#but just think of what that means for the after-party

[crossdressingdeath]

Ah, I think what we're getting into here is the difference between Andrastianism and the Chantry. There were a lot of different Andrastian sects(? Cults? Not entirely sure what the right word is, but I'm gonna go with sects) when the Chantry was first founded; most of them aren't around anymore (at least some of them gone because of the Chantry and its habit of wiping out every other religious group it can, see the codex entry on the Daughters of Song for an example; that one's especially nasty since they were pacifists and the Chantry steamrolled over them anyway), but even in the games' time period there's still a couple, most notably Chantry Andrastianism and Tevinter Andrastianism. Orlais chose a very warlike sect to follow right from the start, which might just have been because that's how Orlesians are but it's still a thing to keep in mind: the sect the Chantry came out of was already one that glorified war above most other things. How convenient for an expansionist empire! The Chantry itself was absolutely created from that initial sect with propping Orlais up in mind, and it has stuck to that mandate pretty consistently throughout Thedas's history (even up to the occupation of Ferelden, the Orlesian king put in charge had a Chantry advisor; as far as I'm aware there was no significant Chantry presence among the rebels, at least not in any official capacity). It's also important to me to keep in mind that in the games there is a vague acknowledgement of how Andrastians don't necessarily follow the Chantry and many don't agree with it; Anders is a devout Andrastian, and he understandably despises the organization. Varric is Andrastian, and Cassandra comments he wouldn't be caught dead in a Chantry. Basically the Chantry as an institution and Andrastianism as a religion are not the same thing, the Chantry was created with a specific goal that Andrastianism did not share, and after a point they have to be discussed as separate entities.

I sort of agree with the "institutions are at their heart the people" thing? But also that only goes so far when we're talking about an institution that is fundamentally not in it to do good, or at least not for anyone who isn't already wealthy and in a position of power. I think the best example is Mother Giselle; she was working in Jader during a famine, and she demanded the Chantry step up and offer aid to the people who were starving. She's the epitome of someone determined to do good within the Chantry and fulfill their supposed mandate of charity. And... the Chantry refused to help. Just straight up refused to send aid no matter how many times she entreated them to help these desperate people. Eventually Mother Giselle fell back on a hunger strike, and that worked (although the Chantry insisted she feed herself and her fellow sisters first, which they merrily refused to do; I have issues with Mother Giselle but this is very good, gotta respect the determination). But the Chantry was so furious with her for "shaming" them and forcing their hand that by breaking that famine she ensured she would never be able to move any higher in the institution than she was already. Mother Giselle was fighting the Chantry the whole way and was punished for succeeding. That's kind of the running theme in the Chantry; there are a lot of genuinely good people who are genuinely determined to help! But outside of the individual level they consistently find themselves stymied and slapped down by the organization they serve, because the Chantry does not actually exist to help and does not actually want to. There comes a point where you can't take the intentions of people who join up as the true purpose of the institution, because the institution absolutely does not agree with those intentions and will do everything in its power to shut them down. (Also I mean there comes a point where it's like... hey if you people are in this to help people why aren't you quitting when it becomes clear the organization is going to demand you hurt people at every turn, Keran DA2 you will always be famous to me.)

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID IT. Thank you Dorian for being the best once again and pointing out that hey maybe if the Chantry didn't treat their mages like shit and traumatize all of them they'd get possessed less often.

[yvesntul]

18+, fingering, squirting, slight overstimulation, crying, begging, vi being kinda mean + drabble something liteee this is a repost from my old account @/loonadaworld if it looks familiar

‘ vi, please, ‘ you mewled, pushing your head against your girlfriend’s chest. ‘ fuck babe— listen to that, you hear how fucking wet you are ? ‘ she groaned into your ear, her fingers pushing into you at an unforgiving speed. ‘ it’s too much .. ‘ your hand wrapped around her wrist in a poor attempt to stop her. ‘ if you do that one more time i’m not gonna stop until you’re crying. ‘ your thighs closed around vi’s hand, a whimper falling from your lips as you shook in her hold.

vi cursed, pulling her fingers out of your sopping cunt in order to force your legs open. ‘ maybe next time you’ll remember to watch that fucking mouth of yours. ‘ her fingers plunged inside of you once more, eliciting a moan from both of you. the way her fingers were curling inside of you, paired with her thumb rubbing your clit, it wasn’t long before you were seeing stars, your soaked pussy fluttering around her as you fell over the edge of pure euphoria.

she didn’t make an effort to slow her movements, actually doing the opposite until the wet squelches of your cunt became too much for you to handle. ‘ vi wait, i think— ‘ she covered your mouth, a smile forming on her lips as her hand muffled your scream. you felt the wet sensation before you saw the mess, your girlfriend trailing sloppy kisses in the curve of your neck. ‘ shhh .. i got u right here, ‘ vi finally started easing you through the after shocks of your orgasm, her hand coming to a stop.

you had tears running down your cheeks at this point, your chest rising and falling with each breath. ‘ what was it that you said to cait again ? ‘ take me home since my girlfriend doesn’t want to. ‘ ‘ she scoffed, moving from behind you and laying you on her pillows. ‘ how do you think that sounds, hmm ? how do you think i feel when i hear my girl asking my friend to take her home ? ‘ vi hovered above you, her wet fingertips tracing shapes on your inner thighs.

you shook your head, cupping her face as she stared down at you with the darkest gaze you’ve ever seen. ‘ vi .. i won’t do it again, i promise. just wanted to leave the party already .. ‘ everything you said going in one ear and out the other. ‘ well you got what you wanted, now you have to take it. ‘ without warning, she inserted her fingers again, making your body jolt at the sudden intrusion. ‘ you’re gonna give me two more. ‘ vi felt her breath stutter at your choked sob, your hysterics only turning her on even more.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) intoxicated ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 방찬 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ chan comes home drunk with only one thing on his mindヾ

boyfriend!chan・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ sex under the influence, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy talk wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can you make one of Bangchan? please, he is drunk and horny after a party and he is obsessed with getting her pregnant ?

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i loved writing this idk why i hope you like it <3

looking at the clock it was way past midnight when you heard the door open. “baby!” you heard your boyfriends slurred voice. “baby where are you!” you shook your head — shrieking when he came bursting through the door. “baby!” he yelled out. “hi baby!” you laughed at how drunk he was. “hi chan.”

“hi baby.” he smiled, face flushed as he stumbled over his own feet. “not that drunk i swear.” he said, but his actions said otherwise. “i missed you so much.” he kicked his shoes off; unbuckling his pants. “wished you would’ve came out tonight.” taking his shirt off, tossing it. “it was fun.” he clumsily climbed into bed, falling flat on top of you. “bang christopher chan!” you yelled, slapping his bare back. “get off you are heavy.”

“why.” he whined , wrapping his arms around you. “why are you being so mean?” his face pressed against your stomach. “i love you so much and you’re being so mean.” his eyes closed, you shook your head, thinking he was going to fall asleep. “chan let’s lay down now.” you tapped his cheek. “come on baby.”

it was silent; you thought he had actually fallen asleep — that was until you felt his hands lifting up your shirt. “channie what are you doing?” he hummed. “just wanna feel my girl.” he rubbed all along your waist. “you smell nice.” you chuckled. “it’s your body wash.” you ran your fingers through his hair. “i know, but im talking about your natural scent, smell so sweet.” he kissed your bare stomach. “ch-chan.” you warned.

“what?” he said softly, slurring his words. “let’s lay down.” you said, trying to get him to sleep, even though he was slowly turning you on. “o-okay.” he said, before sitting up, quickly pulling you down, your head hitting the pillow. “let’s lay down.” he kissed your neck. “ch-chan you’re intoxicated, we’re not having sex tonight.” he whined against your ear. “you’re not taking advantage of me , i know you feel how much i want you right now.” he took your hand, running it down his abs, down past his waist. “see.” he groaned, placing it on his cock.

“ye-yeah but you’re still not in your right mind.” you didn’t want to egg him on, but he wasn’t having it. “im well in my right mind to know how much i want to put a baby right here.” he pointed to your stomach. “wanna fuck you so full that it has no choice but to stick.” the air was too thick, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. “let me finally put a baby in you.” his hand working into your panties. “chris.” you moaned. “see you’re so wet, you want this, you want to be fucked full of my babies.” he groaned. “let me do that.” his fingers slipped into your dripping cunt. “gonna get you pregnant tonight.”

chan was insatiable when he was sober, but it was nothing compared to when he was drunk. you were on your 4th orgasm, chan on his second; the clock beside you was almost at 2:30 am, but he didn’t plan on stopping — determined to have you swollen with his kid by the end of the night. “fu-fuck baby.” he groaned, his hips snapping against yours. “fuck i love this sweet pussy so much.” he groaned, his face flushed. “chan.” you moaned out. “so fucking tight , taking my fat cock like the good girl you are.”

he was pinning you to the bed as he plowed into you. the squelching noises from your previous orgasms filling up the room. “fuck you hear that baby -fuck- you pretty pussy is talking to me.” he huffed. “she wants to be bred so bad , she crying for my cock.” his necklace dangling in front of you. “you wanna cum for me?” you nodded dumbly, you were now intoxicated but not like alcohol, but his cock, you sobbed out. “so bad.”

“cum for me.” he whispered in your ear. “fuck chan!” you screamed out, you sweet juices spraying all over his abdomen. “ye-yes fuck baby.” he groaned. “fuck cum all over me.” he continued you to fuck you. “that’s it -fuck- fuck me im gonna cum again.” he moaned, cock twitching as his filled you up for the third time that night. “fuck im gonna breed you , fill you with my seed, give you a pretty baby.” he groaned. “fuck i love you so much.”

feeling his warm cum pouring inside you, he sighed falling against you, your bodies sticking together. “chan , channie get up we have to clean ourselves.” you could feel his heart beating as he softly snored on top of you. you ran your fingers through his sweaty wet hair. “told you , you were tired.” you kissed the top of his head. “you big goof, you know you can’t hold your alcohol.” he wrapped his arms around you , holding you close. “sleep now.” you chuckled. “fine.” you said, finally drifting off to sleep.

almost a week later the two of you were standing over the sink in your bathroom , a positive pregnancy test sitting right in front of you.

©️LUVYENI

[earlysunshines]

lights, camera, action!

danielle marsh x actress!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you passed your media training classes but that doesn’t stop you after a couple of drinks from leaking that you’re very much attracted to danielle marsh on live

warnings: alcohol ; soobin from txt but he's actually an actor (idk why i use him in my fics sm) and also other idols that are actors instead of... idols ; discovering sexuality ; reader is whipped for danielle ; danielle is whipped for reader ; gay gay gay they're so in love i hate myself ; anyhting else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: hi i need her so bad like sooo bad like she’s so. like. like hey. hi hai. hi.

@/ynln is live!

the viewers catch a little glimpse of your flushed cheeks, slow blinks, and lazy smile.

you’re not drunk, not at all, you’re just naturally an idiot and even more of one after a few after-party drinks. the remnants of laughter and lively conversation from the after-party of your premiere still lingering in your ears. the giddiness hadn’t left your body at all.

“heyyy guys.” you fail to set up the camera on your hotel desk, so you resort to flopping onto the bed and holding it yourself. “i hope you all are well.”

the screen was filled with comments almost immediately—fans were sending love, compliments, and congratulating you on the new movie, and praising your looks during the premiere. your smile grew wider, your cheeks burned a little warmer than before.

@/lnloverrr: you looked so good at the event

@/yourstruly84: a look for the books

@/ynloops: so excited for the movie! can’t wait to see more action roles from you!

@/tokkilvrr: celine queen!!! you rocked the top

“aww you guys are so cute,” you say, a little more giggly than usual. the only thing illuminating you at the moment is the city glow filtering through the curtains, so you turn on a lamp in order for your fans to see you better. “i’m so happy you guys are excited about the movie. it means a looot, really.”

you scrolled through the comments, answering a few questions about your favorite scenes to shoot and what the cast was like. you went on a whole ramble about your male co-star soobin and how you almost beat him in an arm wrestling battle after two shots, which led to another ramble about how rigorous the process of working out to achieve your physique was for this film. it was fun talking about all the fun behind-the-scenes moments, one of them being how you have a video of soobin tripping over the props, one which you will definitely be posting once the movie is out.

after skimming the comments a bit more, most of them being “can i get an i love you?” or various compliments which keep a smile plastered on your face. but then one catches your eye, making you raise a brow: do you have a celebrity crush?

“oh, a celebrity crush? well i don’t know if i have a crush, but more of a friend crush if you get what i mean.” you laughed, the sound light and loose. you pause, thinking it over as more comments pop up with heart emojis and people begging for an answer. you sigh playfully, leaning against the bedframe and blinking slowly again. “okay, this is going to sound so cheesy. you know how i like newjeans? i’ve mentioned it before… but i’ve been such a fan of newjeans since their debut. like, seriously, their music is always on repeat. i’ve made soobin and the rest of the cast listen to them — soyeon loves them actually. ugh i loved their debut ep so much and then they dropped ditto and–”

@/koalaln: okay so… it’s someone from newjeans?

@/minjiplsmarrymepls: not my fav actor being a tokki

@/phammipham: girl if you don’t tell us rn…

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right.” you chuckle after reading the comments again. you bit your lip before continuing, “well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

your voice dropped to a more earnest tone as you looked right at the camera again, shaking your head and blushing a little. you could blame it on the alcohol.

“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” you let out a small, tipsy laugh, not realizing how much you were rambling—again.

“and the thing is, we’re both ambassadors for celine too, so i’ve seen her from afar at events and stuff. i’ve never actually met her, which is crazy, right? i mean i've met park bogum but not her! you’d think we would have bumped into each other by now, but nope. i kind of just admire from afar, like her pictures don’t do her justice but they… do? she’s stunning in person, at least from afar.”

the comments started blowing up with people freaking out, sending a variety of emojis that you couldn’t even count on both hands. they were saying things like “omg you’re totally fangirling right now,” “okay purr y/n is danielle biased she has taste,” and even “you and danielle interacting or collaborating would be iconic.”

you blinked at the screen, noticing the way the chat kept mentioning her name. you rubbed your face with your hand, blinking hard again. “oh my god, am i talking too much? anyway!” you waved your hand, laughing as you tried to shake off the embarrassment creeping up your neck. “next question, next question.”

you spent a few more minutes answering questions about your movie, sharing more stories of what happens on set (making sure to include how many times jaehyun fell asleep on set — which was far too often and in the most questionable positions. you wonder how someone falls asleep leaning against a wall). by the end, your eyelids were starting to droop, and the comments were still buzzing with your confession from earlier. you blinked again, then thanked the fans for their support once more to wrap up the livesteam.

“alright, i’m about to pass out,” you say tiredly, smile turning soft. “thank you for putting up with me. love you all so much.”

the phone in your hand dropped onto the bed after ending the livestream. your head lands on the pillows and you sigh, a grin still on your face. before you knew it, you were out like a light, blissfully unaware of what you’ve just started.

—

the sun filtered through the hotel curtains, which warmed up the room. you stirred, eyes fluttering open as a ray hit you right in the eye, making you roll around the other way. 

unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the only thing trying to wake you up. your phone buzzed insistently next to you, and you reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen as your manager’s name flashed across it. you crinkled your brows, confused to say the least.

“hello? mark?” your voice was hoarse with sleep, tinged with last nights events.

“morning sleepyhead,” mark’s voice was calm and a little playful as always, but there was an unmistakable edge that meant business. “do you want to tell me why you’re trending on every social media platform? and you even made it onto some entertainment sites.”

a groan slips from you as you sit up all too quickly. the memories of your late-night live stream start to flood back. “shit.”

“‘shit’ is right. you do know that gushing about a girl in a kpop group — not to mention a very popular one — might get you a good amount of attention? and don’t make a pun.” you hear his signature sigh from the other end of the line. “your fans and her fans are going wild, and some press outlets are running with ‘actor y/n’s crush on danielle from newjeans’ headlines.”

shifting yourself to the edge of your bed so your feet can dangle off, you groan into the phone. “i’m so, so sorry. i must’ve fucked up my image like crazy, god i’m so sorry for—”

“hey, wait.” he says calmly. “it’s actually not doing anything harmful. if anything people are into how much you admire the group, considering you’re quite the celebrity.”

“oh thank god–”

“it’s just not low-profile.”

heat crept up your neck, and you covered your face with one hand, your back meeting the mattress again. “i— yeah, i was tipsy. soobin is a terrible influence, and weren’t you—”

“i’m just your manager, i just work here y/n.”

you scoff playfully at his remark, then continue, “i guess i didn’t notice how much i talked about her. but it’s not—i mean, it’s not untrue, but still…” you trailed off, cringing at yourself as you placed a hand over your eyes.

mark lets out a sigh, softening a bit. “look, it’s not the end of the world. just be prepared for questions, and try not to fan the flames further if you don’t want this to become a bigger deal. but, you might want at least to have a statement or some kind of response ready.”

you nodded, even if he couldn’t see you. “yeah, okay. thank you for the heads-up. sorry.”

“and next time, maybe don’t go live after an after-party. don’t think i didn’t see you downing somaek with jennie.” he adds, the hint of amusement in his voice making you relax a bit. 

“noted. very much noted.”

after ending the call, you drop the phone beside you, your heart still thudding. with a deep breath, you opened twitter up, and just from your burner account you could see that you were trending. the timeline was overflowing: fans reacting to your confession, edits already circulating with your quotes—they even managed to find every clip of you mentioning or listening to newjeans, putting it in slideshows and edited videos. you can’t even lie, the effort is amazing. and even worse, or better? there were articles with headlines like “actor y/n admits to crushing on danielle from newjeans” and “actor y/n confirms she’s a hardcore newjeans fan.”

okay, hardcore might be a stretch.

(or maybe not.)

despite all this chaos, you couldn’t help but smile a little. you tap a quick text to your manager again: sorry again. i’ll be ready for whatever comes. 

and another, more impulsive, and raw message to your group chat with your best friends and  co-stars: i think i should just die. never going live again. someone needs to take my phone and burn it.

but as you scrolled and saw fans posting supportive, teasing comments like “we love an honest crush!” “y/n is lowk so cute for this” “it’s so refreshing to see celebrities being transparent about who they admire” and even a “y/n and danielle when??? y/nelle??”, you couldn’t suppress the slight flutter in your chest.

—

in contrast to your morning, danielle’s wasn’t all that stressful. maybe a little, but it didn’t have her laying in bed for an hour and pondering over every life decision she’s made. not like you did. 

danielle had been making eggs for her members — sunny side up for hanni, boiled for minji, and scrambled for the haerin and hyein — humming quietly to herself. the morning was relatively peaceful until hanni burst into the kitchen, phone in her hand with a mischievous grin on her face.

“dani, you won’t believe this.” hanni plops down on a stool at the kitchen island, turning the phone over. “you’re gonna want to see it.”

danielle raises an eyebrow, turning down the heat. “what is it?”

minji and haerin joined, peeking over hanni’s shoulder as she played the video clip. “y/n, you know, the one from that one coming of age movie you like? what was it… the one with— it doesn’t even matter. just look.”

danielle’s brows furrowed with confusion until hanni hits play. the room fills with the sound of your slurred, soft voice as you gush with genuine excitement. 

“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right. well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”

even minji and haerin gasp, looking at danielle in surprise. danielle’s jaw drops open slightly as she takes in the information: you, l/n y/n, are mentioning her. danielle marsh. but it gets even better.

“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” 

the spoon danielle had been holding slips from her hand and onto the counter, clattering agains the marble as she stared at the screen. “wait— what?” her voice was barely above a whisper, her cheeks heating up.

 “look at you,” minji laughs, nudging her. “one of your admirers is an actor—a really popular actor, dani.”

“i—” danielle’s mind raced as she watched you on the screen, your eyes bright, cheeks flushed as you rambled on. the admiration in your tone made her heart skip a beat. it was one thing to know that you were at the same events as her, and another ot hear that you’d been paying attention to her. that you think she’s pretty. 

hyein seemed to pop out of nowhere, her arrival probably unnoticed from what was currently unfolding. “dani… someone who was in a marvel movie has a crush on you.”

danielle blinked. a smile broke out as she looked at her members. “you’re all ridiculous.” but even as she laughed, the warmth in her chest lingered. the fact that you, the actress she’d admired form afar and whose movies she’s watched with her family, thought of her like that—it was surreal.

minji raised an eyebrow knowingly. “come on dani, don’t act like you haven’t been wanting to talk to her at those events.”

“yeah dude,” hanni nudged her younger member. “she popped up in doctor strange and you started rambling about her.”

danielle’s smile turned shy as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove, her mind still replaying your words. 

maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you, just maybe.

—

you’ve been busy, to say the least.

the past week you’ve been interviewed a handful of times everyday. your movie starred the choi soobin and jeong jaehyun, which earned a lot of attention. what surprised you was just how much attention you’d receive. there were various edits of you being made, some even showed up on your social media and unfortunately your group chat. 

people had dug up scenes of you from your other projects, editing them and helping them resurface. it was safe to say you were growing as an actor, as if confessing your ‘love’ for danielle marsh didn’t already do enough. but who were you to complain? this was great. you were rising in popularity for not only your looks, but also your talents and personality. it was endearing — flattering you beyond comprehension.

the rise in popularity even led to you having to hop on a flight to japan, not only to be interviewed further, but also for an event for the brand you ambassador.

the celine event had an air of sophistication and elegance. it was a sort of luxurious haven where celebrities and models mingled under the crystal chandeliers, surrounded by other “fancy stuff” as you would say. soft music played, mixing in with the sound of conversations and clicks of cameras. attendees were showcasing the brand’s newest pieces for the season, with handbags being paraded, their metallic accents catching the light.

you fit quite well into the scene, it would be a lie to say you weren’t one of the main events. there was an effortless style exuded from you, clad in tailored slacks that were held perfectly by a leather celine belt. draped over your frame was a crewneck sweater with the brand’s logo, and to finish off the look you had another leather piece on your shoulder: a matching handbag to go with your belt. 

the first hour was spent smiling for the cameras and eavesdropping on the whispers about your recent rise in popularity. more cameras flashed, and journalists angled for a glimpse, but your focus soon shifted when an all too familiar figure stepped into view. maybe you’re overwhelmed, maybe it’s not her, there so many people here. at least that’s what you told yourself.

once you got a breather, taking the time to roam around the area, you barely had a moment to process before a gentle bump jolted you out of your thoughts.

a woman, draped in a stunning beige dress accented with a sleek grey blazer, stumbled slightly. instinct kicked in, and your hand shot out to catch her arm, steadying her. wide yes met yours, surprise softening into a shy, grateful smile as she regained her balance.

“oh my, i’m so sorry!” she breaths out, her cheeks tinting a faint pink. “i didn’t see you there.”

“are you okay?” you ask, your mind catching up to the moment. your gaze lingered as recognition fell over you 

danielle.

the feel of her arm in your grasp made your heart stutter, but you forced yourself to stay composed. 

“yes, i’m fine, thanks,” danielle says, straightening up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “i never expected to bump into you. not like this—not literally.”

your smile turns sheepish. “i— i guess i made quite an impression,” you joke lightly, withdrawing your hand slowly.

her eyes light up with recogniition. “well, the live from last week was more of one,” she teases, her tone warm and playful. the mention of the live made your face heat up, and a laugh bubbled out as you glanced at the floor for a second.

“you saw…?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“i think everyone did,” she giggled, her smile softening as she added, “it was... really sweet.”

the initial nervousness faded as the two of you fell into conversation, friendly and hesitant at first, but your words quickly became more confident as you both exchanged stories and thoughts on the celine events. compliments flowed naturally, and you found yourself surprised at how easy it was to talk to her beyond the admiration you held at a distance. danielle, on the other hand, grew noticeably more flustered as you threw in subtle flirtations—quick grins, playful remarks about how she looked so much better up close and in person.

“wow, it wasn’t the drinks that make you so… charming, huh?” she says with a small laugh, eyes shining as she tried to regain composure.

“well, i’m finally getting the chance to talk to someone i’ve been wanting to meet for a whike,” you admitted, voice soft and genuine. “i just wanted to be transparent, is that alright with you?”

“of course.” her smile turns bashful, and for a moment, silence settled between you two, comfy and warm. the lights dimmed as the models prepared for the runway, but neither of you paid it much attention even after being separated again.

after the showcase, you two found each other again, wanting to exchange numbers. 

“this is the first time i’ve given a fan my number.” danielle admits jokingly as you type in your contact information. you look up from the phone and smirk, sending a weird shiver down danielle’s spine.

“really? i’m honored.” you say, handing the phone back. “let’s talk soon, okay? i’d really love to be friends, and i’m really sorry for the whole livestream incident by the way. sorry again.”

she laughs, smiling at you and it’s really strange how it makes you feel all tingly. 

“it’s alright y/n. would you like to hangout when we’re back in korea? if that’s alright.”

“oh, yes, of course.” you smile at her once more before looking at the text from your manager: ride’s here, you ready? the notification earns a small sigh from you. you glance back at danielle and bite your lip to prevent a frown. “well, i’ll see you.”

“wonderful.”

—

when you think you’ve had your peak of attention, it just seems to grow more and more.

the morning after the celine event your phone buzzed against the nightstand of your hotel, waking you up. squinting, you reached for it, the device cool against your fingers. notifications flooded your screen, but at this point that’s nothing new. at the top, there was a teasing text from mark:

“looks like you made quite the impression last night. maybe your live wasn’t so bad for your social life, huh?”

curiosity piqued, you scrolled through social media, your eyes widening as countless photos of the event filled your feed. comments from fans were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating the unexpected dynamic between you and danielle. 

most of the photos were candid shots—the two of you caught in conversation, eyes bright with amusement, smiles soft and natural. the internet had already begun to label you as friends (which you didn’t mind at all), though some comments and posts weren’t so subtle as they implied something more, playfully shipping you two as a potential couple.

you rolled your eyes — it was ridiculous — you weren’t even sure whether or not she liked girls like that. even if she did, the whole livestream™ probably weirded her out. what you sought was friendship, but the ship posts did make you smile to yourself. maybe you’re just weird. you figured you needed to snap out of it.

unfortunately for you, more photos entertained the idea of something more than friends. in them, you were gently holding danielle’s wrist, steadying her as she’d momentarily lost her balance that night. the angle caught the way her expression softened as she looked at you, an unguarded moment that felt oddly intimate, almost cinematic. 

you’ve acted in various romance scenes, but none of them were real. neither did any of them look as… jaw-dropping as this.

the caption on one post read: “the way they look at each other… could this be the start of something?” the reactions were a mix of heart emojis, enthusiastic comments, and threads analyzing your body language and every nuance of the pictures. your cheeks warmed as you scrolled through, noticing how even the simplest gestures were being magnified and dissected as if this were an advanced art course.

you reread the text from your mark, smiling as you typed back a short light-hearted response:

“maybe i should go live more often? haha”

even as you set your phone down, your mind replayed the moments from the night before—her laugh, the way conversation flowed effortlessly, and that brief touch that started to flood your mind. 

you simply had a friend crush on her, nothing more, right? probably, you hope,

—

danielle pushes open the front door of the dorm, the familiar warmth and laughter of her members greeting her as she set down her bags. before she could make it further into the living room, hanni glanced up from her phone and smirked knowingly.

“look who’s back! how was the celine event?” hanni’s tone was casual, but her eyes glimmered with mischief.

danielle’s brows furrowed slightly, but before she could answer, hyein popped up from the couch, waving her phone in the air. “more importantly, how was this?” she tapped on the screen, and a slideshow of photo’s appeared—the ones that had been trending online. danielle, dressed up elgantly, smiling up at you as your hand was on her wrist, both your expressions open and genuine.

“oh, that…” danielle felt her cheeks warm. “it was nice. we talked a bit actually, y/n is really cool!”

“really cool?” minji echoes from the kitchen, “that’s a new one.”

“she’s just a new friend i made who happens to be an actor,” danielle rushed out, even as a small uncertain flutter stirred in her chest. the words felt like they were only said to cover something up, but danielle couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she was trying to hide. she’d made new friends before, but none of them left her thinking about them the whole flight back home. she felt kind of restless in a way, but maybe that’s because you had a different kind of charm and aspect to you.

“a new friend and actor who also has a celebrity crush on you?” minji asks.

“people have celebrity crushes and that doesn’t mean anything, minji. besides, i’m not much of a celebrity to her anymore, am i? i mean we’ve met properly now.”

hanni raises a brow at danielle’s comeback, exchanging a look with hyein, who giggles. “right, just an actor who has expressed her admiration for you in great depth. okay.” hanni draws out the last word, amused. danielle crosses her arms, feigning annoyance but feeling a heat creeping up her neck.

the group finally eases off, shrugging and returning to their own chatter, but danielle couldn’t shake the lingering awareness. maybe it was just the newness of it all, you’re an actor, a very famous one now at least. 

her eyes dart to the pictures on hyein’s phone again. the moment you had caught her from stumbling was simple, just an instinctive touch, but there was something about it that replayed in her mind. it was confusing—this new, unfamiliar feeling. she hadn’t considered herself someone who might fall for a girl, and there’s nothing wrong with girl’s liking… girls. but you’re not a girl that she likes, at least not romantically. you’re just really pretty and nice, and besides, she hasn’t even gotten to know you on a deeper level.

still, she’s spiralling a little.

–

y/n: hey :-) i just got back to my apartment it was nice bumping into you! let me know when you’re free? if you’d like to grab a bite or something of course you’re really pretty in person sorry, i’m fangirling haha

soobin’s top half of his face is on the top right corner of your phone as you stare at the screen. you sigh, cringing at each text you’ve sent. soobin raises a brow at the sudden change in expression, plus the small pout on your face now.

“what now?” he questions.

“am i doing too much? what if she blocks me. what if i just die—”

danielle: hi! i was watching a movie with the members hehe it was really nice meeting you! i’ve been a fan of your projects i really liked your scene in doctor strange as well and in your recent film  you’re a very good actor!

you literally drop your phone, earning a confused noise from soobin. when you pick it up again, he’s making a face that asks for more answers, but you’re too busy waiting for texts to pop up after her little typing bubble forms.

danielle: i’m booked tomorrow, how about the day after?  you can pick the time and place 😁

y/n: i’m busy tomorrow and the day after unfortunately 😞 how about in three days?

danielle: i’m free in the evening 👍

y/n: that’s perfect! can’t wait

danielle: me neither ☺️ i really enjoyed talking to you at the event

y/n: aw, thanks you’re really cute  and sweet, danielle

danielle: im blushing stop!! hahaha i’ll text you in the morning y/n 😊❤️

y/n: okay! 

soobin is still on call with you when you drop the phone on your bed again. he hears a the sound of your feet kicking against the bed and a small squeal.

“what?” he squints at the screen as you pick your phone up again.

“danielle and i are hanging out on friday.”

he looks surprised as he says, “really?”

“why do you sound so baffled… i can make friends soobin…” you huff, pouting at him.

—

you exhale deeply as you look at yourself in the mirror. there’s a green, long-sleeve comme des garcon top that you spent way too much money on hugging you just right, accentuating the build of your arms that you worked very hard for due to the new movie. custom-tailored denim fits your legs loosely, held by the same celine belt you wore at the thrilling event.

to hide your identity a bit more, you wore a beanie and a zip-up hoodie on top (another piece of clothing you spent way too much money on. you need to stop buying vintage exclusively), as well as some sunglasses.

you head out of your apartment, slip a mask on, and take the elevator down. 

it’s been a while since you’ve walked around and enjoyed the area you lived in, so you decided to walk to where you agreed to meet danielle: your favorite cafe.

it was a fifteen-minute walk, a quick five-minute bus ride, then five more minutes of walking until you reached your destination. when you get there, danielle is already sat at a table. you catch her checking her phone and smile to yourself.

“hey,” you greet, sitting in front of her. “did you wait long?”

“not at all,” she shakes her head, then looks down at her drink. “i just got a latte actually, i was going to text you earlier. ah! i should’ve waited to buy–”

“no– no, it’s fine.” you assure, grinning. “i’ll buy one myself and meet you back here, give me a minute.”

“right, of course.” 

you give her another small grin before ordering something simple: an almond latte. you waited only two minutes for it before heading back to danielle. after placing down your mug, danielle looks amazed at the tulip design, pulling out her phone and taking a picture. it’s cute, the gesture, and her—but that’s for you to keep to yourself.

you meet back with danielle, who’s in the same booth by the window. the cafe was quaint and tucked into a quiet street corner, so there wasn’t usually much attention or people. you really liked that aspect, considering your status, so it easily became your favorite spot. 

and because there wasn’t much going on, it was easy for danielle to be under some sort of spotlight—in this case it’s the autumn afternoon glow hitting her features. you remind yourself that this is just a platonic hangout, obviously. it’s not exactly a date, maybe a friend date—but the closer you got to her the more you started to question the “friendly meet-up.”

“this place is so cozy,” danielle says, glancing around as she took a sip of her latte. “thanks for suggesting it! i’ve been so cooped up and busy, haven’t had much time to go around. plus, it’s nice to be somewhere new.”

“i um, thought you would like it…” you reply, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “i mean i like it a lot. it’s my go-to spot, a little hidden gem when i first got to korea. it’s also really quiet at this time, so no chance of anyone recognizing us.”

danielle smiled at that, her cheeks warming. “i can’t tell if that’s comforting or more nerve-warcking.”

“is that so?” you tease, “afraid you’ll be stuck with me if no one interrupts?”

she laughs, shaking her head. “not exactly… i actually really like being here with you.”

you grin—a bit bashfully. “aw, i’m glad im here with you too. i still can’t get over the fact that i’m with newjeans’ danielle.” 

she shakes her head, absentmindedly stirring her straw in her iced latte as she looks at you. " well, i hope that now… between us... i can just be danielle, even dani, if you prefer that.”

she gives you a shy smile before dropping her gaze to her coffee, and for a second you swear you saw a faint blush on her cheeks. maybe it’s the light. 

“so,” she says, changing the subject, “is your schedule hectic these days? with what i’ve seen—you know, your promotions—shooting for movies and events; i don’t know how you do it.”

“sometimes i don’t know either,” you chuckle, shrugging. “it’s worth it though. its kind of surreal—i used to watch your performances before i was this… known… and think, ‘wow, she must be busy,’ but now i get it.”

“”really?” danielle raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued.

“uh—yeah. not just you! i hope i don’t sound weird… you know i used to watch all those celebrity interviews, korean and western artists, and i thought about my future being like that. um, anyways, yeah—you and your members are super talented. i mean, obviously you’re killing it in every way possible” 

danielle’s smile grows upon seeing the visible blush and how evidently flustered you are.

you sig heavily, “i’m not beating the fangirl allegations… sorry.”

she looks at you with a softness in her eyes, giggling before sipping on her drink. you noticed her cheeks were definitely tinged pink now. 

“that’s… really sweet. and, um, mutual. i’ve been a fan of your acting for a while now, actually. so this is all still kinda unreal.” she admits.

you both fall into comfortable conversation, sharing stories about work and laughing about awkward encounters with fans and strange industry moments. you felt completely at ease, and danielle’s laughter was contagious, filling the air with something warm. the feeling lingered even as you two left the cafe together.

the walk back was leisurely, your voices blending as the city got louder.

“do you get nervous though?” danielle asks after a while, pulling her jacket tighter against the breeze of the evening. “with acting, i mean. especially with bigger roles. i hope it’s not awkward to ask but… you know, with romance films too.”

“i get that question a lot, it’s not weird at all dani.” you nod as danielle hides the growing smile after hearing her nickname slip from your lips. “i’m always nervous. but i think i’d worry more if i didn’t feel like that, you know? it kind of keeps me on my feet, makes it feel real.”

she nods in understanding. “that makes sense.”

“you get it.”

as you neared her dorm building, a sense of bittersweetness crept in. the evening had gone by too fast, and you weren’t quite ready for it to end. you stopped a few feet from the entrance, scanning the area to make sure no one was around.

“right, i guess we’re here,” you muttered under your breath, looking back at her with a nervous expression.

she gives you a forced smile, something bittersweet. “yeah.”

“i’ll let you go now, i had a lot of fun.”

“me too.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” danielle breathes out, her smile much more shy than before now. you catch her biting the inside of her lip just barely 

her eyes sparkle a bit, the streetlight reflecting off her pupils. you gaze at her for a few seconds more before nodding. before you can start to walk away, she steps forward and wraps her arms around you in a warm, gentle hug. your breath catches, but you quickly relax and reciprocate. it seems natural, like you were meant to be this close.

“thank you for today,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.

“thank you for agreeing to hangout despite my… unorthodox impression.” you reply with a giggle, your voice just as soft. “i’m glad we did this.”

when she pulls back, you meet her gaze, faces just inches apart. she looks at your almost dazed expression, with your cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. you quickly caught herself and laughed, trying to play it cool.

“alright, well, i guess i’ll see you soon?” you say, shifting a little on your feet.

“yes,” she says, feeling her heart pounding a bit. “i hope we can do this again.”

danielle is a touchy person, this is visible on camera and to everyone she loves. still, it surprises you when she leaps back onto you, hugging you once more before slipping inside the building. 

you waited until she was out of sight before turning away, unable to keep the grin off your face.

—

the next day, more specifically the next evening, you have an interview at six.

you, your costars soobin and jaehyun, are all caught in an interview. there’s a white backdrop behind you all, with makeup artists adding final touches and shifting your hair. soobin’s in a simple cardigan and jeans, while jaehyun is wearing a sweater that compliments what soobin is wearing. you, on the other hand, are clad in something that makes you stand out more: metal frames, a blazer, and slacks. 

the camera’s start to roll, then the director gives you the green light.

the interviewer smiled warmly, leaning forward as he kicked off with, “so, congratulations on the movie! it’s been getting amazing reviews, and your performance as a supporting lead has been a major highlight. how does it feel to finally see it out in the world?”

you smiled, shifting in your seat. “honestly, it’s surreal. we put so much work into this film, and seeing people connect with it—it’s the best feeling. i’m really grateful.”

“let’s talk about filming,” he continues, glancing between the three of you. “what were the hardest and most fun parts of being on set?”

soobin jumped in first, grinning. “hardest part? probably the weather during those outdoor scenes. we were freezing half the time.”

you nod in agreement. “oh, definitely. there was this one night shoot where we were all layered up between takes, but as soon as the cameras started rolling, we had to act like it was summer. my teeth were literally chattering.”

“and the most fun?” the interviewer asks, tilting his head.

“the cast,” you said immediately, glancing at soobin and jaehyun. “we had such a good time together, even during the long hours. there were so many inside jokes and random moments that just made everything easier. it really felt like a family. they’re idiots, but i love them to death.”

“jaehyun, what about you?” the interviewer asked.

he chuckles. “for me, it was watching these two try to improvise during that one diner scene. they were so into it, and the director was loving it, but the rest of us were just trying not to laugh.”

you groan playfully. “don’t remind me! that scene was so… chaotic.”

the interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the three of you. “speaking of scenes, do you have a favorite?”

“hmm,” you say, thinking. “i really loved the quieter moments, like the scene where my character finally opens up to soobin’s. it was just... really emotional and rewarding to film. looking over it really surprised how well acted-out it was.”

“and you two had such great chemistry,” he adds, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “fans are already talking about it. do you think that dynamic came naturally?”

you and soobin exchanged a look, and he smirked. “well, you know, y/n and i are professionals.”

“oh, stop,” you push him lightly, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “soobin’s great to work with, though. he made it really easy.”

“is that why you’re so good at teasing her?” jaehyun chimed in, earning a laugh from the room.

the interviewer leaned forward, suddenly switching gears. “speaking of fans, y/n, people have been buzzing about your recent live stream. you mentioned being a fan of danielle from newjeans, right?”

you felt your cheeks warm, but you nod. “yeah, i’ve been a fan of their music since debut. they’re insanely talented.”

soobin, your wrost enemy, grins. “she left out the part where she called danielle one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen.”

“soobin!” you protest, laughing but clearly embarrassed. “he’s just jealous that i talk to her more than he talks to bebe rexha.” you retort, earning a pout from soobin.

“she’s not wrong,” jaehyun chimes with a teasing smile. “every time her name comes up, y/n turns into a total fangirl.”

“okay, that’s enough,” you said, trying to shut them down but laughing too hard to be serious. “look, danielle is really sweet. we’ve texted a bit, even met in person, and she’s just as nice as she seems.”

the interviewer didn’t miss a beat. “so, what’s it like talking to someone you’ve admired for so long?”

you hesitate for a moment, then smile. “it’s honestly been really cool. she’s interesting and kind and just... really easy to talk to. and yeah, she’s absolutely gorgeous, but that’s probably not news to anyone. she’s everything i ranted about in my infamous livestream…”

the room erupted in laughter, and soobin locked eyes with the camera. “did you hear that, danielle? she thinks you’re gorgeous.”

you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “why did i agree to this interview?”

the interviewer grinned, clearly loving every second. “well, it sounds like you’ve made a great new friend. and who knows? maybe we’ll see her at one of your premieres and not just the celine event someday.”

“maybe,” you said with a shy smile, trying to brush it off. but deep down, the thought made your heart race.

the cast laughs, and so do you. the interviewer continues on, teasing soobin about his bloopers and viral photos. you tease him even more, considering it karma for him doing the same to you. and when you think you can’t laugh anymore, they bring up jaehyun’s old films and roles, embarassing him just a bit as well.

—

the city lights blurred outside your taxi window as you leaned back, phone pressed to your ear. danielle’s soft laugh came through the line, making your stomach flip for reasons you didn’t want to admit.

danielle decided to call you after your interview. when you asked why, she simply responded with a ‘why? do i need a reason to want to talk to you?’ which only made your stomach twist more.

“so,” she began, voice playful, “you survived the interview, huh? did your costars expose your secrets?”

you groaned dramatically. “they did. they kept teasing me about… well, you.” 

“about me?” her tone was teasing, but you could hear the hint of curiousity hidden in it.

“they’re relentless dani,” you mutter, though the smile on your face was obvious in your voice. “next time, i’m dragging them into a live stream and making them go through public humiliation.”

she laughs again, light and airy. you lean against the window and smile harder. “you’re quite dramatic, y/n. maybe they jus like pointing out the obvious~”

“the obvious?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“you know, ho wmuch you like me,” she teased, her words carrying something playful.

“oh shut up,” you groan again, laughing despite yourself. “i’m never live streaming again. you’ve ruined me.”

“you’re the one who brought me up in the first place,” she counters, tone smug. “don’t blame me for how smitten you are.”

“smitten? right…” you shoot back. “someone’s confident.”

“only because you keep giving me reasons to,” she quipped, but there was a slight softness in her voice now, like the banter was more of a cover. 

you’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head, your your smile only widened. you bite your bottom lip, twirling your hair ever so slightly. “but you’re also probably exhausted. you should get some rest.”

“aren’t you exhausted from the interview? i only had practice—you’re telling me to rest?” she teases, though her tone had softened further.

“i’m serious,” you say, voice queter now. “sleep tight, danielle.”

there was a pause on the other end, not awkward but lingering. “you two,” she said eventually, her voice just as soft.

you both stayed on the line a moment longer, neither of you wanting to hang up. finall, you broke the silence. 

“goodnight.”

“goodnight,” she echoed before the call ended, “stay safe.”

leaning your head back, you sigh, letting the giddiness settle in your chest. as the taxi pulled closer to your place, you decided to send her a picture—your post interview outfit, slightly rumpled, hair a bit messy, and a tired peace sign held up for the camera.

a moment later, her response popped up:

danielle:  cute

your heart skipped, and then another text followed.

danielle:  goodnight :-)

you stared at your screen for a long moment, grinning like an idiot, before typing back a quick ‘night.’ you tucked your phone away, feeling like you could float the rest of the way home.

—

“morning?” you respond tiredly, leaning against your counter. “something up?”

he huffs, great. 

“morning? try good afternoon,” your manager’s voice came through, laced with exasperation. “we have a situation.”

you already dreaded whatever was coming next. “are you serious?”

“i don’t know how you do it.”

“what?”

“how have you managed to go viral again? you and soobin this time: dating rumors.” he says. 

“what?” you respond in disbelief, “me and— me and that bitc— me and soobin? there’s absolutely no way.”

“there are pictures from the interview yesterday going viral,” your manager explained. “people are assuming that you and soobin might have something going on.”

mark hears you make a disgusted noise through the phone. “why the hell would they think that?”

“apparently, you two were standing close, there’s one of you leaning on him, and another where you’re laughing while nudging him. they’re harmless, bit fans are running with it. despite your whole danielle thing, fans are running with this. boy and girl, girl and boy—you know the gist, things run around faster and easier.

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “that’s so gross—he’s soobin. he’s like… a brother to me. and i’m a lesbian.”

“i know that, trust me. but the internet doesn’t,” mark says dryly. “just be careful. maybe you two can talk to each other, clear the air?”

“okay, okay. i’ll talk to you later.” you muttered before hanging up.

you check out social media for a bit, looking at the pictures going around and furrow your brows at how platonic they look. a girl can’t lean on her guy friend anymore? okay… right.

immediately, you pull up your contacts, scrolling to soobin’s name.

y/n: we have heterosexual allegations

not even a minute later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. you answered, alreadying rolling your eyes. “soob.”

“we have straight allegations?” he questions, voice filed with disbelief, even despair. “god, no. absolutely not… not you, especially.”

“thanks,” you deadpanned.

“you’re welcome,” he quips, “but seriously, what do we do? should we post something?”

“definitely. let’s make this clear before is spirals. people are already clipping us from other interviews and our scenes.” you say, standing up right. “i’ll post something on my instagram: the pictures we took yesterday. i’ll caption it something normal and you can just reply normally. simple fix, right?”

“perfect,” soobin agrees. “you post it, and i’ll repost. we’ll just step on the fire.”

within minutes, you were typing out the caption, attaching a candid picture from the event of you two laughing together. once the post was live, you refreshed your feed, watching as likes and comments poured in. soobin reposted it immediately with a laughing emoji, and soon enough, the narrative started shifting.

you couldn’t help but smile in relief as you saw comments like: “okay, but their friendship is so cute,” and “best friends of the industry!”

you texted soobin one last time: crisis = over. lunch sometime this week?

his reply was instant: only if you’re paying.

—

danielle scrolled through her phone, her face buried in the pillow as she lay on her stomach. the soft glow of the screen illuminated the quiet room, the only sounds being her occasional sighs and the muffled hum of her members beyond her closed door. 

twitter was like a battlefield, one she didn’t fully understand. the pictures of you and soobin, paired with captions like “new favorite couple?” and “look at their chemistry!” made her chest feel heavy in a way she couldn’t explain.

you’re just friends, she thought to herself. why do i even care?

yet, despite trying to brush it off, her fingers kept scrolling. she stared at the photos for longer than she wanted to admit, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. why did it feel like this? you weren’t hers, you’re your own person.

you two have only gone out together once, spent time with each other maybe twice, and haven’t really indulged in anything deeper. if anything it felt right that you and soobin were a thing, considering the chemistry she noticed in interviews and whatnot. still, she frowned, thinking there was something different between the two of you. especially the way you noticed and looked at her like no one had before.

a knock on the door broke her from her spiraling thoughts. before she could answer, haerin poked her head in.

“danielle? are you okay? you haven’t come out all morning.”

danielle quickly locked her phone, shoving it under her pillow. “i’m fine,” she lied, her voice muffled against the pillow.

haerin frowned, stepping inside and sitting at the edge of the bed. “you don’t seem fine.” she gently tugged at danielle’s arm. “what’s going on?”

danielle groaned but didn’t resist when haerin pulled the pillow away. “it’s stupid,” she muttered.

“stupid or not, you’re clearly upset. tell me,” haerin pressed, her tone soft but firm.

danielle hesitated before finally mumbling, “i saw the rumors about y/n and soobin.”

haerin raised an eyebrow, confused. “okay? why does that bother you?”

“i don’t know!” danielle sat up abruptly, running a hand through her hair. “it shouldn’t. but seeing those pictures… it just… it made me feel weird. i don’t like it, ugh!”

haerin tilted her head, studying danielle carefully. “weird how?”

danielle hugged her knees to her chest, avoiding haerin’s gaze. “like... sad. but that doesn’t make sense, right? i mean, she can date whoever she wants.”

realization dawned on haerin’s face, and she leaned closer. “danielle... do you like y/n?”

danielle froze, her cheeks flushing. “what? no! i mean…” she trailed off, her heart racing. did she?

haerin waited patiently, her expression calm.

“i don’t know,” danielle admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve never felt like this before. and if i do… isn’t it weird? liking a girl? i’ve never done that before, i’ve never really liked anyone period… but if i did i figured it’d be a guy. i mean i kind of always noticed the female celebrities more and— oh my god, am i gay? i like girls… i think i’ve always liked girls. why am i realizing so late—”

haerin’s eyes softened. she reached out, placing a reassuring hand on danielle’s shoulder. “it’s not weird, danielle. it’s normal. liking someone—boy or girl—doesn’t make you any different. it just makes you human. it’s fine, it’s no big deal. like who you like.”

danielle looked at haerin, her eyes wide and uncertain. “but what if it’s not okay? what if i ruin things by feeling this way?”

haerin shook her head. “you’re not ruining anything. feelings can be scary, especially when they’re new. but you don’t have to figure everything out right now. take your time, okay? and no matter what, i’m here for you. i’ve been there, i think there are two others in the dorm that have been too.”

danielle nodded slowly, the weight in her chest lifting slightly. “thanks, haerin. i think… i just need some time to think.”

“of course, i understand,” haerin said with a small smile. “but for now, let’s get you out of bed. you’re not going to figure anything out by hiding under the covers. maybe you’ll think clearly after a bit of breakfast–brunch.”

danielle chuckled softly, letting haerin pull her to her feet. though her heart still felt heavy, haerin’s words gave her a small sense of comfort. maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

 —

“no way am i spending that much on something i’ll only wear once,” he said, putting a jacket back on the rack.

you two were in some pop-up store downtown, meandering through racks of high-end clothing. the smell of fresh leather and faint hints of something floral lingered in the air. music hummed in the air, some type of house playlist. 

“you could always expensive it as a ‘costume piece’ for another project.” you laugh, fingers brushing idly against the fabric of a blazer nearby.

“if only it worked like that,” he snorted, glancing at you. “speaking of work, when’s the next press event? aren’t we supposed to fly out soon? there’s too much on my plate… but it’s worse for jaehyun.”

“next week,” you replied absentmindedly, your attention more on your phone than the clothes. the screen buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down immediately, eyes scanning the notification. it wasn’t from danielle. you frowned slightly and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

“that’s the third time you’ve done that in five minutes,” soobin noted, a small grin on his lips. “let me guess—waiting for a certain someone to text? a certain singer~?”

your ears burned. “what? no. i’m just—i don’t know, checking stuff. my um,” you cough, “my mom…”

“checking stuff…” he repeated, his smirk growing. “you are not slick. it’s danielle, isn’t it? waiting for her?”

he laughs when you roll your eyes at him, then raises a brow when you don’t deny it.

“you’re so obvious.” he teases, nuding your shoulder. “it’s cute though. fangirl crush to… whatever this is—’text flirtation’?”

“oh my god, you don’t shut up do you?” you say, though the corner of your mouth twitches into a smile. before you could retort further, your phone buzzed again—when you check it this time, danielle’s name lit up on the screen. without hesitation, you step away and hold up a hand to soobin.

“hold that thought,” you say, walking a few feet away for some privacy.

“hey,” you greet, trying to keep your voice casual, though you couldn’t stop the slight hint of excitement.

“hi,” her voice is soft through the phone, and you could hear the faint sound of city traffic in the background. “are you busy?”

“no, not at all,” you assure her. “i’m shopping with soobin. what’s up?”

there was a brief pause on her end before she says, “i was wondering if you’d want to go on a walk tonight? it’s been a long day, and i though it’d be nice to… you know, just talk. ah! i hope you don’t mind… i just… missed you. i know we’ve hangout only a few times, but i really like your energy! oh god, i’m rambling aren’t i—”

“i’d love that.” you smile into the phone, balancing your weight on one foot then the other. “that’s perfect, yeah of course. don’t worry about rambling… don’t ever.”

“okay,” her tone lighter now. “well, i have a shoot. i’ll text you more details, okay?”

“perfect. i’ll see you.” you say, feeling a little giddy as you hang up. 

when you walked back over to soobin, he was leaning against a rack of coats, eyebrows raised knowingly. 

“someone looks happy,” he teases, “let me guess—date?”

“not a date,” you correct him, though the hear rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “just a walk, you know.”

“that’s gay.” he mutters, earning a shove. he smirks at you, then adds, “well whatever helps you sleep at night—even if that’s a ‘walk.’”

you shoved his shoulder again, but the smile lingered on your face. even as you tried to focus on the clothes in front of you, your thoughts were already elsewhere counting down the hours until tonight.

—

the riverside was serene, the water reflecting the city lights in the rippled patterns. the air was crisp but not biting, just how you like it. you spot danielle standing by the railing, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed out over the water. her hair caught the light, framing her face in soft waves—her natural hair always left you in awe—and for a moment, you just stood there taking in the sight.

“hey,” you call, breaking her reverie.

she turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “you made it! hi.”

“of course. why would i miss it?” you say, stepping closer until you were side by side.

the two of you started walking, the rhythm of your steps syncing naturally. conversation came easily, as it always did with her. danielle talked about her schedule, how she’d been trying to find a balance between work and rest. you shared bits about your own projects, the highs and lows of the past week and even something you might audition for.

“it’s a lot sometimes,” she admits, glancing at you. “but i guess it’s just part of it, you know? the good things outweigh whatever is bad.”

you nod. “for sure. but it’s okay to feel overwhelmed too. you’re doing amazing, though. seriously.”

she looks down, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “thanks. that means a lot.”

as the conversation flowed further, the distance between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed with each step. the contact was subtle, but it was the only thing you could think about. you were hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. danielle didn’t pull away, and neither did you.

a light breeze swept by, and you noticed her ears twitch. without thinking, you pulled your beanie off and held it out to her. 

“here,” you say, “it’s not much, but i think it’ll help.”

“oh, no, it’s okay,” she starts, but you were already placing it gently over her head, adjusting it so it fit snugly.

“looks good on you,” you admit, stepping back to admire her. “actually, you look better in it than i do. i might have to let you keep it.” 

she laughs softly, her cheeks pink from more than just the cold. “you’re just saying that.”

“i’m not,” you reply, voice light but sincere. “trust me.”

she looks at you for a moment, her eyes warm and searching before breaking into a smile. “thanks.”

you resumed walking, the easy conversation picking up again, but the air between you felt different now—warmer, closer. 

as the night wore on, the city seemed to fade away, which left the two of you. your steps were in rhythm and your hearts quietly beat at the same time, to another rhythm that neither of you wanted to name.

the sound of leaves rustling fills the spaces between your conversation as you and danielle continued to walk along the riverside. the path was lit by lampposts, casting a soft light that made everything seem dreamlike. danielle, however, seemed distracted, her steps just a fraction slower than before.

“soooo,” she begins, voice tentative. “i saw something earlier.” 

you turned your head to look at her, curious. “yeah? what was it?”

“pictures of you and soobin had been going around on twitter,” she says, glancing sideways at you. “people were… assuming things.”

it took you a second to realize what she meant, but when you did, you let out a short laugh. “oh, that. again?”

she nods. her expression remained the same as normal, but her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. “yeah. you two seem close.”

“we’re realy close.” you say easily, not noticing the slight edge of hesitation in her tone. “but not like that. soobin’s like… my brother? maybe a favorite cousin. it’s very platonic.”

her eyes darted up to meet yours, flickering with something unreadable. “oh,” she says softly, her voice a little brighter. “i guess that makes sense.”

you tilt your head, catching the faint shift in her demeanor. “besides,” you added, a small smirk tugging at your lips, “i’m one hundred percent gay. women only.”

danielle’s steps faltered for a brief moment again, and you noticed the way her cheeks flushed under the streetlights. she recovered quickly though, and let out a small laugh. “oh. that’s good to know.”

“yeah,” you nod and shove your hands into your pockets. “soobin’s great, but absolutely not my type. not even close.” 

danielle chuckles, her gaze fixed ahead now. “when did you figure that out? you know, about being gay?”

you thought for a moment, the question catching you a little off guard but not unwelcome. “probably when i was in high school,” you admitted. “i mean, i always kind of knew, but it really hit me when i found myself completely zoning out over this one girl in my art class. she was kind of like you, pretty and nice and sweet and—” you stopped yourself, “yeah…”

danielle smiels, her curiosity evident now. “was it hard? like, coming to terms with it?”

“it had its moments,” you say honestly. “i was scared at first, like, what people would think or how my family would react. but once i told myself it was okay to just... be myself, it got easier. and i’ve been lucky—my friends and family have been super supportive. it’s normal anyway… being infatuated, finding girls attractive, and,” you look at her a little closer now, “having crushes on girls.”

danielle nods, her gaze lingering on you a beat too long before she looks away. there was something… softer in her expression now, a quiet kind of admiration mixed with something else. you noticed the shift but didn’t comment, not wanting to break the moment.

“that’s nice,” she says finally, her voice quieter than before. “i think it’s brave.”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but the sincerity in her tone made your chest tighten. “just being honest, i guess.”

the conversation pauses, but the air between you felt warmer now, more intimate. danielle’s eyes flicker to you again, her expression thoughtful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking closer—not just in steps, but in something unspoken between you two.

“why do you ask, anyway?” you question.

“ah, well—” she completely short circuits, trying to find the right words. “there’s, well, i think i um, i like someone. i don’t know, well, i do.”

you raise a brow, looking at her confusingly.

and then it hits.

she’s avoiding your gaze, fidgeting with her fingers, and the blush on her cheeks is apparent. it’s all apparent: she’s asking you about liking girls, calling you when she can, texting you, complimenting you—it all makes sense now, everything leading up to it. and you’ve been dropping hints too, but you never noticed hers.

“and what’s this girl like? is she nice?”

“ah– well, it’s— i don’t know. she’s really sweet, but anyway,” she tries to shift the conversation, but you butt in.

“i’ve been kind of into this girl actually.” you admit, kicking a rock on the ground nervously. 

“really?”

you hum.

“what is she like?” danielle asks, glancing at you shyly now.

“well,” you start, sucking in the courage to continue on. “she’s really pretty, and i managed to get closer with her in just two months. i always had a little friend crush on her, but even so i always thought she was gorgeous.”

“is that so?” danielle’s cheeks flush a bit as the realization starts to hit. “what else?”

“well, the more we got to know each other the more i found myself thinking of her late at night. she’s easy to talk to and i really like that about her. i’m pretty into her, and i think a lot of people know it despite how much i try to deny it.” you shrug, looking at the ground. “um, w-what is your girl like? the girl you like.”

there’s a smile on her face, one that would be impossible to wipe off.

“she’s… she’s really cute.” danielle says bashfully. “she’s kind, funny, caring, and i kind of grew to like everything about her. i can’t stop thinking about her and talking about her to my members, and when she posts or something about her goes viral i can’t help but go a little crazy. she accidentally revealed her crush on me to a lot of people and i couldn’t believe it, even now i’m unsure…”

“well i think she likes you a lot.”

“do you?”

“mhm.” you stop in your tracks, watching danielle take a few steps before stopping. you two stare at each other for a bit, struggling to maintain eye contact. “i think she’s been trying to ignore the fact that she’s in love with you, but can’t because you’re impossibly easy to fall in love with.”

danielle blushes, stepping closer and pushing your shoulder as she tries to compose herself.

“okay,” she mutters quietly, looking down at the ground. “do you think she could close her eyes?”

“maybe.” you nervously say as you close your eyes, huffing shakily. 

danielle stares at you, features a little tense—really all of you is tense—before leaning up a bit and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

she pulls away, blushing furiously. 

you open your eyes, blinking twice to make sure none of it is a dream. danielle stands in front of you, biting down on her teeth to try to keep herself from going insane. she looks away, scared and flustered all at the same time.

“do you think she… do you think she liked that?”

you nod, “yeah, but she thinks you missed.”

“what—”

you cut her off, tilting her chin up and pressing a quick peck to her lips. 

danielle gasps, then looks at you with widened eyes. seconds later she leans forward, meeting you in a longer kiss. 

she melts a bit, your bottom lip trapped between hers as she slides her hand over to your neck. and when she pulls away, she hides her face near your ear. 

“did she, did she think that was okay? i’ve never um, kissed a girl before—i haven’t kissed anyone before.”

“i think she wants to kiss you again.”

danielle laughs, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks with her hand. it’s small and soft and warm all at the same time against your burning skin. you smile as she brushes her thumb over, nodding.

“i think i want to kiss her again too.”

[beautifullilacsky]

"Will you overthinking this?" He asked as we were walking hand in hand in the park.

Me, fully aware I have already started overthinking the moment he mentioned that her friend broke off her relationship: "....... juuup"

"What are you overthinking about? Lets discuss it together, let me help"... I explained how, maybe, now that she is single, she might try to get over a guy by getting under another one. Or maybe, since you guys tall about problems and are pretty close, she turns to flirting now that she is single. "Okay and? Why would I get into that while I have my girlfriend at home? I would say no thank you. Also, I don't think she is the person to do that. I have met her before she was in a relationship, and she also wasn't like this then". Okay, well, .. maybe she will have heard bad things about me and will not like me or she will think I am not good enough for you, or too much, and tell you to break up with me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with you, not with her, but ja, well... He put his arms around me and stopped us from walking on, hugging me from behind. "Sometimes I forget how insecure you can be. Do you really think I'll just break up with you because someone tells me to? And besides, I think you should meet her. She is really kind and everytime I mentioned something, she was always more on the reassuring side." Well, I also thought your other friend was kind.. "..... true. ..... I don't have an argument against that."

"So... if she were to still be in a relationship, would it be okay? .. meh, I feel like that's a bad excuse. "Yeah she is in a relationship anyway" , as if that changes anything. Doesn't that sound like a bad thing to you?" Hmm. Well. Honestly, I felt better when she was in a relationship, assuming it wasn't an u know who typa relationship. It's always a 2 people's decision. And that way, I am at least sure that one side is on the no side (as I said it out loud, I realized how fuckedup it sounded.) "Shouldn't you trust me to already be on the no side?" .... I should, yes. I just don't know what to make of the fact that you told me that you can't promise me that it won't happen again. "That was a year ago" .... "back then I wasn't super sure, and before that I was def not sure. Also, I did not want to force you to trust me (def different exact words from his, buthey, u get the point.). It's been a year." Would you get back to it and say something different now then? "Yes. I am sure that it will never happen again".

And there it was. I know he is a firm believer in actions over words, but sometimes I need words to be sure. He told me that he tells me the truth, and I know he does. Thus, if he tells me, I believe him. So. Maybe this is what I needed to truly get to trusting him again. His word. It's not a signed contract, I know. I can't sue him if his words turn out to be false. Though, I needed this. I needed his faith in himself to make sure it won't happen again. Fuck damn hey. I needed him to believe in himself. If he doesn't believe he will stop it the next time, who am I to believe so? Well well well. Before he left, if our roommate wasn't sitting right next to me, I would've said after he asked me if I'm still okay (for like, the 3th time): "if you say it won't happen again, I trust you." Fuck. And I'd mean it. I feel like I have entered a new reality. One in which it is safe for me to have faith in him. In which, sure, maybe a girl will flirt with him, but I can laugh about it. I can be proud to be with that hotstuff that she can't help but talk to. I can make jokes about it and raise my eyebrows up and down. I can do it all, and enjoy the situation, knowing. Truly knowing. That it doesn't matter at all if the other party is on the "yes-boat". He isn't, and he won't get onto it either. Even if a chance presents itself, he won't even see it as one. He has the set in stone plan to come back home to me. Even if she would get him drunk and touch him all over, ... he will say no. Even if it scares me more with booze, he is still himself. He doesn't get into a crazy trans and turns into a different person with different values. He is still the same person who held my hand as we walked in the autumn colored park, and said that it would never happen again.

It feels like something in me has been freed. As if trust was a fluffy creature within me, which was tied down. His words freed it. It still can't believe that the tiny trust guy is free. That it's safe to stand up now and run and smile and truly trust. It's astonished, grasping for those words that set it free. Wanting to hold them and craving for them to invade its veins with its lightning energy and brightness. May it no longer feel the need to stay on the ground; the ties have been undone. Fuck.

[2amriize]

.ᐟ friend!RIIZE flirting with you ༉‧₊˚.

req: I js discovered your blog and im obssesedddd😭 could you do riize as friends flirting with you on party and being very bold? thank youuu

pairing: friend!riize x reader —masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

Your group of friends had decided to throw a party to celebrate the end of your first year at university. The party was pretty crowded, and although you didn’t usually enjoy these events, you were having a good time. At one point, Shotaro, one of your closest friends, came over to talk to you, and the two of you spent a long time chatting while sipping your drinks. You weren’t sure if it was because the music was so loud or because Shotaro had had a bit too much to drink, but he kept moving closer to you, leaning in to your ear every time he wanted to say something. You didn’t expect him to place his hand on your hip and whisper:

"You look too good tonight, and you smell amazing... Should we find somewhere more private?"

.ᐟ eunseok

Since you arrived at the party, you’d been hanging out with your friend, dancing and having some drinks. The moment you noticed Eunseok watching you, you couldn’t stop wondering why he was staring. When your friend stepped away, Eunseok wasted no time approaching you to start a conversation, offering you a drink while his eyes swept up and down your figure. After a few seconds of silence, he brought his hand near his lips and said:

"Wow... I've been waiting all night to come up to you, and I don’t know if I can wait any longer to get even closer."

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

One of your friends suggested playing truth or dare during a small party your group had planned. After some time drinking, you all decided to make things more exciting with the game. The questions and dares grew increasingly bold, which made the situation even more interesting. You didn’t expect that one of the dares would result in you spending five minutes alone in a closet with Sungchan. It felt strange being so close to him, and you couldn’t help but notice how he was looking down at you.

"People will probably think we’re doing something in here..."

"I mean... I wouldn’t mind giving them something to talk about if it’s with you."

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

Although you’d known Wonbin for years and were part of the same friend group, the two of you had never really talked alone, so you didn’t know much about him. One night, your group decided to go to a nightclub together. You spent a long time dancing and drinking with your friends, but gradually, they began pairing off with others or heading off with their significant others. At one point, you stepped outside for some fresh air and ran into Wonbin. You ended up talking for a while about how it seemed like everyone had someone except for the two of you. After a moment of silence, he surprised you by saying:

"If we were together, everyone would be jealous of us... Don’t you think? I think we’d make a great couple."

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

You weren’t a big fan of parties, but Seunghan had spent weeks convincing you to attend one that a classmate was hosting, so you finally agreed. You didn’t plan to stay long, but at least you could keep Seunghan company for a while. When you arrived, you went over to him, and he offered you a drink. The two of you ended up talking for a long time. You were good friends and got along really well, but something about the way he was looking at you that night felt different. Every chance he got, he’d touch your cheek or your shoulder. When Seunghan stepped away to grab some snacks, a guy approached you to ask for your number. As soon as Seunghan returned and saw what was happening, he placed his hand on your arm and said:

"Hey, back off. I saw her first, she’s mine."

⭑.ᐟ sohee

It always surprised you how much Sohee’s personality changed after a few drinks. You were at a party he’d organized at his house, and although he was usually calm and adorable, just one drink made him outgoing and energetic, chatting with everyone. But for some reason, Sohee had stuck by your side all night. At one point, you stepped out into his garden to get some fresh air, and the two of you sat on the grass. After a few seconds, you noticed Sohee was staring at you.

"Mgh? Is something wrong Sohee?"

"I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or you, but my heart’s been pounding all night when I’m around you. I can’t stop looking at you, y/n."

⭑.ᐟ anton

Your friends had decided to celebrate the end of exams with a night out at a nightclub. You were with a big group, and you’d spent hours dancing and drinking with your friends. At one point, when you went to the bar for a drink, you ran into Anton, one of your friends. You chatted for a few moments while waiting for your drinks. Once they arrived, you turned to leave, but you felt Anton grab your hand. Confused, you turned back to face him. Pulling you closer and placing his hand on your arm, he leaned in and whispered:

"I’ve been watching you all night, y/n, and I need to know if I have a chance with you or if I should just pretend I’m not obsessed with you."

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter eleven

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. CONSULT AO3 FOR FULL TAGGED CONTENT WARNINGS

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Your mom used to tell you that love was a choice that she made every day. She woke up and chose to love your father, chose to put in the effort that a relationship needed, chose to stay by his side through the good and the bad. It was a point of pride to endure at all, a smile slapped on her face. She told you that until he left one night, bags in hand and another woman’s name on his lips. 

After that, love was no longer a choice. It was nights of tears and screaming matches, begging and pleading, obligatory phone calls and visitations out of state. Love was no longer a choice, but a shackle, something that you say at the end of a conversation because you must. Love is a pain you bear because you are human, and someone must hold these feelings you have.

Your mother still wants your father to call her. 

You wait for Touya to come home.

It haunts you all morning, as you twiddle away time before the convention floor opens again. You end up calling your boss with an update, only to chat with him over coffee. His niece is over again - she screams hi into the receiver- and his sister says hello as well. You try to end the call there, but he stays on, asking questions about who you’ve seen and how they've been. The conversation drags, but neither of you seem to mind.

“You aren’t watching Shouta.” It’s an observation, posed as a question. He’s speaking better today- you aren’t sure why. Death ebbs and flows.

“He asked me not to.” The truth feels right at this moment. It doesn’t betray anything changing between you two; Toshinori is probably aware of the tense air between you too. Now, it’s just tense in a different way, a way that makes your toes curl to think about.

“Don’t take it personally,” he says, “Shouta is a very private man.”

More so than you know, Yagi, you think. Aizawa is very different behind closed doors, behind that wall he’s so carefully crafted. You fear you’ve only cracked one layer of him only to uncover a different veneer.

At the end of the call with Toshinori, you let slip a little “Love you.” and he laughs, surprisingly boisterous for his frail lungs. 

“I didn’t mean it,” you try to say.

“It’s okay,” he says once he catches his breath. “I understand.”

 You don’t.

The rest of the morning is spent in your room, pouring over your emails. Technically, the company is on crunch time; your newer model hits the market within two months and panic has set across the office. Everything is ready, technically, but also nothing is; every day is a new little fire, begging to be put out. Being away on a friday was actually a gift, you realize now that you’re scrolling through what you’ve missed. Your inbox is filled with random issues and scheduled meetings for the upcoming weeks. Your DMs are alight with notifications too-- these, less urgent. 

Izuku Midoriya -> are you alive? or did Mr. Aizawa murder you?

Oh, if only he knew how quickly things change.

we're both alive and well somehow <-

Another message comes through, this one in a different tab.

Hizashi Yamada -> I see you online!

Trying to sneak some work in before I get out of bed. <-

Hizashi Yamada -> Send me your room number.

He arrives in less than five minutes. As usual, Hizashi is put together in a respectfully ostentatious way. His all black outfit might be velvet because of how it eats the light, equally matte and shiny all at once. It’s the type of clothing you wish you could pull off-- or afford --but he wears it so easily, with a confidence you could never have. No, you could never so gracefully enter a room and throw off a jacket like some supermodel.

“How was the presentation?” he asks as he flops into bed beside you. It's a different feeling than being next to Aizawa; he’s perched like a girl gossiping during a slumber party, hair tosselled on your silk pillow. You close your laptop and carefully place it aside. There’s no way you’ll be working with Hizashi around.  That was probably his plan all along.

“I didn’t go-- you didn’t go either?” You playfully shove him.  “You're a bad friend!”

“I woke up late.” He shrugs, feigning sympathy with a content smirk. “And had other things to do this morning, if you catch my drift.”

He throws in an unnecessary wink. Your cringe is a reflex- you don’t really mind hearing about Hizashi’s conquests, but it does make you think about last night again. All you did was kiss, but your skin prickles as if you did more, as if you want more. 

And maybe you do. You’ve been tossing the idea around all morning, trying to figure out exactly what you want, not only from the man, but from yourself, but every time you think about it too hard, the image of Touya flashes in your mind, and your thoughts are tumbling once again.

You think of your mother. It used to be your worst fear to become her, but each day that passes, you see more of her in your eyes, in the thinness in  your skin.

“You okay, babygirl?”

He points directly at the space between your eyes, where you’ll one day have the same worried creases your mother has.. “You’ve got a face on your face.”

You try to wipe away whatever he’s seeing, but it clearly doesn’t work. Hizashi looks at you harder, expression especially soft. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m just-” you shrug. Is there a word for what you're feeling? Ennui? Horror? Somewhere in between? “Shaking off a weird feeling.”

“Weird feeling-” Hizashi throws you a wink. “I think we call it a hangover.”

“I’m not hungover--”

Before you can protest, your friend gasps, so violently that you nearly jump out of your skin. He backs up, hand over his heart and jaw dropped to the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my goooooooodddd.”

“What? What? Am I dying?”

“Your neck!” Now he points to you with a fully straight arm, like he’s accusing you of being a witch. You slap a hand over the spot instinctively. “Hello, that’s a hickey!”

Oh. Oh no. You had been too distracted this morning to notice, but apparently Aizawa’s lips have left a mark on you. Heat flushes across your face; a hickey? Who do you think you are? Kaminari? You’ve had a secret for less than 24 hours and it’s already threatening to come out.

“You got laid last night? With who? Where? When? Tell me everything!” Hizashi pushes down in the mattress to bounce himself, jimmying you up and down in the process.

“Well, uh--” You can’t even begin to make something up. The irrational fears start to take over- what if he figures out exactly who’s mouth left that mark? Hizashi’s a whore-- he might know some sort of mouth forensics or something! Or, you don’t know, maybe you still smell like Aizawa, even 

“You dirty dog, is that why you didn’t see Aizawa’s thing?” Your stomach somehow sinks lower. “Because you and Tensei fucked?”

Tensei?

“Tensei?”

“Oh my god, you totally did. You’re all flustered!”

You had completely forgotten the man even existed. Beautiful Tensei Iida, the ‘sexy’ doctor Hizashi wanted you to have… it’s funny how things never work out the way you think they will.

“It wasn’t Tensei!” You scooch away. “And it’s not a hickey!” 

Hizashi sees through that lie. He crawls on his hands and knees after you. “You gotta tell me, please-”

Crap. He’s not going to let this go. Sex and all that comes with it is Hizashi’s catnip; once he’s gotten a taste of it, he’s deranged. 

Telling the truth certainly isn’t an option. You and Aizawa? The absolute nuclear fallout that would hit the office if that came out would be catastrophic. Hizashi can’t keep his mouth shut, so even hinting at what happened last night could be the end of whatever weird thing you and Shouta have, killing it before you can even name what it is. 

And being so close to launch? It could potentially hinder Aizawa’s image--

And your and Touya’s relationship.

“It was someone I met at the restaurant after you left-” Not completely a lie. “We just-- kissed, I guess. I didn’t want to, you know, do more.”

Hizashi kicks his feet in excitement. His shoes are on your bed- gross.

“Good for you, setting boundaries!” he says. “That’s growth!”

He goofs around for just a moment longer before settling.

“Why do you look so sad about it?” He’s quick to say.  “Did they do something?”

“No! No, it was nice, but-” you start. The truth feels heavy, yet silly at the same time. You know the reaction you’re about it get, and yet you say it anyway-  “I don't know, I started to think about Touya this morning and-”

Hizashi’s face falls so hard that you swear you can hear it. His hatred of Touya has never been a secret, but before Touya made his disappearing act, he at least kept his comments to a minimum. With no Touya, there’s no limit to Hizashi’s public loathing.

“I love you. So much.” He takes your hand in his. He’s still on his knees, hunched over you awkwardly, those damn shoes still on the bed. “But thought you were over this shitbag.”

You want to protest. He’s not a shitbag, he’s just having a hard time. He’s not a bad guy, the drugs just make him that way. He’s a good boy underneath all of the troubles, you know it’s true.

But you’ve run out of excuses years ago. All you can say is the truth: “I think I still love him.” 

Compassion contorts your friend’s face. “Oh, girl. Girl. You don’t.”

“Hizashi-” You try to slide away, but he doesn’t let you. 

“He treated you like garbage for years. Years!” The blonde squeezes your hand. “And he wasn’t loyal, he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t kind or sober or-” 

“It's not like he abused me or something.” You say it so quickly that it feels tinny on your lips. Both of you go quiet for a second and Hizashi throws his hands up in surrender. He ducks his head low, not in defeat, but in a humble act, like a dog that’s pushed it’s boundaries a bit too far.  With a sigh, he sits back on his knees, allowing there to be space between you.

“I didn't say that,” he says carefully.  “It doesn't have to be abuse, that doesn't mean it's healthy.”  

There’s a hesitation, then he reaches out his hand again. You don’t take it, but he keeps it there, in the air, waiting for you.

“I just care about you. I know ‘muri and I get a bit too pushy and wild sometimes, but it’s because we want you to have fun for once. We-- we want you to be with someone that makes you feel good-- who thinks you’re the best thing in the world,” Hizashi says. “We want you to get what you deserve and Touya isn’t that.”

A different type of warm runs over you- a watery one, one that stings at your eyes. You aren’t sure where the well of emotion has come from, but it’s there, bubbling just under the surface. You try to sniffle without giving yourself away. 

“Would it be so bad to let yourself move on and try something new?” Hizashi smiles.  “Let yourself have a little fun for once?”

Reluctantly, you take his hand. He squeezes and coos, pulling your hand into an awkward faux-hug, right about his heart.

 “Let yourself have fun, let yourself live.”

“I’m gonna try to try.”

--

The convention itself goes smoothly. More people ask about Yagi, but the word seems to be spreading: he’s not here. He’ll never be here. The air is bittersweet, but Hizashi always recovers it for you. He keeps the conversation flowing back to work and the bed, with much more ease than you’ll ever have.

The only time you see Aizawa  is when he’s in your periphery. He’s in the corner, caught in some conversation with people whose names you’ve already forgotten. Tensei’s by his side, basking in the probable praise, while Aizawa just nods along. The presentation must have gone well, you gather from the attention they’re both getting. That’s both good and bad; the work deserves credit, but Aizawa…

What a heavy secret to carry. What a prominent shame. He didn’t want you to see, but he was okay with all of these strangers ogling him like a science experiment. 

Does that make you more important than those strangers? Or less?

You try to look for an opening to leave, but one never seems to come.

Only once do you catch him staring back at you, his expression too far away to be read. The thump of your heart steps out of rhythm for a moment before you get yourself together.

“I see you eyeing up Tensei,” Hizashi teases. “Are you sure he isn’t your mystery man?”

You deny it, but Hizashi is unconvinced.

----

The three of you finally reunite over dinner. This time, Hizashi swears he will stay the whole time.

This time, you don’t want him to.

You’ve settled into a different booth than you were in last night. Again, the chip basket is empty before Aizawa can arrive. He’s always running late for these things, either through lack of effort or lack or lack of time management. If he didn’t have a presentation tomorrow, you’d be annoyed, but you decide to give the man a break.

Though, you do wonder if you’ll be allowed to see this one. You’ll have to go, right? It’s about your company.

“I still can’t believe you managed to pick up Tensei with Aizawa right there.”  Hizashi leans back into the booth.

“It wasn’t Tensei,” you insist. “And he was distracted.”

“By what?”

You aren’t a quick liar. 

“Some girl.” Or a good one. “They went off together.”

You know you’ve fucked up by the look on Hizashi’s face. He sits up, staring at you from over his glasses with a slack jawed amazement.

“You're lying.” He sits up even more. “You're lying straight to my face right now.”

Fear thrums you so hard that your stomach almost revolts on impact. 

“I’ve never seen Shouta pick up a stranger, ever.” Hizashi throws his hands up in the air for effect. “Never, ever. Not even in college! ”

Looking back, you should have said he was struck by lightning. That would have been more believable. From what you remember, Aizawa doesn’t date very often - or at all. You can’t remember if he’s ever brought someone to a work event or even mentioned a partner.  (Which makes you feel equally bad and… special. Are you an exception to his rule? Are you different? 

…Or, more likely, he’s just a private guy. But you can pretend.)

“Well, uh, I dunno what to say.” You still haven’t come up with a better lie. “Ask him yourself.”

“I will!”

Good. That gives you time to text Shouta and warn him about that shit storm he’s about to enter. The two of you can come up with a lie that makes sense and won’t send Hizashi screaming. Suddenly, you’re grateful that Aizawa can’t show up on time for-

“Again with the chips?”

Fuck!!

As if summoned, Aizawa is behind you, shrugging off his jacket. He’s in the same suit as he was earlier, but a lot more disheveled after making it through the day. The social interaction really took it out of him; no wonder he’s so quiet at the office. You pat the seat next to you and he practically slumps into it.

“Please tell me you aren’t escaping again tonight,” he says to Hizashi.

“Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere, trust me.” That smile sets the whole table on guard. “I have too many questions.”

“If you had questions, you should have shown up to the talk,” Aizawa says. “Which went well, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to ask, asshole.”

“Should have been the first words out of your mouth.”

“Well, sorry, Mr. Sensitive. I didn’t think I needed to stroke your ego today! Should I start singing your praises now, or after we verbally jack you off for a bit?”

“We are in public, Mic, stop talking about jacking off.”

“How was your presentation, oh smart one?”

“It was--”  Aizawa stops himself mid sentence, brow furrowed as he turns directly towards you. “You’re being quiet.”

“Me?” you point to yourself as if you don’t know the answer. The accusation makes your heart race- or maybe it’s those sharp eyes, boring down into you. 

“Why are you being quiet?” he says with an accusatory glare. “What did you do?”

Hizashi erupts into a giggle and the attention is finally turned away from you. 

“I heard that you went home with someone-”

Aizawa’s gaze snaps to you.  It takes effort to press your lips down and keep a neutral expression; anxiety is trilling inside you, high and frail and wild, like a little flute in a marching band finale. The man tilts his head just a bit, eyes sharp and questioning, clearly trying to interrogate you while completely silent.

“Where did you hear that, Yamada?” Aizawa’s tone isn’t flat now. No, it’s pressed, stressed; he thinks you’ve told him everything. You try to gesture with just your eyes -- three normal blinks and wide eyes, like a makeshift morse code. This obviously fails.

“Little miss girl here-” Hizashi waggles his eyebrows and Aizawa’s pupils dilate with fear-  “told you you went home with a stranger from the restaurant.” 

Realization hits Aizawa’s expression, then, relaxation. His whole body turns to you with a belabored sigh. “You little snitch.”  

The smile you’ve been trying to fight erupts across your face.  You burst into a nervous giggle, one that you have to silence with your own hand. This is a dangerous line you’re walking; Hizashi isn’t a stupid guy- he’s going to figure out something’s wrong if either of you slip up.

“It’s true?” Hizashi gasps. “What? You? You?”

“Is it really so weird that I had sex with someone?” Aizawa says.  “You do it all the time.”

“You aren’t a hook up guy!” Hizashi peers from over his glasses.  “You’re a ‘third date and a bottle of wine’ guy!”

“When have I ever had a bottle of wine?”

“Okay, ‘third date and an air of desperation.’ How's that?”

Aizawa  wrinkles his nose and bares his teeth, barking out a canned laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Fuck off.” 

The shorter man sits back in his seat and uses his drink to gesture to you. “Why don’t you harass Miss Hickey over there instead?”

The attention shifts to you for only a moment before Hizashi waves you away with the back of his hand. He shifts forward on to his elbows, directly towards his friend..“She just made out with a guy, I don’t care about that-”

“-Hey!” you object. As if Aizawa isn’t the reason you’re bruised in the first place! The dark haired man is purposefully looking down his nose at you, expression taut. 

“Sorry, but I need every nitty gritty detail of Shouta’s night ASAP. “ Hizashi grinds you back on track.

The two of them have been friends since college, you remember. You’d never really been able to see the connection before; they’re both so different that they almost seem like they’d never mesh, but today they are huddled together like boys, mirroring each other’s movements. You wonder if there were lots of nights like these, gossiping over girls and wild nights.

Did Hizashi know him before the car accident?

“I’ll tell you later, Mic,” Aizawa says.  “After she’s gone.”

It’d be best to stay quiet, but you can’t bring yourself to be purposefully excluded.

“You don’t want to get dirty in front of me, huh?” you tease. Besides, you’d like to see what he comes up with. “I can handle it.”

He doesn’t take the bait. “I’m not a sharer.”

You turn away with a little shrug. “Hm.”

Aizawa almost doesn’t respond. The gears turn behind his eyes, slowly grinding away at his patience until he grits out a little: “What?” 

His knee bumps into yours under the table. It’s fleeting, but there. 

“I was just thinking-” you start. “Maybe you’re a bit of a coward.”

“Coward?” he replies.

“Afraid to gossip-” 

It’s Aizawa’s turn to huff. “Gentlemen don’t gossip.”

“Since when are you a gentleman?” Hizashi barks out a laugh.

With another exhale, Aizawa closes his eyes. A moment, then another passes, before he opens them again, one brow raised. It’s the same expression a teacher would give to the class after too much clownery. No wonder the interns are terrified of the man, you’d be scared too if you weren’t so excited to see where this is going. 

“You really want me to tell you what I did last night?” He’s deadpan. “Really?”

Both of you nod. 

“Fine.” He throws his hands up in defeat.  “I met this woman at the bar. Bought her a cocktail-”

“What kind of cocktail?” you interject.

“What?” Aizawa stares at you, lip curled in frustration. You’re making lying harder and you know that, but excitement is driving you forward. The risk doesn’t outweigh the reward quite yet. “I don’t know- something sweet.”

“Hm.”

“Margarita. The spicy kind. She tasted like it all night.”

Aizawa is alarmingly good at lying. He does it with a straight face, minus the telltale curl of his lip, but Hizashi doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy sitting on the edge of his seat. You’re still trying to reconcile all of the versions of him inside your head: the work version, the ‘lover’ you met, and this lackadaisical liar. 

“Keep going.” Hizashi urges.

“Then we went back to her room. Didn’t even make it to the bed.”

The way he lays down each word is slow, meticulous, purposeful; the narrative he builds is crafted especially for you, but you aren’t quite sure of his goal. 

“ Is that enough detail?”

“Boo-” Hizashi’s fanning the flame now too. “Not the fade to black storytelling!”

Aizawa ducks in close, resting on his forearms as he talks. His gaze flicks between you and Hizashi, but lingers much longer on you, flickering down to your lips every now and again. His timbre drops lower, gritty, rolling as he whispers. 

“We went back to her room-”

You’re watching his mouth a bit too intensely. 

“- I got on my hands and knees-”

He enunciates it slowly, so neither of you miss a moment. A shiver goes up your spine. There’s a weight to his breath, a genuine enjoyment. Would he get on his knees for you?

“And I  begged to eat her out.” 

He’s proud of it. Oh, he would get down for you. He’d plead for the privilege. His leg brushes against yours again, this time with pressure and purpose, and your skin crawls with excitement. It’s just a story. You know it’s not true. 

But the glint in his eye says that he wishes it wasn’t.

“And?” your voice shakes a bit. That’s his goal, isn’t it? To get you riled up? To make you regret forcing him into this situation?

Aizawa rubs the spot where his jaw connects with a slow, purposeful circle, like he’s trying to rub out a kinked muscle. It’s borderline boastful. “And that’s how I spent the night.”

Hizashi tips his head back and laughs so loudly that the table next to you stares. “Good for you!”

“Good for her,” Aizawa replies.

Hizashi rolls his eyes. “I almost forgot you’re a munch. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten any, so-”

“Watch it, Hizashi.”

You regret the question before you ask it. “Uh, what’s a munch?”

Both of them look at you.

“Well, it’s clearly not Touya,” Hizashi mumbles, and you shoot him a glare. 

“It’s a slang term for someone who really enjoys…” Aizawa trails off, cocking his head expectantly. 

“Eating pussy,” Hizashi finishes for him. 

Another thrill of excitement goes up your spine. Enjoys it? Is that even possible? The idea has you woozy. 

“Yeah, that’s totally not Touya,” you manage to say.

Hizashi makes another comment, but you can’t force yourself to focus on that. No, not when your heart is beating like this. It’s just words, a fake story, but there’s a silent promise to it as well. You wonder what would have happened last night if you said yes. Would he have spent the night between your legs, eating simply for your pleasure?

Want trembles in your hands as you pretend to check your phone. Is it pathetic? To be worked up over a silly little story, made up to cover your tracks? The waiter comes, you all order. Aizawa’s knee pumps against yours- once accidentally, once on purpose. You hope he doesn’t notice how you’re squirming in your seat, trying to ignore the way your body is craving pressure and attention. You think, maybe, if you move right, you could get the seam of your pants to hit just right-

What are you doing? This is pathetic. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” You don’t wait for a response. Pushing up from the table, you turn down the back of the restaurant. The signs lead you into a little back hallway, tucked by the kitchen, where the lighting is respectfully dim. You have to wait a moment because the door is locked, but you don’t mind. It gives you time to mull over everything.

Maybe Hizashi is right; maybe it’s okay to try something new. It’s been years since you’ve felt this alive with someone, this excited to get something more. With Touya, sex became more of an obligation. Maybe it could be different with someone else. Maybe it could be something fun, something-

A hand catches you by the back of your shirt, not hard enough to yank you backwards, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.  A gasp squeaks out of you as you stagger back into the chest of the man behind you. You crank around to see- only to relax when you realize it’s just Aizawa.

“You scared me,” you mumble out a lament. 

“You little sneak.” With a thumb, he tilts your chin up, so far that you’re looking back at him. His other fingers press ever so nicely into the length of your neck, drawing you back into his chest. There’s nothing constricting your breath, but suddenly your lungs are empty, breathless, and your parted lips pull nothing in. Aizawa’s dark eyes are narrowed, boring straight down into yours.

Oh, he’s pissed. 

And, for the first time, that excites you.

“You like making me sweat, don’t you?” His free hand is looped around your waist, holding you much tighter than the other. “Almost getting us caught-- You make me so mad sometimes.” 

The kitchen is full of mumbled orders and the clang of dishware. It echoes through the dark hall you’ve trapped yourselves in, you aren’t alone, no matter how badly you wish it to be true.  

“Thought you liked me,” you whisper.

You swear there’s a subtle dilation to his eyes, involuntary. Real. “I do.”

He leans over and dots a simple kiss on to your forehead, right where your hair meets skin. It’s simple, soft, but, god, it sets everything inside you into this wet, wobbly, needy heat, something soft and harsh all at once.

“Even when you piss me off.” The hand around your neck twitches playfully, with no real constriction. 

It’s cliche, you think, how you just sort of watch each other, breathless, patient. Neither of you tries to make a move, locked together. He smells good. Not like anything you can name, just… good.  It’s the same good you feel in your chest and an equal good to how your hands feel when you reach backwards and grab his hips. 

“I’m starting to think you like making me mad.”

“Shouta-” you say his name because he likes it, because it makes him lean in closer to you-

The bathroom door flies open and you both pull away like you’ve touched a hot stove. The woman who exists definitely knows something’s up; she rolls her eyes and sends a text on her phone as she passes. The two of you share a look; you, relieved, Aizawa amused. It’s as if you're sixteen again, with this fluttering feeling in your stomach you can’t quite swallow down. It’s too bright to be anxiety.

Aizawa steps back a bit with a nod. Oh, right, the bathroom. You don’t actually have to go, but it would be silly to not go in now. Maybe you can just try to go-

You look back at your Aizawa.

Or maybe.

Or maybe you can have some fun.

With uncharacteristic confidence, you hook a finger under a button of his shirt and tug. Aizawa’s face goes bright with realization. He falls into following as you guide him forward into the bathroom, step by awkward step, backwards until the door opens against your weight. Aizawa glances around before the door closes after him, making sure to remain unspotted, then turns to you with a wicked, narrowed, glowering look. 

The bathroom is simple, but nice. The lighting is sharp and bright, the floor is white and clean. A decorative table is wedged into the corner, topped with extra towels and real flowers in water. Your brain can’t process more than that- not with a dark haired man wrapped around your finger. He has the forethought to lock the door behind him.

“What are you doing-?” he grumbles wickedly, ducking down to catch you in a kiss, but you don’t let him make contact. You dip away, drawing him further and further in, until you’re backed against the little decorative table. With his weight, he shifts you back until your ass is seated properly on that wiggly table, one hand back to brace yourself. Finally, he traps you, stubble rough against your cheek, lips soft against yours.

“I thought we were going slow,” he says into your lips. You don’t respond-- you can’t. Your breath is stolen from your lungs, the need to breathe replaced with the need for him, the need for touch-

You hook a leg over his waist and his hand flies to it, folding it higher, pulling it tighter. 

“Oh, you can’t help it, can you?” he mumbles. “One little story about eating pussy has you desperate for it, huh?”

“Y-you-” You hate that you can’t dirty talk smoothly like he can.

“Yeah?” He’s almost condescending. “Yeah? What does my girl want?”

Embarrassment floods your cheeks with heat. Aizawa waits for it, hovering above you. Oh, he won’t give it to you until you really ask, will he? You have to physically brace yourself to say it.

“Will you kiss it?” you ask, much meeker than intended. 

“Kiss ‘it’?” You expect him to keep picking at you, but instead his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, guiding them down. “Do you mean-”

His lips find your hickey and the spot aches under the connection. “Here?”

Creeping lower, he hunches over your chest. This time, he pecks at the hem of your shirt. “Here?”

Down he goes, on to his knees. This kiss lands in your stomach, right where the tightness of want sits-

“Here?”

“Shouta-” You’re mad and annoyed and you’d frankly settle for him kissing you anywhere at this point-

Hands slip your pants down past your knees. When the air hits your skin, you suddenly realize just how wet you are, how it’s bled through your panties and smeared across your thigh. Before you can process anything, his mouth is over your clothed cunt, wide mouthed and kissing. The drag of his tongue is a lot, even though the fabric; the contact has your spine flexing all on its own.

“Here?”

“There, there,” You’re clinging on to handfuls of his hair already. “Right there.”

But Aizawa doesn’t kiss you again. 

“In a public bathroom?” He’s watching you from the floor. Your leg is looped over his back. He’s surprisingly wide and thick under you; your legs have to spread so far to fit him. God, your body is plaint enough that it just gives to his pushing hands and demands.

 “You like it nasty.”

You can’t bring yourself to respond. Your brain is fried with a deadly combination of horny and embarrassed. Is this really what you want? 

“No, you don’t like it dirty, do you?” It feels like he’s reading your mind, hands kneading your thighs with a growing hunger. He plants a kiss where your legs meets your underwear and your cunt pulses in response. “My girl just needs it so bad, doesn’t she?”

Teeth sink into your inner thigh and you kick in response: another fucking hickey. The thing that got you into this mess-

“That’s right, my girl.” He’s talking to himself now, mumbling just under his breath. A finger loops under your panties, the same way your finger looped under his button, and there’s no time to feel shame before he exposes your pussy.  “You went home with me.” 

You expect him to go straight for your clit, to devour you with the fucking need that’s been building between you all goddamn night-

But, instead, he touches his lips to the crest of your mons and breathes. It’s hot, molten, pours down you like molten lava. It’s the faintest, tickling touch, but it’s enough, it’s more than enough. A moan rips out of you, so unexpected that you jump at your own voice. 

Usually, when you have sex, you’re worried about the small things. Whether or not you’ve shaved, whether you look thin enough or pretty enough, but now, the only thing you can think about is being touched, needing touch, desiring touch.

And the time.

“We-” He hasn’t even started and you’re quivering for it. “We gotta hurry before Mic-”

“I promised you-” Aizawa says, firmly. “That we’d go slow.”

Finally, gloriously, you feel the hot press of his tongue, dragging up through your excitement. Every inch he takes is painstakingly slow until he hits the nub of your clit. That contact is fast, fleeting, but it still sends you keening and gasping. Every important muscle inside you is bunched and coiled, filled with enough potential energy to set the whole fucking restaurant on fire. You’re going to cum. You’re going to cum from practically nothing.

The vase of flowers on the table is overturned. You don’t even remember knocking it over. Water pools under your ass and everything is wet, from you, to the mess, to his drool across your inner thigh. His mouth closed over you the same way someone would eat a peach, sucking with this absurdly lewd sound as if he’s afraid to let any of your excitement escape. His jaw moves slow - just like he fucking promised- and doesn’t miss an inch of skin as he closes his mouth, lips coming closed around your clit. The pressure feels heavenly against the already puffy parts of your pussy and your hands clasp his dark locks tighter. You aren’t sure if you’re trying to pull him away or pull him closer; your body is just reacting, like neurons are firing all on their own.

Fingers clamp around your thighs. Aizawa is groaning, voice so low it vibrates against you, as if he’s the one receiving it, not you. Enjoys eating pussy… the memory rings through your skull. Fuck, what an understatement; he eats pussy like he needs it to live. His eyes are lidded heavy with pleasure. Every lick and suck and touch along the tapestry of your cunt is wet and wild, but aggravatingly skilled. The heat of his mouth against your clit - firm, but not hard- is enough to steal your breath away.

Then, he pulls away, and your pleasure begins to unravel-- unfairly fast. You hadn’t realized how close to the precipice you had been until you started falling away. The feeling is disastrous. 

He speaks with a heady exhale, warm and not nearly enough. “You taste-”

“Shut up,” Now you’re definitely pulling his face back towards you this time. “Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

He silences himself with your cunt. 

This time, there’s no savoring. His lips and tongue are on your clit, sucking in mouthfuls of your folds, bouncing against the involuntary roll of your hips. Everything inside you is hot and sticky, thick like honey. You’re saying something, maybe, but it’s all high pitched and garbled. The rub from Aizawa's stubble sends a chill up your spine and the hot and cold inside you melts into something smooth-

You can feel your orgasm coming long before it hits, everything inside you pulling high and tight, like the ocean rolling before a wave. The crest hasn't hit, but it's going to come, you're going to cum-

And then you look down, and Aizawa's staring back at you, with those dark, hooded eyes, and you unravel. It’s not my other orgasms you've had: a full body feeling, like the flush to warmth you get when alcohol hits your stomach. It rolls, through you, away from you, against you- in every fucking direction until every ounce of tension is smoothed from your muscles. Boneless had always sounded silly, but now you understand exactly what it means; you slump back and try to catch your breath.

Aizawa’s movements slow, but never stop. He runs the flat face of his tongue against you until you gather the energy you shove him back. For a split second, a string of your cum ties between you and his mouth.

“Shit,” you breathe. Your surroundings feel more tangible suddenly. The sink drips, the walls echo the restaurant’s soft muzak, Aizawa’s cheeks glimmer with your wetness: it’s all suddenly real.

“I cannot believe-” He wipes his face on his sleeve.

“Shit,” you repeat. That was insane. You were insane! Your friend is waiting at the table, probably wondering what happened to you two-

“-that you let me do that. You came so--”

“Shit.” This is exactly what you needed. “I’ve never-”

Aizawa sits back on his knees with a stiff grunt. “Don’t tell me you’ve never orgasmed before.”

“No! I’ve totally-” You awkwardly shimmy up your pants and instantly regret it. It’s wet. It’s cold. “No one’s ever gone down on me before.”

Aizawa gives you the slowest, longest blink you’ve ever seen. Then, he shakes his head and stands up, brushing his pants off. You debate asking if his leg hurts, but decide against it. “How do you continuously say things that make me want to go insane?” 

He huffs about it, but you’re starting to unravel the strings of affection he weaves into his sentences. You shrug, biting back your smile.

“I’m just special, I guess.”

Eyes closed, he gives you a nod, tempering himself.

“Go back to the table before we’re caught.”

Fuck-- that’s right. You two have been gone for long enough that it's starting to get suspicious. Besides, there’s going to be a line outside the door if you don’t get moving soon- if there isn’t a line already. You quickly check your outfit and adjust your hair in the mirror; your skin looks brighter than usual. The power of an orgasm, you guess.

“Don’t  you want me to…?” You give a little jerk off motion and Aizawa rolls his eyes at the behavior-- as if he didn’t just eat your pussy in a fucking bathroom.

“I don’t want you to do anything to me,” he insists. He helps you off of the table with a hand, then ushers you towards the locked door. “I want to lay you down and eat you out until your brain factory resets like a cheap Macbook.”

He’s already done that, but okay, you could be down for more-

“But we are in a bathroom.” He gestures around him.  “In a restaurant.”

You add: “With Hizashi waiting.”

“With Mic waiting. He’s smart- he’ll figure us out if we aren’t careful,” he agrees. “Now, get out there and cover me.”

Suddenly, Aizawa leans over and kisses you. It’s not deep, but you can taste your musk on his lips and that makes your spine thrill with excitement.  It’s illicit in a way that makes you feel young and happy and, and, and-

And all those weird, indescribable highs you get when your brain is drowned in dopamine and oxytocin. For a fleeting moment, you reach out and grab his hands, holding on for only a squeeze.

“Your room tonight?” you ask when he pulls away. Your head is still racing, head still swimming-

He grimaces. “Yours has better pillows.”

“I brought them from home.” He was in your bed last night, in your pussy moments ago, but the fact he knows your pillow feels so strangely intimate. “I like silk pillowcases.”

The expression in his face softens, just at the crowed corner of his eyes. “Of course you do.” He jerks his chin towards the door.  “Get going.”

“Sho-”

“Get.”

And you walk out with wobbly knees.

[synvil]

can’t swim // rafe cameron

a / n : rafe cameron thoughts. btw this was actually an anonymous ask i sent to a writer, i don’t know if she’ll write it but im sure if she does, it’ll turn out amazing. @rafeysbunny i’m 🧋 anon, hehe.

fun fact, i cannot swim.

synopsis : in which, rafe overhears that you can’t swim and during a party out on the docks, some of the kooks push you into the ocean to loosen you up.

warnings : reader can’t swim. kelce being an ass, peer pressure, etc.

“are you serious, [Name]?”

The raised tone of her voice causes you to shush her as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and purse your lips faintly. “Not so loud, sare..” You let out a small breath and frown, leaning back against the headboard of her bed.

Sarah nods in understanding, lowering her tone as she sighs softly and crosses her legs on the bed in front of you. “That’s crazy- i mean, everyone here in Outer Banks are either surfers or decent swimmers.”

“Except me..” You trail off, shutting your eyes as you bring your hands up to your face. “It’s pretty humiliating, you know.. Seeing everyone in their swimsuits and able to swim in the ocean or go surfing, without the fear of drowning.”

“Wow, no wonder you wouldn’t ever go into the pool or go swimming with us during the boat parties on the dock..”

Unbeknownst to you two, Sarah’s door was open and a passing Rafe Cameron was on his way downstairs when he overhears your conversation.

“It’s not like I haven’t tried, but each time, I feel my body sinking and it terrifies me. Plus, y’know, with the whole nearly drowning as a kid trauma and shit.” you force a laugh while Sarah shares a bittersweet smile.

“It’s alright, stay by me tonight and I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Thanks, Sarah, I appreciate it.. and you can’t tell anyone either, okay, especially not Rafe.” You warn pleadingly and she chuckles and nods. “wait, why specifically him?”

You feel your cheeks warm at her question as you turn away. “Your brother just seems like the type to make fun of me for it, and besides, it’s just embarrassing to have a guy i think is hot, to know that about me.”

Sarah scrunches her nose and shudders. “I think your crush on my brother is more embarrassing than you being unable to swim.” she teases and you playfully push her away from you as she breaks into a laugh.

Rafe peeks into the room and thinks for a moment as his eyes examine and take in your form. He has already known long ago of your developed crush on him, and to say he has a mutual infatuation with you may be an understatement.

Every time you come over, Rafe finds every excuse to be in the house, sometimes even in the same room, just to get a look at you.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you feel shy, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, everything entices him, intrigues him. You were just so perfect.

Rafe quickly pulls away when he hears movement and leans against the wall beside the doorframe for a moment.

Despite being a little surprised at the newfound information, it brought a little smile to his face. You can’t swim? How cute.

“Come on, we should get ready for Topper’s party tonight.” Sarah says and you sigh softly, but get up anyways with her as she heads over to her closet. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

Rafe lingers for a second longer as he imagines what you’ll be wearing before taking his leave downstairs.

It’s around ten at night when the two of you arrive at the docks, the night sky surrounding the area with only the lights of Topper’s large boat illuminating the place.

“I don’t know, maybe i shouldn’t be here..” You go to turn around but Sarah stops you, pulling you to her side. “Come on, it’ll be okay, i promise. Besides, you look super cute, so flaunt it, okay?” She winks and you huff a breath before following after her.

The closer you get, the louder the partygoers become and the music blasting is enough to stimulate the senses.

Once you get on board, Sarah is engulfed by her friends, while you remain on the sideline with a weak smile and awkwardly hugging your arms. Despite being a kook, you weren’t among the popular ones but that wasn’t enough to get you on their bad side at least.

You rub your arms, the thin fabric of your cardigan doing nothing but add to Sarah’s fashion sense of your outfit tonight. In her baby blue, cropped cardigan, a matching spaghetti strapped solid colored tank and dark washed, high waisted denim shorts.

You help yourself to the bar, grabbing a red solo cup and letting the bartender fill the plastic cup with some beer before bringing it to your lips, hoping it would do some good to alleviate some anxiety, while you keep an eye on Sarah from nearby, who’s talking with her friends.

The scene brings a smile to your lips when you recall her saying she would keep an eye on you earlier in the day but you were happy to see her enjoy herself.

However, you didn’t get to enjoy much time alone as Topper and his friends make his way over to you.

“Hey, [Name]. All alone again?” Kelce smirks and you merely offer a small smile in return. “Not much of a party kinda girl.. but it’s nice.” you mention the last part to Topper who dismisses you, understanding you meant no offense.

“Where’s Sarah?” Topper asks, looking around the area and you gesture over a little ways nearby.

“She’s talking with some friends.” You reply, tapping my fingers against my cup as you shift your footing, feeling the anxiety come back, causing you to take another sip of your drink.

You let your eyes wander around the group, briefly catching Rafe’s, who let his eyes trail up and down your form for a moment, taking in your appearance. The way the baby blue color popped against your skin, the way your hair was styled for tonight’s party. Even the way you shyly held your cup to your chest, fingers still tapping against the sides.

Feeling your cheeks warm from Rafe’s intense gaze, you turn away and look back to Kelce.

Kelce and some of the other guys step closer and you give a small smile to them. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Come on, [Name]. We notice you always come to these parties but you don’t do anything,” Kelce mentions and you force a chuckle. “I’m an observer.” but some of the other guys don’t take that answer. “All we’re saying is, you should loosen up a little. Come on, some of the girls are taking dives off the tail, you should join.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you wave off the idea. “No, i think im good tonight, im actually pretty tired..” You say and Kelce scoffs lightly as his hand goes down to grab your wrist. “Don’t be a buzzkill, [Name], the water will wake you right up.”

“Kelce, i’m not really in the mood to-“ Rafe places a hand on Kelce’s shoulder, stopping him. “Let go, dude, let’s just leave her alone.” But Kelce doesn’t listen as he drags you along to where the other girls are, and the commotion causes all the partygoers to look over, Sarah looking your way.

Your eyes meet Rafe’s and he notices a look of fear and anxiety in them as Kelce brings you over and you try to pull away, the other guys surrounding you all, cheering Kelce and You.

“Yeah!”

“Come on, loosen up, girly.”

“Kelce, I really don’t—“ Despite your futile attempts, Kelce just takes the cup from your hands while Sarah pushes her way through the crowd. “Hey, Kelce, leave her alone!”

Rafe purses his lips and pulls Kelce away. “Hey, seriously, that’s enough.” He warns, pushing Kelce back, who just furrows his brows and scoffs. “What the hell? Why are you getting in the way, man?”

Sarah manages to get to your side, standing over you protectively. But the other girls now get in the way.

“Come on, Sarah, let [Name] do it.”

“it’s not scary.”

You shake your head again, as the girls pull Sarah away, leaving you alone with the kook surrounding you.

Rafe is pushing Kelce away, who’s confused and pushing Rafe back in retaliation. Meanwhile this leaves the other Kooks to act freely and the guys seem to share the same idea and go over to your body.

“Hey, hold on—“

But it’s too late, as the guys pick you up with ease and toss you overboard, a wave of laughter and cheers erupting from them.

“[Name]!” Sarah shouts from the girls hold and Rafe widens his eyes as he whirls around at the sound of your scream and a splash from the impact.

“Shit-“ Rafe curses as he roughly shoves Kelce into Topper as he rips off his shirt before taking a leap off the deck and into the water with you.

You flail, panic surging into you as you begin to hyperventilate. “S-Sa-Sarah—!”

“What the hell?!” Kelce scoffs with furrowed brows while Sarah feels tears brimming her eyes. “[Name] can’t swim!” she cries out as she rips away from the girls and shoves two of the guys out of her way before leaning over the railing. “[Name]!”

Topper’s, Kelce’s and the other kooks’ eyes widen in shock at the revelation. “What?”

They all rush over the rail to peer into the ocean as Rafe is diving under to find you.

Rafe manages to find your sinking body, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you up to the surface, your body already unconscious due to the lack of air and your panic flailing.

“[Name], [Name], are you okay?” He gasps as he reaches the surface and uses a hand to caress your cheek while the other props you up under your back. “No, no, come on, [Name], wake up.”

Sarah rushes around down the boat and on the boardwalk and leans down. “Rafe, Rafe! Come on, bring her over here!”

Rafe clenches his jaw when you still don’t respond and swims his way over towards Sarah as quickly as he can, panting before lifting your body up, Sarah doing her best to help you onto the wooden docks, laying you flat on your back.

“[Name], please! please wake up!” Sarah cries as she jostles you, Rafe climbing onto the dock next to her and looking down at you. She begins doing chest compressions, tears streaming down her cheeks faster. By this time, everyone on the boat is out on the boardwalk surrounding you body on the ground.

Rafe stands up straight, his clothes soaking and dripping but he doesn’t pay it any mind as he tries to catch his breath, staring down at his sister trying to wake you.

He contemplated for just a minuscule of a second, about beating the shit out of Kelce, but he prioritized your wellbeing first.

“Rafe- she’s not waking up.”

Sarah inhales sharply, trying not to think the worst and her older brother kneels down, pinching your nose closed before bringing his lips down to yours.

The kooks are whispering amongst each other, surprised by Rafe’s sudden leadership actions.

Rafe pulls away, continuing Sarah’s chest compressions before going back to pressing his lips against yours, providing CPR.

Please, not like this. wake up, wake up for me, [Name].

Suddenly a choked noise erupts from your lips as you turn to your side and spew out bits of water. Your throat becomes sore as you cough roughly.

Sarah immediately breaks into a smile, a gasp of relief coming from her and Rafe pulls back, a sigh coming from him. “H-Hey, take it easy, you’re alright..”

You look around, feeling dizzy and nauseous as you spit up the last of the water you nearly drowned in, as Sarah pulls you to her chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “[Name], i’m so glad you’re okay!”

Meanwhile, Rafe stands upright, looking up at the sky, trying to relax his rapidly beating heart, as he takes slow steps to turn around.

“H-Hey, look, I didn’t know-“

Kelce, already knowing what was coming, raises his hands in defense as he backs up.

However, Rafe doesn’t hesitate his fist swinging into Kelce’s cheek, succeeding in knocking him down. “You son of a bitch!”

Rafe clenches his jaw tight as he looks to the other kooks. “Party is fucking over, get the fuck away!”

Topper tries to talk some sense into Rafe but Rafe shoves him. “You hear me? I said get away! go fucking home, now!”

Everyone is stunned into silence as they share looks, before quickly scrambling away and off the dock, not wanting to argue with the Kook King.

Sarah sniffles as she pulls away and looks up at Rafe, who kneels down and tucks an arm under your legs and the other under your back, before lifting you up carefully, bridal style.

“R-Rafe?…” Your hoarse voice calls out, hands pressed to his firm chest but Rafe hushes you. “Shh.. it’s alright, just get some rest.. you’ll be fine.”

Sarah watches her brother carry you towards his truck, wiping her tears as she follows after them, exhaling gently.

Tears brim your eyes as your chest swells with warmth, despite your freezing body.

You stare up at Rafe weakly, feeling your chest grow weak as your eyes flutter close and you press your head into his chest more. “Thank you.. Rafe.. You saved me..”

Rafe’s hold on you tightens, securing you in his arms.

“..I’m so glad you’re okay… i’m so sorry..”

a/n: welp, this could’ve been sooo much better but i rushed this at work hehe. outerbanks is playing on the tv at work so i thought id get a little smth out :3 this is sooo bad though 😭

not proofread or edited. i’ll go back and edit some other time.

synvil™️.

[bsturnzmtts]

Drunk temptations pt.2 - Matt Sturniolo

Paring: bsf!Matt x drunk! Reader

Contains/warinings: loss of virginity, oral (fem receiving), fingering, soft dom!Matt, little bit of blood, praising, pet names, p in v, masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, slight choking. I think that's all.

Summary: You and your best friend Matt are going to a party. You get extremely drunk, and despite your bratty resistance, Matt insists on taking you home. Somehow, you end up on your best friend's lap, kissing him and confessing that you want to lose your virginity to him...

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Part 1 here

"Good night" you slur out and quickly doze off. He watches you for a moment, a soft smile on his face as he sees the exhaustion and alcohol finally catch up to you. He nods to himself, satisfied that you're safe and comfortable, before turning to leave the room. He quietly closes your bedroom door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence of the house. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm the storm of emotions and desire that still rages within him. He knows he did the right thing, protecting you from a mistake you wouldn't remember.

Next morning

You slowly open your eyes, fighting the throbbing headache caused by last night's drinking. You feel a bit groggy and disoriented. You try to remember what happened last night.

‘How did I get to my house? To my bed? What happened?’

As you sit up in bed, you notice a glass of water and two pain relievers on your nightstand. You get even more confused, but your headache was a stronger feeling. So you reach out and take the pills.

You start hearing some noise coming from downstairs stairs. You quietly get up and start heading towards the noise, you get to the first floor and realize the noise is coming from the kitchen. Noise is not the only thing coming the kitchen, but also a nice smell of eggs and toast. You silently walk over there and open the door slowly.

“Matt?” You ask confused as you see him.

He's standing at the stove, a small smirk appearing on his lips as you finally register his presence. As you look at him you feel a weird warmth inside your chest, but you don’t know why.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." He teases with a smirk. He takes out a plate of scrambled eggs and toast from the stove and sets in on the table in front of you. "How are you feeling?"

“I- uhh I- I have a headache…” you say feeling confused. “What happened last night? Did you bring me home?” You ask.

He chuckles as he sits down in front of you with his own plate of food. "Yes, I brought you home. You had a little too much to drink last night.”

You sit down with a confused expression trying to remember what happened last night.

He watches you carefully, noticing the confusion on your face. He takes a bite of his toast before speaking up again. “You really don’t remember anything?” He asks with a subtle smirk.

You take a bite of the breakfast as you think. “I mean, I remember what happened at the party. But after that nothing.”

He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "After the party, I took you home and helped you to bed. You were pretty out of it." He pauses, taking another bite of his toast before continuing. “Then I… slept on your couch.”

Matt’s Flashback

After Matt had put you to bed he went downstairs to the couch. But he couldn’t get of the image of you sitting on his lap, kissing him and telling him to take away your virginity.

He lay’s on the couch, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He kept replaying the moment in his head, the feeling of your lips on his, the way you looked at him with those big, innocent eyes. His thoughts drift down the dangerous path of what could have happened if he gave in or if you wouldn’t have been drunk. He tossed and turned on the couch, unable to sleep. Eventually, he gave up trying to sleep and decided to just sit up and looked down at the bulge in his pants.

He felt a bit guilty of the thoughts that were running through his mind. He sits there on the couch, his eyes fixed on the tent in his pants, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. He lets out a frustrated groan and unbuckles his belt, then takes off his pants and underwear letting them fall to his knees.

He reaches down and wraps his hand around his hard length, giving it a few strokes as he tries to relieve some of the tension. He groans softly as he continues to jerk off, his mind lost in the fantasy of you. He looks down at himself, his eyes tracing the length of his shaft as he imagines it being inside of you, stretching your tight hole for the first time.

"Fuck, what am I doing?" He mutters to himself, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps as he rubs himself faster.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He chants under his breath, his hand moving faster and faster. He imagines pushing your legs apart and spreading your pussy open with his fingers, revealing your virgin hole to him.

He lets out a low moan as he thinks about how tight you'd be around him, how good it would feel to finally take your virginity, by filling you up and making you his. "Yeah, that's it... so tight... so fucking tight..." The thought of being the first one to make you feel that pleasure has him on the edge of losing control.

His hand tightens around his length, stroking harder and faster until he can't hold on any longer. the build up of pleasure was too much for him to handle. He groans as he starts to cum, his hot seed shooting out of his cock in thick spurts as he imagines thrusting into you, making you cum for the first time. He lays back on the couch, breathing heavily as he comes down from his orgasm.

He looks up at the ceiling, his chest still heaving with ragged breaths as he tries to calm himself down. "Shit... what's gotten into me?" He mutters to himself. He quickly cleans himself up and puts his pants back on, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of you. "Fuck.” He lays back on the couch and falls asleep.

End of flashback

“Matt! Matt.” You try to get his attention.

"Hmm, what is it?" he asks lazily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Did you heard what I said?” You ask.

"No, sorry. My mind was on… something else. What did you say?" He sits up and takes another bite of his breakfast and a sip of his coffee.

“It’s fine don’t worry.” You chuckle. “I was thanking you for bringing me home last night and for the breakfast. And sorry you had to sleep on the couch.”

He smiles at you and waves you off. "No need to thank me, it's the least I could do." He says, but he still feels a little guilty about not telling you what happened last night. He finishes his breakfast and sets his plate aside. "And don't worry about the couch, it's comfortable enough."

“You could’ve used the guest room, you know?” You laugh a bit.

He laughs a little nervously and shifts in his seat. He's still trying to figure out how to tell you about what happened last night. "Yeah, I guess I could have. But the couch was fine." He says, avoiding eye contact. “Listen… hey I have to tell you something about last night.”

“Did I cause you some trouble last night? Sorry if I did. I get really annoying when I’m drunk.” You chuckle.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at you. "It's not about you being annoying when you're drunk. It's just... you did something that you don’t remember.”

“Ohh what did I do?” You ask covering your face with your hands. “Did I do something embarrassing?”

“No, it's not that, really. I just, well, why don’t we go to the couch and I’ll tell you.” He says.

“Yeah, okay.” You say and you both stand up and walk over to the couch and sit next to each other.

He chuckles a bit remembering last night. “Okay soo… you might have confessed something to me last night, or maybe it was the alcohol that made you say it.” He says with a smirk.

“What did I ‘confess’?” You ask.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You told me that you wanted to lose your virginity with me.” He says, his voice low and teasing.

You froze at his words immediately feeling embarrassed. You cover your face with your hands covering the obvious redness of your cheeks.

He laughs, gently pulling your hands away from your face. "Hey, it's okay. I mean… I just thought you should know." He says with a smile.

“You’re right.” You chuckle nervously. “It was the alcohol that made me say that.” You say as you look away.

He raises an eyebrow, still smiling. "Oh really now? Are you sure about that?" He says, his voice teasing and amused. “Because alcohol tends to make people's true feelings come out." He says, his voice light and playful.

“Mhm yep. It definitely was the alcohol.” You say still avoiding eye contact.

He reaches out, gently tilting your chin up so you're forced to look at him. "Bullshit," he says softly, his eyes searching yours. "You meant it. Because why else would you have sat on my lap, kissing me, kissing my neck, begging me to be your first time, you even took off your top, not to mention desperately grinding on me.”

You closed your eyes and looked away covering your face again, feeling it growing hotter. “Ughh… did I really to that?”

He laughs softly, moving your hands away from your face again. "Yes, yes you did. Don't be embarrassed, honestly it was a little hot, I'm down for that shit..."

You roll your eyes and nudge him. “Ugh Maaaatt.” You chuckle still feeling embarrassed. “But… nothing actually happened, right?”

He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow. "That depends on how you define 'nothing'." He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because from where I'm sitting, there was definitely something happening." He chuckles, leaning back in his seat.

You give him a glare. “Ugh, I mean like did we like…? You know. Did that happen?”

He laughs, shaking his head. "No, no we didn't." He says, smirking teasingly at your phrasing. "I told you, I draw a line when it comes to taking advantage of people, even if they are begging me to fuck them..."

You roll your eyes at him but then sigh relieved that nothing actually happened while you were drunk. “Okay well, thank you for stopping me.”

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. "No problem, it's not every day I have someone practically throwing themselves at me." He says in a teasing tone, winking at you. "But seriously, I didn't want to do anything you'd regret later." He pauses, before continuing. "But you did look pretty hot, just saying..." He winks at you, a grin spreading across his face. “I'd rather have you sober and willing next time, rather than drunk and desperate."

“Oh shut up.” You say with a chuckle. “It was a … drunken mistake.”

He chuckles at your response, a glint in his eyes. "Oh, I don't know about that." He says, his voice taking on a low tone. "I think it was more than just a 'drunken mistake', but suit yourself."

You raise your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He grins at your raised eyebrows, his eyes shining. "Well, I think you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. You know that old saying 'a drunk man's words are a sober man's truth'?" He says, chuckling before continuing.

You blush slightly and avoid eye contact. “Mh, well I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

"Oh really?" He says, his voice dripping with amusement. "Then why the hell were you practically climbing onto my lap, begging me to fuck you?" He asks, his tone firm but teasing. "And don't give me that 'it was just a drunken mistake' bullshit again."

“Uhm…I- uhh… maybe I was just… horny.” You say.

He raises his eyebrows at your response, his lips quirking into a sly grin. "You were just 'horny', huh?" He says, accentuating the word 'horny'. "Well, that's a new excuse." He teases, leaning in closer to you.

“It’s not an excuse.” You say trying to ignore he’s leaning closer and still avoiding eye contact.

“It's a damn good one though.” He says, his breath brushing against your ear as he speaks. He reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "Look at me," He commands, his voice firm but gentle.

Your face reddens and your stomach flutters. “I- I was just drunk, you know. Not thinking.”

He doesn't say anything at first, just holds your gaze. He can see the hesitation in your eyes and he can tell you're struggling to hold his gaze. He leans even closer, his lips barely a breath away from yours. "I don't believe that. I think that you really wanted me, and you still do.”

He pauses for a moment, his lips hovering just above yours. He can feel your heart racing, and he knows he has you right where he wants you. “There’s only one way to prove it.” He says, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, tangling his fingers in your hair and deepening the kiss.

You gasp softly at the kiss but quickly melt into it.

He smirks against your lips, his tongue darting out to taste you. He deepens the kiss, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

He breaks the kiss, panting lightly as he looks down at you. "Now, are you going to admit that you want me, or do I need to keep kissing you until you can't deny it anymore?" He asks, his voice low and husky.

You chuckle slightly. “Hm, I would like that.” You say teasing. “I- I just remembered everything about last night…” you say looking away.

“Oh yeah?” He reaches out and gently tilts your chin back up, forcing you to look at him. "Everything, huh?" He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So you remember you begging me to fuck you, begging me to take your virginity?”

You roll your eyes at his words but still nod.

"Good," He says, his eyes darkening with desire. “Too bad you were drunk, because is you would’ve been sober I would’ve done it with hesitating.”

“Hmmm really?” You ask teasingly.

He chuckles, leaning in close to you again. "You know I want you, so why are you playing hard to get?" He whispers in your ear before nipping at your lobe. "I bet you're already wet for me."

“What are you talking about? I’m not playing hard to get.” You say playing dumb.

"Really?" He asks, his hand reaching out to trace your jawline. He raises an eyebrow and looks at you skeptically. "Sure you're not," He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He murmurs against your lips before kissing you again, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt and tracing up your sides. He pulls back, his hands grabbing your thighs and spreading them apart. His hands move teasingly around your pijama shorts until they reach your clothed pussy.

You whimper slightly and bite your lip at the feeling.

He smirks, leaning forward and running his teeth against your bottom lip before pulling it between his own and sucking on it gently. "Say it. Say you want me.” He says, His voice deep and thick with lust.

You feel yourself getting wetter by his words and actions. You slowly nod your head. “…yes Matt. I want you, please.” You say as you lean in and kiss him.

He groans into the kiss, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulls you closer. He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looks at you. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yes Matt.” You move to straddle his lap just like last night. “Please Matt, I’m ready. I want you to be my first. I trust you.”

He smiles, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he looks at you with a mix of affection and hunger. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise." He stares deeply into your eyes, letting his hands trail a path up from your thighs to your waist, then he cups your face and pulls you in for a gentle, slow kiss. He moves his mouth over yours, his tongue gently pushing aside your lips and finding yours with ease.

You kiss back as your hips squirm a little moving closer to him.

He groans deeply, breaking the kiss as he trails his lips down your jawline and to your neck. His hands grab hold of your hips again as he pulls you flush with him, grinding his clothed cock against you. "Fuck, you feel so good." He murmurs in between kisses.

“Mmhh Matt” you whimper.

He smirks, his eyes searching yours before he stands up, lifting you with him, He carries you to your bedroom and sets you down gently on the mattress.

He looks at you, his heart racing with excitement and love for you. He kneels down between your legs, his hands gently pushing your thighs apart. He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your clothed pussy before looking up at you. "I'm going to make this really good for you, okay?"

You nod desperately as you bite your lip trying to keep your hips from squirming.

He smiles, his hands gently spreading your legs wider apart. He begins to slowly kiss and nibble at your clothed sex, teasing and tempting. He can hear your soft whimpers and moans, loving how they fill the room. He slowly pulls your shorts and panties down and over your legs, throwing them behind him onto the floor as he admires your bare pussy. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He gently pushes your legs apart farther and starts trailing kisses down your thighs. “Have you ever touched your self here?” He says as he moves his face right above your wet pussy, his hot breath hitting you.

“I- I’ve tried…” you say shyly.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with excitement and curiosity. He gently spreads your pussy lips apart with his fingers, exposing your tiny clit. "Did you ever cum?” he looks up at you with a smirk in his eyes, he slowly starts to kiss your pussy, his tongue flicks out, tasting your wetness. He wraps his lips around your clit and gently sucks.

“Oh fuck” you moan as you feel his tongue in your folds. Your hips squirm and your back arches in pleasure.

He chuckles softly, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. He begins to flick his tongue back and forth over your clit, feeling your hips buck and grind with every stroke. His lips close around your clit again, sucking gently as he uses his fingers to tease your entrance. “Answer me.”

“Mmmh n-no” you let out as you keep squirming and moaning.

He hums in approval, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault on your clit. “I’m gonna put a finger in you, okay? It might burn at first.”

He slowly slides a finger inside you, watching as your face contorts with the mix of pleasure and pain. He starts to move his finger slowly, rubbing against your g-spot. He starts sucking on your clit again, applying more pressure as he slowly picks up the pace of his finger.

“Mmh Matt” you moan as you start feeling a knot forming in your stomach.

He hums around your clit, his finger moving faster and faster in and out of you. He feels your walls tightening around his finger, he knows you're close, he applies a little more pressure on your clit with his lips and tongue. "Cum for me pretty girl"

“Mmhp fuck Matt” you moan loudly as you cum for the first time.

He continues to suck and finger you through your orgasm before slowing down. He pulls his finger out slowly and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on it lightly and giving you a playful smirk. "You taste delicious."

He starts to kiss his way back up your body, leaving little trails of hot kisses all the way up. He finally reaches your lips, giving you a passionate but also playful kiss.

After pulling away, he starts to speak but you hear his voice is hoarse from the intensity of it all. "Are you ready?”

You nod nervously.

"Don't be nervous, I’ll be gentle" He whispers in your ear before pulling back and taking off all his clothes.

He climbs back onto the bed, his hard cock standing at attention as he positions himself between your legs. He reaches down and spreads your legs apart, his eyes locked on your pussy. He rubs the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you. Then he reaches out and takes off your shirt and bra. “It’s gonna hurt at first. But once you get used to it will feel so good, okay?”

You nod again. “O-okay…”

He nods back, and presses the head of his cock into you slowly. He hears a sharp inhale, and a hint of an uncomfortable sound, his grip on your hips tightens as he slowly pushes further, gritting his teeth as he does. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Mmh Matt it burns.” Your hand goes to grip his arm tightly.

He gently strokes your hair, trying to soothe you. “Shh, it’s okay, just breathe through it, you’re doing great.” He whispers. He leans forward, his face burying in your neck as he tries to distract you from the pain.

He slowly pushes more of his length into you. "You're doing great, just a little more..." He continues to push slowly, inch by inch, until he's finally buried inside you to the hilt. He holds still for a moment, letting you adjust to the sensation before starting to move slowly. As he starts to move slowly blood comes out of you.

“Hmmm Matt” you whimper in pain and pleasure.

“It's okay, I know it hurts. But it will get better.” He whispers in your ear. He kisses your forehead, trying to be as gentle as possible as he starts to move, his hips slowly rocking back and forth, his thick cock sliding in and out of your tight, virgin pussy. He can feel the warmth of your blood coating his cock, and it only turns him on more.

The pain start to slowly fade away, that causes you to moan and whimper more.

He smiles, relieved that the pain is starting to subside. He leans down and captures your mouth in a soft, gentle kiss. "You're doing so well," he praises, his voice warm and soothing. He continues to move slowly, savoring the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock.

“Mmhp fuck Matt… feels s’good” you moan and arch your back.

He groans, feeling you arching your back and pressing yourself closer to him. The sensation of your tight pussy clenching around his cock drives him wild, and he can feel his control starting to slip. "Fuck," he grunts, thrusting into you harder and faster. He slides his hand down to your clit and starts to rub it in slow circles, his other hand resting on your lower back, holding you close to him.

“Ahh mmh mmmhp” you moan pathetically at this new pleasure your feeling.

"That's it, moan for me," he commands, his voice dripping with lust. He loves how helpless and lost you sound under his touch. He increases the speed of his thrusts, pounding his cock into your pussy harder and faster. His fingers on your clit move faster, rubbing it in tight circles. "You're so fucking perfect," He can feel your body trembling under his touch. he slides his hand from your clit and wraps it around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze, not enough to hurt you.

Your pleasure increases at his words and actions making you arch your back higher and moan louder.

"That's it, take my cock like a good girl" He growls, his lust taking over as he continues to thrust into your tight pussy. The sight of blood on his cock and the feeling of your virginity being taken sends a wave of pleasure through him. "Oh fuck you're so tight, I can feel every inch of you," he growls, his hand gripping your throat tighter as he continues to thrust into you. He can feel your pussy tightening around him as your orgasm builds up inside of you.

“Matt Mmhp I- I think I’m close” you whimper.

"That's it, let it out. I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you cum for me" he says, his voice low and husky with desire. He tightens his grip on your throat, just enough to make you feel slightly choked, and pounds into your pussy even harder.

Your hole tightens hard against his cock as you cum. “Ahh mmh Matt”

He feels your pussy clench around his cock as you cum, the tightness almost unbearable. He throws his head back and lets out a deep, primal growl as he reaches his own orgasm. He pumps his cum deep inside of you, filling your virgin pussy to the brim with his thick, hot load.

As he pulls out of your cum-filled pussy, he looks down at the mess you’ve made. Your pussy is dripping with his cum, and there's a small pool of blood on the sheets from your torn virginity. He smiles, satisfied with the sight. "Fuck, you're perfect,"

You lay there still catching your breath.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, brushing it away from your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

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[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 3 of 3

wc: 11k (lol) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: unprotected sex, making out, creampies, fingering, oral (f recieving), lowkey don't have that dog in me anymore so this is kind of vanilla, dirty talk, aftercare...? needs to be read after part 1 and 2 a/n: fucking finally. so so so sorry for the wait and also this is lowkey probably so BAD because its been a hot minute since i've written for tumblr. because this could be written/ended in so many ways, AN EPILOGUE IS COMING with a 'happy' ending, just not putting it here in this part because i think i should post this out first on it's own. i love you guys so much, thank you to every single person who's read, commented, let me know how much you liked it, and waited so patiently. i cannot express how much it means to me.

—

"whose party is this again?" 

"jaemin's friend chenle," mark says, placing his drink down on one of the tables. "think they should be around here somewhere." 

through the smoke, he can see your eyes shine. you've come even closer now, and it's as if every movement of yours is liquified, rendered in slow-motion – you flick a strand of hair out of your face and it's like he can feel the damp air on your cheeks, a slow smile spreading across your face like sunrise spilling over the horizon, that lovely curl of your lip that he's memorized. he feels his chest cave in when he hears you laugh, feel you take another step closer to him even though your eyes never meet his, even though you never look his way – every memory he has of you threatening to burst through his seams. 

your skin glows under the dizzying lights, and all he can think about is the fact that you’re so close, he could reach out his hand and touch you. but he can’t. you weren't his – and he was the one who had thrown you away.

jisung comes up to you, and haechan can see his friend's shy smile met with your beaming grin as you turn to face him. jisung is saying something to you – a hand gently placed on your shoulder as he speaks into your ear, the other gesturing vaguely towards the upstairs rooms. and then you're nodding, and haechan watches wide-eyed as he takes your hand in his and begins guiding you up the stairs. 

he can't help it – he only waits a beat, enough for you to disappear up the stairs, before he's rushing through the crowd, climbing the stairs two at a time. he rounds the corner just as he sees the flick of your skirt as you disappear into the nearest room, the door clicking shut softly. taking a moment to calm himself down – chest heaving, wringing his hands – he pads softly towards the room, placing both hands on the door, straining to hear anything that might be going on. 

low voices. the rustling of fabric. haechan's imagination spun out of control – jisung's large hands on your skin, his plush lips exploring your neck, your soft sounds, the way you might look under him. he heard a light laugh, and he pressed even closer to try to catch what was being said – what if he had you on his lap? what if you laughed because he'd kissed you behind the ear like haechan did once? it had caught you by surprise, and you'd giggled – burying your face in the crook of his neck. you were sorry. you were just sensitive. haechan had wanted to pull you into his chest and never let you go. 

he knew he was breaking his own heart – over-analyzing each muffled sound that came through, all his thoughts drifting back to memories of you. but he couldn't seem to peel himself away as the party raged on and on downstairs, didn't want to be anywhere else but near you even if you didn't know he was there. he had never felt this way with anyone else before – never needed anyone else like this, never afraid like this – and the realisation roared loud in his ears along with the feverish ghost of your fingerprints all over his skin. 

–

jisung knows haechan's going to talk to him. 

can see it in the way he hangs back after practice, fiddling with his guitar and placing it back on its stand, before picking it back up again for no real reason. there was something off, slightly, about haechan these days. not enough for jeno or mark to comment about it, to hold an intervention, but things had definitely changed – haechan never brought around girls, or showed any interest when jeno and mark would discuss them. he was quiet, and subdued during practice, absorbed in his own guitar, or else discussing new songs with mark in low voices. and strangest of all – jisung mused, slinging his own bass over his shoulder as he ambled to the door – haechan started to seem afraid of jisung. 

jisung – who had for the longest time been the most timid and shy of the group, the least experienced by far. he remembered how haechan would tease him if a girl paid him any slightest bit of attention: half-joking, but half trying to build up his friend's confidence. he remembered how he used to be wary of haechan's attention at after-show parties, because haechan would watch him like a hawk and push him into any girls he showed the vaguest interest in. he remembered his shock at haechan, who had never been mean or vindictive – a pain sometimes yes, but never truly cruel to him –, standing there obstinately in his place on stage, staring down at you in the crowd. 

to the version of haechan now, who could barely look him in the eye. 

"jisung?" 

haechan clears his throat. jisung stops in his tracks, turning back to look at haechan. 

"yeah?" 

haechan's gaze is directed at his shoes. swallowing, he takes a moment before he asks. "uh…how was…um…how've you been?" 

jisung has to stop himself from laughing out loud. "i've been good," he says, amiably. he's not going to let haechan have it easy. 

"nice…nice," haechan mumbles. "uh…seeing anybody?" 

"haechan," he keeps his tone light. "come on." he moves towards where haechan is standing awkwardly, taking a seat down on one of the stools. after a beat, haechan sits down too. 

"how did it go with y/n?" haechan sounds almost timid – like a child asking a question, but scared of knowing the answer. 

"can't you ask her yourself?" he knows he's making things difficult, but he needs haechan to work for it. needs haechan to articulate, because he knows that's the least you deserve. 

"i…i could," haechan says. "but i…i don't want to seem possessive. i already fucked up by wishing her luck on the date and i just…" he buries his face in his hands. jisung doesn't say a thing, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "i don't want to hurt her anymore…but i need to know. i need to know what to expect.…" haechan's voice is so small, like he's disappearing into himself. 

"haechan…" he starts, slowly, but haechan cuts in, hurriedly. 

"if you really love her, jisung, if you're happy together, i'll back off. i won't see her again. it'll be…it'll be too hard to see her with you but that's for me to figure out. you…you should both be happy. she deserves you, ji. you'll be good for each other." 

"what are you even saying…" jisung lets out a nervous laugh. he knows haechan tends to get dramatic – loves blowing moments out of proportion, lingering on stories that were fun to tell and relive. loves to exaggerate – always taking the smallest details too seriously and making light of things that had real consequences. but as he watches haechan – curled in on himself, he sees that this is something else entirely. this haechan was anxious and overthinking, unsure of himself, fractured into a thousand different wants and needs. 

"i'm serious, jisung." haechan, the vocalist he is, keeps his voice as steady as possible. "i'll back off if you tell me to. if i'm making it hard for you in any way…" 

"haechan, it's…it's going to be fine. it's not what you think." 

"you…you're not together now?" a hint of hopefulness. 

jisung chooses to be kind. "we're not," he says, gently. when haechan's lips part, he continues on, interrupting him. "it had nothing to do with you. we're just…not." 

"i'm sorry," haechan murmurs, finally lifting his head. "i know you wanted it to work out." he truly means it.

"i'm happy with the way things are now," jisung says it, and he means it too. "but…but you know she's going to start seeing other people, right?" 

a beat. "yeah…yeah of course." 

"you can't go after all of them and ask them if it's working out or not, you know?" jisung says, wryly. "at some point…you need to just talk to her." 

"i…" haechan break off, a pained expression flitting over his face. "i don't have anything to say. but i really want her to be happy. i just want her to be happy. but it sounds…" he catches the look on jisung's face. "i know it sounds like a guilt-trip. i know what it sounds like." 

"give her space," jisung suggests, quietly. "figure out what you're willing to give. who you can be for her."

"hyuck or haechan." he says it almost spitefully. he had never hated the difference more. 

-

you were in the crowd today. 

it had been a little over a month – 6 days more, to be exact, – since haechan had last seen you in the crowd, each time spotting your face easily, everyone else fading to nothing. each time noting every which way your eyes shimmered under the lights, the ways your pretty lips curved into a smile or a shout, or even each time you looked away, distracted. 

he'd practically rushed into the dressing room after the show ended, anxious hands tugging at his clothes, trying to fix himself up just in case you decided to come find him. questions had spun around in his mind so much during the show, he was afraid he would start singing them in place of mark's carefully written lyrics. he's thought of a thousand ways to bring it up, but he wishes he could just ask — how've you been? have you forgotten me? 

he's still lost in thought when the dressing room door opens softly, the lock turning gently in the door barely louder than a whisper. 

"haechan?" 

he turns, and you're there. you're wearing a new dress, probably the shortest one he's ever seen on you, black glittery fabric barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but he doesn't linger on your body, his eyes seeking out your own, the flush of anticipation and adrenaline in your cheeks, the way your hair falls slightly loose, framing your face. the question is on the tip of his tongue, his lips are parting, his breath catches in his throat –  

" – don't worry," you say, breathlessly, as you catch the look on his face. "no one saw me." 

oh. 

walking towards him, you pull him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck, so you can brush your lips against his cheek. pulling away, you peer at him, wondering why he's looking at you so lost. like he was wondering something since he laid eyes on you tonight.

you frown. "were you going to ask me something else?" 

his lips part, soundlessly. you've never seen him so speechless. his arms tentatively circle around your waist, fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, and understanding dawns on you. 

"yes, it's a new dress," you smile. 

he swallows, the cloudy look clearing from his eyes as he finally runs his heavy touch down your back, a feeling you've grown used to. 

his tone is slightly darker when he plays along, masking the traces of disappointment. "for me?" 

you nod, letting his hands wander to the zipper, eyes traveling to the mirror to catch the way he fiddles with it, slowly starting to drag it down your spine. 

what you don't catch, is the way he's looking at you – lip caught between his teeth, eyes focused on the side of your face, regret and sadness and a desire he still couldn't shake coursing through his body. you had come back – and maybe that was all that he should care about. 

"come home with me," he blurts out, suddenly. "i have to show you something." 

confused, you look back at him, frowning. "now?" 

he swallows. "yes. we'll still…it's just…" he stammers, confidence draining as he watches you zip your dress back up. "i mean…i just…thought you'd like my bedroom more than this dressing room. you said- you said it was uncomfortable, that last time…" he trails off. his head droops, fingers picking at his nails. 

you place your hands on his chest. his head lifts just slightly, glancing at you through his lashes. "haechan," the ache in your chest making your voice soft – barely above a whisper. "why are you so nervous today?" 

"i'm sorry," he starts, but you shake your head. "it's been awhile."

"that's fine, i'll go home with you," you say, smiling, hoping to reassure him. the words instantly relax him, and he lets out a breath. you can feel his chest move under your palms. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, softly, but you don't know what he's saying it for. 

–

you don't know how you ended up here. 

one moment, haechan was unlocking his door, one hand fumbling with the keys as he held yours tightly in his other palm. the next, you were pushing him against the door – his plush lips, soft and tasting slightly like honeyed lip balm, finally kissing you deeply in a way you'd craved. and then he was sweeping you up into his arms, your legs locked in around his waist, his bag slumping to the floor as he focused all his attention on you. placing you on the countertop, he takes his time with your lips – his hand first cupping your face, then working its way down your neck, as if he was making sure you were wholly real through touch since his eyes were closed for the kiss. 

"hyuck?" you murmur. 

guilt pricks at your conscience when you feel him falter. you would never admit that you realized the name did something to him – made him more desperate and more tender all at once. you used it sparingly, only in certain moments, and tonight seemed just right for it, what with the way his touch was already so infused with longing. 

he hums in acknowledgement, pausing. a gentle palm tilts your face towards his, and his eyes are wide and patient. 

"what's wrong?" he asks. 

"i want to suck you off," you mumble, your words coming out rushed and careless. you almost think he might not catch it, but haechan goes still. his hands, caressing your face, stop moving.  

"what?"

your mind explodes with a million thoughts. did he not want you to? how many girls had sucked him off before you – did he think you wouldn't be good enough? was he not attracted to you enough? 

he was still just looking at you – something unreadable in his eyes. 

"do you not want me to?" you ask, doubt making your tone come off a little more insecure than you'd have liked. "is it…is it because i've never done it before?" 

he blinks. "what?" he repeats, again. 

you shift, uneasy. "you can teach me," you insist, holding onto his arms, wanting to be closer to him. "i'll practice…" 

"oh god," he whispers. "oh… oh y/n…" his hands barely skim your skin, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. "don't," he says, quietly. 

"why?"

i don't want to hurt you," he says, voice so tender it wavers under the weight of his feelings for you. "being able to touch you is already everything to me-" he trails off, biting his lip, and then he's weak in the knees, and you melt into his embrace as he holds your body against his. "i don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with." 

"i want to please you like the girls before," you protest, weakly. "i want to…i want you to tell me your fantasies." 

"all that matters to me," he says, slowly, eyes suddenly grave and solemn. "is that i'm here with you. just you." he holds your hands up to his lips and kisses the tips of your fingers. 

you don't know what to say. the charged atmosphere from before has dissolved into the night, leaving a balmy and sweet taste on your tongue. the only thing that feels right is to hold him in your arms and hold him as close as you can. 

he's looking at you, before suddenly pulling you into him as if he could read your mind – arms wrapped protectively around your back, one hand coming up to stroke your hair as you lean into his chest. 

the memory of that first night comes back to you – the first time he rejected you. he hadn't wanted to hurt you then, either. and then he proceeded to in all ways possible – playing with your heart in a terrible back and forth. and then he disappeared from your life, and then he came back and something was different – in the way he touched you, looked for you, looked at you, was careful with you. 

but you moved on – told jaemin, told yourself you weren't waiting. you'd gone on a date with jisung, and then to some more with a few other guys on campus. you didn't hang around the band all the time now – didn't show up for every concert. and even when you did, you rarely stopped by to see haechan – spending more and more time with jisung, who was steadily becoming one of your closest friends. 

you tried to keep things light when you did visit haechan. always easy, relishing in how well he knew how to please you, how he always knew what to say. and for the most part, he was able to play along – a smile always tugging at the corner of his lips, or his tongue poking into his cheek as his eyes turned dark. 

but it was on nights like these – when the moon was a bit too bright and the air between your lips and his dense like honey, your skin heated and his face flushed – when you used the wrong name, or he said things too vulnerable and too intimate. it was on nights like these when you are faced with the reality that he made you feel the way no one else could – even as he was ever-changing, ever showing you a different side of himself. on these nights you plunge your hands deep into the kaleidoscope of him, and its like diving into shattered glass. 

–

"i wanted to show you this," he murmurs, shyly. 

he places a pair of headphones clumsily on your head, his long fingers scrambling to adjust it on your head, trying not to pull at your hair. your hands come up to help, and you shoot him a reassuring smile. 

it was even later in the night. you were both showered and dressed for bed – you in a long-sleeved shirt of his that you liked. when you came into the bedroom, he was fiddling with his laptop – and you could hear snippets of his honey-sweet voice starting and stopping as he tapped at his keyboard. it was natural, to head over to the bed and lean your head on his shoulder, as he started to explain to you what he was doing, eventually grabbing his headphones from the bedside table. his skin smells faintly of baby powder, and his bare face under the dim light is so soft – mellowed curves, the constellation of moles on his cheek ever visible, eyes tired but warm. 

he clicks play, and his voice fills your ears – clean, without any backing vocals or instruments. you try to catch the lyrics, but he mumbles through his words, voice meandering effortlessly around the melodies, drawing beautiful loops. his voice is delicate and gentle, flowing water with a current of electricity running through it, humming and buzzing with dangerous life. 

it ends all too quickly, and haechan – who was watching your face carefully the entire time, clicks on a few more tracks. you can hear his voice, muffled from under the headphones, start to explain. 

"that's…that's my draft for the melody. i made it for this, uh, it's one of mark's demos–" 

a sultry, low beat now plays, low strings filling in the gaps. when his voice leaks in, you feel your cheeks start to heat up. the same melody from before – so innocuous and sweet, maybe something even vulnerable – sounds sinful all of a sudden. you can practically hear the scream of the crowd punctuating each line, and now even the way he mumbles is hazed with a sort of suggestive glow. 

you look at him, wide-eyed. he's still watching your face, this time his lip caught between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes. when the song ends, you tug the headphones down from your ears, and he takes them from you absentmindedly.

"mark told me to try writing for that. he said it suited my voice —" 

"it does," you respond. your hands reach out to play with his, tracing the way his fingers curved, running your touch along his calloused finger-tips. 

"but i…i don't know. i want to write something…something that feels…" he stumbles over his words, eyes lingering on the way your hands play with his, the gentleness of your touch. "that feels like this," he finishes, softly. 

"like what?" you hum, tracing loops on the back of his hand. 

but he doesn't respond. 

"do you like it?" he asks, quietly. 

you give his hand a squeeze. "sing it for me?" 

his hand trails off to the keyboard again, but you hold it steady in your palm. "no, sing it for me now. here." 

he's still. you almost think he won't do it, but then he's pushing the screen of his laptop shut, and he turns to face you. 

this time, when he sings, he gets all the words out. 

in person, his voice is hushed and soft, like every word is a secret. his eyes flutter shut, and he ducks his head shyly as he continues. when he ends, his voice trails off, and he doesn't turn to look at you, staring at his hands. you stay silent, until it's like he can't bear it, and his head turns to face you, eyes seeking reassurance. 

"i like it just like this," you tell him, softly. 

his smile blooms. 

—

"keep haechan on his toes," jaemin says, leaning back in his chair. the steam from the coffee he made – a 2am jaemin specialty — curled gently in the air, your hands nursing the mug in front of you, sipping just to have something to do. "don't see him for awhile. keep him guessing." 

"that's cruel," you mumble. 

"he's done crueler," he points out. "you know you don't owe him anything, right?"

"i know i don't," you say, slowly. "i just think that it would kill me not to know how he's doing. if he was going on dates with other people…" 

"and would he tell you?" 

no, is your automatic answer, one you can't run from in your head, but jisung cuts in. 

"he wouldn't go on a date with someone else," he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair so he could stretch out his long limbs. blinking sleep from his eyes, he shook his head again to clear his bangs away from his eyes. it had been late already when he showed up, after a show, bringing food, a tired but giddy smile on his face. "you really fucked him up, that's all i'm going to say."

"he may not go on a date, but he'd fuck someone else, probably." jaemin rolls his eyes. 

"we actually haven't fucked in awhile." the realization feels like butterflies in your chest – an uneasy, fluttery feeling. 

"what?" jisung looks at you in disbelief. "sorry," he adds, suddenly sheepish when both you and jaemin stare at him. "i just thought that was the big part of your relationship." 

"it was…" you say, slowly. ignoring how jisung said 'relationship' when it was really never that. "but…but i don't know. recently we always get distracted…or… or he's… i don't know." 

you think of his unmade bed. the careful, tender loop of his arm around your waist. you think of the way his lashes flutter when you lean in to kiss him – 

and yet, there was something bigger bothering you about this, something that tugged at your gut, the words forcing themselves out of you. 

"i hate that it feels like there's nothing more to me than this." 

"y/n, what are you talking about?" jaemin asks, his voice quiet. when you pause, he presses on, urgency in every word. "what did he say to you?" 

"nothing," you shake your head. "he didn't say that to me, it's something i feel. no matter who i'm with…even when i'm alone….i can't run from it." you take a breath. you hated admitting this, but jaemin's eyes were kind as they looked into yours. "even when we weren't talking, i was thinking about him…and tonight…jaemin i don't think anyone should be able to make me feel like this." 

“there's nothing wrong with being in love," he says, carefully. when you don't say a word, he continues on, as gentle as possible. "you know that no amount of attention he gives you will change the way you feel, right?" 

he was right. if you really dared to dream – to use up every last shooting star, count on all of the angel numbers — and haechan, donghyuck, gave himself to you fully like you wanted, you would still be afraid of losing him. a sick flutter beats in your chest at the passing thought of him slipping away again – that all this fight would have been for nothing. 

it was as if jaemin could read your mind. "there was a life before him," he reassures you. "there is so much more without him. you just need to start living like it, to really see it."

you had nodded, but you couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how many shows you skipped, no matter how many times you drove by his apartment or ignored his messages, it wouldn't change a thing: that even though there was a life before him, maybe it wasn't one that you wanted anymore.

—

you're cutting through the park on your way home from class, when you hear a shout of your name. you barely have time to turn before a small girl is launching herself at your legs, standing high on her tip-toes to throw her arms around your waist. 

"slow down!" 

you'd know that voice anywhere. 

haechan looks different. he's dressed in a striped sweater, glasses askew on his small nose. your heart skips a beat – he looks warm, and cozy, and comfortable. behind the frames, his eyes glow when he looks at you, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips. 

the two of you just stand there, looking into each other's eyes. every sense of yours is heightened –  the autumn air cold on your skin. the light catching everything around you. and your heart beating in your chest, speeding up with every moment you continue looking at him. you can't help it: even now you smile looking at his face. 

he raises his eyebrows. 

"what?" you blurt out, caught off-guard. 

he laughs lightly. "what are you doing here?" he asks, like he's explaining a question. 

"just…passing through," you say, slowly. "you?" 

"the…uh…kindergarten's right near here." haechan point vaguely at a point in the distance, you only look at it for a second before you focus back on him. you can't help it. he smiles again. "you're just passing through? can't you stay for awhile? we were going to get ice cream." 

his sister tugs at your sweater, excited at the sound of ice cream. you look down at her face – she has the same nose as her brother, the same bright smile. 

"just for a bit," you concede. haechan pumps his fist, playing up his excitement to make his sister laugh. it makes your heart go still and race all at the same time. 

—

"we need to talk." 

there was something wrong with haechan. 

the smell of rain and cigarettes hung in the alley behind the dingy venue. haechan sits on the steps with his head in his hands, jeno leaning on the wall opposite, jisung against the doorway behind. it's mark who stands directly in front of him, as he rubs his face with his hands, trying to calm down. mark who crouches down, mark's prying hands which make haechan lift his head to look at them. 

"what happened?" he asks, his eyes blazing. 

haechan swallows. "it's been a bad day," he tries, weakly. 

"it's been a bad month," jeno corrects. at haechan's glare, he raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and it's jisung who pipes up.

"i think people are starting to notice something's off," he says, softly. "that you play differently, sometimes."

"you mean that he messes up when she's not in the crowd," jeno says, bitterly. 

"i only messed up today," haechan mumbles. "it won't happen again." 

"what about yesterday? it's like you weren't onstage at all." jeno protests. 

haechan opens his mouth, but closes it. he knew this conversation had to happen, that things would lead to this – his fingers faltering, his mind going blank as his solo began. jeno's drums continuing relentlessly, mark's eyes on him, as he shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind and focus all at once. unsure of what to keep — the image of you, or the chords he'd worked so hard to get right. 

"hyuck, do you need a break?" mark asked, his words slow and gentle. "we can stop performing for awhile, cancel some of our gigs…"

"no," he breathes.  "don't." he doesn't want to lose all of it – and because he knew that if he stopped performing, he didn't know if he would ever see you again. 

and it's like jeno reads his mind. "she's not going to like you like this," jeno says, his voice impersonal. "she likes the version of you onstage, remember? it's how she first met you, it's what kept her coming back for more." 

"jeno." mark's voice is stern, but haechan looks up right past him, hurt pooling in his eyes. 

"i know," he breathes. "i know that. but i don't know if i can be that around her anymore." 

"not just around her," jisung notes. "you're not haechan anymore. it doesn't make you happy." 

"i know," he repeats, quieter this time. 

"hyuck, listen," mark sighs. "you're not doing yourself any good going onstage like this. i'm canceling the next few shows –" as haechan protests, he cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "no. we could all use a break." 

"mark," haechan croaks. "i can't." 

"we'll still have practice," mark says, firmly. "you still have to show up for all of it. and those songs i told you to work on —" 

"you should go home," jisung adds. "take care of your sister." 

there's a pause, as they wait for jeno to chime in. 

"none of it matters if you don't figure it out with her," he says, a tone of finality ringing in his words. he straightens, broad shoulders squared, suddenly much bigger under the lights. "if you need to get over it, you have to. staying like this is hurting everyone." 

haechan's lips part, soundlessly. there's a sharp creak, as jeno stalks back into the venue, followed by mark – who pats haechan gently on the shoulder. vaguely, haechan waits for the sound of jisung's soft steps to fade, but they only shuffle closer, until the lanky boy drops down next to him. his legs stretch out into the dingy alley, as haechan hugs his knees closer to his chest, for the first time perhaps truly afraid of what he was about to hear from his friend.

"sometimes, we meet the right person at the wrong time-" jisung's voice is quiet, almost a murmur, but the words still scrape against haechan's skin, rough like sand. 

"don't say that." he bites his lip harshly, a sudden rush of anger at the pity in jisung's responding sigh. "don't fucking say that." 

"haechan, it's okay. she liked you, but then she moved on after you realised you —" 

"she didn't –" his fist clenches, restless in his lap. "she didn't move on." 

"really? not at all?" jisung's eyes are fixed on haechan's, holding his gaze. "after weeks of telling her you couldn't give her what she wanted…you think she's still waiting for you?" 

"ji-"

"why should she wait for you?" 

haechan swallows. "she shouldn't," he mumbles. "i…i need to really let her go. jeno's right." he truly means it.

jisung hesitates. he's been spending more time with you, as friends – joining on your movie nights with jaemin, or else baking together, or letting you style him for shows and concerts. and the more time he spends with you, really gets to know you, the more he can see why you and haechan seem to need each other. your patience and gentleness matched the soft way he's seen haechan take care of his sister and at times, mark. he watched the way you sometimes falter – worry overtaking your features for a split second when you stop at a red light, or your teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you stand in front of the stove – and instinctively he can imagine haechan's confidence, his natural propensity to make everything seem easy, fitting in with you and taking care of you. 

but he knew that haechan could only give you his attention – not his heart, not until he was brave enough to admit how much you meant to him. 

your resolve to stay friends with him was as flimsy as haechan's promise to let you go. jisung almost wanted to laugh at the insistence both of you had, upon lying to yourselves. 

"be honest," he says, gently. "what do you want?" when haechan doesn't answer, jisung's low voice continues on, coaxingly. "what's your best-case scenario? what do you want to happen?" 

haechan takes a deep breath. "i don't know." 

jisung tries to hide his disappointment. "do you not know, or are you not ready to say it?" 

"i don't know," haechan mumbles again, burying his face in his hands. i don't know if i deserve it. 

the two of them sit there for a long, long, time. 

–

there was something wrong with haechan.

something's different. that's what jeno had said earlier, after the show. exhausted from sleepless nights, screaming fans making him feel nauseous, haechan barely paid attention to anything during his performances except for his own guitar. he hardly looked at the crowd, didn't acknowledge their pleas of his name, as if it wasn't one he recognised at all. 

he'd started missing parties, and was barely there even if he showed — ignoring the way girls swarmed around him, wondering if he was playing a new game, one where they had to work harder to earn his attention. it was a game they never won, his eyes trained on his cup, or else on the door. 

but out of all of haechan's bad habits, this might be the worst of them – sitting in the living room past midnight, sipping down to the last dregs of his alcohol, waiting for the knock on his door. 

it was late now — so late that the hours had bled into the next day. he hadn't seen you at the concert, not at the party, and despite telling himself not to dream, not to hope, he still carried enough desperation in him to stay up again. 

he's relieved he did. 

his hands shake as he opens the door. his hands falling to his sides as he drinks in the sight of you, letting you in. 

"hi," you breathe, and you don't ask before you lean into him, soft lips brushing his plush ones. 

he's at a loss for words, his tongue numb in his mouth, limbs still heavy from how tired he'd been all day. he lets you guide him to the couch, into the cushions. lets you straddle his hips, holding your body close to his with careful arms, as he meets your kisses gently.

something's different, but haechan's not the only one who's changed. on nights like these, all you do is take and take and take. 

"i haven't seen you in a while," he murmurs. quietly, softly, the words almost getting lost between kisses. immediately after he says the words, he slots his lips with yours firmly, as if afraid of what you would say if he let the space between you and him grow. 

"i've been busy." at the crestfallen look on his face, a small smile tugs at your lips, and you lean in to brush your lips with his. "why? did you miss me?" 

"i did," he says, almost timid. "i missed you."

at this, you raise your eyebrows. "you could have had anyone else." 

but he shakes his head. "i missed you," he repeats, hands mapping your skin, as if checking if you were really here, seeking the familiar way you fit into his palms, your slopes and your edges. 

"i missed you too," you say, meaningfully, letting him pull you in for another kiss. but when you push against him, body rocking into his and mouth open and wanting, the glow in your eyes tells him you're talking about something else entirely. 

his mind races. the feeling of you against him wakes him up like nothing else, the way you touch him, your smell and your taste setting fire to all his senses. there's something sweet about your lips tonight, something he wants to savor on his tongue and drown in all at once. 

he doesn't want to waste any of this, because this was the only thing you ever wanted to see him for — and that's what he tells himself as he pulls you into his body, because finally, finally, your attention is all on him, an electric heat simmering over each fibre of his being, the feeling of your body too sweet to be true.

but it's been one too many nights he's waited, a weight on his chest and a drowsiness he can't shake overcoming him like a cloyingly sweet poison. 

"i–" he's cut off by a shuddering inhale as your lips travel down to his neck, your hips grinding against him just right. "baby, i'm sorry," he tries again, his hands now gripping onto your waist, trying to steady you, even as he gives up. "i don't think i can take care of you tonight." 

you still. 

"don't go, please," he begs. "i'm sorry, it's been…it's been a long day and i…" he breaks off. the performance. the fight with the band. the fact that he'd been drinking for hours, the starless sky inky black outside his window, his fingers still stinging from plucking at guitar strings all night. "just give me a second," he stammers, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his features, before looking up at you with tired eyes. "i'll be fine in a minute, then we'll go to the bedroom, i just —" 

your hands slide down the slope of his shoulders. 

"don't go," he repeats, hands fumbling for yours as he brings them up to his lips, like a prayer. "i can take care of you, i promise. just…" 

"donghyuck," you say, softly. again you smile, cupping his face in your palms. his round cheeks, plush lips, the slight flare of his nose. he almost goes cross-eyed staring at you, as you lean in close and kiss him again – this one different from the rest, close-lipped and chaste. 

"hyuck, let me take care of you tonight, okay?" 

caught in a riptide of his own longing, he lets go. 

"you don't have to do anything," he mumbles. his hands tentatively touch your waist, the barest brush of his fingertips, before he's encircling you in his arms, easing you into his chest. slowly, tentatively, he holds you close by the weight of his arms, a large hand reassuringly patting the space right beneath your heart – clumsy, rhythmic thumps that trailed off into a lingering warmth. "i just want to hold you here, like this." 

he can feel the tension that spreads down your spine, your breath caught in your throat. your lips are parted, your eyes looking at his in an unreadable expression. 

"do you not like it?" he asks, his voice small. his hands fall from your waist, nervously tugging his sleeves down over his palms. "i…i'm just…" 

"i do," you say, slowly. and because your faces are so close, the thought is barely crossing your mind before you press your lips against his. it's supposed to be quick, reassuring, but the look on haechan's face when you pull back makes you lean in again right away. 

it was a look that was open and hurt, his hands still tangled in his lap. his eyes stayed open as you kissed him, as if he couldn't dare believe it was real — finally blinking shut when you kissed him again, his slight relief melting on your tongue. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as you clumsily got up off the couch, and as you straightened, he ducked away from your gaze, staring at his hands. 

"hyuck," you start, but he shakes his head. 

"it's fine." he still wouldn't look at you - fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "you don't have to stay, it's late." 

"hyuck, listen to me." 

"i know," he says, quickly. the slightest trace of fear in his voice. "you don't….you don't have to remind me, i know. it's too…you said we couldn't…"

" — hyuck, i wasn't going to say that." 

his fingers falter, but he stays silent. 

"i can't fall asleep properly in your lap," you explain, slowly. "let's go to bed, okay?" 

he looks up then. "really?" 

"i said i want to take care of you," you repeat, his wide eyes making you feel shy all of a sudden. "i mean it." 

he lets you take his hands, body following pliantly as he stands from the couch, as you lead him to his bedroom, his eyes focused on your intertwined hands. it's both a familiar and unfamiliar feeling — crawling into his bed with his clothes on your body, sinking into the soft sheets and letting the senses of him wash over you. the usual buzz of pleasure isn't there, and its a different tiredness that seeps through your veins, one that comes with feeling safe. 

since when did you start feeling safe with him? 

you feel his weight sink in behind you, the duvet rustling against skin as he turns. an arm curls around your waist. his head lowers into the crook of your neck – you can feel his soft hair, his pouty lips brushing your shoulders in a light kiss. 

"the band is taking a break," he mumbles. "because of me."

"hyuck?" you try to turn in his arms, but his grip only tightens on your waist. he shakes his head. "hyuck, what happened? are you okay?" 

"m'yeah, i'm okay now." he shifts. "just…i just don't know if i like playing in the band anymore." 

there's a pause. 

"are you…are you disappointed?" the thumb drawing circles on your hip stills. "say something," he whispers. "please." 

"why would i be disappointed?" you ask, quietly. placing your hand on his, you turn, facing him as he encircles you in his arms. his eyes are half-lidded, tousled hair falling over his brows, his cheek squished against the pillow into a half-pout. it's almost instinct – the way your hand goes up to his face to brush his hair out of his face, fingers absentmindedly tracing his moles. 

you can feel his lips move against your fingers. "would you still come to see me?" he wonders, softly. "if you didn't have a reason to?" 

you bite your lip. "i would want to…" you say, slowly. "but i don't know if i should. haechan, what's going on? does music not make you happy anymore?" 

his heart aches. your care for him fills his lungs, making his eyes begin to prickle with tears. 

"i don't think the haechan…donghyuck thing is good for me." 

"oh." your thumb brushes over the bridge of his nose. "hyuck…" you start. "i don't…i don't want to overstep." 

his face falls. "sorry," he says, his voice small. "i won't bother you with it…you don't have to…"

"no, i don't mean…hey, listen to me." you wait until he looks up at you through his lashes, nervously. "i think i've gotten to know haechan and donghyuck, you know? i mean…" your heart skips a beat, suddenly shy at your own honesty. but you've already let your guard down – it's no use. "of course i like haechan. haechan's the one who invited me backstage, haechan's the one who made me go on that rooftop…but…" you take a breath. 

the sleep had worn off from haechan's eyes – he was alert as he watched you now,  hanging onto your every word. 

"i've gotten to know donghyuck too, i think. i hope. donghyuck makes the best sandwiches for his baby sister, donghyuck has a bear tattoo because he looks as cute as one, donghyuck is always gentle with me even when i ask him not to be." your thumb traces the constellation of moles he has again, tracing down to his neck. you draw him closer – the way he's looking at you: like you're his entire world, like your words were the only thing keeping him breathing, filling your chest with a tender kind of ache that didn't go away. 

"donghyuck and haechan aren't that different, not really. they're still you. i like them both. i like all of you. if you woke up tomorrow and told me you were someone else, if you were suddenly becoming someone new, i think i'd still want to fall asleep next to you anyway at the end of the day. because i know you –" you breathe in, sharply. "i…i think i do. i…hope i do." 

he doesn't say anything. just leans in, and brushes his lips with yours lightly – once, twice, and finally sealing them in a kiss. he kisses you deeply, intensely – it wakes you up, that familiar feeling stirring in your belly as your hips move of their own accord. a liquid euphoria fills your veins as he pulls you into him – him on his back, you laying on his firm chest, the toned muscles on his chest grounding you, a feeling so familiar, one that you craved for a long time. you've never felt safer, in his arms. he kisses you like with every moment apart, he wonders if you're still there, and each time he sighs into your mouth it's with relief that you're still here, with him. 

"do you want to…?" he asks softly. he's breathing heavily, but he tries to calm himself down. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it's that act – so innocent, so nervous even though you've both done it a dozen times with each other, that makes your heart beat harder in your chest. 

"it's been awhile," you murmur. 

"i know." he nods, swallowing. "it just…it hasn't felt right. don't…don't get me wrong, i want you all the time-" he practically groans with frustration. "it's just recently i just…i've been really confused. it's so stupid, but i didn't know which version of me you wanted –" 

"just you," you assure him, softly.

"let me make it up to you then." his tone is just as soft. 

you take his hands, and slide them under your shirt. gently, he tugs it off of you, sitting up slightly to take his shirt off as well before focusing back on you. you're giddy with the feeling of his touch again, nostalgia heightening every single sensation. it's not just hyuck tracing his hands over your chest – his lips finding your nipples, tongue darting out to tease them lightly. it's every single time he's touched you before – in the backseat of his car, hands moving urgently. in your bed that first time – so careful because you were extra sensitive. you have to focus to get back to the present moment, where he's watching you carefully again – noticing that you're lost in your thoughts. 

"everything okay?" he murmurs. 

you nod. "i just missed you so much," you whisper, and you can feel his desperation in the kiss that follows. "i need you now." 

"need to prep you, baby." gently, he eases you onto the bed, crawling down your body as you tug off your shorts and panties. your legs spread, needily, as you can feel him inch closer to your core, his hands coming to hold your hips. "stay still for me?" he mumbles, his eyes dazed as he watches you nod, his own head bobbing along absentmindedly, guiding you through it as he encourages you to bend your knees, baring yourself to him. 

the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you mewl, hands coming down to grip onto his hair. 

"i know, baby," he comforts you, drawing small circles on your thigh as he leans into suckle your clit, making your hips buck up. he holds you still, patiently continuing to circle your entrance and lap at your clit. "fuck…you're getting so wet, angel." he slides in a finger, and the intrusion makes you clench around him in sensitivity, especially as he kitten-licks your clit shyly while easing in another finger. 

"need you now," you whine, voice reaching that pitch only he seems to bring out in you. his fingers pump more urgently, now curling towards the front of your walls, as he applies more force to your clit with his tongue, massaging the sensitive bud. 

"need you-" you choke out. "need you inside." 

"just give me one right now," he says, a slight plea to his voice. "please, angel. cum for me please, –"

"wanna cum with you inside," you sniffle. that gets his attention. he crawls right up your body until you're face to face, kissing you deeply, palms coming up to hold your face, careful to keep his fingers away. it's heated – your hips rolling into his as he finally loses control, hips bucking into yours until he's practically humping you as he kisses down your neck. your hands go to his waist, and he whimpers into your skin, finally tugging down his sweatpants, and you feel a familiar weight against your core. 

"condom-" he gasps, breaking away. the muscles on his body flex as he reaches for his bedside table, you can feel them move against your hands. 

"have you been fucking anyone else?" 

he blinks. "no, not since…" he breaks off. "no. and i'm clean. mark made me check." the sound of your giggle makes him smile momentarily – a goofy, lopsided grin that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

"i want to feel you-" you say, slowly. "please." 

he sucks in a breath. "this…this isn't one of those things you're trying to do to please me, right?" he looks at you, skeptically. "it doesn't make a difference to me, you know that right? i just want you to feel comfortable. and safe…" 

"i am comfortable," you assure him. "i'm on the pill. i really just want to do this with you." 

"because-" he suddenly sits back, running a nervous hand through his hair. "i'm fine with using protection, you know that. i…i love how you feel either way. i never want you to do anything you don't feel absolutely right about…"

"is this about the blowjob?" you raise your eyebrows at him, smiling when you see his eyes widen. "because i'm going to do that too, with you. i want to make you feel good." 

now it's his turn to laugh, tilting his head back. his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "you have no idea-" he murmurs, voice suddenly low and serious. "you have no idea how good you make me feel just by the way you look at me. by the way you say my name." 

"hyuck," you say, patiently. "i need you. don't make me beg." 

"i should be the one begging," he murmurs, and this time when you reach your arms out, he lowers himself right into your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. he strokes himself a few times, eyelashes fluttering, before slowly easing into you – a soft sound escaping his lips as his eyes went unfocused. it really had been awhile – his length filling you up, stretching you out in a way that was almost painful, but that pain was quickly dulled by pleasure as his body pressed against yours. 

"fuck-" he curses, eyes screwed shut in concentration. "can i…can i please…" 

you rock your hips against him, letting him in even deeper as he bottoms out. "move-" you whimper, "please-" you barely finish your words before he's already drawing back, barely pulling out before fucking himself back in, short intense thursts feeling dizzying. his slender fingers find your clit again, applying a light pressure as the blunt tip of cock perfectly hits the spongy part of your walls, the sound obscene in the quiet room. you were so aroused, you felt that you were making a mess of his thighs – wetness making the scene seem ever more lewd, creaming around his length as he increased his speed, groaning lowly to himself. 

"cum for me, princess," he pleads, lips dipping down to mark the sensitive part of your neck. you were already close from all the teasing – and once again the familiarity of every touch and movement sends your senses into overdrive. your entire body tenses as you climax, and you can hear him hiss out another string of curses, mixed with your name and every term of endearment under the sun. 

"where do you want it?" he all but whimpers, hips still fucking into you like a reflex. 

"inside-" you mumble, ankles loosely hooking behind his back, trying to stop him from moving away. "hyuck, please come inside, fill me up please-" with a soft cry, he pushes in deep – and you can feel him cum inside you, making a mess between your thighs, the feeling so arousing that it awakens something inside you, and your hips begin to move – begging for more. 

"wait-" he pants. "give me a minute, angel-" his eyes are closed again, head lowered, as he pushes through the overstimulation, feeling his soft cock slowly begin to harden again. the sounds falling from his throat now are scratchy, hoarse whines – a sound so dirty it makes your heart beat even faster, a sense of defiled innocence you've only ever heard in his music. the angle in which he's rutting into you stimulating your clit, pushing you closer to your edge as you fuck up onto him. 

"hyuck?" you push his bangs out of his eyes, tracing your hands over his shoulders, his chest. your fingers brush past his nipples and his mouth falls open with need, an achy sound releasing from the back of his throat, his puffy lips parted obscenely. you pinch his nipples again, gently, experimentative, and you feel his body shudder as he cums again, this time going still. it's so fucking arousing, an different side to him that you've never seen, that you feel yourself climax as well, the stimulation overwhelming. 

the both of you lay there for awhile, before he seems to come to his senses — a shaky hand moving the hair out of your face. 

he looks at you, and you look at him. 

and as if he can't help himself, he kisses you again – this time so soft and gentle, almost as if it were the first time all over again. 

"you alright?" he mumbles. 

you nod. 

"let's clean up in a second," he breathes. "just…let's stay like this for awhile." 

you nod again. you don't trust your own voice. something is happening – something tastes different in the air, something in the way you're looking at each other, something in the way he's touching you now – as if you might break or bruise if he even let his fingerprints get onto your skin. in the way he's looking at you now – something urgent in his gaze. 

"are you…are you free tomorrow night?" 

"i am." you sound stronger than you feel. 

"can i take you somewhere?" 

pause. "yeah." you give him a small smile. "i'd like that."

the smile that breaks out across his face is one that you know like the back of your hand. 

–

sitting across from you now, with your plates already cleared away and all that's left is your last few sips of wine, it hits you how that this is the most normal setting you've been in with him, possibly ever. his long legs stretched out under the table over by your chair, gently placing down his wine glass as he looks at you, his expression soft. his face is lit up by candlelight, hair falling over his brows in a hopelessly endearing way. 

"you good?" he murmurs. 

you nod. things feel cozy, and comfortable – it's a feeling so foreign but at the same time so familiar, you have to keep reminding yourself that this is real. 

he bites his lip. "pretend i'm jisung," he says, impulsively. "and…and you're describing how this went to him. how…how did you find it?" 

you give him a look, but he looks so shy, so nervous to be asking you this question, that you decide to play along. 

"well, jisung-" you take a deep breath, smiling when you see him smile too. "haechan picked me up today, that was really nice-" 

"-sounds like the bare minimum," he mumbles back, head bent.

"well, yeah it kind of is. but he doesn't have the best track record." you see him wince, so you let that comment linger for awhile before continuing on. "he's been a gentleman today. he…he took me to a restaurant that he found out i've been meaning to go to for awhile now, because he asked jaemin beforehand." 

"and that's…creepy? doing too much?" 

"it was thoughtful," you mused. "even though he made the reservation for the wrong date…"

"fucker," he shakes his head. 

"...it was nice because we got to go to walk around, and there was this moment, um…" his head darts up. now you can see him break character – something piercingly vulnerable in the way his bambi-brown eyes shine. 

you swallow. "we were crossing the street…and he put his hand on my lower back, just to guide me forward, and when we got to the other side he took my hand in his and just…held it-" 

he's looking at you, slightly confused and a little nervous. 

"yeah?" 

"he…he usually only acts like that when we're alone…when there's no one around." he still looks lost, so you reach forward across the table, taking his hand in yours. as if on instinct, his hand squeezes yours. "it's sweet," you reassure him. "it was really sweet." 

he bites his lip, but nods to show that he understands.

there's silence, for a bit. you think of breaking the silence, of saying anything, when suddenly he clears his throat slightly, sitting up a little straighter.

"hey, mark-" now he's doing the same bit, and it catches you by surprise a little - making you smile. "yeah, i'm still with y/n. i...uh...i fucked up the reservation, you were right, i should've checked again..."

"i really like spending time with her," he says, slowly. "i...i can't stop staring at her - she looks so beautiful tonight. and...and i can't believe she's finally here with me, that i somehow didn't fuck this up. and um...we were in this record store just now...and i was listening to her talk about an album she liked -" a smile plays on his lips as he recalls the memory. you suddenly become aware that your heart is beating hard again, pounding in your ribs. "and she was so excited, and she kept laughing as she talked, and...and i just realised i would do anything to make her that happy, all the time. and that i want it to be me, i want to be the reason she smiles like that."

you swallow.

"haechan..."

"you don't have to say anything-" he rushes to say. "i just...i just wanted you - i mean, uh, mark - to know."

"okay." you take a deep breath. "and um, i want jisung to know that-"

"yeah?"

"i like spending time with him too," you say, faintly.

he nods, but he doesn't smile.

-

as the car pulls up to your driveway, the quiet hum of the engine is silenced – headlights turned off, only the soft glow of streetlights casting their pools of gold over haechan's face. it's so quiet, you hear the shaky breath he takes as he steadies himself. 

"i have something for you," he murmurs. you can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he leans to pick something up from the backseat, the comforting smell of his perfume making your heart warm. but then you hear the crinkle of paper, his hair falling over his face as he sits back into the driver's seat, and your heart falls in a completely different way – your insides rushing with inertia, dizzy and heady – because he's holding a bouquet of dark red roses. they're wrapped sweetly, tied off with a piece of red ribbon to match the blooms, and your eyes linger on the way his fingers tremble as he holds them out to you with both hands. 

his starts to speak, but whatever he falters as he watches you stare at the soft petals, stems completely stripped of their thorns – and he bites his lower lip, breath caught in his throat. 

"too much?" he asks, softly. "i just thought…i just…mark and jisung said it would be a good idea," he stammers, lowering the bouquet as one of his hands falls to his thighs, nervously clenching his fists. "i was supposed to give them to you when i picked you up, but i got scared…you don't have to take them, i just thought…i wasn't thinking-" 

your hand closes around his hand holding the flowers. your other goes to his face, your thumb brushing his cheek as he falls silent, his eyes fixed on yours, caught in the haze of your touch. slowly, so as not to startle him, you lean in and kiss him gently. it's a beat before he kisses you back, as if he couldn't believe it, and when you pull away just slightly with a soft sound, you can see the nervousness in his eyes. and so you lean in to kiss him again – you kiss him until his lashes flutter shut, until you can feel him settle in his seat, sighing into your mouth as he kisses you deeply. you pull the flowers into your lap, his hand giving up control easily, coming up to your face to hold you in his palms. 

"hyuck." 

he pauses, leaning back – but his hands only leave your face when you hold them in your own, guiding them down to rest against the center console, your fingers intertwined. 

"i never want you to feel like i'm ashamed of being seen with you," he blurts out suddenly. 

"what?" 

"i never meant to let it get that far," he continues on, looking at his hands. "when i first met you…i wanted you to be like everyone else. i tried to do what i always do, but i just couldn't. you kept getting in my head, and i kept hurting you, and i didn't know how to stop and i just-" he exhales. "i never want to make you feel like that again." 

"hyuck, was this a date?" 

he swallows. "if you want it to be," he starts, but then he shakes his head. "the truth is, i was afraid you would say no if it was. but i really want it to be. i really really do." 

"hyuck," you take a deep breath. "whatever you're going through, you're not going to find the answer in me." 

"y/n, i love you," he says, quietly, tenderly. he says it like it's the easiest thing in the world. "i want to be a person who deserves to be with you, and love you, and i know you think you can't change me, and it isn't your responsibility to try at all…but you already have, and you can't take it back. when i'm with you i feel like i can see this version of donghyuck that i want to be all the time for the rest of my life." 

"no two people should change to be with each other –" you start, but he shakes his head. 

"we aren't a scenario," he insists. "this isn't a hypothetical. there's no should and shouldn't, because you know me –" he's pleading. "i'm not the same boy you saw onstage that first time you came to our show, and you're not that same girl on the roof," he pleads, voice breaking, tears welling up in the pretty cut of his eyes. "why is it so hard for you to believe that this version of us is meant to be together?" 

there's silence. 

"i can believe it," you start, quietly. "that's what terrifies me." 

you can see him start to lose hope. he can't force you to stay with him when you're not ready, and he doesn't want to be that person either. 

"i…" he hesitates. he wants to say so much more to you – that no one else makes him feel the way you make him feel. that he feels like he'll never love anyone again, not the way he loves you. the fact that you're it for him in a million different ways, a love he never thought he'd find. that he'll never be able to give anyone else a fair chance. 

but he can tell his love makes your shoulders heavy, makes your eyes go foggy with tears. already, you look shattered sitting in the passenger seat of his car, his love a weight on your chest that you don't know what to do with. already he's losing whatever bravery he had before – the bravery his love for you had given him. 

"sometimes-" you start, breaking off, your voice quivering. "when we're together, i feel like i could do it for the rest of my life. that you're the only one i've met to make me feel this way, that i'm the only one who knows you so deep." 

"you are," he breathes. 

"but-" your voice rises, agitated. "you hurt me. again and again. i came back when i wasn't ready, i should've given it more time, i just couldn't stay away. and then you came back into my life, and i forgave you to be with you again, and i tried to give other people a chance but i just…i just couldn't. what if this is too soon again?" 

i'll wait. the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he knows its the wrong thing to say, wrong thing to want. there's nothing romantic about waiting for someone – it's a cruel promise, one that rots each day going by in the wait for the future. 

"do you…" he takes a deep breath. "do you want to let me go?"

you nod, slowly. haechan can feel his heartbeat in his ears. 

"i'm not sorry," you whisper. "it's not right. you…i know you think you know what you want, but i need you to be sure of who you are, and who you want. i can't give you the answers." 

haechan remembers how – and it seems so far away, almost like a dream now – the night you went out with jisung, he dreamed of you. dreamed up the final version of you and him – everything good and always good, coming backstage to you, coming home to you. and some part of him had dared to hope, that despite everything, despite himself, the two of you would make it to that final version. 

but maybe the final version of you and him was this – the sound of the car door shutting as you walk up the steps to your apartment, and him crying all the way home, roses left in the front seat of the car, the ghost of your hands burning on his face.

(EPILOGUE RELEASE SOON)

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35 @kim-seungmins-gf @delllllllsstuff @nohunlee @kingsoowolves @enhasrii @fnafgirl87 @imzerozen @toroufriteh @torothecatt

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN ━━ Swimming in Sin

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.6K

☆ ━ warnings: homophobia, religious themes, mentions of conversation therapy, emotional & physical abuse (it’s not much but if you’re uncomfortable reading it, don’t)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: imma just leave this here

IT’S MONDAY now, and Dani sits in the passenger seat of Paige’s car, the engine off but the faint hum of life around them in the parking lot loud enough to feel present. Students mill about the edges of the lot, but the two of them are hidden away in Paige’s old car. The smell of Paige’s half-eaten sandwich lingers between them, mingling with the faint scent of Dani’s lavender hand lotion.

Paige slouches dramatically in the driver’s seat, her legs stretched out so far her sneakered feet almost hit the pedals. Her sandwich sits abandoned in her lap, crumbs dotting the fabric of her sweatpants, and her face is twisted into a scowl.

“I mean, two and a half weeks,” Paige groans, leaning her head back against the seat. “It’s so dumb. No leaving the house, no seeing any of my friends, no hanging out with you. What am I, bro, twelve?”

Dani picks at the edges of the granola bar in her hand, peeling back the wrapper bit by bit. She keeps her voice light as she says, “What’d you think was gonna happen? He just lets you off the hook? You threw a party, Paige—and never even tried to get permission. And you were completely wasted.”

Paige rolls her eyes so hard Dani thinks she might actually sprain something. “It’s not like I killed someone,” she mutters. “And it’s not like I wasn’t gonna clean up after. Besides, you were there to take care of me. He should’ve been thanking you, not grounding me.”

Dani shakes her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite herself. “I don’t think that’s how he sees it.”

“Well, he’s being dramatic,” Paige insists, sitting up now, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks. “Two and a half weeks of this? How am I supposed to not hang out with you for that long? I get separation anxiety!”

Dani shrugs, fighting a smile at the last sentence, though the thought tugs at her too. She’s upset about it, of course she is, but she’d seen this coming. In fact, she’d half-expected Bob to ban her from their house altogether after Saturday. Two weeks of grounding, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t seem so bad.

“You’ll survive,” Dani says, trying to sound casual even though she knows Paige won’t let it drop that easily. “Besides, it’s only two weeks. And we can still hang out at lunch and in Lit every day. And we can FaceTime whenever you want.”

Paige groans dramatically, as if the suggestion alone is an insult. “But it’s not the same,” she whines, slumping back against the seat again. “I can’t cuddle you over FaceTime, Dani. Or kiss you.” She leans over suddenly, draping herself across the center console so that her head lands against Dani’s shoulder. Dani stiffens for a moment, glancing out the window to make sure no one’s looking, before relaxing.

“It’s not the same,” Paige repeats, her voice muffled against Dani’s jacket.

Dani sighs, tilting her head down to rest her cheek against the top of Paige’s head. She feels the familiar weight of her girlfriend pressing against her, grounding her, even as Paige continues to pout. “I know it’s not the same,” Dani says softly.

She shifts, her free hand moving to tilt Paige’s face up toward hers. Paige’s blue eyes, always so clear and striking, look impossibly—and dramatically—sad now, and it tugs at something deep in Dani’s chest. She leans in, pressing a light kiss to Paige’s lips. It’s quick, barely more than a brush, but it’s enough to feel the way Paige melts against her.

When Dani pulls back, Paige lets out a little whine, her lips still parted as though she’s waiting for more. Dani grins despite herself, resting her forehead against Paige’s for a moment. “Only two weeks,” she murmurs.

“Two weeks too long,” Paige mutters, her eyes closing as she leans into Dani’s touch.

Dani chuckles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Paige’s face. “You’ll survive,” she repeats, though this time it feels more like a promise than a statement.

THE DRIVEWAY is quiet as Dani parks, the hum of the engine cutting off abruptly and leaving her in stillness. She exhales, her breath visible in the icy Minnesota night air, and slouches forward for a moment, forehead pressed against the steering wheel. The gymnastics meet had been a long one—nearly three hours of standing, crouching, and angling for the perfect shots. Her back aches, her legs are sore, and all she wants is to crawl into bed and disappear under her blankets.

But there’s homework waiting, a mountain of it she’s been putting off. AP Calculus, a Lit essay, and some editing work for the yearbook photos she’d taken tonight. Dani groans quietly to herself, leaning back in her seat before finally mustering the energy to grab her photography bag from the passenger seat.

The cold hits her immediately as she steps out of the car, sharp and unforgiving, slicing through her sweatshirt and sinking into her skin. She hurries up the walkway, her sneakers crunching against the thin layer of frost on the ground. Her fingers fumble with the keys, and she’s relieved when the door finally swings open, the familiar warmth of home enveloping her.

Dani kicks off her shoes, letting them fall in a heap by the door, and shrugs off her coat, tossing it onto the rack. Her keys find their place on the hook by the wall, and she drops her photography bag by the entryway, too tired to care about putting it away properly. Her stomach grumbles softly as she pads toward the kitchen, craving something quick and easy before she tackles the rest of her night.

But the second she steps into the kitchen, she freezes.

Her dad is sitting at the table, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes already locked on hers.

The look he gives her is unyielding, sharp enough to cut through the fog of her exhaustion. His mouth is set in a firm line, his jaw tight, and there’s a weight to his gaze that makes Dani’s stomach twist.

She knows.

She immediately knows.

She doesn’t need him to say anything. She doesn’t need an explanation. She can feel it in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

He knows about her and Paige.

Dani’s body goes cold. It’s not just the March air still clinging to her from outside, nor the exhaustion weighing her limbs from the long day. This is something else entirely—something that feels like dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, clawing its way up her throat.

She forces herself to meet her dad’s eyes, but it’s like staring into a storm—chaos barely contained behind the sharp lines of his face, his clenched jaw, his rigid posture. He’s keeping his tone measured, his voice low, but somehow that makes it worse. Scarier, almost, than if he were yelling at her.

When he gestures to the chair across from him and says, “I think we should have a talk,” her legs nearly buckle.

Her hands are trembling as she pulls out the chair and sinks into it. She sits on the edge of the seat, stiff and awkward, her fingers finding their way to the edge of the table to anchor herself. It doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real. This isn’t happening—not here, not now. But the look on his face tells her otherwise.

It feels like an out-of-body experience, that the thing she’s feared the worst over the past few months is finally coming true.

“I was talking to Beau’s father earlier today,” Dani’s father begins, his voice cool and detached. “You know—your apparent boyfriend.”

The way he spits the word out makes Dani flinch, her nails digging into the underside of the table. Her heart pounds so loudly she’s sure he can hear it. She doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing.

“I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him since the fall,” he continues. “You know, since he switched companies and we no longer worked together. But today, he told me some very… interesting things.”

His eyes are sharp as they pin her in place, his words deliberate. “Do you want to know what they are?”

Dani can’t respond. Her throat is dry, her chest tight, and the room feels like it’s closing in on her. She can only stare at the table, her fingers now nervously picking at her nails beneath it.

When she doesn’t answer, he presses, his voice dropping to something sharper. “Except, I think you already know what they are, Danielle. So, do you want to tell me yourself?”

Dani’s breath catches. Every instinct tells her to run, to get up and leave before this gets worse, but her body is frozen, glued to the chair. Her father is watching her so intently, waiting for her to break, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can hold it together.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she swallows the lump in her throat and forces herself to speak. Her voice is small, barely audible. “Beau and I broke up.”

The admission feels like a death sentence, but she can’t take it back now.

Her dad’s laugh is cold, devoid of any humor, and it makes her stomach churn. “Yeah, you did,” he says, his tone dripping with disdain. “In November, apparently. Over four fucking months ago, Danielle!”

He slams his fist against the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. Dani jumps, her pulse skyrocketing, and the first sting of tears pricks at her eyes.

“I just…” she begins, her voice breaking, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he repeats, his laughter sharper this time, almost unhinged. “Oh, we haven’t even scratched the surface on that.”

Dani can’t bring herself to look at him anymore. She stares at her lap, blinking back tears, wishing she could disappear.

“You want to know the most interesting thing Mr. Hudson told me today?” he says, his voice cutting through the silence.

Dani doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“He told me that Beau said you broke up with him for a girl.”

The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. He lets them settle, lets them twist like a knife in her chest before he repeats himself, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A girl.”

Paige.

Dani’s lungs constrict as her dad’s words pile onto her like stones, each one heavier than the last. Her heart pounds so loudly in her ears she can barely hear him, but the venom in his voice is unmistakable.

“I didn’t want to believe him. Not even a little bit,” he says, his voice trembling now, teetering on the edge of something raw. He shakes his head, as if trying to erase the very idea from his mind. “I couldn’t help but think to myself that no, my little girl wouldn’t do this—not again. I thought you’d learned your lesson, gotten past these types of things.”

Her stomach twists violently at the phrase these types of things, a wave of shame and dread crashing over her. She can’t meet his eyes anymore. She focuses on a crack in the table, blinking furiously to keep her vision clear. But it doesn’t work. A tear slips down her cheek, then another. She wipes at them quickly, desperate to hide any sign of weakness.

“I thought that maybe the Hudson boy made this up,” he continues, his tone brittle, almost pleading. “To save face, you know? To make himself feel better about the breakup. I refused to believe it because I’ve been so proud of you, Danielle. So proud of all the progress you’ve made.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and it’s like a knife twisting in her gut. She feels the weight of his disappointment like an iron shackle around her neck, dragging her down.

And then he drops the pretense of restraint entirely. “But I came home,” he says, his voice growing sharper, harder. “I needed to figure it out for myself. So I went up to your bedroom and looked around. And sure enough, Beau Hudson was telling the truth. You did leave him for a girl. The same girl you nearly ruined your life for last summer!”

Dani’s breath hitches, panic clawing at her chest as he pulls items off the chair beside him, tossing them onto the table like damning evidence in a courtroom.

A Hopkins basketball sweatshirt. Paige’s sweatshirt. He must’ve found it in her closet.

The printed photo from last week’s state championship, where Paige’s mom had insisted on taking a picture of the two of them. In it, Dani and Paige are standing close, too close, their smiles wide and happy, the kind that only come from people who are comfortable in each other’s orbit. Their shoulders are pressed together, and Paige’s hand is wrapped around Dani’s waist.

A folded note with the initials PB scribbled on the front, the one Paige had slipped into her photography bag last week after practice.

More things follow: a pressed flower Paige had given her after a walk in the park, a ticket stub from the movie they’d gone to see together last month, a journal entry about Paige that Dani had foolishly written—her father must’ve ripped the page from the notebook. It’s all so mundane, these little artifacts of their relationship, but to her dad, they’re something else entirely.

All the air seems to leave Dani’s body as she stares at the pile. There’s no way out of this. None. He’s found everything.

Her dad begins pacing, his hand dragging down his face as his breathing grows heavier. His movements are frantic now, like he’s trying to physically outrun his own fury. He seems to be losing himself, his voice starting to rise, too.

“I thought we were past all of this!” he shouts, octaves echoing off the walls. “I thought you’d learned! I thought you’d grown! But here we are, right back at square one, and you’re still the same little sinner, getting caught up in all this gay bullshit again. It’s disgusting, Danielle.”

The words hit her like a slap to the face. She feels her cheeks burn, but it’s not from anger. It’s from humiliation, from the sheer weight of hearing him say the words out loud, like her existence is something filthy, something shameful.

Her breathing quickens, shallow and erratic, as he barrels on.

“I sent you to camp!” he yells, gesturing wildly as if the memory of it alone should be enough to set her straight. Truthfully, it might. “They told me they fixed you. They told me you got better, that you understood the weight of your actions, the power of God.” He pauses, running both hands through his hair, his eyes wide and wild. “I mean, Jesus Christ, Dani, I’m really gonna have to send you back there. Do you know how fucking embarrassing that is for you? That you’re gonna have to be sent back for a round two because you couldn’t get it through your thick fucking skull the first time?”

“No,” Dani whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears.

Her dad doesn’t hear her—or doesn’t care.

“I sacrificed so much to send you there!” he continues, his voice rising again. “And for what? For you to come back and make a mockery of this family all over again?”

“Please, no,” Dani says again, louder this time, but her voice wavers and cracks.

She can feel herself spiraling. Her hands shake uncontrollably as she grips the edge of the chair, her knuckles white. She can’t go back to camp. She can’t.

The memory of it flashes in her mind—cold, sterile rooms; endless hours of lectures about sin and shame; the suffocating, unrelenting pressure to repent for something she doesn’t even think is wrong. The thought of being trapped there again, of losing herself completely this time, is unbearable.

Dani feels herself sinking, her father’s tirade muffling into a dull roar as the panic grips her fully. Her breaths are shallow, too quick, and the edges of her vision start to darken. She clutches at the back of the chair, trying to steady herself, but the weight of his words is unbearable.

Not again. I can’t go back.

But his voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts like a blade. “Do you hear me, Danielle?” he shouts, slamming a hand onto the counter. “You’re going back. I don’t care what it takes. You need to fucking learn the severity of the sins you’ve been swimming in! I’ll send you on the next flight if I have to!”

The words snap something in her, a thread pulled too tight finally breaking. Her mind drags her back, unwillingly, to that first day at camp.

JUNE 2019

The air inside Mrs. Keating’s office is thick and stifling, a mix of lavender and cleaning solution that seems calculated to force calm. Dani sits in the chair across from her assigned counselor, her shoulders curled inward and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She doesn’t meet Mrs. Keating’s eyes, instead keeping her gaze fixed on the wall behind her.

Mrs. Keating looks calm, unnervingly so. She’s an older woman, her hair pinned back into a severe bun, her glasses perched neatly on her nose. There’s nothing about her that invites warmth or softness.

She’s quiet for a moment, studying Dani like she’s some kind of puzzle to be solved. “Do you know why you’re here, Danielle?” she asks finally, her voice calm and deliberate.

Dani shrugs, her movements small and tense. “Not sure,” she says, her tone clipped.

Mrs. Keating tilts her head slightly, like she’s trying to peer inside Dani’s mind. “You’re here because your actions have led you down a path of sin. A path that separates you from your family, from your faith, and from God.”

The words sit heavily in the room, and Dani shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Her pulse is steady but loud in her ears, and she can feel the way her body tightens at the mention of God. It’s always God with them. Like He’s some weapon to wield against her, not some presence she’s ever known to feel safe or loved by.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Dani says after a long pause. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, but there’s a firmness beneath it.

Mrs. Keating nods slowly, as though she expected the answer. “You believe that because the enemy—the Devil—has planted lies in your heart, Danielle. Lies that make what you’ve done feel natural, even good. But deep down, you know that it’s not. That’s why you feel guilt, isn’t it?”

Dani swallows hard. She doesn’t feel guilt—not about Paige, anyway. There’s guilt about other things, sure. About being sent here. About what it’s doing to her dad, about how she’s made everything so messy and complicated. But not about Paige.

Still, the way Mrs. Keating speaks gets under her skin. It’s calm, calculated. Like she’s dissecting Dani piece by piece and cataloging her flaws for some case study. Dani hates it. It makes her feel small. Exposed.

“I don’t feel guilty,” Dani says, but the words come out quieter than she intended. She’s not sure she even believes them.

“Of course you do,” Mrs. Keating counters smoothly, leaning forward slightly. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. Your father wouldn’t have sent you.”

That makes Dani flinch. Her father. The sharp sting of his disappointment still weighs heavily on her chest, pressing down in a way she can’t escape. His face when he’d told her she was going to camp had been full of anger, yes, but there had been something worse beneath it—something that looked like shame.

He hadn’t even looked at her when he dropped her off.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Dani mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re going to talk about it, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating says, her tone firm but still devoid of emotion. “Because this is the first step. You have to face the reality of your actions if you’re ever going to heal.”

Dani’s hands tighten in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. “There’s nothing to heal from,” she says, more forcefully this time before repeating, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mrs. Keating doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she sits back in her chair, her sharp eyes fixed on Dani like she’s waiting for something. Dani shifts under the weight of her gaze, but she doesn’t break the silence.

Finally, Mrs. Keating speaks. “Tell me about the girl.”

Dani’s chest tightens. She doesn’t look up.

“The one your father mentioned,” Mrs. Keating presses. “The one who led you astray.”

“She didn’t lead me astray,” Dani protests quickly, the words tumbling out before she can stop them.

Mrs. Keating doesn’t react to the outburst. “So you do feel something for her, then.”

Dani freezes, her stomach twisting into knots. She doesn’t know how to navigate this, doesn’t know what answer won’t be used against her later.

After a moment, she settles for, “There’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing. Paige isn’t wrong. What we had isn’t wrong.” Her tone is slightly more argumentative, more confrontational than usual. But she’s been sent to this unfamiliar, scary fucking place so she supposes she has a right to.

“What you had,” Mrs. Keating repeats, leaning forward slightly. “You speak as though it’s in the past. Is that because you already know it cannot last? That it is not sustainable?”

Dani’s jaw tightens, her teeth grinding together. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t trust herself to speak without snapping. She can feel her nails biting into her skin, but the sharp pain is grounding. It keeps her from falling apart completely.

Mrs. Keating takes the silence as an opening. “This is a safe space, Danielle. You can be honest here. Talk to me.”

Dani doesn’t talk to her. She doesn’t talk at all. She looks away, her gaze zeroing in on a jagged pattern on the wood flooring, eyes wide and unblinking. Her eyes burn, but she won’t let Keating see her cry. She won’t give her that satisfaction. She refuses.

Eventually, Mrs. Keating stands, the movement slow and deliberate. She walks around the desk and stops in front of Dani, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Dani stiffens at the contact, trying to shrug the hand off, but Mrs. Keating’s grip is firm. It doesn’t hurt, not quite, but it feels invasive.

“You have a lot to learn here, Danielle Callan,” Mrs. Keating says quietly, her voice unshakable. “But that’s why you’re here. To learn. And you will.”

THE MEMORY lingers in Dani’s mind like a weight she can’t shake, thick and suffocating. Mrs. Keating’s calm voice echoes in her head, the grip on her shoulder a phantom pressure she swears she can still feel. She shakes her head slightly, trying to dislodge the thought, but it refuses to leave.

She can’t do it.

She can’t do it again.

Her dad’s voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp and furious. He’s been yelling for what feels like forever, pacing the length of the living room with heavy, deliberate steps. Every word he spits out feels like a lash against her skin, each syllable steeped in anger, in disbelief, in the kind of disappointment that makes Dani feel impossibly small.

“How could you do this to us again?” he barks, throwing his arms up. “After everything we went through, after everything you went through—this is how you repay us? By… by flaunting it like this? You didn’t even try to hide it this time, Danielle!”

Dani winces at his words, each one sinking into her chest like a stone. She stays seated on the hard chair, her hands balling into fists on her thighs. Her fingernails bite into her palms, the sharp sting grounding her, keeping her from unraveling completely.

He stops pacing suddenly, turning to face her with his hands on his hips. His eyes burn with conviction, his expression a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he demands.

Dani’s breath catches in her throat. She can’t hold his gaze for long, can’t stand the way he’s looking at her, like she’s some broken thing he can’t figure out how to fix. Her eyes drop to her lap, and she shifts uncomfortably in the chair.

Her throat feels tight, her eyes burning with the threat of tears she refuses to let fall. She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t—I…” she starts, trying to force the words out. “I can’t be fixed, Dad. This isn’t something that’s fixable.”

The silence that follows is heavy, almost unbearable. She risks a glance at him, but his face is unreadable now, his mouth a firm line, his eyes locked on her.

So she keeps going, her voice trembling but steady enough to push through. “I didn’t choose to like other girls—like Paige—like that. It just… happened. I was born like this. I’ve had these thoughts since I was little. I can’t be fixed, can’t be changed. The—the ‘gay’ stuff you’re talking about can’t just be prayed away.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Dani thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s heard her. But then he straightens, his expression hardening, and he shakes his head. “You didn’t try hard enough,” he says firmly, his voice like steel. “You weren’t at camp long enough.”

The words ignite something in Dani, something sharp and bitter and raw. Her head snaps up, and for the first time, she meets his gaze head-on, her eyes flashing. Her voice is louder now, trembling with emotion she can’t contain.

“I did try!” she says, standing up as the chair scrapes against the wooden floor. “I tried so hard! I didn’t talk to Paige for months; I completely pushed her away. I dated Beau like you wanted me to. I did everything that was supposed to be right! And I was miserable for every second of it!”

Her voice cracks, and she feels the tears spill over now, hot and relentless. She swipes at them angrily but keeps going, because she has to. Because if she doesn’t, she might never say it again.

“I wasn’t happy that way!” she cries, her voice breaking with the weight of it all. “Can’t you just let me be happy, Dad?”

The tears come harder now, blurring her vision as she stares at him, her chest heaving with every breath. She’s willing him to understand, willing him to hear her, because all she wants—all she wants—is to be happy.

But the silence stretches on, suffocating, and Dani’s heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

Dani’s dad stares at her, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if he’s physically restraining himself from exploding again. His gaze feels like it’s drilling into her, searching for something, as if the right words might pull her back into the version of herself he’s convinced she’s lost.

Dani meets his eyes, even though everything in her screams to look away. They’re both standing now, face to face, close enough that she can see the tight lines of his jaw, the furrow between his brows that only deepens the longer he looks at her.

For a moment, she thinks maybe he’s going to soften, maybe he’ll finally hear her. But then his face hardens all over again, and his voice comes out sharp, slicing through the fragile silence.

“This is a sin,” he snaps, the words like venom on his tongue. “You think you know better than God? You think this is how He made you?” He throws up his hands, his voice rising with every word. “No, Danielle, you were not born this way. You were fine until… until her.”

Dani’s stomach drops. She doesn’t have to ask who he means.

He doesn’t stop. “It’s that Bueckers girl! She did this to you—she’s the one who ruined you!”

“No, she wasn’t!” Dani yells, her voice breaking halfway through. Her hands shake at her sides as she takes a step closer, her eyes wide and pleading. “Dad, no! Everything she did, I did too! There was no… no influence, no manipulation! I’m telling you, this isn’t something you or anyone else can fix!”

But he’s already shaking his head furiously, his expression twisting into something cruel. “It can be fixed!” he shouts back, his voice booming in the small space. “I refuse to watch you go to hell over this! I refuse, do you hear me? You’re gonna go back to that camp, and they’re gonna help you, and you’re gonna stay long enough this time to be saved, I swear it!”

Dani feels like the floor is falling out from under her. “I’m not going back there!” she protests, her voice cracking with desperation. She thinks her nails might be digging so harsh into her that it’ll draw blood. She doesn’t care.

“Oh, yes, you will!” he yells back, his eyes flashing with a fire she’s never seen before.

“You can’t make me!” she throws back, her voice raw.

For all his negative words directed at her, all the screaming and yelling, all the accusations—there’s always been something that’s held him back from ever going past using his words. He’s never dared lay a hand on his daughter. But whatever that something was that stopped him has clearly been thrown out the window.

It’s so fast she almost doesn’t process it. His hand comes down, hard, across her face. The sound of the slap reverberates in the room, sharp and deafening, cutting through the air like a whip.

Her head jerks to the side from the force of it, her cheek immediately stinging, a fiery burn spreading across her skin. For a second, she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand there, frozen.

Her hand comes up slowly, almost instinctively, to press against the spot where he struck her. Her palm is shaking as it touches her face, as if to confirm the reality of what just happened.

She stares at him, wide-eyed, her vision blurring with tears she refuses to let fall. There’s something unfamiliar in his eyes now, a look she’s never seen before, and it chills her to her core.

Disbelief crashes over her like a wave, drowning out everything else. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stands there, her heart pounding in her ears, the sting on her cheek the only thing grounding her in the moment.

For a moment, Dani stands frozen, her mind struggling to catch up with her body. Her breath is shallow and ragged, her chest heaving like she’s run a marathon. Some people freeze in fear, others run. Fight or flight—it’s instinctual. And Dani has always been the kind to freeze up.

But the fear in her now is different, deeper, and it sinks into her chest like a weight she can’t dislodge. It’s not the kind of fear that paralyzes—it’s the kind that propels. She can’t stay here. Not with him like this. Not when she doesn’t know what he’ll do next.

Her gaze darts to the table, where her phone lies just within reach, and she finally forces her limbs into action. Her hand trembles as she lunges for it, but before her fingers can graze the sleek surface, her dad’s hand intercepts her.

“Dad—wait—”

Her words barely leave her mouth before he wrenches the phone away. She watches, helpless, as he hurls it across the kitchen with a furious motion. The phone hits the tile floor with a sickening crack, the sound cutting through her like a blade. Bits of glass scatter, catching the light, and the air feels heavier, oppressive, as if the walls themselves are closing in.

Dani lets out a strangled sob, the sound escaping her throat without permission. She takes a step back, and then another, her hands coming up instinctively to shield herself. Her back bumps against the edge of the counter, and she feels trapped, like an animal cornered by its predator.

Her father’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding. “Do you hear me, Danielle?”

His tone isn’t loud anymore, but it’s worse that way. The quiet intensity of it crawls under her skin and wraps around her chest like a vice. She can’t look at him. She’s too scared of what she might see. Instead, her eyes dart toward the shattered remnants of her phone, then back to the floor, her body trembling.

“Dad, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her throat feels raw, her words choked by the tears she’s holding back. “You’re scaring me. Please, just—just stop.”

But he doesn’t stop. He moves closer, his footsteps deliberate, until he’s towering over her. Dani flinches as his hands reach out, but he doesn’t hit her again. Instead, his fingers clamp down on her shoulders, firm and unyielding.

“You’re going back tomorrow,” he says, his face mere inches from hers. His voice is calm now, too calm, but every syllable lands like a blow. “You’re going back. And you’re staying there until they fix you.”

Dani tries to shake her head, tries to move away from his grip, but he holds her in place. Her tears spill freely now, hot trails streaking down her cheeks.

“I can’t,” she chokes out, her voice cracking. “I can’t go back there. You don’t understand. I can’t do it again.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he snaps, his grip tightening. “Go upstairs. Pack your things.”

His words slam into her like a physical force, and she feels herself crumbling beneath the weight of them. She’s trembling, her knees weak, but she doesn’t move.

“Dad, I—”

“No.” His voice is steel. “Do you hear me, Danielle? Do what I said. Now.”

The intensity in his eyes pierces through her, and for a moment, all she can do is stare back at him, tears blurring her vision. She feels so small, so powerless, her body shrinking under the weight of his anger. The room is suffocating, the air thick and unrelenting.

When she finally finds her voice again, it comes out soft and broken. “I don’t want to go back.”

Her father doesn’t answer. He just stares at her, his expression set, his hands still gripping her shoulders as if holding her in place. The silence stretches between them, heavy and unyielding, and Dani feels herself breaking under it.

Dani doesn’t think; she just moves. Her father’s grip isn’t as strong as his words, and she twists out of it with a force she didn’t know she had. Her pulse pounds in her ears as she spots the keys hanging on the small hook by the door. They’re so close—just a couple of feet away.

She can make it. She has to make it.

Her body acts before her mind can catch up, surging forward. Her dad’s hands grab at her, but she slips free, adrenaline pushing her faster than his reaction time. Her fingers curl around the cool metal of her car keys, and she yanks the front door open in one motion. The air outside is cold and sharp, but she barely notices as she sprints out onto the porch and down the driveway, her socks sliding slightly on the concrete.

“Dani!” her father’s voice bellows behind her, furious and disbelieving.

She doesn’t stop. She can’t. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and the ache in her chest is overwhelming, but her body doesn’t let her pause. The car is right there.

She reaches it just as he does, her hands fumbling to open the door. Her father’s voice is louder now, closer, almost on top of her. “Danielle! Stop this right now!”

But she doesn’t stop. She slides into the driver’s seat, slams the door shut, and locks it in one fluid motion. Her hands are shaking so violently she can barely grip the steering wheel, but she manages to press the ignition button.

Her dad is at the window now, his face red and furious, his voice muffled but still terrifyingly clear through the glass. “This is my car!” he yells, banging on the window. “I pay for it! Get out right now!”

Dani can’t look at him. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, her vision blurred with tears. Her whole body is trembling, her hands slipping on the wheel as she shifts into reverse.

“Danielle!” His fist slams against the glass again, making her jump, but she doesn’t let it stop her.

The car jerks as she pulls out of the driveway too fast, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. She doesn’t care. Her dad’s voice fades into the background as she speeds down the street, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She doesn’t look back. Not at him, not at the house, not at the neighborhood she’s known her entire life.

Her chest feels like it’s caving in, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She’s crying so hard she can barely see, her tears mixing with the streaks of rain on the windshield. Everything feels blurry, distorted, like she’s underwater and the world is pressing in on all sides.

Her mind races as fast as the car. The words he said replay over and over, looping endlessly until they feel burned into her brain. You’re going back. You need to be fixed. I refuse to watch you go to hell.

Her dad’s voice has always been loud, always sharp, but this… this was different. Because for the first time in her life, Dani was scared of him. Truly, bone-deep scared. Not just of what he might have said to her, but what he might have done to her.

The thought of going back to camp makes her stomach churn violently. She can still hear the echo of Mrs. Keating’s voice in her head, those sickly sweet tones that masked something far darker. She can feel the weight of the prayers, the way they crushed her under their expectations, as if forcing her into a mold she could never fit.

I can’t go back there, she thinks, the words looping through her head like a desperate mantra. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

Her fingers tighten on the wheel, and she forces herself to focus on the road in front of her, though she has no idea where she’s going. The streets blur together, familiar landmarks passing by unnoticed. In the back of her mind, she knows she should have a plan, but right now, all she can do is drive.

In an ideal world, she’d go to Paige’s. Paige would know what to do. Paige always knows what to do. But Dani can’t. Paige’s house is too close, just one door down. Her dad would’ve followed her there in a heartbeat, and Paige is already in trouble enough as it is.

She lets out a shaky sob, her shoulders heaving as she turns onto a random street. The car feels too big and too small all at once, the silence inside it deafening. She’s not even sure how far she’s gone, but it doesn’t matter. The tears don’t stop.

Her hands are shaking so badly that she has to pull over, the car screeching to a halt on the side of a dimly lit road. She sits there, gripping the wheel as though it’s the only thing tethering her to reality, her body trembling with the force of her sobs.

Dani feels lost—nowhere to go, nothing in front of her.

[sweetpupii]

“so,” powder started, holding your chin and tilting it upward to examine your features under the light of her room. she didn’t want to risk any mistakes with the contouring or the symmetry of your eyeshadow.

doing your makeup for parties had become her thing now.

“do you want me to match your hair like I did with mine, or should I choose another color?” please let me match it to your hair, please let me match it to your hair… “since we're going bold tonight.”

navy melted beautifully into ocean blue across her lids, magenta lit up her inner corners, and indigo traced her lower eyelids in a soft, smoky line—softening her piercing blue eyes. berry colored lipstick and a tiny smile completed the look.

a damn sight for sore eyes—that’s what powder was.

“hm, which one would look better?”

yes! that was an answer she liked. let her do the thinking; you just sit there and let her transform your pretty face with her arsenal of pigments. glitter? the palette was already sprawled on the floor, waiting. natural colors? sure, pretty boring, but you do you! neon colors? oh boy, how she loved those.

“i’ll take care of it. just don’t move. if you mess it up we’ll be late.” like last time.

matte lipstick is not easy to clean up after a few ( whole lot of ) kisses. things got a bit out of control, okay? it’s not her fault you looked good!

…well, technically it was her fault because she did your makeup that day, but still. she wanted to kiss you before that.

“oh, come on, it doesn’t tickle,” she pointed out as your eyes fluttered slightly at the touch of the fine eyeliner brush. experienced hands meticulously painted your eyelids, determined to follow their natural shape and bring out the color of your pupils. “look up at me, gotta do the waterline.”

maybe asking you to look directly at her the whole time was a mistake. the closeness was suddenly too distracting—your lips slightly parted as your eyes went up to meet hers, and she carefully applied the pigment.

that shade of lipstick you picked would look real nice mixed with hers…

focus, powder. just do her makeup.

“what’s with the eyes, sunny?” the blue-haired girl spoke after a while, holding your chin still, almost done with the eyeshadow.

“what do you mean?”

“those doe-y ones you’re giving me right now.”

your scoff only made it harder for her to focus on the task ahead. “pow, looking up because you asked me to doesn’t mean I’m giving you doe eyes. It’s your own thing if you get distracted that easily.”

“distracted? pft, no way. I’m completely focused here,” she argued with an unbothered shrug and roll of her eyes, as if she didn’t care. She dipped her brush back into the shimmering shade, determined to keep her hands steady despite the warmth crawling up her neck.

instead of poking fun at her, you stayed still as her delicate hands worked, her features drawn into a look of concentration that was almost as mesmerizing as the makeup itself. eyebrows slightly furrowed as she focused on making the look even.

“‘kay, done with the eyes,” she announced after a moment, pulling back slightly to admire her handiwork. the colors on your lids blended seamlessly into one another, like a miniature galaxy. “and now for the lips…”

powder reached for the lipstick you had picked earlier but hesitated with a thoughtful sigh, her eyes darting between the tube and your mouth.

“you sure you don’t want me to choose a different color? this one’s nice and all, but…” her voice trailed off.

“but what?”

her manicured nails tapped against the lipstick cap while comparing it to the lipstick she had used on herself. “I mean… this shade’s good, but mine would… y’know, match better. just saying.”

definitely not an excuse to kiss you.

taglist — @ananas26t @b3autyist3rror :3

[tarohugs]

after you find out they cheated (nct dream)

►ot7 x reader

► angst!! some (very minute) fluff, cliff hangers..

►read part 1 here!

►a/n part 2 as requested!! although this was def not what some wanted i think this turn off events is much better. please enjoy and lmk if u do

MARK

After the dispatch rumors, Mark’s name trended on social media for the remainder of the month. Seeing his face constantly had upset you tremendously to the point where you had to mute his name and every nickname given to the boy. 

You two had not talked since he admitted to you over text he had cheated. He made many attempts to come over and make amends but to no avail, you paid no remorse to his actions. Truthfully, Mark was the love of your life and you dearly wanted to give him a chance considering he was trying his best to set forth with your relationship, but something about you couldn’t let him off so easily. 

Throughout the course of your relationship with Mark, he had always said you “were the one” and you shared many intimate moments together. Now, as you watch him through your doorbell camera making his final attempt at reconciling, you decide it is time to finally communicate your true feelings. 

He had approached your front door with flowers and a box of your favorite chocolates along with other of your most beloved items you enjoyed. His eyes swelled with tears as he began to stutter words when you opened the front door. 

“Y-y/n,” Mark faltered in shock that you opened the door before he even had the chance to knock. “I have a lot to explain, just please listen-”

You laughed, surprised he thought he even had a chance, “Mark, you know what you did was wrong and nothing can change that. Look, I didn’t answer to hear you out, I answered to tell you I’m over you and to stop bothering me.” Your eyes watered as you made eye contact with the boy that was once your lover.

“You know it’s just Dispatch,” he asserted, “None of that was the truth, you know this. Please, just listen to me, I can explain everything to you even if you don’t want to hear it. Don’t just throw away years of us for something so stupid.”

You gasped, shocked that he would claim this was stupid, “There’s nothing to explain to me, you fucked up and this is over. None of the shit I’ve seen about you this month was stupid. I’m not dumb, Mark, don’t treat me like this. You don’t deserve a second chance.”

Mark tried to speak again but you immediately shut him down with the palm of your hand signaling him to stop. Maybe you would give him a chance another day but this wasn’t the time. You never accepted the gifts from him as you shut the door in his face. 

As months went on after your final encounter with Mark, he made no other attempts to reunite with you, accepting you were ready to move on to someone better. No texts, no knocking on your door, no phonecalls, no contact at all. Your life with Mark was over for good.

RENJUN

When Renjun had admitted to you he cheated, you didn’t believe his words at first. He had to be joking, I mean who was he to cheat anyways? He was always loyal to you and never failed to ensure you were the number one thing in his life. What could possibly bring him to cheat on you?

“Renjun, what are you talking about?” you questioned, trying to come up with some explanation for his infidelity. 

He couldn’t look you in the eyes as he confessed, “You know Yeji? My new coworker? We were at a holiday party and I was drunk and you know how the rest played out.”

You couldn’t believe his words. Renjun was always the type to inform you of every event in his life. When he had told you about his annual holiday work parties, he always invited you, this year was the first you had heard nothing. As you came to the realization why, you finally connected the dots. 

Even though Renjun excused himself by offering that he was drunk, this wasn’t a drunken mistake. Renjun was intentional with his actions. If he had intended not to invite you in the first place, his objective was clear he was trying to get in Yeji’s pants. 

Not a single bone in your body felt remorse for the boy as you came to comprehend his efforts to cheat on you. “Get out,” you stated strictly, offering no emotion for Renjun to crack.

“Y/n, just give me a chance. I’ll make it up to you,” he began to plead, clutching his fingers together to create a dramatic effect. Nothing could make you forgive him.

“Renjun, you knew what you did. You’re better than this and I deserve better than whatever is going on with you,” you attempted to excuse his infidelity. Renjun had always been truthful with you and although his activities were clear, you had wanted to give him a chance despite your brain telling you not to. 

Renjun simply nodded your head at your statement, beginning to get out of your once shared bed and gather his belongings. He didn’t speak a word as he stuffed his suitcase full other than, “I’ll get the rest of my things later.” He didn’t though, after that night he had left for good.

He never texted you to gather his possessions or make amends. You went on for weeks of no contact and eventually trashed his uncollected belongings due to the high level of emotion they caused you. Not wanting to make the first text, you waited and waited for him to make a move.

Eventually your waiting had done you justice has you finally received a message from your ex-boyfriend.

renjun: y/n

renjun: let’s talk

JENO

After many failed attempts of trying to make Jeno offer some sort of apology for his actions, he eventually started ghosting you as a whole. You couldn’t believe he could once be so loving and switch so easily to being the toxic ex-boyfriend he would shame before. 

The I love you’s turned into Leave me alone’s as you constantly tried to confront him. During the course of your relationship, you two had moved in together and when he cheated on you he made no attempt to move out - simply inviting other girls over without a care in the world. 

Luckily, you two had separate rooms but this didn’t change the fact you could still hear the banging of his bedframe against the wall from one of his many one night stands. One night you had gotten so agitated by his thoughtless actions and confronted him about what was going on.

“Jeno,” you barged into his room, interrupting whatever fuck he had going on. “I’ve had enough of this.”

He pushed the half-naked girl off of him, slowly making his way to throw on a shirt, telling the girl to leave. She scoffed at you limiting her time with Jeno but quickly put on her scattered clothes, leaving your shared apartment. “Y/n, what the fuck is your problem,” he expressed angrily, clearly upset that you would interrupt such an intimate moment.

“Look Jeno, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but I’ve had enough of it. Either you stop with this or you leave. You were the one that fucked up. Figure out your life,” you finally stood your ground. Jeno had always been dominant in your relationship, and after your “break-up” this prevailed. 

He constantly made you feel bad about yourself, blaming you for “not being good enough” as the reason he had to cheat on you. Yeah, this hurt like hell. However, you were desperate to make Jeno love you again, even if he had acted so wrongly. 

Jeno rolled his eyes at your scolding, “If you want me out y/n, so be it. Just know I won’t come back.” He shut the door in your face as you listened to him slam drawers and punch the wall in anger.

You ran back to your room and shut the door behind you, sliding down it as tears began to blind your eyes. What had happened to Jeno? 

The next morning you woke up with no trace of Jeno to be found. He offered no explanation for what had changed him so tremendously but you figured you would find out when you received a knock on the door from Jaemin, Jeno’s best friend.

You answered the door reluctantly, scared Jaemin would make a comment on your puffy eyes and dishelved features. “Jaemin, what’s wrong?” you questioned, taking in his appearance. He seemed to be in the same situation as you, noticing his freshly awoken demeanor.

“Y/n, we need to talk. It’s about Jeno,” he sighed, stepping into your apartment.

HAECHAN

When Haechan saw the look on your face after you discovered him cheating, endless apologies left his mouth. He had never seen you so upset and angry with him, he admitted he deserved your backlash. 

Even though he was quick to beg for your forgiveness, you never offered it to him, opting to move on instead. You were petty and getting back together with Haechan would not be the power move. 

Although you had made it clear you were over Haechan, you never made an official attempt at breaking up with him. Instead, you had simply ghosted him as you didn’t want to make any contact with your so-called ex-boyfriend. This, instead, led you to have even more difficulties moving on as you felt remorse hooking up with other men due to some sort of tie still being connected to the boy.

Months went by and all the efforts you made to sleep with random strangers were ruined as you felt a constant cloud of guilt hanging over you. You tried to get over him by getting blackout drunk at random parties, knowing sober you would make no effort to move on. You were unsuccessful most nights but one night you were finally convinced it was your time. 

Unfortunately, the guy that you landed with in bed was only victorious due to the similar features he shared with Haechan. His hair, his voice, his eyes - everything reminded you of him. Yeah, you had technically not gotten over him, but it was a start!

You were gracious enough to recognize this was a lead in the right direction as you had finally slept with another guy since your relationship with Haechan “ended.” Though, as you began to sober up as you awoke from your one night stand, you couldn’t help but notice the man in your bed appeared too close to Haechan. 

As you took a closer look, your suspicions were confirmed. You were back to square one.

JAEMIN

Following the numerous days you had left your shared apartment with Jaemin, he began to grow concerned for your being and where you were staying. You had opted to reside in your best friend's house as she was the only one kind enough to offer you a place to stay.

Jaemin knew you lacked options to inhabit for the time being and was quick to conclude your location. No longer than two days of you staying there, Jaemin had made his way into her apartment with a bouquet of roses, reciting the speech of apologies for you to hear.

“Y/n,” he sighed, moving closer to you when you opened the front door, “I know you want nothing to do with me, but I have a lot of explaining to do. I’m so sorry for getting upset at you, you did nothing wrong. Please forgive me.”

You laughed in his face. Did he really think you would forgive him so easily? “Jaemin, I can’t believe you right now. You owe me a lot more than this,” you asserted.

He knew you would be reluctant to accept his expression of regret but he knew he could convince you no matter what it would take. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” he breathed, handing you the flowers, “please give me another chance. I’ll show you the world.”

It’s crazy to think the way his final sentence could be perceived so differently. Once you had viewed the words as a way of him expressing his love, now it was simply his manipulating attempt to win you over.

Although you were upset with Jaemin for his actions, you couldn’t hate him. You had loved him for months on end and it would be difficult to get over such emotions in such a short time period. You allowed his manipulation to work on you as you offered him a second chance. 

You two continued your relationship for months, rebuilding the connection you once had, this time with more caution. As you began to fall in love again, you couldn’t help but wonder who the girl he had cheated on you with had been. This prompted you to begin searching his phone for clues on who the mistress could possibly be. 

When you arrive upon your best friend's name in his recent text messages, you ponder what the two would be conversing. As you scroll through their texts and see the endless meetups and shared intimate texts, the story finally clicked into place.

CHENLE

After Eric had shown you the texts he shared with Chenle, he was quick to console you over your ex-boyfriend. You had scheduled a meetup with Chenle immediately after and broke up with him, offering no time for an explanation from him. Eric and Yuna had been good friends of yours for years, you knew everything they told you was the truth with no sugarcoating.

As time went on, you and Eric’s relationship began to prosper into something more, sharing many endless night together but never making it further than a few stolen kisses. A couple weeks after your break up with Chenle, Eric had attempted to ask you on a date but you were quick to deny him stating that it was too early for him to make a move. 

“Y/n, I don’t understand. Were those drunken nights nothing to you?” Eric questioned, angered you could deny him so easily. 

You shook your head, upset that he would be so ignorant to ignore your emotions. “You know I just got out of a relationship, Eric, those nights meant something I’m just not ready for commitment yet.” Truthfully you never felt much for him when you were dating Chenle, but due to his chivalrous acts of exposing your cheating boyfriend, you had gained some attachment to the boy. 

Eric accepted your explanation but still attempted to win you over multiple nights in a row. Eventually, you fell into his trap and accepted going on a date with him. As you delved into a new relationship with Eric, you couldn’t help but feel as though something was off. 

Yuna wasn’t very supportive of your relationship after a couple weeks of being with him. She noticed a change in your attitude and offered no reasoning of why she further began to distance yourself from you two. The three of you were inseparable for years so you figured she was just beginning to adjust to being a third wheel.

Though something about Yuna’s lack of support for your relationship with Eric struck a nerve inside you, you couldn’t help but feel there was an underlying message behind her actions. When you received a message from the girl, you were in for a ride.

yuna!!!: don’t hate me but eric lied about chenle

JISUNG

Accidentally live streaming is one thing, having a girl speaking in the background is another. Netizens were quick to spread rumours about who the mysterious voice was in Jisung’s accidental live stream. You were also curious as to know what Jisung was truly doing in that moment of vulnerability, but when you sent him various concerned and aggravated messages, you realized none of your texts were delivered to his phone. Jisung had blocked you.

Being an idol means strict punishment from companies - and under the circumstances Jisung had fucked up, he was in for trouble. Of course his managers were aware Jisung was dating you, so they were quick to assume the mystery girl was you. Due to this, they were punished Jisung by banning all contact he had with you. This led you to having no reasoning for what was going on that day. 

You attempted to contact his members but they made no effort to offer you any explanation either, most likely scared they, too, would get in trouble. If you weren’t terrified of the company, you would reach out to his managers yourself, but you had heard of the things they did to idols and you didn’t want to risk any chance of communication you had with Jisung.

After months of no contact with the boy, you finally began to accept he wouldn’t be returning back to your life any time soon; however, when you received a letter in the mail from Park Jisung, a sliver of hope ran through your veins that this chapter of worrying would finally come to an end. 

As you opened and read the handwritten letter he had graciously sent, your eyes began to shed tears. In his heartfelt letter, he sent numerous apologies and explained the girl in the video had been one of his cousins, he was simply hanging out with family and didn’t tell you because he wanted to surprise you with a gift she had intended on giving you.

Although you were reluctant to believe such a fallacy, you knew Jisung better than anyone else, he had to be telling the truth. The only problem was, that there was no way to contact Jisung other than via the mail. Even though you had found out the truth, what was the cost?

[delopsia]

honey | bob floyd x reader

Word Count: 13,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Succubus!Reader, Virgin!Bob. Shapeshifting, elements of magic, blood, parties, first-time blow jobs, cunnilingus, first-time sex, virginity loss, vague plot twists despite the severe lack of an actual plot. This was a crack warmup that just became...this Brief Summary: "Rich, hot, and a virgin. What's wrong with you?" Or, Bob's coworkers jokingly summon you, a succubus, to take his virginity, but everyone gets a lot more than they bargained for. You included.

Well...

This is new.

"It wasn't me! I promise!" 

"Well, someone drew my symbol on the floor." Folding your arms in front of your chest, huffing. All that for this?

"It wasn't—" He freezes, teeth flashing through an awkwardly stretched smile. "I...my coworkers were playing a prank on me."

Lovely that you learn that after you've planted your ass in his lap. "So you don't want me here, pretty boy?"

Because he is cute. Floppy brown hair and the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen, hidden behind a pair of wireframes that perch on his freckled nose. His partner must be an incredibly happy person, having someone like this walking around their house. 

"N-no!" He blurts. His face falls. "—wait! Well-well, I...uh, I...I don't wanna be rude, but I mean I-I..." Your index finger presses against his thin lips, silencing whatever he had left to say. If history is anything to go off of, you wouldn't have been able to understand what he's trying to tell you anyway.

But...well, you are stuck here, so you'd might as well ask. "What's your name?" 

"Ro-Ro..." A short pink tongue darts out, wetting his lips. "Robert." 

"Well, Bobby," you can't help but say it, a little too eager to watch the blush in his cheeks deepen. "It's a shame that you didn't. You're pretty cute."

Even in the dark, you can see how his face reddens, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows his words. 

"But! I'll be on my way," lifting yourself from his lap before you can become too comfortable there. Something bumps into your ass; you think that may have been his cheek. "Do me a favor and tell your partner that they're a very lucky person, would ya?"

"Partner?" Squeaking.

Your feet freeze. There's no way he's... "Don't tell me you're single."

But Bob nods his head like it's the simplest confession he's ever made. "That's half of the reason why they went through the trouble of making you come here." He pauses, his left eye twitching as a thought visibly crosses his mind. Whatever it is, it's got him looking away from you entirely. "Said I'm...said I'm too old to be a—" 

"Wait, wait, wait." Holding your hands up. Need a moment of silence to understand what the hell you're hearing. "Your coworkers summoned a succubus to take your virginity?"

His lips flatten into a line. "...yeah."

"Well, that's shitty!" That's a new one. Finally, something to top the time a sorority summoned you to party with them for...some reason. Bragging rights, you think. "Do they pay you enough to put up with those assholes?"

It's been a minute since you've run into someone so nonchalant about a demonic creature standing in the room with them, never mind hold a casual conversation with you. 

But here Bob is, shrugging his shoulders like this happens to him every Tuesday. "You learn to deal with it when you're paid a hundred sixty-thousand a year."

"So you're a rich virgin." It shoots out of your mouth before you realize the thought crossed your mind.

Again, Bob is too calm about this. "I...guess?"

"Rich, hot, and a virgin." Modifying your statement. "What's wrong with you?"

Those blue eyes widen. Blinking rapidly. "Huh?"

"Well, there's gotta be a reason why you don't have a line of people out the door." You say, crouching back down in front of him. Sure wish he'd let you do something about that tent in his pajama pants. "If it's not the looks that reel the ladies in, it's the charm, and if it's not the charm, it's the money. And you've got all three, pretty boy."

It's not supposed to be a serious topic, not as if you're about to go and write an article about his non-existent sex life to publish in the weekly paper. But this guy is actually thinking about it. His brows furrowing as he mulls over his thoughts, mouth parting, only to fall closed once more. 

"I think it has something to do with the nature of my job and my severe inability to start a conversation," he concludes, with a little nod of his head. 

You wonder if you could put him in your pocket and take him home.

Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you're standing on some a ship right now. Is he some kind of cruise captain? "That'll do it." 

Bob doesn't have anything else to say about that, awkwardly closing his legs before you can get another look at what he might be packing under there. Whether or not he caught you staring or he's just become aware of his current state, you're not sure. It's such a shame that someone else summoned you on his behalf; he would have been a fun one to toy with.

Hm.

"Do you wanna fuck with your coworkers before I leave?"

He blinks at you. Not a thought behind those eyes. "Huh?"

"Well, you've already got me here," an excited lilt in your voice, maybe a bit too eager to present your totally thought-out idea. "Believe it or not, I double as a poltergeist on Tuesdays and Thursdays." 

Or whenever you feel like, really. 

"That would be mean," shaking his head. What is he, some kind of saint? 

"They just summoned a demon to fuck you in a locked room," deadpan. 

For a moment, it's quiet, and then.

"...that's a fair point."

As it turns out, Bob lives on the world's shittiest cruise ship. A ship without a pool, a dimly lit cafeteria without a single Michelin-trained chef in sight. Long, narrow, colorless hallways. There aren't even individual rooms, just even smaller hallways stacked high with bunk beds. On the thinnest mattress you've ever seen, might you add. 

Worst of all, rather than allowing personal clothes, everyone is dressed in clothing provided by the ship. Whoever picked the color schemes needs to be introduced to a fucking color wheel. 

How do you trick the head of the United States Navy into summoning you? You have a few choice words about this place. 

You appear in the mirror first. A little flash of your face, and then you're gone, nothing but a figment of the imagination. Again, later in the night, those two coworkers of Bobs have convinced themselves that they had made it up. 

The plan was to end it there and to come back in the morning to turn it up a notch, but there's a chair sitting in the bunk room that's just so comfortable. So what if you lounge there all night, poking through a book Bob had on the foot of his bed? The room just dark enough to allow them to see your vague silhouette, air so quiet that every turn of the page seems to echo.

Not one of them sleeps, but Bob does, snoring away in his bottom bunk. He sounds like a little cat, tiny little noises that sound closer to grumbles than snores.

When morning comes, you show up in their showers right as they turn around. You appear on opposite ends of crowded rooms and in high-stakes meetings with fancy-dressed higher-ups just to get a reaction. Tapping on their shoulders when they think they're alone. Somehow, you managed to get away with swapping the labels on the mustard and hot mustard. Effectively ruined several breakfasts in one fell swoop.

One, this loud-mouthed blonde you forgot the name of, wakes up to you sitting on his chest. Who would have thought that he had such a shrill scream?

But you might take it too far when you chase them down the narrow hallway—five grown adults shrieking like they're in a haunted scream park and not a Navy ship. 

Or at least, you thought you did. 

"I can't-I can't believe you just—!" Bob's laughing into his palms, keeling over with it. His mouth is moving, but he can't get anything out. Bubbly, loud giggles that travel around the tiny little fan room, bouncing off every corner. 

"And here you said it would be too mean," gently mocking, unable to fight off the smile that works its way across your face. So big you can hardly speak through it. 

That should technically be the last of your encounters. 

You should be heading back through your portal and off on another job, but Bob doesn't utter the proper incantations to make that happen. He starts to, but then you ask about his book, and he squeaks at you for spoiling the ending, and then you begin to second guess if you're recalling it correctly.

Then the conversation starts, and suddenly, you've been bound to him for three weeks. 

If it were anyone else, you'd complain and force the portal to open by yourself. There's more than one way to break the spell and go back to where you came from, but there's something about Bob Floyd that keeps you lingering. Maybe it's the way he blushes when you get too close. Maybe it's because you can't remember a time when someone kept you around solely because they liked talking to you.

Maybe it's because he has a fantastic taste in literature. Anything he's reading somehow becomes glued to your hands, unable to be put down until you've reached the final page.

"I can't believe nobody has gotten bold enough to comment on the strange figure reading a book in the corner every night," you giggle, nothing but a misty haze hovering over his head. 

His lips curl into a smile, toothpaste spilling over as he fights not to bite his toothbrush. "I think they're afraid of another hallway incident."

"Are you afraid of another hallway incident?" Appearing in the mirror, if only to get your message across.

"Nah." 

If you had known that the Admiral would be the final person you would get to scare before Bob left the ship, then you probably would have gone all out on it. But at the moment, all you're thinking about is how unfair and rude it was to pin Bob for the mistakes that his pilot made up in the air. The guy can't even fly a jet. How is it his fault that the pilot confused their lefts and rights?

So you show up in the mirror, jump on him, and spiral about the room in a foggy haze before rustling down the hallway in such a storm that it creates a draft. There seems to be a growing trend with men having high-pitched screams on this boat.

If Bob ever catches wind of the incident, he never brings it up.

Hell, maybe he thinks he's left you behind because he sure is surprised to turn around and find you sitting on his kitchen counter one morning.

"Did ya forget about me?"

"Please." Clenching at his heart. "Knock first."

Wordless, you tap your knuckles against the cool marble. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

Those pretty blue eyes roll, their color a little more vivid now that he's wearing that deep blue button-down, the sleeves pulled back just enough to reveal the thick muscle of his forearms. They're still swollen from his workout; you wonder if he knows you were watching.

"Got a hot date tonight?" Kicking your foot at him, brushing against his slacks. The last thing you're expecting is for his hand to wrap around your ankle, lightly squeezing, as if to test out the feeling. 

"I got invited to a party and can't get out of it," he hums, letting your leg slip free of his grasp. Then, after a moment. "Wanna come?"

"You're inviting a demon to a party?" Slipping off the counter, batting your eyes at him. 

All it takes is one step forward for him to stumble back, wide-eyed and stuttering. "Is that... am I not supposed to do that? I'm sorry." 

"Hey, I never said no," your hands find their way to his chest, gently pushing—his back thumps against the fridge. "What color do you like?" 

"R-red?" That cute mouth of his wobbles, the slightest hint of facial hair coloring his upper lip. It'll be gone by five, but it's nice to see it for once. 

Red it is.

You think this party was thrown by the same sorority who invited you up to party with them because this is...not what you were anticipating. Shot glasses, shitty beer, and flashing lights, the thump of the music so heavy that your bones really with it. You don't even know where the speakers are, lost to the swarm of people crammed into this tiny bar.

All of a sudden, your long, sultry dress has shed into a short little number that blends in with the rest of the crowd. You can't see him, but you can feel Bob's eyes jump onto your frame. 

"How did you do that?" Tilting his head to the side like that will somehow help him find an answer to his question. 

"Magic, I suppose," there's an actual explanation for it, but you've long since forgotten it. Something about manifestation and energy and a word too big for your tongue to pronounce. "I actually have zero idea how it works."

There's so much going on that you find yourself vanishing for a few minutes. Nothing but a misty haze lingering over Bob's head as one of his buddies shoves a drink into his hand and pushes him down into a cushioned chair. You haven't the slightest clue what kind of golden liquid is swishing around in that cup, but it's got a flavor that has Bob's nose wrinkling.

"Someone's not a drinker," observing aloud, a sudden presence in his lap, your knees caging his hips.  

"Was it that obvious?" Sheepish, with that little sideways smile of his. Whether that's from admitting to his inability to drink alcohol or from where you've chosen to sit, you're not sure. 

"Your little nose wrinkle gives you away," your little tap on his nose makes him blink. "You're almost a little too clean-cut for this place." 

There's nothing special or different that he's done about his appearance, but the aesthetics of the crowd make it look like he's walked into the wrong party. A little bit too put together when you compare his ironed button-down and perfectly gelled hair to the half-drunk faces, trendy, cheap outfits, and that group of shirtless men over in the corner.

At least you have the luxury of changing clothing at the drop of a hat. Otherwise, you would be in the same boat.

"He said it was only gonna be a dozen of us," Bob lifts the glass to his lips once more, his nose twitching at the bitter flavor that greets his tongue. He's trying to hide his reaction, but you can still see the disgust in his eye.

"More like twelve dozen," plucking the glass from his hand, setting it on the little table next to the chair. "You could've convinced me this was a high-end frat party."

Looking around is enough to make you question if 'high-end' was just you being generous because this is looking more like an average party by the second. A myriad of nameless faces lost to the flash of the lights: red, blue, green, purple, yellow, a cycle that never loses its pattern. But even the strain it puts on your eyes isn't enough to distract from the sloppy grinding of bodies against each other, hands in the air, writhing to a beat that definitely does not match the music. 

Something is starting to press against your inner thigh. An insistent pressure that almost feels—

Damn, how long have Bob's cheeks been bright red like that?

"Are you good?" Pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, clammy to the touch. "You're red as a balloon."

"Yep," his voice strained, so tight it may snap at the slightest hint of pressure. And he's looking over at the painting on the wall, one of those uninteresting things with only a few paint splatters to stain the pure white canvas. Not the kind of thing worth staring at so intently.

You shift forward, thumb swiping at the sweat beading at his temple—

"You sure get hard easily." Teasing. You hadn't even been trying, but that's definitely a heavy bulge pressing into you, straining against the thin fabric of his slacks. 

A muscle in his jaw flexes, swallowing hard. "Please don't say it out loud."

"I can fix that, you know." Perhaps curling your hand around his jaw is a little bit too bold, but he isn't making any moves to push you away or tell you to stop. "Some say I'm pretty good at that."

"No, no, that's okay," Bob shakes his head, gently dislodging your hand from his face. "I don't wanna make you do that."

"You're not making me do anything," leaning the slightest bit closer, tapping him on the chest with an index finger. "I'm volunteering. There's a difference."

He swallows again.

Someone calls out his name, waving a hand in the air as if to guide attention to himself as he emerges from the crowd, drink in hand, smile so big that it ought to blind someone. You vaguely recall seeing him back on the ship; name starts with an 'f'.

...shame that you don't remember anything more than that.

But Bob is uttering some Navy jargon that you don't have the capacity to keep up with, and your knees are starting to hurt, skin stuck to the cheap leather cushion. It's much easier to turn yourself around, back leaning against his chest, now free to scan over and watch the part of the room you couldn't see before. 

It's not that you don't feel him pressing into the curve of your ass; you just...well, you kind of forget about it. The moment you lay eyes on the game of beer pong happening behind the pool table, you're invested. Straining your neck to try and get a better look at who is winning, crossing two fingers as a lady in a little white skirt goes up against a guy who looks two beers away from a total blackout. 

Neither of them are good at it. Far from it, actually, but the girl's friends are cheering her on, and the man has missed the cup thrice now, stumbling over his own two feet. He misses. She scores two. He gets another point while she's trying to catch a ball that has rolled off into her crowd of friends.

You don't realize you've been squirming until Bob's forehead thunks against your back, shoulders rising with his inhale. 

"Where did your buddy go?" Chirping in the lightest tone you can muster. As if you're blissfully unaware of what's going on.

"Maybe we should get up," entirely evading your question.

It's a worthy idea that goes down the drain within the same minute it's suggested. What you couldn't see from the couch was how big the crowd actually is. It's a swarm that swallows you whole, someone's shoving into your back, and Bob's stumbling into you, and it's all you can do not to explode into a plume of mist. 

You're only distantly aware of his arm curling around you, cinching you to him as if to anchor you in before the storm can wash you away. Your leg slotting between his is far from intentional. But it happens, and you're nose to nose with him, and the corner of his eye is twitching, and you swear you can hear a dam breaking.

You don't entirely know how you wind up here. Squeezing into this sorry excuse of a bathroom stall, your hands greedily dipping beneath his shirt, chest to chest. Every little meet of your lips has him gasping against you. His tongue tastes like the honey biscuit he was nibbling on earlier, the one that dripped on his shirt and left little white crumbs all over his lap.

You could eat him.

"We shouldn't..." He's whispering. A secret meant for your ears only.

Everything screeches to a halt. "Do you wanna stop?"

Shaking his head. "No." 

He makes it so damn easy. Legs parted just enough to allow your thigh to slot between them, immediately squeezes down around it the moment he recognizes it's there, drawing you right up into—

A shiver wracks through him. So intense that you can feel it.

You don't need to worry about taunting him. He's reacting as if you've already made a remark. Nose scrunching as he tries to steel his face, warding off the softness that once lingered there, taken aback by the sudden pressure between his legs. Such a strong front. Shame that it folds the moment your hand curls against the bulge in his slacks.

"You're bad at this," a teasing lilt in your tone, lazily working your hand against him. No real rhythm or method to it, simply a shifting pressure that you can already feel his hips beginning to follow. 

"It's been a while," muttered like a confession—a sin of the past.

Now that has your attention. "You've done this before?" 

The bathroom door squeals open, the handle cracking against the tile so hard that some of it tears off the wall entirely, shards of ceramic scattering across the floor. A chunk of it rolls under the stall on a one-way track to strike the side of your shoe. You don't recognize the too-loud voices that enter the room, but Bob seems to, eyes rolling for a fraction of a moment. 

"Something similar...once," hardly audible over whatever the hell is being discussed by the sinks. 

You'll have to get the full story out of him when there aren't extra ears lurking mere feet away. Right now, though, you're tugging at his zipper, yanking it down as far as it will go, your hand darting through the gap. 

Good lord.

It's always the quiet ones.

"I'm surprised you can get through security with this thing," there's so much of him that you've got to use your other hand, fumbling to pop open his button. 

"With what?" Bob's brow furrows. You lightly squeeze the base of him. "...oh." 

One of the men shouts. Two laughs chime after it in hot pursuit.

There's a considerable weight to him that you hadn't anticipated until just now, his pretty, flushed cock throbbing in your hand. Muscle memory kicks into gear without much thought, gradually gliding up from his base to his tip—ruby red, almost angry in appearance, such a sharp contrast to your fingers.

His hips follow your motions, subtle little backs and forths that you nearly miss at first, keen on chasing your touch but too shy to allow himself to do it. Teeth sink into his bottom lip, pressing so hard that they leave an indent behind. Breathing hard through his nose, eyes screwing shut like he's fighting something back. 

You know what he's doing. Can't let a single noise escape for fear of it reaching the other ears in the room, but there's no way they can. Not with all that racket they're making. 

It's fifty-fifty if you still remember how to interrupt electricity, your one sure-fire method of making sure nobody can see what you're doing, but there's only one way to find out. 

Getting on your knees in a bathroom stall might be a new one for you, but here you are, blindly sinking lower and lower. Can't quite see what you're doing, your eyes hopelessly locked on Bob Floyd and his pink cheeks. Hasn't even realized what you're doing yet.

There's probably a good minute or two where you just hover there, waiting for the moment he realizes that you've moved. Eye-level with his cock, lazily thumbing each and every bead of precum across his plush head, a little routine to decorate the loose up-and-down of your hand. But his eyelids remain closed, and you're just so damn impatient.

The greet of your tongue has him jumping up onto his tiptoes. His head smacking into the flimsy stall wall. 

"What was that?" 

It's as if the room has morphed into a library. Complete, utter silence. Nothing but the faint breaths of the men gathered outside of the stall, Bob's, and your own. From the gap, you can see a black and yellow shoe taking a step forward. Silently inching closer.

The whites of Bob's eyes are so big that you can hardly see the color that decorates them. Drowned out and lost to a wave of fear that you can feel prickling through his body. If only those stupid yellow shoes would turn around and walk away; you wanted to play this card a little bit longer. 

The bathroom plunges into darkness. 

So you do still remember how to do that.

Someone screams. You're not sure who, but it was far too high-pitched to be the man right in front of you. Maybe it was the loser with the yellow shoes. Audibly stomping across the tile floor, shouting at each other as they fight for the door. The hinge squeals. Someone accidentally kicks the corner of it on their way out. 

And then it swings closed. The room falling quiet as the sliver of light peeking through the gap disappears entirely. 

Your mouth opens, gently drawing Bob into your mouth. Thicker than what you anticipated, uncomfortably stretching your lips around his head, but it's only a slight inconvenience. You can hardly think about it. Especially not when flicking the tip of your tongue across his slit elicits that sort of noise. Pitchy and drawn out, slipping out of him before he can stop it.

"That's—" his palm finds its way to your forehead. Pushes lightly. Jerks away. Lands on the side of your cheek instead. "A lot." 

You have very different definitions of 'a lot'.

You're actually moving rather slowly, gradually working your way down his length. He's only just beginning to touch the back of your throat, but Bob sucks in a sharp gasp of air as if you've just sprung this on him. You'd complain if he didn't taste so sweet. Just can't help but take him as far as he'll go, the tip of your nose kissing the cold metal of his zipper, throat so full of him that your head spins. 

He's trying to say something. Little fragments of words that might or might not be your name. Breaking apart the moment they fall into his mouth, shattered pieces raining down upon you and your eager ears. 

Maybe you're too quick about this. A fraction too eager to draw all the way back, only to fall upon him once more, lazily letting yourself gag around him if only to hear him groan low in his throat and to feel his thighs shudder beneath your palms. 

"I'm—I'm already, I..." Bobby's panting. Pawing at the side of your face. Doesn't know if he wants to pry you off or push your head back down. 

You expected this. You knew he would be a little bit quick, but all of a sudden, he's twitching in your mouth, a rope of cum decorating your tongue and...

Honey.

Why does he taste like honey? 

It feels like a fluke at first. Has you drawing all the way back, sucking gently on his spasming tip, but it doesn't change. Overwhelmingly sweet and thick on your tongue. It doesn't...since when did human men taste like this? Good lord, what took you so long to find one like this?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bob's abruptly pulling out of your mouth with a sharp 'pop,' the toilet paper roll audibly spinning as he grabs at it. 

The overhead light flickers back on. Damn near blinding. You nearly miss the shade of cherry decorating his cheeks. 

"Has anyone ever told you that you taste like honey?" 

"You can't be serious."

"No, something's gotta be wrong. I've picked something up somewhere," Bob doesn't seem to realize that he's started pacing again, striding back and forth across the room. "That doesn't...it shouldn't taste like honey!"

Your leg kicks off the edge of the exam table, taping him on the hip as he drifts past. "And what? You think a mystery STD will?"

"Maybe there's one I'm not considering," he stops dead in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye. "You should get tested too."

"Hard to catch a human virus if you aren't human," dragging your foot up the side of his thigh, "maybe it's just a succubus thing."

Bob's hand curls around your ankle, bringing it to rest comfortably against the side of his hip. "Huh?"

"I mean, like...maybe I taste it differently based on how much I like the person?" You're already grasping at straws as it is, but it's so hard to think when Bob is rubbing the back of your ankle like that. Diligent fingers pressing into strained muscle, drawing the tension away with every loose spiral.

"No," shaking his head as if to add emphasis to an already firm word. "I don't...no, that wouldn't make sense." 

That was your one and only theory, but, well, if he insists. "Alright, honey cum."

"Please, don't."

You're gone by the time the doctor decides to come back. Doesn't have a whole lot to say, but a few weeks later, there's a neatly folded paper on the counter with a whole bunch of negatives on it. 

Bob catches you looking at them, but he doesn't have anything to say about it. He's more intrigued by your appearance than anything else, brushing the pads of his fingers against one of your horns as he drifts past.

"Have you always had these?" He chirps, on a one-way track back to his coffee maker. His poor heart might stop if he pours himself anymore, but that doesn't seem to be stopping him.

"Technically, yes," it's a lazy reply, but you're not sure what else to say. "I didn't think to hide them today. What is that, your third cup of coffee today?" 

"Fifth," he corrects, unashamed about finishing off the pot. There's just enough left to fill his mug to the rim and then some. How he doesn't spill it, you'll never know. "Do all demons have horns?"

"Depends on the race, really," shrugging. "Succubi have short, narrow horns with vibrant colors, crossroad demons have horns similar to a Texas Longhorn, fallen angels don't have any at all..." You could keep going, but you would be talking for a long, long time.

You probably shouldn't be lingering around Bob's apartment, invisible to the naked eye as you lounge in the soft red couch and gaze out the window at every rise and fall of the sun. He seems to know that you're still here; hums something that sounds like your name when the cushion sinks beneath your weight. 

It's a cute apartment, really. A thrifted coffee table and an oversized bookcase that has already run out of room, excess books spilling over onto the shelves that were once reserved for figurines, and clever callbacks to movies. 

There's a stash of DVDs lurking inside of the TV stand, and in the ottoman, a pair of signed and framed Star Wars posters decorating the hallway. He thinks that he's spread out the anime enough to pass undetected, but you can clearly see the manga lurking in the smaller bookcase in his bedroom. There's a Naruto sticker hiding on the side of the fridge, a Pokemon in the bathroom cabinet, and so far, you have counted four Trigun figurines. 

Five, if you include the one you just watched him unwrap and place next to his model jet. This one kind of looks like him...

"Are you still in here?" Bob calls out from somewhere on the other side of the apartment. It might be the first time you've heard his voice rise above a mutter since he left the doctor's office. 

You're not entirely sure where he is. Haven't exactly moved from the couch now that the sun has fallen again, blankly gazing at the distant ocean as if it's a home you once knew like the back of your hand. 

He appears in the hallway. Fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt, his eyes squinting as he tries to scan the room without his glasses. You're still waiting for him to realize that he left them next to the stove again.

"Come out?" He tries again, ambling forward. "Please?" 

"Looking to terrorize your boss again?" Dissolving into solidity, the chilly air nipping unpleasantly at your skin. Invisible was better. You couldn't feel the temperature when you didn't have a body. 

Or...maybe you're feeling the temperature incorrectly because Bob looks like a shrimp mid-boil. Red in the cheeks, so flushed that it crawls down into his neck, and the sliver of chest showing through the collar of his shirt. 

"Bob?" Tilting your head to the side. 

"I wanna return the favor." Deadpan.

Blink.

Blink again.

Blink one more time.

You don't follow. "Pardon?"

"I mean, I..." his eyes skip around the room. Bouncing off of the coffee table to the poster behind your head, the miscellaneous figurine shelf, and the refrigerator. "You did something for me, and I...don't...like the idea of it being so one-sided?"

"Bob, I'm a succubus," there's supposed to be an underlying hint there because this is kind of the very reason for your existence, but Bob doesn't seem to pick up on that. Or maybe he does and just doesn't react. "Do you even know how?"

A beat passes. 

His head shakes. No.

"I'm a quick learner?" Offering it up like he's bartering. You wonder if you can get him to start offering crops and livestock. "Is that...okay?" 

You're not sure if it's the novelty of the idea or if it's because of that soft, doe-eyed expression he nails you with, but something has you agreeing to it. But just because you're on the same page together doesn't mean you'll be the very next sentence that he reads. 

You're gone the moment he's in front of you. 

"Where did you—"

"But you'll have to catch me first." Reappearing behind him. Walking your fingers up his spine. 

He turns. 

You're gone. Drifting behind his back again. Blowing at his nape. 

"Hey!" He squeals. So shrill and pitchy that it nearly throws you off. Only manage to dissolve into a plume of mist when he reaches for you. 

Bob is already spinning around. Blocks you from getting to his back again. And there must be some kind of 'tell' of where you are because his eyes follow you every which way. You'd might as well be fully human because this isn't working. 

You don't know how you get into the kitchen. But you're on one side, and Bob is on the other before you've even become solid. You stumble three steps to the right; he's already there. You go left. But then he goes left. You dart right—corner to corner to corner. Shit, you've put yourself in a corner. Either way you have to get past him. 

"Why are you so damn quick?" Giggling. Your feet slide against the hardwood. Not as fast as him. This will only last so long.

"Did you forget." He jumps left. "I'm in." Right. "The Navy?" Left again.

"I thought that meant you would be good at swimming!" You're slipping. Grabbing at the countertop before you can hit the floor. "Not—this!"

He breaks the pattern first. Shoots around the corner so quickly that you nearly don't have time to spin back around. His fingertips graze your back as you turn. You're tearing off around the corner. Dissolving bit-by-bit and—

There's a pressure around your waist, and the room is spinning, and you don't remember when or how your feet left the ground. 

"Bobby!" You're squealing, throwing your arms around his shoulders before you can slip. 

It's hard telling when or how things escalate the way that they do. All you remember is the coldness of the floor as he sets you back down, the heat of his arms around you, and the bump of his nose against your cheek. And melting. Fuck, you remember melting into him like snowflakes in July, meeting him halfway, his soft lips melding with yours so easily. 

You do remember when you fall against the couch. Nothing but ruby red cushions and the lingering pink in Bobby's cheeks, settling between your legs with such ease that you almost wonder if you've done this with him before. 

Christ, he could probably convince you that you've already had a few nights together. 

There's no reason why or how he should know that you're sensitive beneath your ear, mouthing at the skin there but never making a move to mottle it with bruises. Respectful. Irritatingly so. Never leaving behind a mark, not even when he bites at the collar of your shirt and grazes the skin that lurks beneath.

He wasn't lying when he said he was a quick learner. Is he sure that he's never done this before? Because he gets your lounge shorts off surprisingly easily. His waist dipping between your thighs, swollen lips finding your lower belly once more, working down, down, down...

"Shit," his tongue has you jolting, entirely caught off guard. "A little sudden there."

It's hard to feel any sort of annoyance when he peeks up at you from beneath his lashes, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. "'m sorry."

Your hand curls into the back of his hair, a fraction longer than it was when his so-called friends summoned you right into his lap. Only takes the slightest pressure for him to dip his head back down, licking a slow stripe against you. He misses your clit on the first try, pulls away a little too soon. But he finds it on the second, visibly perks at your sharp inhale, and retraces his steps until you do it again.

Learning should imply that he doesn't know what he's doing beforehand. You're gonna need to steal his dictionary off the shelf and look up the proper definition because you're pretty sure he was lying. 

There's no damn reason why he should know how to point his tongue and trace it around your clit, teasing until your hips lift off the mattress. Temporary relief comes in the form of the hum that rumbles out of him, vibrating through your nerves like electricity. He's settling into it now, laying flat on his belly, arms curled around your thighs as ifhe belongs there.

Fuck, and he's working his way down. Pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses into your dripping pussy, stopping to lap at your entrance before pressing inside. His tongue isn't even all that long, but the wet heat and the tip of his nose pressing against your clit yanks a gasp out of your throat, eyes snapping shut. 

Your thigh squishes against his cheek, leg looping lazily over his shoulder as if that could somehow possibly bring him closer. Fingers twist in his hair, nails scraping across his scalp—

"What the hell?" Your own voice sounds foreign. Detached from your body.

Bob lifts his head, and good lord, his lips are glistening. "Hm?"

"What is this little bump on your head?" Tapping your nail against it, uniquely bony compared to the rest of his scalp. Feels like a perfect circle.

"I don't know what they are," nonchalant, already dipping back between your legs, "'ve had 'em since I was born."

You can see them when you push his hair out of the way, little indentations beneath the skin, solid as can be. One on each side, a few inches above his ears. These kind of look like...

No, that's not right. 

That sweet tongue of his finds you again. Drawing lazy shapes that transform into shock waves on impact, rumbling up your spine and down into your fluttering thighs. Letters. He's drawing letters, and you can hardly decipher what they are, but the voice in the back of your head whispers that he's writing is name into your cunt. Over and over until he's certain that you'll never find pleasure in a name that isn't his. 

"Bobby, I..."

He hums, hands curling around your hips, pulling you in. Doesn't let go of that same lazy pace that he just set for himself, curling through an 'R' and into an 'O' so intoxicating that you find your own mouth mimicking it, too. You don't mean to cum so soon. You really don't, but your eyes unintentionally lock with his, that tiny smile curling the corners of them, and shit—

Your back twitches up off the bed. Crying out so sharply that it rips right out of your throat. Your head might just tumble off your shoulders. Floating up into the clouds, heaven-bound. Weightless. 

The hands on your hips tighten. Anchoring you back down. Bob's burning tongue working you through it like he's done it a hundred times until your body is tensing and jerking away from every little lick.

"Jesus," sucking in a breath, "Christ." 

Bob lifts his head, swollen lips twisting into a cheesy grin. "Wrong name." 

"Nerd," tapping him on the nose.

"Demon," biting the inside of your thigh. 

It's hard telling who sputters into a laugh first. Giggling like school kids as he climbs up the bed, his mouth clumsily finding its way to yours. It's so much easier to hold his face when his glasses aren't in the way; don't have to worry about smudging a lense or accidentally knocking them off his face entirely. 

If you thought that you were bad, then Bob Floyd is another monster entirely because once he's gotten a taste of you, he can't get enough. 

Because he's on you again in the morning, kissing at your shoulder and working his way down your naked belly before his final alarm goes off and forces him to start getting ready for work. His sweet tongue working over your clit, chasing down a vastly different zig-zag pattern as he eases a thick, curious finger into you. Lazily searches for a little spot that steals your breath away and has you babbling for another.

In the evening, he's nibbling and kissing at your thighs while you wait for the pizza delivery guy is on his way. Leaves behind sporadic little marks that gradually acquire a delicious tenderness that makes you gasp when you try to cross your legs later. 

You answer to the sound of your name on an average Tuesday afternoon. An unapproved presence in a top-security Naval building, perched up on the edge of a locker room bench like you belong there. Like you, too, are a pilot with a willingness to perform and just the right amount of crazy flowing through your veins. 

Bob doesn't utter a word about it, but you know that one of his superiors has chewed him out again because his cheeks are pale as can be, eyes only softening at the sight of you appearing before him. And maybe he's a little bit too eager to fall to his knees, peppering your skin with kisses that make their way to where you crave them the most. 

Again and again. An addict who seems to need his fix every time he's overwhelmed. It's your purpose, the very thing you were built for, but the invisible string that draws you into him is unlike any other you've been wrapped up in before. An undescribable something-else lurking behind the charm of those wireframes and his warm, dizzying voice. Never asks for anything in return, all too content with eating you alive.

Your favorite might be the night that he pulls a muscle in his shoulder blade. One little misstep in the gym is all it takes for a night and a half of overwhelming soreness, binding him flat on his back, minding his left side. But even the mix of ibuprofen, Tylenol, and a dash of pain isn't enough to keep him grounded.

"I have an idea." It's been forever since you last heard him speak. The last time you recall hearing his voice was last night when he asked you to pass him his toothbrush.

"Uh oh," not in any particular hurry to lift your head from his chest, naked and oh so warm to the touch. 

"What?" He's trying to act offended, but the attempt dies mid-air. Won't be making a living in acting any time soon, that's for sure. 

Tapping your finger on his collarbone, overtop a thin white scar you've yet to learn the story of. "Don't 'what' me." 

His laugh sounds like thunder. Deep and rumbling into your ears, a tune you didn't know you craved until just now. 

A familiar warmth settles against your cheek, diligent fingers tracing the edge of your jaw. "What if I told you I had another idea?"

One of these days, you'll learn to quit being surprised. 

Today, you're shocked that he asked you to ride his face. 

Shit, but here you are. Knees precariously resting above his head. Trying your best not to let your thighs clamp down around his face as he dips his tongue between your folds, half-lidded gaze fixated on your expression. You've long since lost count of how many times you've felt this. The soft whisps of his short hair tickling your skin, the way he hums when he hears you gasp.

"You've got," raking your fingers against his scalp, anything to distract from the calculated zig-zag across your clit, "a problem." 

"Maybe that's what's wrong with me," muffled. His every word rumbling through your core and reaching up into your chest. 

"Yeah, well..." drinking in a shuddered breath, "you being addicted to eating me out was not on that list."

It's his fault for laughing again. Should have known that the vibration would have twisted into your nerves and sent them firing, thighs impulsively clamping down around his head with no regard for him or breathing. 

Fuck, it takes a moment to remember how to move them again. 

"I'm sorry," and you're about to lift yourself up, let him get a full breath of air, but his hands find your hips, anchoring you into place. 

"'s okay," pausing to lap at your clit, wet and messy, and god, the sound. "I don't mind."

He'd say that if you accidentally suffocated him to death, too.

Your nails drift across his scalp. Dragging just enough to feel the shift of hair beneath your fingertips, disturbing the hardened bump lurking just a few inches above his ear. You know that it's probably because of the swelling, but you swear it feels bigger than it did a few days ago. And maybe it's sensitive too because, for the briefest moment, you catch the whisp of a gasp. A sharp little intake of air punctuating the way he drifts down to toy with your entrance. 

They're worse the following morning.

He's only just beginning to settle between your legs, diligently kissing down the inside of your thigh, when the brush of your knee sends him reeling. Pawing at the sides of his head. Wincing. Yelping at his own touch.

"Did I—"

"No!" He blurts. Pitchy. "I'm sorry, it's, I—it hurts."

Even the delicate pressure of an ice pack is too much for him to tolerate, hissing like a cat the moment the material touches his skin. You're not entirely sure what to make of them. Dissolving into the air around him for a better view, drifting around his head, twisting every which way as if discovering the perfect angle will reveal the secret.

It doesn't...look infected. Strained is the best descriptor you can come up with. As if something is trying to claw its way out from beneath the skin. 

"And you said you've had these since you were born?" Musing aloud, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them.

Hands find your waist as you settle into your human shape once more. "That's what I'm told." Then, tilting his head to look up at you, not making any move to get out of his chair. "Why, what did you see?"

"The same thing you're seeing," you can't help but push his hair back, watching the short strands gradually slip free from your fingers. "Must be a really odd birth defect."

He hums, blinking up at you without a word, perhaps not as concerned about his situation as he should be. Not a trace of worry clouding his features, though the corner of his eye twitches when you unintentionally drift over one of the bumps. 

It's the same kind of gaze that gets you into trouble three nights later. 

He doesn't seem to realize that he's doing it, drowning you in pools of ocean blue every time he looks your way. You don't understand how you make it through the night. He's just so damn distracting. Tapping his foot against yours beneath the table, legs tangling as a nameless mid-forties man in a fancy suit rambles on about the honor of working in the Navy and things you don't care to follow. 

You don't know how you get to the hotel bed. Only vaguely aware of the sensation of your feet leaving the ground, thighs clinging to the sharp bone of his hips. One of his hands is on your ass, and the other is smoothing up your back. Presses just hard enough to have you arching, chests bumping together hard enough to break your kiss.

"Bobby—"

"I know."

The room collapses into a world of pristine white clouds—or maybe you've just fallen onto the bed. You can't tell for sure. Can't be bothered to. Not when a familiar pressure appears against your lips, his firm body settling between your legs with a weight you can't possibly ignore. 

He tastes like the hot chocolate they poured into his cup when he turned down the champagne. Sweet and so warm that you can feel yourself melting, and you must be made of chocolate, too, because he moves as if he's going to eat you alive. Hands rising to cradle your face, settling into a lingering liplock that has you gasping for air.

Your head is spinning. One hand curling around his bicep. The other smoothing up the side of his burning neck. Hardly aware of how your hips lift up from the mattress, but all too aware of him meeting you in the middle. A new pressure forms between your legs. The not-so-subtle bump of a growing bulge against your cunt. 

Curse the layers of fabric separating you from each other. Can't do anything but meet him halfway. Mewling into his mouth like a cat in heat. Legs curling around his hips. The heels of your ankles digging into his ass, urging him closer, closer, closer.

Something trickles across your fingers. Smearing across his neck. 

"What is that?" It's sliding down your palm, scurrying past your wrist and beyond. Water? No, where would it have come from...

Bob draws away, an unusual chill filling the space he once occupied. "What is what?" 

Your hand is crimson. 

Why is your hand...?

"Oh my god." Reeling back. Hands held high as if that can possibly stop the blood that drips from your fingertips, so fresh that you can still feel the warmth of it. 

It's everywhere. Staining the fresh sheets, smeared across the back of Bob's neck, pooling at the shoulders of a brand new uniform that will never be the same again. It's on the shell of his ear and in his hair and—

"Oh my god," you sound like a broken record, but it's all you can say. "Bobby, your head."

Looking back on it, you're thankful Bob booked a room with two beds instead of one. 

There's no salvaging or rectifying the utter disaster going on in the bed that he claimed as his when you first got here. The sheets and comforter torn clean off, lying in a messy pile, waiting for the front desk to call back and tell you what to do with them. From here, they look perfectly fine, still the same shade of pure white, as if nothing has ever happened. 

Your attention meanders across the floor, tracing the lines of geometric shapes, following them on their journey between the beds until they disappear beneath the mattress. Bob's foot still hangs off the edge, a smidge too lazy to try and readjust himself now that he's found home here on your chest.

It's almost strange being here. Snuggling on a hotel bed with a man who didn't even summon you wasn't on the job description. Hell, the last time you even set foot in a place like this was probably years before you realized what you were and fully committed to the whole demonic entity thing. 

"Why don't you ever leave?" Bob's voice rumbles into your collar, a smidge deeper than it was the last time you heard it. 

"You never said you were satisfied with me," darting from your mouth before you can realize what you're about to say. A script so rehearsed that your tongue needs no instruction to utter it.

The room is quieter than it was before.

Which...is odd because nothing about it has changed. The cheap air conditioner still rattles to its own mechanic tune. You can still hear the girl talking on the phone in the hallway. Through the wall behind your head, the neighbor's television still plays the rerun of what sounds like a football game. 

Bob's eyes are open. Can feel the flutter of his lashes against the side of your neck. If you didn't know any better, you would mistake it for the dustings of tiny butterfly wings.

But he doesn't say anything. 

"I'm sorry, I...that may have come out the wrong way."

"'s okay." Says it so quickly that you wonder if he's listened to your apology at all. 

Antsy, you reach for his hair, fingers coming through the still-damp locks. A little bit fried after two full washes, but it was the necessary sacrifice to get all of that blood out. 

You've got to crane your neck to see the culprit, but it's still there, in the same state it was the last time you laid eyes on it. Scabbed over. No longer as swollen as it once was, but there's still something solid lurking beneath the surface. You could have sworn you saw a flash of white in there before it had closed up again, but looking at it now, there's nothing. 

"I think I just like being around you," concluding, after a long moment. 

'Like' may be an understatement, but...

The corner of his mouth is turning upward. You know it is because you can feel it against your chest. "I like being around you, too."

And here you thought you'd figured out what Robert Floyd defines as a party. 

Bubbling glasses of golden champagne, the same shade of the delicate chandelier sparkling overhead, crystals cascading down like a spiral staircase. Enchanting. Beginning three stories up and only ending mere feet away from where you stand, you could probably touch it if you tried. 

Such a stark contrast to the midnight peeking through the windows, twinkling city lights of every color in the rainbow drowned out by the blinding white and gold palette you've found yourself in. Unfamiliar faces and dresses worth more than a car fresh off the lot, wrapped up in the whimsical tune of a live orchestra off to your left.

So many things to look at. Luxury desserts and vivid red couches cozied up beside the fire. There's more to be discovered, entire rooms you have yet to venture into, a custom theater, a cocktail bar...yet, your eyes continue to drift to the only familiar thing here.

And his appear to do the same.

Locking from opposite sides of the room, the buzz of the crowd melting into a distant hum, as if you've just plunged into the very crystal oceans that color his irises. The heat of his gaze is the only thing keeping your head above water, burning across every inch of your skin. It's a wonder you don't go up in flames right here and now.

Glass shatters somewhere to your left. A lady yelps. Someone swears. But you can't bring yourself to look to see what just happened. Captured in a never-ending trance as you move about the room, only able to look away for milliseconds at a time. 

One of Bob's friends are talking to him, mouth moving a mile a minute, but Bob doesn't seem to be listening—Fireball or...something. The name should come to you easier than it does. Bob's told you so many stories of them together, but you fear you've spent too much time lingering on the sound of his voice to actually store and remember the fine details. 

The music swells. 

Heads turn toward the melody, and with it, feet begin to move. It's as if one-half of the party has vanished, opening up the floor enough for you to walk without worry of bumping into anyone. You wouldn't even be in this position if filtering through different forms was socially acceptable and not the quickest way to give someone a heart attack. 

It's like drawing too close to a fire, the flames so bright that you can hardly look at them without being blinded. Except the flames are the open buttons at the very top of his long sleeve, milky white skin peeking through the gap. He's grown a bit since this was fitted, the fabric hugging a little too tightly around his chest, straining already weakened seams. Two of the buttons have already snapped off, unveiling more than he would ever willingly show off. 

He would catch your staring if he weren't already doing the same damn thing. Knows he's been caught, too, cheeks dusting a cherry red the moment he tears his attention away from the slit in your dress, showing off your upper thigh. 

But Fanbase is still talking, rambling on about the subplot of a movie that you've yet to see, and you're simply not interested enough to linger any longer than you have to. Gliding past Bobby as if you hadn't just made eye contact with him, your hand trailing up the side of his arm on your way past. 

The door couldn't come quickly enough, and you disappear through it with nothing more than a wayward glance over your shoulder.

He's still looking at you. 

It's so much quieter in the hallway, all that noise and music vanishing the moment the door swings shut behind you. You're not sure where you're going; didn't plan this far ahead, but you can already see a floor-to-ceiling window that looks interesting enough. A decorative fountain rests in front of it, the water sparkling with the city lights.

The view is better at night. Still breathtaking during the day, but...god, something about the velvet black and twinkling shades of neon really bring out the charm of a city like this. Though you've still yet to figure out why a Navy event is all the way up here, in the tallest building they could find. One of their own venues would have sufficed; then they wouldn't have had to rent all these hotel rooms. 

"Your dress looks awful familiar." Maybe Bob is hiding magic powers of his own because there's no way he could have snuck up on you without floating here.

But there he is. Shoulder resting against the wall, arms folded over his chest. The rolled sleeves are struggling with his forearms, fabric so tight that the threads silently scream. 

"Does it?" Coy. You entirely stole this idea from the front cover of the magazine he had sitting on the kitchen counter. 

You don't mean to step forward at the same time he does, but you do. Nose to nose in the blink of an eye, so close that your vision goes a little blurry and out of focus. 

A door slams down the hall.

The invisible string snaps.

Your hands are in his hair, and his are on your waist, and mouths are clattering with all the grace and elegance of a car crash. The back of your leg hits the fountain. Sends the thing jumping as you all but slam into the window. It's a wonder you don't go crashing through it, plummeting through miles upon miles of midnight neons. 

Because it certainly feels like you did. 

Head spinning as if you're in a free fall. Fingers twisting in his hair before unspoken forces can peel you away, sloppily falling into tune with the bold dance of his lips. Fuck, it's so much more than what you've spent the past fifteen minutes picturing in your head. He tastes like cola and honey, so dizzyingly sweet that a sugar rush buzzes through your veins.

What is it with you and this human? 

It's as if you're one half of a magnet, hopelessly bound to him by forces that you can't quite identify. Yielding to the subtle pressure of his hands, allowing him to gather you into his chest as if you aren't close enough as it is. Heaven, Hell, and Earth could collapse right here and now, and it still wouldn't be enough to drive a wedge between you. 

"And here I thought you weren't the PDA type," that thought was supposed to stay in your head, but it's far too late to do anything about it.

"I think this is a little beyond PDA," Bob's mouth twists into a smile too soon. Teeth smash together with a sound that makes you wince. 

There are voices down the hallway, familiar, but you don't care to try and identify them. Whoever they are, they don't get a chance to see you here because Bob's taking hold of your wrist, and you're falling into the clumsiest run imaginable. Arms awkwardly tangling together. His boots too new to grip the floor. Giggling to yourselves as you slide to the right, fighting to get around the corner before he can be recognized. 

You're already crashing into each other again. And again. And again. Stealing kisses as if you need one for every few steps taken. Can't function otherwise. Winding through the hall, no regard for where you're going or if it's even the right direction, barging through a door and racing up the stairs. You trip on one. Bob falls on his ass on another.

It's a damn wonder how you find the correct door. 

At least, you assume it's the right one because your back all but slams into it; don't even hear the noise that rattles down the empty hall. How are you meant to pay attention to such meaningless things, when a soft pressure appears at your lips? Greedily leaning into it as you all but melt into one another, his breath running ragged.

The key. You need the key. 

It's somewhere on him, your hands blindly smoothing over his chest, searching for the outline of that thin plastic key card. And so what if you momentarily hook your fingers into the top of his shirt? It could have been hiding there, for all you know.

Bob finds it just before you do. Plucking the hunk of plastic from his front pocket, and you can feel the heat of his arm as he reaches past.

Beep.

Gravity tilts on its head. Falling backward. 

Toned arms loop around your waist. Force you to remain upright. Pulling you close like there's a risk of you blowing away. Stumbling backward. Through the door. You don't know how your arms got around his neck, but you're not making any move to let go. Clinging to him like it's the only thing you know how to do. Nose bumping into his cheek as you find your way to his mouth once more. 

One fleeting, accidental brush of his teeth against your lip has electricity bolting up your spine. Shades of gold explode in the depths of your frenzied mind. Fireworks. Tongues tangle for the briefest of seconds. But then he's licking at your bottom lip, and it's parting with a gasp, a little too eager to let him in. Twisting together in a fashion entirely unfamiliar to you, an exquisite dance that has you melting like snow on a summer day.

The mattress greets the backs of your knees, a gentle nudge that has you falling backward without ceremony. He's on top of you within a second, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head, chests pressing together, and—

"Mmh."  His legs spasm around your thigh, only to push it up into him again, pressing against the growing tent in his slacks. Heavy. 

"What was that?" In the lightest tone you can conjure up, rubbing your thigh against him once more. 

His face flushes red. Eyes darting away like he'll catch on fire if he keeps looking at you, but there's no hiding the way he twitches at your touch. And he knows you've felt it because, somehow, his cheeks get even redder. 

"What, don't like being teased?"  

"I might die if you keep talking." 

You'd like to see how true that statement can be. But that's an experiment for another night; you can only take your mind off of the throbbing heat resting against your thigh for so long. 

Fuck, and it seems he's on the same page. Spit-slicked lips find the corner of your jaw, one of his hands smoothing down your side as he works his way beneath your ear. One kiss after the other, only lingering long enough to lightly suck on the skin there. Teeth scrape against you, and you absolutely shouldn't shudder at such a simple feeling, but it happens anyway.

Just like how you wander to his shirt, perhaps a bit too eager to start fumbling with the buttons. They're just as stubborn as you thought they would be, angrily wedging themselves in the gaps designed for them to fit through. Stupid things. Who ever thought these were a good idea?

Bob reaches past you, his wrist bumping your hand away—

Buttons scatter. Rolling across the floor. Bouncing across the bed. One strikes your chin. Another thunks against the headboard.

"I didn't know you had it in you," giggling. Only have a handful of seconds to admire the broad expanse of his pale chest before he's on you again. Picking up right where he left off, somewhere beneath your ear, where you're most sensitive. 

His hum sounds like it's wrapped around the shape of your name, vibrating up your neck, rattling around in your skull like an earthquake. It's a wonder you don't fall apart. Fingertips biting into his shoulders, squeezing them as tightly as you can. And he just keeps kissing on you. Working down, down, down to your collar, only stopped by the fabric of your dress.

You can make it disappear.

He knows you can make it disappear.

And yet his hands slip behind your back, tugging down the tiny zipper that runs parallel to your spine. 

Takes the time to ease the soft material off your body, impossibly slow, as if he's afraid of ripping it. Past your hips and over your knees. Folds it in half and sets it off to the side. And for a moment, he pauses. Lips shining with the same light that reflects off his glasses, hardly distracting from the sparkle of his eye. 

Kisses find the inside of your knee. Working across the joint and delving into the delicate territory of your thigh. It's a tune he's played so many times that you already know where he's going and what thoughts are lurking in the back of his quiet mind. Tempting, but...

The dog tags hanging from his neck are too perfect not to grab. Why he's wearing them, you're not sure, but they reel him back in so damn easily. 

But Bob freezes the moment you're eye to eye with him, not entirely sure how to tread this newfangled path he's found himself on. And that must be what makes it so easy to push him around. Flipping your positions with a skill you forgot you had, your ass snug in his lap, knees straddling his hips.

The back of his head thunks against the headboard, unnamed shades of red rising to tint his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

"You're sure?" He croaks; for a split second, you're on the ship again, meeting for the very first time. 

"Are you sure?" Countering. The bridge of your nose bumps into his. 

You don't necessarily remember what happens after that. 

It all melts into a blur. Starts with you bouncing a button off his bare chest and ends with the sound of his pants hitting the floor next to you. You don't know who got the lube out. It must have been him because you still don't know where it even came from, but it's the sensation of his slick fingers pressing into you that catapults you back into reality. 

"You remember that I'm a succubus, right?" The intended sarcasm doesn't so much as reach your vocal chords, nothing but a breathy whisper of the obvious. 

A smile is all that he gives in return. "I know."

It's been too long since the last time you felt this. The pressure of thick fingers slipping into your already drooling cunt, knuckles catching on your entrance as they drag past. Coarse fingertips drag against your walls, crooked, running across a bundle of nerves that he has no business knowing about. Knows he's found it too, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the sound of your whine. 

Yeah. 

It's been too long. 

That's why you're so sensitive all of a sudden.

It's certainly not because of the heavy cock resting against the swell of your ass. Has nothing to do with the pools of blue that lurk in his eye; you reckon you'd drown in them if you were to fall forward. No, you only feel like that because of the never-ending city view that sits just past his head. Broad and expansive, just like...just like his shoulders...

You don't realize what your hand is doing until you overhear his sharp inhale. His body jerks, shocked by the sudden trace of your fingers running up the underside of his cock. 

Impatience will be the undoing of both of you. In such a sudden hurry that lube spills onto the bed in your rush to slick him up, and it's only after that he realizes he's forgotten about the condom. Doesn't matter. The damn thing flies out of his hand when he tries ripping it open with his teeth, landing somewhere on the floor.

"Again," lifting your hips, lazily smacking his blunt tip against your cunt, "succubus."

"I'm sorry," he's yet to realize you're merely messing with him. Condom, no condom, you don't care either way. "I don't wanna make a mess of you."

"Maybe I want you to make a mess of me," countering. And it's the last thing you can say before the pressure of his cock shuts you up. 

If you asked, you're certain he would humbly refer to himself as average, but this is...this is so much better than average. Thicker than usual and wonderfully curved, fitting that a man so intent on pleasing you would also have the perfect cock, too. Stretches you just enough to make your jaw go slack, his fat tip dragging against every little nerve it can find. 

Bob tilts his head back, his chest rising with a heavy inhale, and that may be a whine that you hear. His lashes flutter, visibly fighting to keep them open as you sink down on him. Inch after inch, and it's been so long since you last felt this full. 

And maybe they've sucked all of the oxygen from the room because neither of you can seem to catch your breath. 

"That's..." his eyes drop down, fixating on the sight of him disappearing into you, "shit, that's..."

He doesn't get to finish that thought, and you don't get the chance to bother him about it, entirely distracted by the overwhelming sensation of him bottoming out. Your ass flush with his thighs, so damn full of him that your heart has risen into your throat. 

You've already found the strength to lift your body again. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage as your hips lift, the city lights seeming to twinkle when he rubs into those soft nerves. Can only manage to raise yourself by an inch or two before collapsing down into him once more. 

The warmth of Bobby's gaze crawls up your naked body, slow, like he's trying to take his time before he meets your eye. And when he does...

"You still in there?" Winding your arms around his neck. Can't seem to get him close enough.

His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips, dry from panting, "uhuh." 

You suppose he's telling the truth because he's present enough to remember how to tilt his head up and catch you with a kiss—breathing hard through your noses. His hands squeezing your hips. Holding them through every rise and fall. 

Lube squelches between your legs. His cock head driving directly into that bundle of nerves again, your pussy helplessly spasming around him. You fear you're going to shatter into a million pieces if he does that again, but there's no attempt to shift your angle. Chasing that sensation again, crying out as a shock bolts up your spine. 

"Bobby," it slips out so easily. Riding on the coattails of a gasp. 

Foreheads knock together. So close that the sight of him goes a little bit fuzzy. Noses bumping when his hips twitch up, snapping into yours so swiftly that it knocks a whimper out of you. Just makes him do it again, and you are not living up to the whole succubus thing by collapsing into his shoulder. 

"Fuck, I can—" he grunts, punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, "can feel you clenchin' around me." 

And you can feel him twitch inside of you. Such a simple feeling that has you getting wetter around him, can only imagine what kind of mess is forming between your bodies right now. You'd look, but it's hard enough pulling yourself back, thighs burning, desperate to work back into the rhythm you just...built up...

Is...that...?

"What's wrong?" Bob has stopped moving at...some point. You don't know when that was. The concept of time passing is a little bit irrelevant right now.

Words don't necessarily come to you. Fleeting chunks of vaguely related sentences that you can't quite stitch together. You don't...that's not...when did...?

The only thing you can think of is to touch one of them. 

His back jerks off the headboard. Sucking in a gasp. Eyes going wide. But then, twitching at the corners, pretty blue irises rolling back, his cock spasming despite your lack of movement. For a moment, not a sound seems to escape him, but then it's all shattered by a barely muffled whimper. 

"So that's what's wrong with you." Deadpan. 

Touching them made him cum. That's... somewhat familiar, actually. 

Bobby's eyes can barely tear themselves open, fighting against them as he blinks up at you. "What?" 

You're almost hesitant to touch them again. Two tiny horns, no more than an inch tall, poking out from where those pesky bumps once resided. 

Horns. Of course. Why did you think you were wrong when you considered that earlier? They're identical to yours! A few inches above the ear, wide at the base and growing narrow as it nears the tip. Jet black for the time being, but they'll develop their color with time. 

The one upside to being a succubus. Uniquely colored horns. 

"Not to bring up family while all seven and a half inches of you are inside of me," because you're not sure about how to start this conversation, jumping on the first half-baked plan that comes to mind. "But are you entirely sure your folks are human?"

His head tilts. "Why?" 

The only thing you can think of is to take a picture. Those two tiny horns poking out like they're part of a cute headband, so ridiculously small in person and even smaller on his phone. As you pass it off to him, you catch yourself wondering if he'll see them at all. 

"...huh." Is all that he can say. 

They're far too sensitive for him to touch, not after what mess you just caused, but he tries. Winces the moment his fingertips make contact with the fresh new bone; you can only imagine this is how you reacted the first time your horns made their appearance, too. 

You wonder if there's anything behind them. You've seen a few variations where a second pair sprouted behind the first, but you can't see anything from this angle. If you just lean a little further to the right—

A whimper twists through the air. Pretty blue eyes squeeze shut.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"No, no, no, don't," his hands are back on your hips, pulling you back down into his lap before you've even moved an inch, and oh, you can feel his cum beginning to spill out of you. Fuck, there's so...there's so much of it. It'll make a mess of the bed if you're not careful, but you can't move. Not with those big hands anchoring you down. 

But he's not done talking. 

"Keep going," he blurts, his chest shuddering with a breath. Horns be damned, those aren't on his mind right now. "Please, I just, I want, I want you to—" 

A swivel of your hips shuts him up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already too late to stifle the pitchy little noise that sails out of his throat. God, that's a hell of a sound. Combined with the way his half-hard cock twitches in you, it's almost too much to bear. He can hardly handle it himself, squirming, not sure if he wants to push into you or away from you. 

"There!" Stardust twinkles behind your eyes. "Right there. Don't move."

It's as if the room has exploded into a galaxy. Midnight black and the deepest shades of navy, decorated in a rainbow of distant, twinkling stars. You and him and this big, oversized hotel bed. Weightless. Floating round and round, further and further away, until you're lost to the Milky Way itself. 

The fat tip of his cock drives up into those nerves again. Space nearly swallows you up once more. "Bobby..."

Your eyes must have been closed because you don't remember his head tipping back. Dazed, flushed cheeks, so entirely focused on you that the rest of the world ceases to exist at all. Pitchy whimpers, stumbling off his drooling tongue, overstimulated but making no move to push you off of him.

His lips seal. Hardly manages to muffle his noises, but it's already too quiet for your liking.

One of your hands curls around his cheek. Thumb pressing against his bottom lip, hardly takes any pressure for him to give way, allowing you in. And his poor tongue is right there, practically begging you to pin it down, and who are you to deny such a request?

Heat twists in your belly. Pussy clenching tighter around him. Your motions growing jerky. Sporadic. Sparks of color flash behind your eyelids, growing heavier by the second. And it's so fucking loud in this room. Whimpers. Cries. Blending together so seamlessly that you can't tell who makes what noise. Every motion punctuated by an all-too-loud squelch of cum and lube, fuck, this bed is going to be ruined after this.

"I-I'm—" Bob whines, tongue flexing beneath your thumb. Eyes glassy, one blink away from tears spilling over the brim. 

"Close." Don't know if you're finishing his sentence or speaking for yourself. 

It washes over you with all the strength and violence of a tidal wave. Hips stalling. Head falling back. Cumming on his cock with an unexpected cry, heat racing through your veins, skin prickling, breath hung up in your throat. You think your eyes cross. Can't really figure out how true that is, too busy floating through the cracks in the universe to think about anything but the spasm of his length inside of you. 

And you're vaguely aware that he's cumming, too, his cries vibrating through your thumb and deep into your bones. 

"Still in there?" You find yourself asking after a moment. 

Bob hums and you're only now realizing that his glasses are gone, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. Where they've gone, you don't know; don't think you could get up and look for them if you tried. 

All of the strength has left your legs. Thighs trembling as you lift yourself from his lap. And they can only hold you up for so long before you find yourself collapsing next to him, greeted by the significantly cooler sheets. 

Those horns are still there. All too present as he tries to snuggle down onto a pillow, inconveniently brushing against the fabric. You're both a damn mess. His lower belly glistens in the light, and you can already feel his cum beginning to spill out of you onto the sheets. 

Sheets that you don't want to change for a cleaner set. 

But the shower is so far away...and Bob is curling his arm around you. Pulling you closer to him as if the six inches of space between your bodies is too much for him to handle. Your nose bumps into his chin, the slightest hint of stubble growing there.

You should hide his razor and see what happens.

"How do I make them disappear?" Bob's voice cracks in the middle, sporadically skyrocketing in pitch. Water might do him good, but...damn, the fridge is by the bathroom. 

"I'll teach you, eventually," your voice isn't doing much better; you can hardly get it above a whisper. "I wanna see them on you for a little longer first."

His eyes roll, shaking his head all the while. Almost like he expected you to say that. But he doesn't call you out on it, content to tilt his head down and shut you up instead. Swollen lips crashing together, lazily tangling. A small explosion would be less messy, tongues licking into each other's mouths and teeth clacking so hard that your even bones recoil at the sensation. 

...but there's pressure on your shoulder, and you're rolling onto your back, his comfortable weight settling on top of you. Half hard against your thigh. 

"Satisfied?" You murmur, though you suppose you already know the answer to that.

His lips curl into a smile. Devilish, even. "No."

You're beginning to think you've swapped roles in this relationship.

[mclacedes]

Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

1. something awful

warnings: nothing, but there might be suggestive content

summary: in which people suspect the singer Y/N Stella left the Miami GP after party earlier because of Lando

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 3.3k

✧ next up

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . MAY. 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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paddockgirl

❤️ by user1, ynfan2, landonorris and more

paddockgirl: Spotted: the ever-dazzling Y/N Stella, slipping away from Miami’s hottest ticket—Lando Norris' maiden F1 victory after-party—way earlier than expected. Draped in designer and with her usual charm, the pop starlet didn’t stay to bask in the post-win glow. Instead, she was seen hurrying off alongside Bella Hadid and Y/BFF, each departing in separate cars.

Was the night too electric, or was something more simmering beneath the surface? With those hurried steps and that unbothered demeanor, it seems Y/N was in a rush to leave the celebrations behind. No word yet on what—or who—might have prompted her sudden exit, but in the world of fast cars and even faster whispers, one thing’s for sure: the story doesn’t end here.

You know you love this,

XOXO, the paddock girl

click here to open comment section

user5: ok is it just me or she looks disturbed?

user3: ok what is going on

landofan4: WJAT IS THE MIAMI GP WINNER DOING IN THE LIKES???????? WTF

ynfan8: lando liking this means something.... right?

ynfan10: add fire to fuel lando!!! we love to see it

landofan3: god what is happening???

ynfan8: some fans (like myself) think they have a relationship

ynfan15: yeah sure if they're dating why would she leave her boyfriend's VERY FIRST F1 victory after prty tho??

landofan7: lando like this if you're going after her ❤️ by landonorris

landofan11: SHUT UP HE DID NOT

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

it was long past midnight on May 6th, the night after Lando’s maiden victory.

the party had been good—electric energy, laughter, your father in his element, proud beyond measure—but you couldn’t stay in that stuffy, cramped place for another second, so you slipped away quietly, not warning anyone other than andrea amd zak to step into the cool night air outside the club.

the city’s hum was faint, the night, chilly. you looked at your phone screen to check the time: 1:12am.

you quickly ordered an uber, the car arriving minutes later. as you slid into the backseat, you felt the weight of the night sinking in. your mind wandered back to Lando—his smile, the way his eyes sparkled when he took off the helmet, how he looked so free and so alive, how you hadn’t been able to pull your gaze away from him all evening. there was something about him, something that made you feel all the things you didn’t want to feel, and it was getting harder to ignore.

Lando always made you feel like he completed something inside of you, like you could sit and listen to him talk for hours, just staring and memorizing his perfectly crafted features just so you could have the chance to do it all again in your dreams—the sweet ones and the wild.

you let all your armor fall near him, you let him see you and in return he… existed; he didn't have to do much to satisfy you. and he had no idea that his "baby boss" was falling more and more in love with the person he was every day.

the uber ride was quiet, the streets almost empty at this hour, and your mind couldn’t focus on anything else except the way Lando’s laugh had filled the room earlier, how effortless he made everything seem. as the car stopped in front of the hotel, you paid the driver and stepped out, feeling the chill of the night air hit your skin.

you didn���t want to go back inside. not yet. not when the night felt like it was still unfolding. so you found your way to the hotel’s poolside, the water reflecting the soft light from the overhead lamps. you leaned against the edge, arms folded, gazing up at the dark sky, the stars scattered like whispers above you.

it was quiet here. peaceful. no one else around.

so you just took the moment in: you let out a soft breath, trying to calm the flutter in your chest.

how was it that he could make everything inside you feel so real? it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. but every time you looked at him, every time your eyes met his, you could feel it—something more than just friendship, more than the playful teasing. it was becoming harder to hide, harder to pretend it wasn’t there.

you stayed there laid and thinking for about an hour, letting the cool air settle around you, trying to push all the thoughts of him aside, but they kept circling back. it wasn’t just the way he looked at you or how he made you laugh, it was something deeper. something you didn’t know how to handle yet. but you didn’t want to fight it either.

you were at peace until a stepping noise caught your attention.

you blinked, slightly startled, as Lando dipped his feet in the water next to you, his gaze locking onto yours with that signature mischievous grin. his hair was tousled, his shirt untucked, and there was a casual swagger to his movements, even in his slightly drunken state.

“what are you doing here, norris?”

“shouldn't i ask you that, Cinderella?” he smirked, his voice teasing yet warm, the kind of charm that was both effortless and infuriating.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed the fact that you were glad he showed up. “don’t call me that, Lando.”

“why not?” he leaned back, getting comfortable. “you ran off after midnight! it's the perfect nickname actually, if you stop and think.”

“no it's not,” you shot back, the corners of your mouth twitching in amusement.

“should i stick with baby boss then?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he glanced over at you, waiting for your reaction.

your heart skipped. baby boss. he always said it so casually, yet it carried a weight to it that you couldn’t quite shake off.

"it's not baby boss," you sighed, trying to ignore the way your stomach fluttered. "but whatever, I’m sure you’ll call me something equally ridiculous anyway."

Lando just shrugged, unfazed by your resistance. “it’s either that or Cinderella. take your pick.”

you shook your head, but the warmth spreading in your chest told you that, somehow, it didn’t really matter what he called you. the sound of his voice, the way he spoke to you like no one else did—like you were someone important to him—was enough to make you feel something you couldn’t name.

"you’ve really got no filter, do you?" you muttered, feeling the tension between you start to shift. there was something about him that made it impossible to stay distant, something that kept pulling you in, even though you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“why would i?” Lando grinned, unabashed. “filters are overrated.”

he turned to look at you again, his gaze locking onto yours with that effortlessly charming look that made your heart race.

you two were there, under the midnight sky, staring into the universe's infinite darkness, the soft hum of distant waves mingling with the steady beat of your pulse. the quiet was almost deafening, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze.

and yet, even in this peaceful, still moment, there was a strange intensity in the air between you and him. it wasn’t the alcohol or the high of the night’s events; it was something more—a quiet understanding, a shared breath.

“filters exist so we don't sound stupid, or insensitive. it's made so we know what to say and when to say it. they're not overrated,” you explain.

Lando’s lips quirked up, his eyes never leaving yours. “oh, c'mon, baby boss,” he laughed, rolling his green eyes, glistening with amusement. “there's gotta be a small bit of you that's like... shameless or something.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but deep down, the way he looked at you made it hard to stay detached. you took a breath, the night suddenly feeling a little heavier than before.

“maybe,” you admitted, staring out at the water.

Lando shifted slightly on the beside you to get a better look at you. the warm glow of the pool lights danced across his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his green eyes. he was so close now, his arm resting lazily on the edge of the lounger, his gaze steady on yours.

“then, quick, quick. tell me something awful,” he urged again, his tone playful but low, as though he was sharing a secret with you.

you hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. you wanted to match his energy, to keep it light, but the weight of the night and his persistent gaze made it impossible to hold back. before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“lost my virginity with a guy who only did me because he felt sorry for me.”

the moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. the air seemed to shift, the playful spark dimming as Lando went still. he didn’t laugh, didn’t smirk or tease like you expected. instead, his brows furrowed slightly, and he looked at you like he was trying to piece together how anyone could make you feel that way.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the silence. “i didn’t—”

“it’s fine,” you cut him off quickly, not wanting the moment to linger in the rawness of your confession. your eyes dropped to the shimmering pool water, the ripples almost hypnotic. “really. it’s... a long time ago.”

there was a pause, the kind that made the air between you feel heavier. Lando didn’t move, didn’t look away. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, softer, like he was sharing something equally intimate.

“you deserve so much better than that,” he said, his words careful but full of conviction. “i mean... i wouldn’t do that to you.”

your eyes flicked back to his, and the sincerity there caught you off guard. Lando wasn’t teasing now, wasn’t trying to be charming. he meant it.

you let out a soft laugh, trying to defuse the moment, but it sounded more like a sigh. “thanks, i guess,” you murmured, your voice almost getting lost in the gentle rustle of the breeze.

Lando tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer. “no, i mean it,” he said firmly, leaning in just slightly. “you’re... all due respect, hot as hell.”

his words hit you harder than you expected. it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he said it, like he was genuinely baffled that anyone could treat you as anything less than extraordinary. you swallowed, your chest tightening in a way that made you feel vulnerable but also... safe.

“you’re full of surprises,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, but your voice wavered just enough to betray the emotion building inside you.

“just being honest,” he shrugged, that familiar grin tugging at his lips again, though his eyes stayed soft. “besides, you know me, Cinderella—no filter. shameless.”

you smiled despite yourself, your fingers brushing over the cool metal of the marble floor.

“what's your big secret, Norris? your awful thing,” you asked, prompting yourself on one of your sides so you could have a better look at him under the midnight hours.

did he look handsome? as usual.

his tousled hair framed his face just right, the perfect mix of messy and deliberate, matching the black dress shirt, wrinkled and unbuttoned, as if it naturally rebelled against perfection.

the soft glow from the pool lights danced over his features, catching in his green eyes and making them look impossibly vivid, like they were lit from within. his cheekbones looked sharper in the low light, and the subtle curve of his lips held that ever-present smirk, the one that seemed to say he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

“oh, so now you want my dirty laundry?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“fair trade, i guess,” you shot back, the corners of your lips twitching into a smile.

for a second, his expression shifted—something darker, something more intent flickered across his face. before you could fully register it, he leaned closer to you, barely blinking as he moved toward you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft but curious as your heart began to pick up its pace.

he didn’t answer. instead, he stopped once you could feel his breath against your face, his eyes locked on yours. his beautiful face was so close now that you could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw and the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed.

your breath caught with how he looked at you, his gaze intense but not unkind, the teasing smirk replaced by something that felt... heavier. his voice was low when he finally spoke, almost a whisper but laced with unmistakable intent.

“i know i’m drunk and you're my boss' daughter but... god, i wanna take you upstairs so bad. take that dress out of your body… you do things to me, y/n, do you have any idea of that?”

the world around you seemed to fade into the background, the gentle ripple of the pool and the faint hum of the city swallowed by the intensity of the moment. Lando’s words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying, as if the universe itself had paused to watch what you’d do next.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. his proximity was dizzying, his scent—a mix of cologne, champagne, and something uniquely him—invading your senses. you tried to find your voice, but the way his green eyes bored into yours made it nearly impossible to think straight.

“Lando...” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

he didn’t move, didn’t blink, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to your eyes, and you felt your stomach flip.

you blinked, trying to process the raw honesty in his words. the Lando you knew—the easygoing, cheeky driver who always had a joke ready—was nowhere to be found. In his place was someone far more vulnerable, someone baring his soul without hesitation.

“you're drunk,” you managed to say, though your voice wavered. “you don't mean that.”

he shook his head, a small, almost bitter laugh escaping his lips. “maybe i am. but i’ll still mean it tomorrow. and the day after that.”

his voice still low, intimate. his eyes searched yours, daring you to look away. “you think i haven't been biting my tongue for months? pretending you don’t make me feel like i’m losing my mind every time you walk into a room?”

your breath hitched. you wanted to say something—anything—but the truth was, part of you wanted him to say it again. part of you wanted him to act on it, consequences be damned. and that terrified you.

“i—” you broke off, shaking your head as you sat up straighter, trying to put some space between the two of you. “Lando, we can’t.”

the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smirk, but his eyes stayed serious. “why not?” he asked, his tone calm but challenging. “because you’re andrea's daughter? because i drive for mclaren? or because you’re scared?”

the question caught you off guard, and you felt your defenses crumble just a little. “i’m not scared,” you lied, your voice trembling slightly.

“liar,” he said softly, his lips curving into a knowing smile. but there was no malice in his tone, just a quiet understanding that made your chest tighten.

you looked away, your gaze falling to the water, the reflections rippling like your thoughts. “this... whatever this is—it’s complicated. it’s not supposed to happen.”

“maybe not,” he admitted, his voice steady. “but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the moment. you wanted to argue, to tell him he was being reckless, that nothing good could come from this. but the truth was, part of you didn’t want to stop him.

the carefully constructed walls you had built to keep your feelings for him at bay were crumbling, and you weren’t sure if you had the strength to stop it.

“lando…” you began, but he cut you off, leaning in again, his voice urgent now.

“tell me you don’t feel it too,” he said, his green eyes boring into yours, his vulnerability laid bare. “tell me i’m imagining this, and i’ll stop. i’ll walk away right now.”

you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. you couldn’t tell him that, because it wasn’t the truth. you felt it—the pull, the tension, the way his presence made everything else fade away. and now, under the soft glow of the pool lights, with his gaze locked on yours, it was impossible to deny it.

“at least admit it’s there. admit i’m not crazy.”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and in that moment, you couldn’t lie.

“you’re not crazy,” you said softly, your chest tightening as the words left your lips. “it’s there.”

a silence fell between you, heavy and loaded with everything left unsaid. for a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you suspended in the weight of the confession.

then lando let out a shaky chuckle, a mix of relief and maybe something deeper.

just as you felt his lips brushing against yours, the moment was shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“there you are!” oscar’s voice called out, his tone light and oblivious.

you and lando froze, barely inches apart, before turning to see oscar standing in the doorway to the pool area, clad in a matching pajama set and a sheepish expression.

“fuck’s sake,” lando breathed under his breath, so quiet only you could hear it.

oscar’s eyes flicked between the two of you, slowly piecing together the tension in the air. “oh��� uh, sorry to disturb your peace,” he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “but… your father told me to look for you, y/n. he is worried because you weren’t in your room.”

lando ran a hand down his face, muttering something incomprehensible before glancing at you, his expression unreadable now. you swallowed hard, the weight of what had almost happened still lingering between you as you nodded at oscar.

“right,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you smiled. “thanks, oscar. i’ll, um, be there in a second.”

oscar nodded, casting one last curious glance at lando before turning and disappearing back into the hotel.

“great timing,” he muttered, his tone half-joking but tinged with disappointment.

you bit your lip, unsure what to say. the moment was gone, but the tension wasn’t. and you knew it wouldn’t be so easy to push it aside.

“umm… maybe we can do it again, some time?” he joked, his tone light but his eyes searching yours as he got up.

he extended his hand to you, his fingers lingering in the air, waiting.

you hesitated for a moment before reaching out, your hand slipping into his. the warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you as he pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

“yeah, yeah,” you replied, attempting to match his casual tone. “maybe when you’re not drunk?”

lando chuckled softly, the sound low and almost self-deprecating. “fair enough,” he said, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before darting away.

the air between you was still thick with unspoken words, but his attempt to lighten the mood was enough to ease some of the tension. even so, as you let go of his hand, you couldn’t ignore the lingering spark that stayed long after.

“i might need to get some air before i go inside... today was one of those days,” he smiled faintly, his hands slipping into his pockets.

“sure, yeah. congrats on the race, again. i’m proud of you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

his eyes lit up at your words, a genuine smile breaking through the fatigue. “thank you, y/n. it’s good when baby boss is proud,” he teased, a playful glint in his eye.

you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “good night, lando.”

“good night,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before you turned and walked away, leaving him to the quiet of the night.

as you stepped inside, your shoes on your hand, the cool air of the hall wrapped around you, but it did little to chase away the warmth his smile had left behind.

it wasn’t just his words or the way his eyes lingered—it was the quiet understanding in his voice, the unspoken connection that hummed between you. even as the door clicked shut behind you, you knew this moment would follow you, echoing in the corners of your mind long after the night had faded.

[balrogballs]

"Bilbo had assumed accusing an elven lord of Tookishness in his own house would result in swift decapitation and not a decades-long camaraderie that both parties truly cherished, but it seemed that in this regard too, the Lord of Imladris defied expectation."

The Peculiar and the Deranged: Moments between Bilbo Baggins, Elrond Peredhel, and the most unprecedented friendship in Middle-Earth, under the cut!

(aka this friendship wasn’t leaving my mind so I wrote this on my phone and drew this with the 3 pencils I had on a train because I’m incapable of being normal about anything)

on Bilbo's first visit to Imladris, featuring Estel's pet snake:

"You had a rat?" Bilbo blinked, hoping Elrond wouldn't notice the snake he was glaring at had initially been curled around his own neck. "Sir."

"I did not have a rat," corrected Elrond imperiously, looking every bit the lord of the valley. "I would never have a rat, I do not approve of rats. My daughter had a rat. Lothinvar, it was called, the bane of my household. Until this terrible creature wormed its way in. The snake that is, not the child, though Estel is not in my good books at the moment either."

on the return journey, after the death of Thorin Oakenshield:

"What can I do? How can I ever move past this?" Bilbo asked quietly, unsure why exactly he was pouring his heart out to a being six thousand years older than him, who must have faced far greater sorrows.

"Grief," Elrond replied, staring intently at him, "tricks you into thinking it’s all you have left. As though if you let it go, even for a moment, you betray him. You hold onto relics like lifelines, thinking what else is there to keep Thorin alive in your mind? It is a lonely life, Bilbo. It will turn you into the loneliest person in the world."

"Is there no way out?" he gasped, looking up at the elf.

"Start small. A smile, perhaps, when you think of a joke he made," Elrond said steadily, like he was reciting a recipe. “And then, try telling someone about him. Perhaps you could tell me. Something new each time you visit, perhaps.”

“You say it like you have experience of it, sir,” ventured Bilbo. “Like you know it by-heart. Did you get past it?”

“I did,” Elrond’s voice was confident, too confident. Bilbo chose not to probe.

"Thorin's nephews?" Elrond asked later, after Bilbo had gathered himself together, mopped himself up. "They were slain too? Both?"

"Yes, both."

"That is good," Elrond had said with a blank, intense smile etched into his features. "That it was both at once."

"What?" Bilbo sat up in shock, spluttering. "Good? What is wrong with you?"

"Were they not twins? Thorin's nephews I recall were twins, no?"

"Brothers. But what difference does that make? What do you mean good? I beg your pardon, my lord, that's an unhinged thing to say!"

"Oh. I am sorry, Bilbo," Elrond shook his head, the awful, blank expression still on his face. "I am sorry, I spoke without thinking. It is only that I had thought they were twins. Do forgive me, I misunderstood, and spoke out of turn."

"Don't worry," Bilbo sighed, finding to his own surprise that he could manage a laugh. "With names like Fili and Kili, it's frankly a surprise they aren't."

He still thought it was a rather unhinged thing for Elrond to say, but, well — Bilbo Baggins had always been fond of the peculiar and the deranged.

on a visit to the Shire, sharing burnt scones

"Cel was — is — remarkable. She had an exceptional appetite for burnt bread: she would go into the kitchens and instruct the staff to deliberately burn sweetbreads, just because she loved the crunch, apparently."

"She sounds like a Shire lass through and through."

Elrond laughed, shaking his head: "I am certain had I brought her to visit, she would never leave. Though she is not made for the rustic life. A total terror of any creature on four legs. The first time I spotted her she was in a garden, standing on the bench screaming, because she had seen an enormous beetle scuttling around the grass."

"Oh, so it was a damsel in distress situation, eh?"

"Quite the contrary," he admitted. "She threw a pair of gardening scissors right at my head, and called me utterly disgusting for the crime of allowing beetles to exist on my property, and threatened to cut off my hair with the same scissors if she ever came across another one. And mind you, this is Celeborn's daughter, and that soul would have married an Ent if Galadriel hadn't come around."

"Well, that truly is a surprise! Did she not even like dear Arwen's little rat?"

"Oh, you remember the rat!" Elrond's eyes shone, genuinely delighted. "If I remember right, she paid our boys to get rid of it and told Arwen she had sent it to, well, your people."

"I will be certain to invent an illustrious Shire-based family tree for the rat, if your Arwen ever gets around to asking."

on a Yule visit, when Bilbo forwent self-preservation, featuring the same snake:

"Oh, it was not I who named the snake after the Mariner, it was my… other father."

"That's impressive, sir. Quite bohemian."

"One would wish," Elrond muttered darkly, pouring himself more wine, as if all the talk of snakes had driven him to drink. "Estel is friendly with Maglor, who along with Maedhros, raised my brother and I. And I had banned all talk of pet snakes until Maglor showed up last year with a present for Estel: his very own snake named Gil-Estel, which they both insist has nothing to do with the Mariner and is simply a play on the child's name. Which I would have believed, if Maglor did not also own a remarkably ugly cat named Thingol."

"When they say you are Half-Elven, Lord Elrond," Bilbo blurted out, after a short, surprised silence. "Do they mean the other half is merely mortal man, or…?"

"Yes, the other half does indeed refer to mortal men," blinked Elrond in surprise, looking something other than perfectly composed for the very first time. "Do you… suspect otherwise?"

"Oh, I was certain there was a bit of Hobbit somewhere. Just your life, you know, your family, all of it," he waved his hands about the valley. "It's a little… well, Tookish."

"What in the world is a Took?"

on a midnight wander in Minas Tirith on the morning of Aragorn’s wedding to Arwen

When Bilbo came across the figure sat on the steps, he was ridiculously old and his memory even more ridiculously ragged, so he didn’t know why it was that he thought, reflexively, it will turn you into the loneliest person in the world. He didn't say a word though, only reached out a hand and sat beside the figure. Elrond didn’t say a word, only grasped the offered fingers so tightly Bilbo's knuckles turned white, held on as he shook. When it passed, he looked away and apologised, sniffing. "Forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to get melancholic, especially not on a day of such joy. I —"

Bilbo cut across him, too old to deal with the elvish tendency to be completely insufferable.

“How did you get past it the last time? With your brother?”

"I have one of the longest memories in this land, yet I cannot truly remember this one thing," the elf smiled bitterly, tapping his nails on the stone steps. "I slept, I think. A lot. I shrunk out of the world until the sheer pain of it no longer clawed at me. But I cannot do that, Bilbo. Now, I have duties, responsibilities. I have kings to oversee, a valley to hand over and a people for whom I must keep up something of a brave face. There is no longer any room for the small death I was permitted last time."

Elrond sighed. "You must think I am terribly privileged, or that I have too grandiose an idea about my place in this world."

"No, I was just thinking how unfair it is," said Bilbo quietly. "So unfair that for you there is a last time and now a this time."

Elrond, in tears again, was looking at him with an almost obscene gratefulness, as if Bilbo had done him some enormous kindness and not something any friend would do, looked at him in a way that made the hobbit think again, inexplicably, the loneliest person in the world.

“I’m sorry,” said the lord, catching his friend’s expression. “You should not be h-“

"Shut up," Bilbo huffed, looking truly offended, rolling his eyes. "You're insufferable, do you know that? Stop acting like you've jumped off a damned cliff before my eyes, Elrond. I'm starting to think elven history would have been a lot less bloody and tragic had more of you — and I mean that Fëanor, mainly, but the rest of you too — appreciated the value of a good cry. Emotional constipation is just as bad as the real thing, you know. And you can be sure I'll tell old Fëanor that to his face when I see him."

Elrond blinked, then laughed. "Oh, Bilbo, I am glad you found your way back to Imladris this year, I truly am."

"And I, in turn,” Bilbo found himself saying, cursing the fact that his memory decided to make its wondrous reappearance that night. “Am equally glad our mutual friend Aragorn tried to bribe me to put his pet snake in your office that very first day."

on a ship in the sundering seas, far too early

"Suffering from a spot of morning sickness, are we?"

"My apologies, Bilbo," Elrond stumbled back into Bilbo's cabin from the privy, looking only slightly less green than he had when he left it. "Please do not make any sudden movements."

"I am only pleased that you and I are now such intimate friends that you feel comfortable enough to throw up your breakfast in my bathroom. Maybe you should come around and do it every morning to wake me up, like the world’s most useless cockerel."

"It was not by choice, as you very well know," Elrond muttered, downing a swig of ground herbs and honey from a bottle in his pocket. "My mortal heritage does, unfortunately, mean there are some weaknesses to the constitution. Perhaps this is why it was Elros who took ship for Numenor and not I."

"Well, that, and you couldn't resist micromanaging six thousand years of Middle-Earth now, could you?" chortled Bilbo, settling down in a plush chair and laying his walking stick by his side. "Mortality is all well and good, but heaven forbid you lose a chance to develop domestic policy over the continental grain trade. Besides, and I don't want to be the one who brings it up, but…"

"Elbereth, what now?"

"Your father was known as the Mariner, you know," Bilbo snorted. "As in, the seafaring sort, no? It would truly be such a shame if someone were to… write a poem about the mis-inheritance of seasi—"

"Write that poem, Bilbo Baggins, and I will personally petition Ulmo to turn you into seaweed."

in the house of Elrond in Aman, with the chattiest woman Bilbo has ever encountered (which is saying something)

"I only burned that layer because you made me do it, mind you. You really are as remarkable as he said you were," Bilbo blurted out as she picked out pink sugared biscuits with a dark crust that he knew to be from burning. He had even spread jam on them for a second layer of sweetness. "Mad and irritating, to be frank, but remarkable. I am truly glad to know you, Celebrìan — not as Elrond's wife, but, well."

He gestured at her weakly, meant the peculiar and the deranged. She understood.

"Yes, I do pity all the folk that know me as Elrond's dead wife," she wrinkled her nose, sitting down by him and grabbing a second burnt biscuit. "And considering my poor husband's approach to grieving, and all the laments Lindir said he's made him compose, that is what most end up knowing me as. It is quite a pity, I am as you say, delightful. Oh, Bilbo, this is amazing! So wonderful, I didn't think pastries could be this sweet!”

"No, not when your cheapskate of a husband is in charge of the rations," he said in a carrying whisper. "In the Shire though, we know how to live."

"Who are we referring to as a cheapskate then?"

"The elf who implemented a sugar tax in his valley," said Celebrian dryly. "You may know him. Have a biscuit!"

"I would truly rather nail myself to the birch," he said dryly, picking up a piece of bread. "I do not get the logic behind oversweetening victuals. Impractical, unnecessary."

"Oh," Celebrían clapped her hands to her mouth. "Of course! The Lord Elrond grew up amidst the War of Wrath! Surely, he has not mentioned that to you, has he? He never does!"

"Ah, that he was raised in military conditions by a couple of kinslayers?" chuckled Bilbo. "No, not at all. Not once. He certainly never brought it up in our first ever conversation. Should we ask him to expand?"