking up next to you─ like I always did─ I woke up on a cold floor and…” A sigh again. Turn your head lazily to catch him already staring at you. “I don’t know Jimin. It probably didn’t work you know. The wish thing and maybe….” You don’t know what you should say. There are no answers again. You don’t think you had them at all. So, you simply downcast your gaze. Looking at your bare thighs, peeking through Jimin’s large jacket. It’s Jimin’s time to sigh. But instead of just giving up like you, he simply gains your attention by placing his hand on your thigh. Over his jacket. You snap your head toward him.

“Hey...” He mutters softly. Leans forward a bit. “It doesn’t matter. You’re safe, that’s enough. It worked or not I’m glad you’re here. Like you promised and as long as this doesn’t happen again, I’m fine.” Squeezes your thigh. “Okay?” Asks. Well, he is right. So, you say what he wants to hear. And when he is just about to take his hand back, decide to shoot a sudden question. Just pops in your head.

“Why aren’t you at work? You normally leave early?” Your curiosity is piqued by his attire. Is in those darn sweats. You like them on him. Then you like him in his suits. Like him on his boxers. In a towel and naked. He looks good on anything. Or nothing at all.

“Ah, yesterday was a rough night.” He shrugs. Brushing you off. You, however, are feeling suspicious. Mischievous. A rough night? Why?

“Wait! Were you worried I wouldn’t come? So worried that you couldn’t even sleep?” You gasp. Tilting your head back to look at him better. Jimin just looks at you. Opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. Are fully intended to use this chance. There’s a coy smile on your lips. No, a wicked one. “Seriously? You were that worried?” You’re just about to tease him over and over again when he would deny it. Only for your chance to be robbed of you.

“Yes.” He mumbles. Leaves you stunned. Just one word. With his silky voice. You gape at him. Close your mouth which you opened to tease him. Slowly. Not knowing what’s the correct reaction.

Oh!

Jimin chuckles. “Oh, c’mon, don’t act so surprised Lil. You know I was worried, I asked you to stay. No, I fucking begged you to stay─” Jimin squeezes your thigh again. Bore into your eyes. You do the same. Getting lost in those brown orbs. Enchanting. “─ so, of course, I was worried. I asked you to stay because I want you here.” Lifts his hand just to put it back where his jacket isn’t covering your thigh. Making you inhale a sharp breath. His hand is cold. Electrocutes your skin. Tingles. Goosebumps rising. You can’t look away. Spell bounded.

“Why?” You manage.

“What why?”

“Why you want me here?”

“I─ I don’t know─” Stars rubbing your thigh. Inkling upward. “I really don’t know Lil. Just want you here.” You don’t know when, but he has leaned forward some more. Is waiting for you to accept his answer. You gulp, suddenly feeling your mouth dry.

“You said you want to make it right for me?” You don’t accept his answer. Won’t simply give him the satisfaction of losing your senses over one touch of his. Even though that’s what is happening.

“I did.” He admits again. Jimin is more annoying when he admits it instead of fighting with you.

“You should do it then. Just because you made me cum twice, we’re not good Park.” You’re the one leaning forward now. Like Jimin is a magnet. Magnifying you. It’s head spinning how his fingers draws invisible lines on your inner thigh now. Jimin’s breath brushes your lips when he laughs. His laugh is soft. Stark contrast to how his eyes has turned dark.

“No. We’re not. I’m gonna make it to you, like I said.”

“How?” Your question earns a soft smile from Jimin. No answers though. Instead, he pecks your lips. Motions of his hand halts. His eyes drop to your thigh. Then back to your face. Doesn’t ask any questions. But in some fucked up way you know what he is asking. Your heart is already beating in your throat. Without your knowledge you’ve spread your legs. Jimin is waiting patiently. Well, what’s stopping you. “Please.” You mumble.

That’s all he needs. Lips attacks yours in a bruising kiss. Tongue roughly passing your lips inside your mouth. Hand cups your pussy over your shorts. Rubs. Eliciting those shameless moans which he swallows. Pulls away.

“Tell me this pretty cunt is already leaking for me.” Inches his face to your jaw. Voice dangerously law. You don’t think it’s possible for a voice to go that deep. He kisses your jaw. Then neck. Pulse point. Then is back to bore into your eyes. Asked a question after all. Well, of course you are. You started getting slick the moment he put his hands on you. How embarrassing.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Don’t flatter yourself Park.” You mutter against his lips. Are going to be coy. Hold your power while you can. It’s just a matter of time until he gets you shamelessly begging. You hold your breath in anticipation when Jimin’s eyes turn even darker. He says nothing. Doesn’t do as you asked either. Simply presses his middle finger into your slit. Over the thin material of your shorts. Index and the ring finger grabbing your pussy lips as a ‘V’. Squeezes. Hard that you mewl.

“Ji-Jimin… mph.”

“Don’t try to be coy baby, makes me want to break you.” He kisses the shell of your ear. Rubs that middle finger against your slit. Making your panty stick to your core. You turn your gaze to where he is touching you. Entire body burning up. Another mewl leaves your lips to see the outline of your pussy lips. Squeezed between his fingers. But then you’re not the only one. A groan escapes Jimin. You turn your head to catch how his eyes are glued to his actions as well. “Fuck baby...” Mutters. Retrieves his hand just to show it inside the waist band of your shorts. Slips his middle finger through your slit. “Ahhhh… fuck.” Kisses your jaw. “See, you’re leaking. Already. I have all the reason in this world to flatter myself.” Says as his finger pokes your entrance. Making your needy hole clench in anticipation. And he nearly plunges it inside. You nearly lets out the biggest moan you can make when a voice reaches you. Closely followed by a figure walking past your car. You jump a little in your seat. The sudden realization of where you are hits you.

How stupid of you to get carried out like this way. You’re at a parking lot of fucking police station for fucks sake. What were you thinking? You could’ve ended up in a cell for real this time. You look at Jimin with wide eyes. Hoping to find out he felt the sudden realization as well. Only to be disappointed when you see his eyes are still very dark. Licks his lips.

“Want me to stop?” Asks while his finger still teasingly circling at your entrance. Not fair. He shouldn’t ask such questions while tempting you to do otherwise. You buck your hips into his touch. Biting on your lower lip to contain your moan.

“Well, I mean, no. But─” You don’t get to complete whatever you wanted to say when his finger thrusts inside. Pumps right away. That moan you tried to stifle finally leaves you. Oh, it feels fucking good. Almost enough to make you forget your surroundings once again. And you nearly do when he adds a second finger. But you don’t. “Ji- Jimin… no... not─” You looks at him with pleading eyes. Feeling oh so fucked up to see his lips parted. Soft breathes leaving. As if he is the one receiving pleasure. You let your head throwing back at the pleasure he is creating. Struggling to find words. “Not h-here. Ji-Jimin. Take me somewhere. Fuck me.”

“Yeah? You want that? You should ask nicely.” He doesn’t stop torturing your cunt.

“Please.” See now, after the few times with Jimin, you’re certain that he loves it when you plead. He would do whatever to put you in that position. Shamelessly, you don’t mind that at all. You’ll beg, beg and beg till your throat sore if it means Park Jimin fucking your cunt relentlessly like this. With his fingers. With his tongue. With his cock. It feels too fucking good to care.

“Say it again baby? You want me to do what?”

So, you do.

“Want you to fuck me so hard Jimin please. Take me somewhere.” You make that plead with the best needy voice you can perform. Fortunately, it works. Jimin’s fingers leaves your cunt. Even though it makes you empty and desperate you’re happy he listens. You really want him to fuck you. And you don’t want to do that here. Jimin starts the car. Yet doesn’t pull away. Gives you a look.

“Keep touching yourself baby. Keep that tiny hole stretched out for me.” Smirks.

Holy fuck!

“Wh-what?”

“Did I stutter?”

Fuck you love this.

…………………………………………………

When you asked Jimin to take you somewhere, you expected him to take you into a hotel room. Motel room. A private space, like a secret apartment. His workplace. Anywhere else but an empty alleyway in middle of nowhere. You slip your fingers out of your cunt. Face burning. Sweating. Needy and desperate like a bitch in heat. Well, of course you’re needy after he made you edge yourself for an entire fifteen minutes’ drive. In his defense, you know he didn’t intend it to take that long. But he was searching for an empty place like this. Where there is no one in sight. Still, it was pure torture. He made you shift between rubbing your pearl of nerves and pumping your own fingers inside your cunt repeatedly. Making you bring yourself to the edge. Only for him to demand ‘stop’. And like the good girl you are, you complied.

You let out a shaky breath. Taking a good look at Jimin. The moment your fingers leave your cunt he replaces them. “Let me see baby.” Graces over your sensitive clit and pumps his finger inside easily.

“That’s a good girl. You made a really good mess. See...” He rubs your arousal over your swollen pussy lips. Making you whimper. Taps on your clit. You’re crumbling. See, you knew exactly this is what going to happen. Rational thoughts are leaving your brain. “Dripping.” Jimin places a soft kiss into your cheek. “All for me right Lil. You edged yourself like a good slut for me, right? So, I can fuck you so good? Make you cum on my cock again and again?” Whispers filth in your ear. All the while his fingers rub your slit. From your clit your hole. Back from your hole to your clit. Repeatedly. The sensation paired with his sinful words make you float. You’re needly bucking your hips into his hand. Pressing your soppy cunt more into his fingers. Wanting more.

“Yes, Jimin. Please…” You clench around nothing.

“Does my pretty slut want my cock so bad?” He gives you another kiss. You turn your head so he can place those kisses on your lips. Oh, how you wish he would be so desperate like the last time. Where he can’t control himself long enough to torment you like this. This is pure torture. But the good thing is you’re loving it. Love the way he plays.

“Yes, I want you s- so bad J-Jimin. Please… I can’t take it anymore. Fuck me hm?” You catch his lips in between yours. Feel like you’re in a haze. “Please.” Plead between your kisses. Do it again. Then again. “Please Jiminie. Baby please.” Whine. And you don’t know what did the trick. The beg or the nickname. You’re mortified honestly. Never planned to call him baby. But it’s already out and probably made Jimin curse aloud.

“Fuck. Fucking hell.” His hand stops. Levas your short. “On the back baby, c’mon.” Is already opening the door. Stops just to open the center console and fish out a foil packet. Then almost exits the car. Turns around to find you still unmoved. “Lil?” Questions. Well, you haven’t done this before. And it certainly seems like he has. You’re a bit nervous. But that doesn't mean you’re not up to trying. There were and are so many first times for you in this world. See, maybe you like this life a little too much now. You shake your head simply. Opening the door hurriedly to make it to the back seat.

You’ll not ask him the reason to keep condoms in his car. You don’t know if Jimin fucks other girls behind his girlfriend’s back. Like Taehyung. Or if he keeps them to use with Liya. You don’t want to think about that now. Are too horny to back down. The lines between you and Jimin are so blurry. You haven’t talked about anything. About what you’re doing. About his plans. No. You have no idea about anything. There’s no tag for this whatever-ship you two are in. It’s still the beginning. You’ll probably end up wounded up so bad in the end. But still, that’s a problem for later time. For now, all you can concentrate on is how good Jimin’s hand feels on you when he hurriedly drags your shorts down your thighs. Alongside your cotton panties. All you can do is to lean into his touch when he rubs your thighs. Motioning you to straddle him. So, you do. Raise your hips slightly so he can pull his own pants down. Then boxers. Freeing that hard-mouthwatering cock out. Earning soft whimpers from you.

“Hold on baby. I’m giving it you.” Jimin chuckles at your soft whimper. Rolling the condom down on his length.

“Hurry please.” You moan impatiently. Finally, feeling relieved when he holds his stiff cock upright for you.

“Okay, fuck, go on Lil. Take me in.”

You do as you’ve been asked. Adjust your body so your soppy hole is aligned with his pink tip. Roll your hips just once. Then you sink down. Feeling his cock stretching your entrance. Burning up your inside pleasurably. Your walls quavering to accommodate his hard cock. The moan you let out is due the pure relief. Gosh, it feels otherworldly. And to know that he feels the same. You’re positive you’d die. You and Jimin both moan in content when you finally take every inch of him. Safely buried inside your warm walls. He brings you close. Kisses you hard. Then just as you’re about to grind your hips, he pulls away. Stills you with his hands on your hips. Gives you a look which you can’t quite understand.

“What?” You mumble. Confused.

“Want me to keep playing?” His voice really makes your body vibrates. A shiver running through your spine. And at the haze of the moment, you make the mistake of choosing the wrong answer. It’s a very weak yet pathetic ‘yes’ does it for you.

“Fuck yeah? You want me to, don’t you baby? Want me to keep playing with your cute cunt?” Jimin sucks on your neck. Voice dangerous. Sinister. Teasing.

“Ye-yes mph yes. Fuck Jimin, yes.” You repeat what you said earlier. This time with more desperation. He groans. Then looks at you with those blown out eyes. Hooded.

“Let’s play then baby. Don’t move, okay? Don’t move until I say so.” Gives you a quick kiss. That means to be an act of comfort, but your brain starts to ring alarms immediately. You look at him with wide panicked eyes.

“Wh- what? What do you─”

“You heard me Lil. Just stay there, keep me warm. Keep dripping on to me like a good slut.” Jimin explains to you so casually. Stark contrast to how he looks right now. Tugs from your T-shirt to get you free from it. Does the same to your bra. You let him do that yet start complaining right away.

“No. No Jimin fuck. I can’t, you know I ca-can’t. Don’t do that. Want you to fuck me. Oh, fuck I’ll fucking…. Please.” You’re not even kidding here. You really feel that desperate. To have him stretched you out this way. Filling you to the brim. Feeling his warmth. Feeling his cock twitch inside you. But then not having him pounding into you like mad. Fuck you feel like you’re dying.

“You said you want me to play princess. Be a good girl now. Keep that cock warm baby.” Jimin throws his head into the head rest. Looking at you with hooded lusty eyes. See, you made the wrong choice. Were so dumb to think straight and now you’ve put yourself in this torture. All you can hope is that his control will snap soon. Silly of you to think that. Park Jimin apparently is the devil reincarnation. You’re absolutely wrecked and ruined at his hands. Turning into a puddle after sucking his plump lips for God knows how long. Letting him play with your tits, sucking and bruising the sensitive skin. Still, he doesn’t let you move. Keeps you still. His hard cock safely buried inside you. Maybe it’s not been that long. But to you with your brain screaming only one thing, it feels like you’ve been this way for hours. You have no idea how much you begged. Only that, being the asshole he is, Jimin enjoys your little pleads to the fullest. They make him even harder inside you, if it’s possible. And you know you can’t do this anymore. There’s this feral need for more. You need more. Something. Anything.

You pull away from his bruising kiss. Breathless. Panting. Your brain is malfunctioning when you purr against his mouth. Finally having enough of this torture. “Fine, you want me to keep your cock warm?” You ask. Jimin just nods. Is so fucked up just like you. “L-let me do it the right way then.” You feel new wave of your arousals drenching Jimin’s cock. Just at the thought of what you’re initiating. He perks up, quirking a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Let me do it right way Jimin. Let-Let’s uh… let’s remove the stupid condom.” You blurt the words out. Loving the way Jimin’s breath hitches. Yet he doesn’t say anything. Stare at you dumbly. Maybe that’s too much. That needy monster who guided you to make that request pops out suddenly. Making you panic. You don’t want to cross any lines after all. “I mean, only if you want to. I- uh... I’m clean and I assume you’re too and… you know what never mind─” You’re quick to make excuses. Feeling stupid. But he stops you. Squeezes your hips. Groans.

“No... baby gosh no. Only if I want to? Fuck, you kidding me? Lil, I would die to fuck you raw. Shit you gonna kill me. C’mon move princess. Let us get rid of the stupid condom huh?” Makes you raise your hips. You moan at his words. Simply, you love this. Love this moment. Feel desired in a way you never did before. His words, touches, looks. All make you feel like you hold some power. A power to make someone, like Park Jimin looks this wrecked. And so do you absolutely love it when he gets rid of the condom. Guiding you back on his cock. Penetrating your clenching hole without a barrier. And like that you’re positive that the only living and breathing creatures left in the world are you two. Just you and him. Nothing else. Know Jimin feels the same. He hides his face in your neck. Arms wrapping around your figure. Clutching into you for his dear life. Loud obscene moans leaving past both of your lips.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck Lil. Holy fuck you…. aaahh...” Jimin mutters incoherently into your throat. You’re no different. Are losing your mind all over again. Basking in the feeling of Jimin inside you. Throbbing and twitching. Getting soaked with your essence. You try to keep in that way, complying to his wishes. Only that you’ve no control over yourself.

“Jimin, I really can’t anymore, please let me move. Let me come hm?” You ask against his ear. Your own arms wrapped around him tightly. One on the nape of his neck. Keeping him pressed against you. “Let me cum on your cock… Jimin-ah... god baby please.” Yet again you don’t know what did the trick. Doesn’t matter since Jimin pulls away. Nodding.

“Okay, fuck. Move baby. Ride me. Ride me good yeah?” His head falls back into the headrest again. You nod furiously. Immensely grateful for the end of this torture. Find your balance by placing your hands on his shoulders. Start by grinding your hips slowly. Circling. Then you raise your hips a bit. Moaning at the sensation of his hard cock dragging along your sensitive wall. Can feel every inch and vein. Clench. Making Jimin’s fingers dig into your hips. Making him grunt. Then you sink down again. Clench. Start doing the same thing. Slowly first but then within a minute you’re bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it. Jimin gives you the full control. Just enjoying the view. The way your tits bounce and the way they graces his chest occasionally. You both live in a trance. The sound of skin slapping and your shameless moans filling the tight space of his car. And the filth Jimin spills.

“Yes. Fuck baby, keep going, you’re doing so good. Use my cock hm? Use it to make yourself cum. Squeeze me so fucking tight.” He places your stray hair strands behind your ear. Just for them to fall back again as you move. “Like that, you’re such a needy slut Lil. Look at you. Gosh you’re squeezing me hard. Keep doing that.” Molds the soft flesh of your breasts. Sneaks one hand between your thighs, finding your swollen bud. Just adding more pleasure to your ecstasy. “Cum.” Demands. “Cum baby. You begged me to cum slut. Let go.” Picks up the speed of his hand. And that’s all that it takes for you. Two more flicks against your clit while his cock hits all the right places inside you, you fall over the edge. Screaming his name through your clenched teeth. Shaking. Legs buckling. Yet can hear him groan through the ringing of your ears.

“Shit, shit, keep going. Lil keep, fuck… I’m gonna... you need to move princess.” You open your eyes to find him throwing his head back. Clenching his jaw tightly. “Lil now… fuck.” Well, you don’t do anything to be honest, too lost in pleasure. Too weak to do anything. It’s just him who raise your hips up just in time for the ropes of hot white cum to hit your lower abdomen and your cunt. Painting you in white. In him. God you’ll do the impossible to hear that moan he lets out. To see this look on his face again. Lips ajar. Brows furrowed. And covered in sweat. Nearly break you apart at how tight he holds you. “Oh, fuck. Fucking hell baby─” Jimin doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead chose to kiss you hard. Harsh. Long. Until the bliss of your high dies down. That’s when he pulls away finally. Rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t think I can get enough of this shit.” Mumbles.

Well, you think the same.

……………………………………………………

“For fuck’s sake Park!!!” You try to dodge his grabby hands. Hands that are trying to squeeze your cheeks.

“What? You’re cute when you’re mad.” Jimin grabs you by the waist. Pressing you against his chest. You and he need to be embarrassed, at least. Yet here you are. Fooling around like two elementary school kids. You’ve been ever since you left that alleyway where Jimin parked his car just to fuck you. He made sure to annoy you for so many reasons including your – as he calls them- ugly socks. Then he refuses to admit he said it. But that’s what he’s been saying. You get it. Hell, you even felt self-conscious to walk across the lobby to the elevator. You must’ve looked like a clown. Knee high socks and no shoes. Jimin offered you his, but you refused. So, you’re mad at him. Not for real, no. See, just fooling around.

“I’m not mad.” You try to free yourself. He doesn’t let you. You give up. “You laugh at my socks, but you didn’t remove them when you fucked me.” Gasp. “You like them, don’t you? You’ve that kind of kink─”

“Really?” Jimin raises his brow. Exasperated. “What kind of kink?” His eyes are back to glinting. You squint your eyes. Trying to think of something. Just to find out you don’t know.

“I don’t know─” Say when Jimin chuckles. “But you have one. I’m fucking sure. That’s why you make rude comments about them.”

“What’s the logic in that. Why would I make rude comment… no wait, I didn’t make rude comments.” He defends with wide eyes. You’re about to counter when the elevator door dings. He lets you go. Waiting for the doors to open. You step out first. Entire floor is eerie silent, given the fact that there’s only two apartments.

You still haven’t talked about anything. It’s easy to procrastinate things. You felt the need to ask him your questions more than once to be honest. Then you’re pretty sure this light mood. This bantering and teasing will shift. It’ll all shift into something heavier. You’re too selfish, like you always are. Don’t want that to happen. So, you keep it shut. Pretend like you’re just a normal girl who walks into her home with her boyfriend.

Jimin enters the code to the keypad. You just take that time to look around. At the closed door of Lees. It’s all calm and quiet. Peaceful. It always has been this way. Jimin grabs your attention back when he pushes the door open. Holds the door for you. You enter first, just walking inside since you don’t have to remove your shoes. Wait for Jimin to join you.

“What do you wanna eat?” He asks behind you as you walk pass the entryway. You turn your head to look at him.

“Definitely ramen. I’m craving ramen.” You make a little moan in the end. Making him scrunch his nose. In adoration. Reaches his hand to your cheek again. Nearly touches you when─

“Where were y─” The sudden voice startles both you and Jimin. Making you snap your head toward the sound. Eyes landing on a figure, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Your heart dropping dead for a fractured second. You feel Jimin freezes behind you. Well, you do the same. Freeze. Mouth going dry and jaw dropping to the floor.

No!

No. No. No.

You make eye contact with yourself. Just standing across from you. You. That’s who she is. Only being differ with some little changes. But it’s just you. Staring right back at you. Her mouth hanging open just like yours. You make eye contact with her. Liya. Kim Liya.

Kim fucking Liya.

You feel your knees weaken. Feel your legs buckle. This can’t be happening. Why not? You made the damn wish. You wished for her life. For her to have a normal life while you still being on the picture. Well, you thought it didn’t work. You think Jimin believed the same. You two were so fucking selfish for not even bring her name to your conversation at least once. Or you both wanted but decided to do it later. Now it’s too late. She is right here. In front of you. Now you don’t have time to wonder what about Liya? It’s getting hard to breathe. Liya opens her mouth first. Eyes darting between you and Jimin, who’s just few steps behind you.

“Wh- What... What’s─” That’s all she could bring out. Rest of her words dying on her tongue. Drowning out with the ear-splitting screech you left out. Your hand grabbing the left side of your chest. It’s sudden. Like a sudden stab. But painful as if every bone in your body cracked at the same time. It comes from nowhere. You were just fine a second ago and now you’re doubling down while clutching your chest. Like it would fall if you remove your hand. It comes like a crashing wave. Pain. Just pure pain in your chest. Enough to make your head throb. Ears ring. Sight blur. The last thing you see before everything goes blur is Liya clutching her chest as well. Not screeching or doubling down like you. Just whimpering. Holding on to the door frame. Then you feel Jimin storm past you. Stopping between you and Liya.

“What’s… fuck Liya? Lil? Wh-what’s happening?” Jimin’s voice is nothing but a white noise ringing in your ears. Can hear him talking but nothing makes sense. It’s just pain. You think you’ll faint. You think you’ll die. Don’t even realize you’re crying. Gritting your teeth hard to endure the unrelenting pain. Jimin just stands there. Stupidly. Head snapping from you to Liya. From Liya to you. Oh, if you’re in your right mind, you’ll realize how much of an ironic, comical, hard, yet stupid position Jimin is in. In a position where he has to choose between you and Liya, even when nobody asked him to do so. You don’t know what he’d have done eventually. Your weakened body doesn’t allow you enough time to find that out. You make the decision for Jimin. Make the decision when your legs finally give up. When your knees hit the marble floor with a crack. Well, you certainly make him realize that the person in more pain is you. He is crouching down next to you in a blink. Your face in his hands.

“Fuck Lil, are you okay? Hey, hey, talk to me. Where does it hurt?... No, no stay with me huh? Wa-wait... I... I need to call an ambulance.” His hand leave your face as he fumbles inside his pocket. You can’t really comply. Don’t think you can talk. You can’t breathe. You can’t. It’s too stuffy. Your head will explode. You need to go outside. One of your shaky hands reach Jimin. Touch his hand barely. Yet his attention is on you immediately. “What? What is it?” Asks. Even with your blurred sight you can witness the panic in his face.

“O-out... I... o-out.” You don’t think you’re making any sense right now. But that’s all you can do. Jimin nods.

“Out? You want to go outside?” Cups your face in his hands again. You nod. Nod through your tears. Watch Jimin throws a worried glance toward Liya. You follow his line of vision. Find Liya still upright on her feet. Eyes on you two. Obviously in pain but nowhere near you. She is in pain but you’re dying. You’re positive.

Jimin says nothing when he picks you up from the floor. All of a sudden. Probably thought the same thing as you did. “Just a moment, I’ll be right back.” He mutters to no one specifically before starting toward the door. You in his hands. He meant the words to Liya. You all know that. He’s supposed to be with her. Not you.

Not you at all.

……………………………………..

“You can go back inside Park. I’m fine now.” You say to Jimin while sitting on a comfy couch in the lobby. And you’re telling the truth. The pain you felt starts to subside immediately after you left their apartment. There’s still a slight sting. But nothing unbearable. You’ve dried your tears with your T-shirt a long time ago. It’s been more than fifteen minutes since you and Jimin have been out here. And that’s not good.

“No. No, I won’t just leave you. I thought you were fucking dying Lil. I’ll stay here till he arrives.” He glances at the entrance. Is pacing around like a maniac.

“I’m fine Jimin. You need to go back to her. She was in pain too.” You gesture toward the elevator. Feeling so fucked up.

“Ah shit, why the fuck does he takes so long?” Jimin ignores you completely. Only if you can stand up and stop him from tiring himself out. You just feel too weak to do so. You’re waiting for Jungkook. The only person came to your mind who could help you in this deteriorated situation. Jimin had to go through a little bit of a hassle to contact Jungkook. You not being much help. He had to reach Taehyung first. Had to yell at him for asking stupid questions. Luckily, however, he had the contact information. You guess it might’ve been a great shock to Jungkook when Park Jimin reached him like that. Jimin didn’t really give him any details, just vague and asked him to come as soon as he can. Jungkook being Jungkook, said yes. Now you’re waiting. Have been for fifteen minutes.

“I’m serious Jimin, it’s not okay for you─”

“I know, okay, I know. I know I’m supposed to be there. But just… let me make sure you leave with him. Safe.” Jimin snaps. Making you shut your mouth. This is so fucked up. More fucked up than the fact you just entered her house, laughing and smiling, just after having each other cum so hard. You need Jimin to leave. That’ll at least give you a little bit of peace, in your mind. But then you don’t want him to leave at the same time. His presence is comforting. You’d be lying if you say you aren’t scared. Because you are. Hell, you are scared for your life. Jimin makes it bearable. Then she might be scared too. It’s so wrong for him to be here when she is his girlfriend. Even though, now you’re partially scared of what might happen next. Back on the track, aren’t you?

How ridiculous that you brought all this shit upon yourself. You made her come here. And for a fact, you know that unbearable pain has everything to with her. That odd lady explicitly told you as long as you’re here, she can’t be. Then you didn’t heed, now did you? You’re playing with a fire that you can’t even see. What’s next? Will you die? Is that what she meant when she said only one space is there for one person. That you can’t share Liya’s space with her. Will you be in this pain forever? Was this your doing at all? It should be. Liya wasn’t here until you wished. Fuck, that was a wish. No matter, how ridiculous it sound. That was that.

You still don’t know the answers for half the questions you have. Two things, however, are certain. First, this all happened because of a wish. Second, you and Liya can’t share that same space.

You look at him again. With the intention of persuading him one last time. Even though you don’t want to be alone. You are just about to open your mouth when a sudden movement at the entrance catch both of your attention. Jimin stops his pacing abruptly. Head snapping to the person who enters through the already opened glass door of the lobby. Jungkook’s eyes land on you instantly, as he stops briefly for a moment. Then he is storming toward you.

“Finally.” Jimin mutters under his breath. A sigh of relief leaving his pink lips. Jungkook reaches you and Jimin. Stopping just a few steps ahead of you. Eyes wide and mouth adorably hanging open. Glances between you and Jimin for a moment. Confused. Fixes his eyes on you in the end.

“Noo-Noona?” Jungkook practically whispers that. Still, you hear that. He looks uncertain. As if he’s trying to figure who you truly are. Well, that’s very fair. You crack a very forced smile. A painful one. Raise your hand or try to do so.

“Hey, Kookie!!” Mumble. Jungkook sucks in a breath. It’s like you’ve given him a proof to believe you’re you.

“Fuck, it really is you.” He says again. More to himself than to you.

“Uh... can you?” Jimin interrupts Jungkook’s daze impatiently. Of course, it’s time you should free him. Jungkook averts his gaze to Jimin. “Can you like, uh… look after her. She was in pain─”

“Pain?” Jungkook looks back at you. Brows furrowed.

“Yes, pain. She is okay now but... I can’t─”

“You should go now Jimin.” You can’t really take it to see Jimin guilt tripping. Not wanting to leave but wanting to do exactly that. He shouldn’t feel guilty to leave you. No, he shouldn’t. “I’ll be fine now. Jungkook’s here.” You gestures to the poor boy. Standing there and taking your exhausted figure in. Jimin looks you straight in the eye. Startles you when he crouches down before you suddenly. Takes your hands in his.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” He isn’t just speaking with words. Is doing it with his eyes as well.

Oh, fuck.

“Of course, I will Jimin. I’m fine. Look, he’s here now. You really need to go to her.” You free your hands from his grasp. Not because you don’t like the feeling. Just because it feel wrong. Oh, so utterly wrong. “Go.” You repeat. Jimin’s eyes fall down to your hands. At the way you just refused his touch. Say nothing though. Just nods. Stands up and turns to Jungkook.

“Text me your address.” Says to him as he gives you another glance. Jungkook agrees. You want to ask Jimin why he would want that. But he is already walking away. Backward. Eyes lingering on you. You hate this painful tug you feel at your chest now. Which has nothing to do physically this time. You don’t want Jimin to leave you. You keep your eyes on him until he turns around. Pushing on the elevator button. Till he rushes inside it. Till he’s no longer in your sight. You were so immersed in Jimin that you didn’t even sense that Jungkook has replaced Jimin’s place on the floor. Crouching down. Peering into your eyes. He takes your hand this time. And you don’t reject.

“You okay Noona?”

You just smile.

……………………………………………

Jimin is pacing inside the small, confined space of the elevator. He should’ve taken the stairs instead of this. That could’ve helped him to ease some nerves. Which is exactly what he needs now. Pacing around this tight space like a headless chicken isn’t helping him at all.

He hates so many things right now. But what’s so fucked up is that he hates having to leave you with another man. Hates that he couldn’t be there at the most needed times. Hates that this other man is Jeon Jungkook of all people. You wanted him. Jimin wanted to leave you with Taehyung. Wanted to leave you in a hospital. Well, you were you. Stubborn you. Said that Jungkook knows everything. That serves enough reason why he should be the one to come. Jimin couldn’t argue at the end. Had no other options but to agree.

See this is what exactly he was afraid of. Why? Why on the earth he is feeling this way? This was what happened at the day you woke him up that night. He was more worried about you leaving. More than the misfortune his own girlfriend was facing. It doesn’t mean he gives no fuck. Because of course he is worried. Was worried. Even now he wants this damn elevator to reach his floor faster. There’s so many scary what ifs haunting his mind.

Gimin groans loudly. His fingers threading through his hair. He thought it was the fucking sexual tension. That aching desire to have you. Then there’s no reason to be jealous. Fucking territorial. And he had you. These burning sensations should’ve dissapeared by now. Why on the hell he asked you to stay? And then asked you to make sure Liya has her life back? Now what? What a mess he has made.

He lets out a breath when the elevator finally stops. Is practically running across the hallway toward his door. Praying to God that she’ll be okay. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave her alone like that. Simply you needed more attention. More than Liya. Right? Then he should’ve come back to her the moment he knew you were okay. Now what will he say to his girlfriend. What’s his reason for taking care of another woman?

A mess. All this is. He made this mess.

He barges inside like a hurricane. Running straight to the lounge. Is about to turn to the kitchen when his eyes land on Liya. Sitting on the couch. Seemingly okay. Jimin can’t begin to describe the relief he feels. She raises her head at the sound of his footsteps. Looking at him with alarming eyes. Those eyes. The eyes he fell in love with once. Don’t you have the same eyes? She stands up. Immediately. Bridges the distance between them and when she does that those eyes were gone. Replaced with just fire behind them.

“What the fuck is happening Jimin.” Liya screeches as she stops just an inch away from Jimin. Runs her hands through her hair. “Who- why? What… God, why did she look exactly like me. Jimin. Who─ It hurt like hell, why- why was she feeling that too.” Liya is stammering in bad way. Her breathing is getting shallow and fast. That’s no good. Jimin knows how this might feel. He knows it. Just doesn’t know what to do. So, just wraps his arms around her. Hugs her tight.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay Liya. It’s okay. I’ll explain. Calm down…shhh… it’s okay.” Mumbles into her hair.

……………………………………………

It was fairly easy to calm Liya down. She has better control of herself. It’s just that. Now Jimin is watching her laugh. Laughing aloud.

“Seriously? You want me to believe that?” Asks through her giggles.

“Yes, I want you to do that. Because, how else you’ll explain that? Explain her?” Jimin gestures toward the door. Liya’s laughter dies down. Slowly. Then silence fills the room. For a long minute before Liya breaks it.

“I- I don’t know. I mean how’s that─”

“You know Liya. C’mon you know. I’m pretty sure you felt the pain. Just at the right time you saw her. And what? You think she’s just someone who exactly looks like you? You think so?” Jimin leans forward. Is sitting on the couch. It was frustrating to explain some shit about parallel worlds. Felt stupid. Yet he had to do that. There was no other options he could choose. Liya doesn’t say anything in response. Just sighs.

“Okay so let’s just hypothetically─”

“No hypothesis Liya, I’m telling the truth.” Jimin doesn’t mean to snap but it’s really frustrating. Can understand how you might’ve felt all these times. First him, and you said how it went with your best friend. Oh, he understands you completely now. Liya knits her eyebrows in pure annoyance.

“Okay. All right. So, you’re telling the truth. I just met my alternative counterpart from a different universe. Okay, I mean I can’t deny I felt the pain. Can’t deny I felt like I was looking at a mirror. It felt super weird.”

“Exactly.”

“So, is this the reason why I’ve been missing on those meetings, lunches, the reason why I couldn’t remember some things? That wasn’t because I’m having─”

“No, you’re not sick. It’s because of this. Because you were disappearing every other day.” Jimin interrupts her vent. There’s no point of hiding ot from her now. He feels like shit. Heavy.

Fuck!

Another uncomfortable silence. Jimin can’t look at her. Feels his throat constrict.

“Okay, yeah.” She puffs a breath out. “Then how long Jimin?” Breaks the silence again. Jimin expects her to ask that question. Sooner or later. Yet he feels like he can’t answer.

“Uh- like couple months.” He mumbles weakly. Barely audible. Eyes fixing upon their opulent coffee table.

“Months?” Liya grabs Jimin’s sleeve. Softly. Trying to get him to look at her. “What do you mean months? Tell me how long, exactly?” She shifts in her position. Her grasp tightening. Jimin reluctantly glance at her.

“Like almost two─” Liya’s gasp is what interrupts him. She lets him go. More like her arm falls limp.

“Two? T-Two months? For heaven’s sake Jimin.” Scoffs. Her calm expression morphing into storm within a blink. Stands up. “And you let it happen?” Looks at him in pure disbelief. Under very different context. Where Jimin hadn’t done exactly that. Let it happen. This could’ve been his breaking point. The accusation! He would have stormed away with gritted teeth. In this context, he can’t. It makes him scowl, nonetheless.

“It wasn’t under my control, you know.” He mutters. Trying to mask his guilt. Trying to act natural. It’s getting harder and harder by every passing second.

“Why did you lie to me?” Liya changes the course rather fast. Kind of looks like she doesn’t know what to ask first.

“I fucking didn’t lie to you.”

“Well, you kept the damn thing a secret. You knew what was going on all along and you let me believe I’m sick.” Liya steps to her left. So, she can face Jimin properly. Forcing him to avoid her piercing gaze. Wincing at her accusing tone. How hard it’s to hear what she says just because it’s true. “You knew I was worrying about not remembering stuff and you just let it happen Jimin. Did you even try to stop that- whatever this thing is.” She gestures between her and the door. Referring to you. Her voice raising with every word. He needs to stop her. Can’t listen to the bitter truth.

“Of course, I did. We- did. We tried our best. And I kept it a secret because you wouldn’t have believed me Liya.” Jimin finally finds the courage to look at her. Shame burning him inside out.

“How would you know that?”

It’s Jimin’s turn to scoff.

“Really? How would I know? We’ve been together for fucking five years Liya. You would’ve called me crazy. Even now you don’t believe it completely, I know that a part of you still thinks I’m crazy. You only believe it because you saw her, you felt the pain and all those shits.” It’s not Jimin is trying to find a way to win this fight. No. But it’s not a lie. That’s the reason why he didn’t tell her. At least before he became selfish and wanted you. Only you.

Fucking idiot!

Liya doesn’t say anything right away. Takes a deep breath. Rubs her face. Starts pacing around. Jimin feels like laughing aloud. How ironic. How funny she does exactly same things as Jimin. How you and she are not similar to each other at all. You hate it. Pacing around. And yet, you’re the same person. Liya stops. Turns to Jimin.

“You say you tried? Well, you clearly haven’t tried enough considering she’s still here. And what were you doing with her this morning anyway?” Questions. Jimin feels blood drains out of his body. Heart stopping. Guilt. Fucking guilt.

“She needed uh... help.” Jimin tries to gulp sneakily. Not wanting to act guilty.

“Help?” She quirks one of her brows. “Like earlier? Did you leave me alone, Park Jimin?”

“Oh, c’mon she looked like she was dying.”

“SO, WAS I!”

Silence. It’s eerie silence. And they just staring at each other. It’s too quiet Jimin can hear his own heartbeat booming in the spacious lounge. For a fact, he knows Liya wasn’t in pain anywhere near you. But does that justify his actions?

“We need to stop this shit Jimin. I was in fuckin pain, and I don’t think that’s a good thing. She- whoever she is clearly has messed with my life enough.” Liya grits. There’s an unexplainable look in her eyes. Liya is a smart woman after all. “This needs to stop. I won’t just sit here and watch her mess with my life.”

Jimin opens his mouth to argue. Finds no words, however. Liya gives him a one last look and storms away. Leaving Jimin to just sit there. To reflect on how he fucking messed up.

………………………………………….

“So, now she is here? It didn’t work, but the real Liya is here? And you both felt a severe pain when you met?” Jungkook blurts out. Holding a hot cup of coffee for you. You’re sitting on his couch. In your spring roll state. You struggle to take your hands out, nodding in confirmation for his question.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Noona.” Jungkook mumbles as he gives you your coffee. Your eyes snap to him. Wide. Head starting to shake.

“No! Why are you apologizing? How is that your fault?” You scowl.

“I was the one who gave the idea about a damn wish.” He plops down on the couch next to you. Your heart sinks. God, you feel like a two-faced lying bitch. Jungkook never was wrong. He gave you the right idea. You’re the one who used it in the wrong way and now you’re deceiving him. The person who didn’t even judge you for your wrong doings. Do you even deserve to be here. With him. You feel your head pounds.

“No. No Jungkook. It’s not like that, I mean it wasn─” You’re so glad when the sudden knock on his front door interrupts you. You don’t want Jungkook to believe it was his fault. Nor do you want to tell him he was right, and you did this to yourself. Jungkook furrows his brows as he looks at the door. “Uh- are you expecting someone?” You ask as you follow his line of vision.

“No…. but maybe it’s Jimin.” Jungkook stands up. You watch as he reaches the door. One hand pushing his wild hair back. You don’t think it’s Jimin. There’s no way he can come this quick. You can’t even think about how much of a mess it must be in his home now. Explanations. Apologies. Questions. Oh, poor Jimin! Your assumptions quickly turn out to be true. The moment Jungkook unlocks the door, the door nearly slams into him. Makes you visibly flinch in fear that it hits him. He dodges it luckily. Couldn’t dodge the little body collides against him, however. Pair of arms circling around his neck.

“JUNGKOOK…. My fucking best friend!” J’s voice echoes through the confines of Jungkook’s apartment. He lets out a whine in complaint at how hard J is hugging him.

“Okay, fuck, all right.” Jungkook finally manages to push her away from him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Questions from a J who gasps so loud. A hand going to her chest.

“Yah! Since when do you ask me why I’m here. I’m here because I have no life bro.” She answers. Turns around, grinning from ear to ear. Only for that grin to drop down when her eyes fall on you. She takes a split second in surprise. Then that wide grin is back on her face. “Miss. Liya!” Exclaims loudly. Already starting toward you “You’re here? Fuck, I didn’t believe Joonie when he said Kookie made you wash dishes─” Her words float away. You don’t know if she has stopped talking or you can’t hear her. Despite wanting to show a similar kind of enthusiasm to see her, which you’re genuinely feeling, that pain is rising again. Clouding your other senses. This time it isn’t painful like the last time. Nor is it sudden. But the pain is there. Slowly but surely becoming unbearable. Making your breathing ragged.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Noona… Are you okay? It’s the pain? It’s happening again?” You catch Jungkook’s concerned face peering at you. Can only nod in answer. Hear J saying something.

Why are you back in pain. You’re not in presence of Liya now.

You could’ve figured an answer out if it wasn’t for the piercing pain. A moment of peaceful thinking would’ve been enough. It’s a good thing that Jungkook can still think clearly. Worried out of his mind, yes. Yet he grabs your hands tight. You can only watch stupidly in pain when his eyes darted to J, who’s looking at you beyond horrified.

“She’s not Liya.” Jungkook states. Sternly. As if just those three words make all the sense in the world. J scowls at him. Confused. Hell, even you with your pain are looking at him with knitted brows. “She is not Liya, J.” He repeats. Then to much of your horror, just causally say your name loud. Your real name. Which only makes J’s scowl deep.

“What? What are you talking about? Take her to a fucking hospital Kook.” J crouches down beside you. “Or call her boyfriend, friend, assistant, or whoever the fuck can help her.” Looks at Jungkook like he just grew a third arm. Then her eyes are on you. “Are you okay Miss. Liya? Should we take─”

Jungkook’s words make a sudden sense to you. That pain intensifies like a surge.

It happens because J called you Liya.

You faintly hear Jungkook practically yells at J. Forces her to call you by your real name. She looks confused. Utterly so. Scared. But in the end, she does as she is asked. It takes more than a few minutes. It’s agonizingly slow. How the pain subsides. When it does, however, you’re facing a J who looks a bit pale.

………………………………………

Learning things in a practical way, in experience, is a good thing. The best way to learn. But not in all settings. It’s utterly foolish to jump off a cliff to learn you’ll die. Especially, when you’re just a mortal human being with one life to spare. Similarly to your situation now. It was quite literally brainless how you made your decisions. Driven entirely by your emotions. Fucked up emotions in that case. And on a pure bliss of a mind-blowing orgasm. It was moronic how you or Jimin, didn’t stop to think how the results of your stupid decisions will be. You didn’t wait to think what you’ll do if Liya is really here. No. You just let a man who’s in a relationship fucked your brain out. Then you just jump right into the fire pit he shows you. You decided to jump off a cliff just to see if you'd survive. Turned yourself into a lab rat.

Now here you are, sitting at a cleaned table of Kim’s restaurant. Feeling weak after two unrelenting chest pains. Not quite feeling like doing anything but sitting still. Paranoid. Petrified. You don't think anyone fears death until they realize it can actually happen. Until then they would make joke about it. Like you always did. But after those two unbearable painful contractions, you think you’re close to death. Yes, you are. You’re certain. Oh, it’s no longer a joke. Even the thought of it makes you shudder. Death is scary.

See, after so many talking with Jungkook- while completely ignoring a J who looked like she was close to slap herself- you came to only one conclusion. The same one. It’s simple. You can’t share the same space with Liya. It’s just not being able to stand in Liya’s presence. It’s sharing her space. Well, now you don’t know what’s the end. Death or not. But Jungkook doesn’t think you should put yourself into stupid testing anymore. As he said, no one wants to find out what will happen. You need to find a way to go back to your world. To stop this. Then till you’ll find a way; you need to stay alive. That’s how Jungkook came with this idea.

The idea is letting everyone who once knew you as Liya, know your real identity. At first you were so against it. Until you came down here, met Jimin. He was the one who manipulated you into doing this. What a complicated thing Park Jimin is. He broke your heart when you came up with the idea of doing same. Then now he’s the one who wants to do it. You didn’t expect to see him so quick. But then as Jungkook referred to it, this is a life and death situation. Dramatic. Yet you couldn’t argue. What if you really die? You really had no chance to talk to Jimin alone. To know what happened. It happened so fast. Few calls here and there. That’s all it take to make this restaurant crowded with eleven people. Annoyed people, at that.

“So, what is it? I swear to God Hoseok if this is just─” Yoongi starts but is interrupted with a gasping Hoseok.

“It wasn’t me for fuck’s sake. Do I look like I have time to play with you.” He scowls at Yoongi. Points at Jimin. “He dragged my ass here. And made me think the world is ending. Or our business is bankrupted… wait! Are we…?” Gapes at Jimin.

“What? No?” Jimin clicks his tongue.

“No guys.” J butts in. You look at her with panic-stricken eyes. She is the only one who knows you’re not Liya. Not being long since she knows. Apparently doesn’t believe you. Thinks you, Jungkook, and later Jimin have lost your minds completely. You’re here to let them know the truth. Partially at least. Yet still you feel paranoid to say it aloud. Afraid of judgments and the looks of betrayal. J ignores your glance. Ignores Jungkook’s weak attempt to stop her. It should be you who tell them. It’s a rash decision when you jump into your feet. Drags J back with her arm. Take her place.

“We- uh... I wanted to let you know that I’m not Liya.” Blurt out. Hold your breath. Expecting them to break into a one loud noise. Only to meet with silence. Dead silence. And ten pair of eyes on you.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna kill you, Hoseok.” Yoongi stands up, the chair scrapping against the floor. Try to reach Hoseok over the table when he dodges Yoongi’s move.

“What the fuck, how’s this my fault.” Hoseok whines.

J turns you. Shrugs her shoulders. Gives you a I told you so look. You nervously glance at Jimin, who is staring at the ceiling. Shifts your gaze to Jungkook, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. Jimin is the one who interrupts the pointless arguments flow over the place. Yanks Taehyung back with his collar. Who is trying to steal a can of beer.

“Oh, c’mon let me at least have a beer after you ruined my night.” Taehyung complaints to no avail.

“You drink, you pay for that shit, all right?” Namjoon throws a fair warning at Taehyung. Falls in the deaf ears, however. Jimin lets Taehyung go.

“Fucking hell.” Curses. Takes a deep beath. “Enough!” Shouts. Effectively grabs the attention of everyone. Drags you to his side. “This is not a fucking joke, you little gremlins. She’s telling the truth. She- she’s not Liya.” Waits for moment if someone decides to butt in. No one does. So, simply explains further. Who you are. Again, just to meet with silence. Until Seokjin breaks it. You catch a brief glance of Namjoon’s curious gaze on you before Seokjin takes the spotlight.

“Who now? I mean what the effing hell are you talking about Jimin-ah?” Demands. Jimin opens to say something but is cut off by Jungkook. Making his way to the table from where he’s been standing.

“That’s the truth Hyung. She isn’t Liya. You just need to believe that.” Tries to make this easy for you and Jimin. Yoona is the one who sighs this time.

“I really have no time for this bullshit guys! I had to left work early for this and what?” Throws her hands in the air. Everyone joins in agreeing with her. For a moment, you’re pretty sure they would walk away. All of them look like they’ve been scammed. Annoyed. Mad. Not interested in you in the slightest. The air is filled with the buzz created by everyone talking at the same time.

You look at Jimin helplessly. He groans. Maybe you should try one more time. You and Jimin both open your mouth at the same time. Yet, never get to say anything when the sound of the door chime echoes. It’s late and the restaurant has been closed long ago. Every head snap to the door curiously. Jungkook nearly walks forward to let the newcomer know that they’re closed. He doesn’t, however. Stops dead in the track when his eyes fall on the person who just entered. Gasps. You do the same. And then everyone else follows suit. Eyes wide and gaping at real Kim Liya.

“Hey!” She mumbles awkwardly. Clearly not comfortable with all the eyes on her.

“What the fucking……….” Seoyeon, who has been awfully quite for all these times, shouts aloud.

At the same time, you wince in pain.

……………………………….

Liya’s arrival is not welcomed. At least not in the beginning. Jimin just swirled past you like the wind the moment she uttered that ‘hey’. Jungkook’s hand wrapped around you at that exact moment. You fell into another fresh blur of torment. And like that, the expected chaos unfolded. J and Yoona were screaming in Jungkook’s ear. Demanding they should take you to a damn hospital. Someone nearly choked themselves to death. You’re positive you heard something shatter. God knows what. For a second everyone acted like mad cows. Until Liya took the matter up in her hand. Wildly explaining to an audience- who acted like they’ve got infected with Rabis- that you told the truth. It took time. Painful time on your side. In the end, however, Liya gave you what you were looking for. A distinct identity apart from her. You became your own person.

Just like that, Kim Liya solved your problem. Not that it relieved you of your pain instantly. No. Still, at this moment you’re in a lingering pain. You can see nervous and worried glances that reach toward you here and there. Making sure you’re really fine. Yet it worked to some extent. And everything seemed to be working. Peaceful. Then it’s not. Not when Liya ended her explanation with the word ‘Twin’.

“What?” You’re the first one to choke that out.

“You had a twin I didn’t know about?” Seoyeon looks betrayed. Exactly how Key looked when you told her the truth.

“What is this? A melodrama? A twin shit? And weren’t you just dying a minute ago?” Yoongi groans, sipping on his third beer can. Gestures to you with his beer.

“I- I’m really fine Yoongi.” You mumble. Your voice really doesn’t quite reach Yoongi.

“Wait? So, it wasn’t Liya that day?” Namjoon shifts the course entirely. Mouth hanging open.

“What day?” J and Yoona question in unison. You watch Namjoon goes to explain them that how he knew that you’re not Liya. Even though he didn’t believe it then. Some people pay attention to his ranting when Seoyeon directs your attention to her.

“Answer me Liya. You had a fucking twin that I didn’t know? How’s that possible? Was she born yesterday?” She grabs Liya’s arm. Shaking her slightly. You throw a brief glance at Jimin. He looks torn between worried and relieved.

“What? Yes, and not I had Seo, I have. I have a twin.” She points at you. You gape at her. A wise way to explain your looks. But that demands so many questions. Hoseok disturbs next whatever question Seoyeon is about to raise.

“It was you who was at the cottage, wasn’t it?” He asks from you. See, more questions. Endless. Now what will you say? You can’t help but glance at Liya. She glances at you. Brows furrowed. A realization hitting hard on her. Then she is looking at Jimin. Jimin who looks alarmed and tense. Oh, this is not good. You still don’t know how it went between them.

“No, Hoseok, it was me. Why would my sister join a party with my boyfriend?” Liya is quick to butt in. You’re glad though. Just nod. Avoiding her gaze.

“Right?” Hoseok scoffs. “Of course, it was you, Ms. Kim.” He steals Yoongi’s beer. Much to the dismay of the owner of that beer. A tense silence fall down. You keep your eyes focused on your lap. Fidgeting with your fingers. Your throat is dry, and it has nothing to do with the pain. Feel like you’re about get caught.

Fuck!

This is why you should think twice before doing shit. Why couldn’t you?

“Can I have a minute?” Liya’s voice in that stretching silence forces you to take your eyes away from your lap. “Sister?” She adds that as you look at her. Puts unnecessary weight on the word. You have no time to worry about others being suspicious about it. Not when you’re already starting to panic. Eyes landing on Jimin, meeting his eyes. He jerks up. Nearly says something to Liya when you beat him to it.

“Yeah sure.” You don’t want Jimin to intervene. Liya nods and steps out. Slowly. Calmly. She is too calm for her own good. You ignore the protests Jungkook is making. Just give him a smile. Start toward the door when your arm is trapped in Jimin’s fingers.

“Lil, you don’t have to.” He whispers. So, only you can hear.

“It’s fine.” You whisper back.

…………………………..

It’s cold outside. You’re wearing a jacket Jungkook lent you, but your legs are freezing out here. And it’s weird. Super weird. To stand out here, facing a different version of yourself. There are so many similarities. But then there are differences. Her hair is long. She looks fresh. You don’t think you look that fresh. She looks mature, like she should. She is a CEO while you’re still a college student figuring your shit out. If you have time, you can make a long list of your similarities and differences. But beyond being weird, you feel sacred. Like a student got caught doing something illegal. In front of the principal. Ready to be expelled from the school. Your heart is pounding. Mouth is still dry. Feel that shame and guilt on your shoulders. Heavy.

“Isn’t this nice, to meet another version of yourself? I’m intrigued. It’s a shame that my boyfriend kept you a secret from me, isn’t it? I wanna know everything about you, I bet you know everything about me after you fooled everyone pretending to be me?” Liya softly speaks first. Directly into the topic without any pleasantries. And she speaks softly, yes, but the harsh undertone isn’t hidden. The accusatory tone. Oh, you shouldn’t let her get to you.

“It’s not that we had any other choice.” You croak.

“We?” She snickers. “You mean, you and my boyfriend? You’ve teamed up?” Quirks her brow. She is fucking intimidating.

“No, not like that. We had no other─”

“No yeah, I get it.” She sweetly states. For a moment you really think she gets it. But then she continues. “You had no other options, yes. But you could’ve said no when you were invited to a party on my behalf.” Shrugs. “That’s okay, though. Not that you can change it. I’m pretty sure you had no ill intentions. Right?” Smiles. You gulp. “You just helped uh…a friend?” Twists her mouth as she looks to her right. At the restaurant. You follow her actions, meeting everyone’s eyes on you through the glass walls. They all immediately turn around, pretending to be minding their own business. Then two people still don’t. Jimin and Jungkook. They keep their eyes on you. You turn around. Paying your attention back to Liya.

“I don’t think I understand your point.” Say weakly. Liya shifts her gaze onto you as well. Chuckles.

“Yeah? Okay then let’s cut the bullshit and get to the point. What I’m trying to say is that you and my boyfriend wasted your time here.” Her calmed expression morphs into something serious. Angered even. “I don’t know what you did or not. I’m completely in the dark here, I can’t remember anything, where I was during all those times, what I did, nothing. I can only piece things together from here and there. From what Jimin told me and what I can hear from these people. And then I felt that pain too; I felt it back at our apartment and now. Had to hide it because nobody’ll believe in a twin telepathy now, would they?” Sighs. “Listen, I really don’t want to be the enemy of myself... like... you know... you’re me...” She gestures between you two. You try to say something. She doesn’t let you. “I really don’t know what’s happening and maybe I don’t care, all I care is that you’ve messed with my life for too long. I talked with Seong, heard about these couple times when you managed my business for me. Thank You. But I want you to understand that this is not your life and if this pain means anything, and if I have picked up the pieces correctly, you’re not supposed to be here.” It sounds like a question.

“I- I…” You start, not knowing what you should say.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just listen, I think my assumptions are correct, before you and I met you weren’t in pain. Then now we both are. But you’re in more pain than me and I’m guessing that’s because this is my life, not yours. So, maybe we can’t share this life, which mean you need to go back. I really don’t want another version of me in my life. Besides, even though you’re the one in most pain, I don’t want to risk it. Look, I don’t think you really tried all these times. To stop this or to find a way.”

“That’s not true. You weren’t here to see that.” You finally manage to get something out. Because she is getting on your nerves. She chuckles again. Or scoffs. Sounds like sweet venom.

“I wasn’t now, was I? But you’re still here, messing things up. And that pain─” She points at your chest. “─tells me, you can’t keep going. So, here’s the deal, I just helped you. Or more like I’ve given you some time, but I don’t think that’s a permanent solution. You’re still in pain, aren’t you? You don’t have much time it seems, so, just use the time I brought you to do everything you can to stop this. I’m telling you this because I believe this entire thing is on you. You are the one who remember everything and lived two lives. If it was on me, I would’ve stopped this a long ago.” Looks you dead in the eye. “I hope you understand what I’m telling. That’s the point I want you to understand. I helped you, now it’s your turn to help me. Go back. Quickly. Nobody wants you here.” With that, she turns on her heel. Stepping inside back. You just stand there. Frozen. For a moment before you pull it together. Almost trip over a rock as you follow behind her hurriedly.

“Wait! How did you know that I wanted my own identity.” Stop her in her track. She only turns slightly toward you.

“I didn’t, I just guessed. After hearing you were doing just fine before you met me, I guessed that might be the case.” Turns fully to face you. “You know what? Maybe we are not the same because I use my brain all the time. It’s your time to use yours now.” Smiles at you so affectionately. Yet makes you shiver. She is threating you. Simple. Just the way she made you her twin she can make you Liya again. Can put you in that pain again. You have one option and one only. You need to leave.

…………………………….

You watch in silence when your friends, or their friends start to trail off one by one.

Taehyung bends down to your height to take a good look at your face. Is obviously drunk. Hiccups. Whistles.

“Can’t be-lieeevee this shi-shit.” Slurs.

“What? What can’t you believe?” Jungkook shows the drunk man away from your face.

“She looks exactly like Liya.”

“Yeah? That’s how twins work man.” Jungkook snorts.

“No…. No, no, no. Th-this is di-fffrent. What I’m saying isss, you─” Taehyung points a wavering finger at you. “are… Liya.” Oh, he is too drunk. How the events have turned. “It was you who hugged me though right. She’ll ne-never, never do that.” Straightens up to look at Liya. You want Taehyung to stop this. Some people have already left. Yoongi being the first to wish goodbye. Asked you not to die. Then he was followed by a red-faced Seokjin and of course, equally drunk J. Now Namjoon is ushering Hoseok inside a taxi.

Your eyes stop on Jimin and Liya. He didn’t ask you about what Liya told you. Liya didn’t really give you a time to do that. Has been practically glued to Jimin’s side ever since you returned inside. Or Jimin didn’t try to talk to you. He hasn’t made any efforts after all. Can you blame him? That’s where he should be.

Jungkook was your company since then. It looks like you’re spending the night on his couch again. You sigh sneakily. There’s a heaviness inside you. Feelings you can’t fathom. You feel something burn inside you every time you catch Liya and Jimin. He catches your eyes here and there. Only to look away and that was that. Well, that’s where he should be but then he asked you to stay. Said he wants Liya to have a normal life but still want you here. Does it matter now? Things have changed. You’re in pain. And there’s a deal you and Liya made. Or a deal she forced upon you. You never agreed but you’ve no other options either. It’s a do or die situation. You snap your eyes to Jungkook, who abruptly gets to his feet. Jungkook drags Taehyung away.

“Okay, that’s your call.” Shows the cab just halted in front of the building. Seoyeon gets to her feet as well. Wishes goodbye to Liya. Gives you a tight-lipped smile. “You’re fucking harassing her.” You hear Jungkook mumbles to Taehyung as they are stepping outside. And Taehyung saying something incoherent in return.

Great, now you’re alone. Just with Jimin and Liya. Yoona is nowhere to be found.

“We should leave too baby. I didn’t drink. I’ll drive.” Liya softly says to Jimin as she stands up. Fuck, your heart sinks. Why’s this? Why do you feel so hurt. Jimin’s eyes nervously land on you. You avoid that gaze. “C’mon.” Liya urges him. For moment it looks like he might stay behind. Talk to you. Say something that’ll sooth your heart. Then of course, it’s a wishful thinking. Says nothing when he gets to his feet. Gives you a lingering, and longing look. Slowly follows Liya. Leaves.

You watch through the glass walls. He looks back few times. Then is getting inside the car. You watch Liya rev the car. Pulls out. Watch she drives away. With Jimin. Watch Jimin leaves with the person he should. Fuck, you’re hurting. Fuck, you feel like screaming. Screaming him to stay. You don’t. Just stay put. Gulping down the lump inside your throat.

It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. Maybe this is that second chance you get. To do everything right. You can make it right. Will leave Jimin and Liya to live their life peacefully. Right? Like Liya said, nobody wants you here. Not even Jimin. He was probably asked you to stay under the influence of his own emotions. Good orgasm. Now he’ll see clearly. And when he does that, he won’t want you here.

It’s not him who should make things right. It’s you. And you’ll do it.

Make It Right.

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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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