#but i feel like it's been long enough that i no longer hate myself for creating stuff

[hhhwnr]

ꨄMorning routines are different here — S.R

main masterlist disabled!reader masterlist

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint… word count: 1k

pairing: Spencer Reid x chronic fatigue/POTS!reader

content: Mentions/symptoms of POTS and/or chronic fatigue, no explicit medical descriptions.

summary: Some days you just can’t. But with someone like Spencer, you��re reminded that there’s no need to rush, and that love doesn’t come with conditions—or a stopwatch.

author’s note: This is a piece inspired by requests and my own want to explore what love and care can look like while living with POTS or chronic fatigue. While I don’t have either condition myself, I’ve done my best to research and approach the topics with empathy, respect, and a whole lot of heart. If I’ve unintentionally gotten something wrong, I’m always open to respectful feedback!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

There was a time when mornings meant motion.

You used to wake up early, sometimes even before your alarm, feet full of energy hitting the floor. Hair half-brushed, music too loud, skipping breakfast more often than not because you were already running a few steps ahead of your own schedule. There was energy in your bones back then—momentum, maybe. You moved through life like you were always late to something worth arriving early for.

But now? Now… not so much.

Now, some mornings don’t start until noon. And even then, it takes work. Your limbs stay heavy, your thoughts slower. Some days your body feels like it’s made of wet sand—dense and stubborn, refusing to cooperate. It’s not always like that. But when it is, it’s like waking up to disappointment before you’ve even opened your eyes.

You used to hate it. The stillness. The slowness. The constant bargaining between body and will. But Spencer never did.

He never once looked at you like less. Not on the days you couldn’t stand up right away, not when you had to lie flat on the floor after a shower, not when you could barely sit through dinner without blinking too long. He just… learned. Adjusted. Matched your pace with quiet precision, like it came naturally.

This morning was one of the hard ones.

Your eyes blinked open, dry and bleary, and you didn’t even try to move. The sunlight had just begun its slow creep across the bedspread. You were still lying on your side, curled into yourself like a comma.

Spencer turned a page in his book beside you—he’d been reading for at least twenty minutes, probably longer. He didn’t say anything at first. Just waited, thumb resting against the spine.

“Hey…” you whispered, voice rough.

His gaze flicked instantly to yours, warm and already smiling. “Hey,” he whispered back.

You didn’t have to say it. He could tell—by the look in your eyes, by the way your fingers barely twitched toward the covers instead of pulling them back. It was going to be a slow morning.

“Tea?” he asked gently, setting the book aside. “I made the vanilla rooibos one. Your favorite. It’s still warm.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. “I… might not be able to sit up yet.”

“That’s okay,” he said, like it always was.

Spencer stayed close, legs tucked beneath him, brushing your hair softly back from your face. You breathed, slowly. He waited, patiently.

Eventually, when your eyes stayed open a little longer and your fingers curled toward his hand, he leaned down and kissed your forehead—just once, light and steady.

“Small steps,” he murmured. “No pressure.”

Fifteen minutes later, you made it to the kitchen table. Not on your own—Spencer steadied you gently under the arm, not too much, just enough. He never hovered. He knew when to let you lead.

The table was already set: mismatched placemats, your favorite mug, and a smoothie in the tall glass with the blue straw—the one that made it easier to sip when your arms felt weak. Bananas, coconut milk, peanut butter, and some sneaky chia seeds blended in. You recognized the mix. Potassium. Salt. Gentle protein. All things to help your body stay upright a little longer today.

He slid a small plate of salted rice cakes toward you, along with sliced strawberries and a hard-boiled egg, peeled already. Soft colors. Easy textures. Food that didn’t ask too much of you.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he said, sitting beside you, pulling his own mug toward him. “But I like taking care of you.”

You blinked at him slowly, the fog in your brain still stubborn around the edges, but thinner now. A little light peeked through it.

“I’m not… disappointing?” you asked, barely more than a whisper.

Spencer paused mid-sip, setting his mug down gently. “Never.”

Your eyes stung—just a little.

He reached over, thumb brushing the back of your hand. “You’re not slow. You’re steady. That’s better. The world’s too fast anyway.”

You smiled, even as your body sagged into the chair a bit more.

You took a sip from the smoothie. Cold, rich, not too sweet. Made just the way you liked it.

Your hands still trembled a little when you set the glass down. Not from nerves—just from being. From your body’s unspoken, relentless effort to keep up.

It was one of those days. Not the worst. Not the best. Somewhere in the middle of the wide, foggy spectrum you’d come to know.

You ended up on the couch a little while later, curled into Spencer’s side with a blanket draped over your lap and your laptop propped on a pillow. You weren’t chasing productivity exactly—you’d long since made peace with the fact that rest was not laziness—but a part of you craved some shape to the day. Some gentle boundary between the hours. Some rhythm.

Working from home helped. It gave you something to touch when the rest of your body felt untethered. A routine, even if it was paused and patched together.

Spencer didn’t ask why you reached for the laptop. He just adjusted the throw pillow behind your back and handed you your wireless mouse without a word.

You clicked open your inbox with fingers slower than they used to be, wrists already aching a little. But you were here. Upright. Functioning. Or close enough.

It wasn’t about proving anything to him—you knew that. Spencer had never once made you feel like you had to earn your place next to him. But still, somewhere inside you, a whisper lingered: Show him you’re trying. Show him you’re still you.

As if you had gone anywhere at all.

Spencer read beside you in silence, legs stretched long, thumb brushing your knee every so often. Not checking on you. Just being there.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the ache in your spine.

“Okay?” he murmured, setting his book down.

You nodded once, offering a small smile. “Just tired.”

He adjusted the blanket over your lap again and pressed a kiss into your hair. “You’re allowed to be.”

You leaned in without realizing it, your head finding the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. The warm weight of him. His steady breathing. His hand finding yours again, like always.

This was what normal looked like now. Slower. Quieter. Built around needs instead of expectations.

You weren’t broken. You weren’t a burden. You were here, living a life stitched together with care—and someone beside you who never needed you to prove your worth to begin with.

Thank you for reading! ♡︎

[jackhammerhim]

Sad to say that I WAS a crazy ex girlfriend. But being crazy isn't what made me a crazy ex girlfriend. Being a GIRLFRIEND made me a crazy ex girlfriend.

[luv-again]

wondering whether i shld just jump back into my cryptic castle fic now that i've left it for almost a good couple weeks

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[aeyumicore]

misty invasion - omnipotent perception

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: rafayel x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings, angst with comfort

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 6.5k (who’s surprised)

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers and alterations to ‘omnipotent perception (rafayel’s misty invasion card), slightly toxic relationship, m!receiving handjob, bathtub sex, pulling out, cummies in hair/face, lots of making out, hickeys, HEAVY references to rafayel’s lore (sea god and some abysswalker), references to rafayel’s 4* memory fragrant dream, so much angst (with comfort), soooo much feelings, sensory deprivation, sensory play, blindfolding, switch!raf, desperate rafayel, kinda withholding rafayel, clothes on in tub, p in v seggs, use of y/n, use of pet names

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | xav's version | sylus's version | zayne's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: RAF IS HERE! sooooo this one is a long one. each one of my misty invasions got longer and longer, i am a menace to myself. but this one made sense, i felt as if raf’s misty invasion had the most lore subtly stitched into it and you guys know i always try and explore some angst/lore <3 i am very happy and excited to finally close out the misty invasion series. 

i’m going to be taking a much needed break after this. i’ll likely still be writing, but slowly and in my own time. I had a brief period of motivation, after the clarity of sharing my story, but now i am back to being anxious and exhausted.

that being said, please do not send anyone hate in my name or in my defense. I have never and will never ask for that. it’s enough that i have your support, i don’t need more than that. 

special thank you to my friend @myusuchaa for helping me SO much with the rafayel lore. definitely the biggest fish forker i know <3

as always, if i missed any warnings or used too specific physical descriptors, let me know and i can do better! thank you guys for your support. i love you!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

—

It’d been a beautiful summer day, riding bicycles along the Italian coast of Verona. Rafayel had just finished his piece for an art exhibition in the capital of the picturesque city, and you’d had time to soak in the summer breeze with each other. The air was wonderfully salty, just enough to remind you of the sea itself. Of Rafayel. 

It hadn’t truly surprised you when you’d found out Rafayel had lived here before, especially now knowing his Lemurian roots. Something about the way he walked through the Veronian brick paved roads, the rustic wind tousling his beachy waves, the cloudy sun shining on his effervescent skin. Like he’d belonged here, once upon a time. 

It was the perfect day.

Even when you’d teased him about the Lemurian who’d dissipated into sea foam for a mere human, and Rafayel’s expression misted over with a melancholic nostalgia. When his eyes glazed over with a torrent of inexplicable emotions, he could tell you wanted to prod him about it. But you didn’t, and for that he was incredibly grateful. There was a part of him that longed for you to know, to remember, the truth of that story. But he couldn’t trust you with that part of him again. Not yet. 

Even then, it was a perfect day. The two of you in Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet. 

Two ill-fated lovers. 

It was perfect, he was perfect. 

Until you asked him that question. 

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

Suddenly, Rafayel couldn’t look you in the eyes. Even when the rain droplets had started to patter onto your sun kissed skin, Rafayel holding you close under his favorite cardigan to shelter you from the onslaught of crystalline water. He couldn’t look at you. He refused to look at you.

If he did, you might’ve seen the tumultuous storm flickering in his eyes. The violets in his irises bright with unshed tears, the blues dark with a bitter loneliness. 

He didn’t speak to you the entire way back to your hotel, heading straight to the bathroom. At first you think that perhaps he’s upset with you, but he only draws you a warm bath in the luxurious clawfoot tub overlooking the Italian night lights. 

When he finally does speak to you, peeling off his layers of soaked clothing, you can tell he’s masking his true emotions under a facade of classic Rafayel sarcasm. Joking about whether he should write a Lemurian handbook for you or just read you 1,001 Lemurian stories. But he surprises you when his voice cracks with a raw genuineness, one that’s masked under layers and layers of hesitancy and loneliness. You can’t quite understand it.

“You can be my caretaker. And I can tell you 1,001 stories,” he mutters, eyes trained on the ground once more, voice soft and vulnerable. 

“I’m okay with every choice you provide,” he continues as he peels your wet jacket off your shoulders innocently. When his hand reaches the inside of your coat, grazing against your exposed waist, he pulls his hand back. His face is a storm of conflicted torment.

“...But you should take a warm bath first. Or else you’ll catch a cold.”

As he turns to leave, the sight of his lean and muscled back making you blush, you muster all your courage and call out to him, “You can’t leave. You still haven’t answered my question.”

You catch his wrist, using all your force to pull him back. Rafayel stiffens, unable to catch himself before he tumbles backwards into the filled tub. 

He’s able to protect his head from hitting the edge of the tub, the water sloshing around and splashing onto the tiled bathroom floor. Rafayel sits in the tub, not a semblance of annoyance on his face. Instead he looks flustered, the warm water clinging to his defined muscles.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Rafayel’s hair is disheveled, the water making clumps of his damp hair stick to his wet skin. His eyes watch you with inscrutable emotions, waiting for you to speak. 

You don’t answer his question, instead asking one of your own.

“You can spare me the details, but there’s something important you should tell me…” you hum, walking to his side by the tub, leaning over him, “How do Lemurians express love?”

Rafayel looks startled by your question for a second before composing himself, “Do you really want to know?” The fragrant candles in the bathroom flicker, the steam of the bath dancing against the soft flames. His words seem less like a genuine question…and more like a vague warning. 

Before you can respond, Rafayel’s fingers are closed around your wrist, tugging you into the tub on top of him. You squeal as Rafayel guides your body onto his, the violent crashing of water loud against the soft sound of the rain against the large glass windows.

Rafayel looks smug, his hand holding yours against his chest. You’re messily sprawled across his half naked body when he shifts you off of him so that he can sit next to you, his strong arm wrapping around your body. The warm water is uncomfortable against your still half-clothed body, but you can only focus on the way Rafayel holds your fingers up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand like you were royalty. 

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone…” Rafayel mutters, his warm breath fanning against your hand, “All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” His eyes are intense as he speaks to you, hoping to convey even an ounce of the love he speaks so honestly of. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Your senses? Like…this?” You untangle your hand from his, bringing your index finger up to his lips. You barely graze his pouty bottom lip before he’s panting, struggling to speak. 

“...Your way of triggering my “senses” has only touched the surface,” he mutters sulkily, yet he has to look away from you, cheeks rosy at your mere touch. He grabs your hand, eyes locked back onto yours giving you a silent warning. 

But you only proceed further, your fingers grasping his chin, your eyes peering up at him with a faux innocence. It’s not long before your fingers wander south, pressing into his heaving chest, flitting around his sharp collarbones. Rafayel’s reaction only fuels you with mischief and confidence, the way his breath matches his heartbeat: fast, erratic, and demanding. 

He looks at you with almost…disbelief. Disbelief at your actions, but more so disbelief at the way your simplest touches can have his body reacting so viscerally. It was a testament of just how much the dark-mauve haired Lemurian loved you, his every sense reacting to you so readily.

“...Are all humans idiots?” Rafayel grits, refusing to look at you again. But his body betrays his words when your hand ventures further down. You’re barely able to register the shocked expression on his flushed face before your back is pressed into the edge of the tub, the water splashing wilding as Rafayel hovers atop you.

He’s careful not to press his body into you, knowing he’d be an absolute goner once he felt your core against his. His thick muscles twitch angrily as he holds you down against the back of the tub, your hand clutching his shoulder for support against his erratic actions. 

“Someone’s intentions are as clear as day,” he accuses you. Though his words hold not even an ounce of ill-intention, he narrows his eyes at you. Just then, the rain outside turns into lightning, briefly illuminating Rafayel’s ethereal features. The flash of light accentuates the tempest that’s brewing in suspicious eyes. 

As you watch the turmoil flicker in them, you suddenly think maybe you pushed too far, “Do you not like it?” Your voice comes out more insecure than you’d wanted it to, suddenly aware of how forward you were being.

Rafayel sighs, pausing before his voice comes out pained, “If I said I didn’t, would you stop?” 

At the hint of anguish in his voice, you move to pull your hand away. But Rafayel’s hand abandons its grip on the tub to clasp against your hand, holding it tighter against his neck, refusing to let you go.

You gasp, as his movements cause the warm water to swash around. With his forceful hand over yours, your flushed skin prickles against his alarmingly chilly skin. 

“Rafayel, your body is so cold!” you whisper worriedly, fearing he might be catching a cold. For a second you forget that he’s Lemurian, accustomed to the frigid depths of the ocean. As your eyes search his anxiously, hand still gripping his cold shoulder, Rafayel’s own eyes watch yours meticulously. 

The swirls of blue and pink in his eyes have always been breathtaking, like the perfect mix of the most expensive paints. But now, as he watches you with the depth of the whole Lemurian oceans in his eyes, you’re completely speechless to the flickering of rampant passion behind them. 

That is until he grabs your chin roughly. Rafayel was no stranger to taking what he wanted, but this was different. The way he grabbed you screamed of…insecurity. Demanding, but unsure all the same. His cheeks are tinged the prettiest of coral pinks, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he closes the distances between your faces. Quickly, so he can’t change his mind. 

His soft lips slot over yours in a bruising embrace of passion, need, and unwavering longing. There’s something mind numbing about how gently his lips take yours, yet the pads of his fingers hold your chin so forcibly, as if afraid you’d slip into the depths of the water and disappear from his arms forever. 

The thunder rumbles deafeningly but all you can hear is Rafayel. He pants into you, his mouth claiming every inch of your lips, of your tongue. He kisses you like he knows nothing else, like he feels nothing else. 

He doesn’t let you go, although you’d never want him to. You only want him to hold you tighter, pull you closer, take you harder. You want to protest when he finally pulls away, gasping as a thin rope of saliva connects your parted and bruised lips.

Flashes of light illuminate his face, making him look as ethereal as the sirens warned about in ancient tales and myths. He hesitates to speak, trying to find the words to convey the emotions he’s been trying to control since the memories of Verona had begun to overwhelm him. The memories of his past. His past with you.

“And you’re warm,” he pants, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding painfully, his body always so willing to react to you. All his senses, always so hyper aware of you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His thumb strokes your glistening bottom lip, fingers still holding your chin captive. His eyes watch you with an unbearable longing, the previously intense crinkle in them softened to a tender vulnerability. 

“So perfect for me.”

Butterflies wriggle in your tummy, and you reach your wet hands reach up to cup his cheeks. 

“Rafayel, you seem different…” you mumble, stroking the cold and smooth expanse of his cheek. He looks down, avoiding your gaze, clearly grappling with a turmoil of intrusive emotions and memories. Despite that all, his face softens under your touch, even unbeknownst to him. 

Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, he’s rubbing his cheeks into your palms. The warmth of your affectionate embrace makes it difficult for Rafayel to think clearly, and he can’t stop himself from whispering, “Will you still love me no matter who I become?”

You’re speechless at the blatant insecurity in his voice, in his eyes. Rafayel was always confident, years as a world-famous artist had made him self-assured in more ways than one. But now, as his shadowed and down-cast eyes searched yours desperately for an answer, you could see just how unsure he was. You could see the cracks forming in his polished shield, the fissure spider webbing uncontrollably, on the precipice of shattering completely. 

His eyes pierce yours, fully intending to get an answer from you. You don’t even think he notices how pouty he’s become, his bottom lip protruding in an tragically adorable show of just how badly he needs you to understand him. To love him. 

To remember him. 

Unable to withstand his paralyzing gaze any longer, you yank him down to you by the chain that hangs around his neck. The silver necklace matched the shimmering bracelet he’d gifted you, that currently sits on your own wrist. 

Rafayel grunts as you pull him closer, clearly taken aback. His gaze doesn’t lighten, only becoming more intense and heated as your breath grows more bated against his own parted lips. 

“You…” he grumbles, trailing off, eyes flickering down to the beautiful sheen across your lips, before they dart away, looking to where his fingers grip the edge of the porcelain white tub. The rosy blush that dusts his cheeks gives away just how much he yearns for more, more of you. 

You find him to be so irresistibly tortured that you can’t help but hook your arm around his neck, pulling him further down until your lips collide with his collar. If you can take even an ounce of his tumultuous pain away, you’d do it.

The thunder roars violently as you kiss him, the water in the tub splashing over and hitting the bathroom tile. Rafayel is quick to relent all control, letting you take every inch of him. His fingers thread into your hair as you kiss his sensitive chest, teeth nipping at the cold skin on his collar. His whimpering gasps are audible, fingers tugging at your damp hair, as you suckle torturously at his chest, no doubt leaving a reddened bruise. 

When he finally pulls away, there’s a clear look of reluctance on his beautiful features. You try and pull him back, and he briefly lets you before pulling back, the look of hesitation returning to his thunderous eyes. 

You give up, instead moving your finger to brush against the reddened hickey forming on his collar. Rafayel looks at you, pained and begging for mercy, as your fingernails graze over the sensitive skin. 

“When humans fall in love…” you hum, admiring the beautiful bruise, “We try to leave a unique mark on them.” 

At that precise moment, the moment you mention you’re in love with him, you can visibly see the fractured remnants of Rafayel’s walls come crashing down. He pants, eyes fixed on the way your hand presses over the right side of his chest, so dangerously close to where his heart was. To where his bond with you was etched into his very soul. 

In that very moment, a flip switches in Rafayel. His eyes burn, not with anguish or uncertainty, but with a dangerous desire.

“If you say so…” he rasps, leaning in until your breaths mingle into one. As his eyes flicker closed, lips ghosting along yours, he whispers, just before his lips claim yours. 

“Join me, then.” His lips press into yours, holding back as to not take you completely.

“Let’s drown in the ocean.” He inhales your torrid gasps, his words deceitfully simple. 

“Together.”

Rafayel kisses you, instantaneously consuming you. He pants into you, unable to soften the way his body reacts to you, the way his senses consume you until there’s nothing left of him. To him, loving you, losing you, and repeating the cycle…felt exactly like that.

Like drowning. 

He throws all that emotion into the way he kisses you. The embrace is so intense that it makes tears form in your eyes, emotions welling in your chest so tightly you fear you might burst. 

When he pulls away to breathe, you look up at him, “You never answered my question from earlier.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened, knowing exactly which question you were referring to. What he didn’t expect was for you to be so direct. His eyes dart around, but you hold his face in your palms before he can physically turn away. He opens his mouth to speak, before pursing his lips again in hesitation. 

You gently prod him, fingers stroking his locked jaw, “Raf?” 

“It…” he starts, eyes crackling with emotions. Rafayel struggles to find the words. He knows exactly what he wants to tell you, but can’t find the words to express it to you. 

It’s not that he wanted to be withholding, least of all with you. He would give you anything. He had given you everything, time and time again. To the point where it destroyed him. 

But the fear of having it all taken away, again, had made him so reluctant to lean back into the wind, like he’d done so many times in the past. Too scared of how much of himself he’d lose again in the never-ending cycle of falling irrevocably in love with you. 

And yet, as much as it took from him, it didn’t matter. Because you were everything to him.

“In this human world…it’s not difficult for a Lemurian to become lonely,” he laments wistfully, eyes misted with a faraway look. 

He continues. “But in all the lives I’ve lived, I almost never felt lonely,” Rafayel gently smiles at you, a smile filled with a wistful sorrow. 

“Really? Why?” you ask genuinely, still soothing his hardened jaw. His features had softened considerably as he peered down at your wet form, the tension between his legs growing visibly.

Rafayel chuckles. His answer was simple. 

Because, there was always you. 

But that was a tale for another time. 

“Are you trying to trick a foolish Lemurian into giving up all his secrets again, my little human?” he whispers huskily, leaning down to kiss at the skin under your ear. 

You’re about to ask him what he means by again, but the words die on your tongue when Rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck. His fingers find the buttons of your drenched top, unbuttoning it feverishly, desperately shedding your layers of clothing off of you.

Before you know it, you’re naked in Rafayel’s arms, his own bare manhood pressed insistently into your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core. Though the rest of his body is chilly from the rainwater, his throbbing erection burns against your skin. Even submerged in water, you can feel his pre cum oozing onto your leg, hot and thick.

His lips trail down your shivering body, kissing the grooves of your collar, teeth grazing the swell of your breasts. He’s nearly heaving, gasping for air like he can’t breathe. And truthfully, he couldn’t.

The dam of his emotional barriers absolutely decimated, the flood of his unabated passion overwhelming his senses. There is only you. The smell, the sound, the feeling, the sight, the taste of you. 

A Lemurian in love. Utterly, brokenly, and wholeheartedly. 

You try to match his intensity, pulling at his soft and wavy hair, drawing him closer to your naked body. You thrust your chest towards him, wanting him to claim you like he’d done so many times before. 

Rafayel chuckles at your obvious desires, but more than willing to oblige. His Queen. 

His lips close over your breast, his lips cold but his tongue wet and hot against your nipple. The warm water splashes messily against your clashing bodies. The lightning outside flashes, the shadows of your lewd acts dancing against the bathroom walls.

“Nnghnh, R-Raf!” you wail, his skilled mouth devouring you whole. Your spine arches into his demanding mouth, the wet splashes of the bath and the ravenous slurps filling the acoustics of the hotel bathroom. 

The pleasure of his tongue is so intense that your body can’t help but squirm backwards. Rafayel chuckles almost cynically, as he captures the back of your neck with his long and slender fingers. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to run away from me,” he pouts, leveling with your drooping eyes, body already delirious from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to bring you. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, bringing your chin up so that your eyes meet, “Don’t make me wait anymore, please.” 

You can’t help but smile at his adorable pout, his eyebrows furrowed in a sulky plea. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, twirling his wavy hair into your fingers, bringing him closer until your foreheads are pressed together. 

“I don’t want to wait either,” you whisper breathlessly against him, his face so close you can feel the length of his eyelashes against your cheek.

Rafayel gulps, his neck bobbing with the pressure of how forcefully he has to restrain his senses, restrain himself. It’s so clear how vulnerable he is to your every whim, so you take the opportunity to push him below you. His glimmering eyes shine with confusion, but he lets you climb atop him, hissing when your slick cunt presses down on his cock.

“What are you doing, Miss?”

You don’t answer, leaning over the tub to grab Rafayel’s damp cardigan, bringing it up to his face. He raises an eyebrow in question at you, his palms resting in the fat of your hips as your bare pussy drags against his pelvis. 

“Do you trust me?” you grin playfully at him, spreading the cardigan out and preparing to use it as a makeshift blindfold. Rafayel seems to know exactly what you’re planning. He looks up at you, inexplicable emotions reflected in his glassy eyes. 

“I do,” he whispers finally. His worlds are simple, yet something about them rips through your consciousness, filling you with a torrent of bittersweet fractures of a lost memory. 

A memory of another time Rafayel told you those same words.

I do.

Rafayel can read the confusion in your eyes, and squeezes your hips reassuringly. You’re shaken from the confusion of your mind-bending memories. Trying to focus on the moment at hand, you clear your throat and carefully tie the soft and expensive cardigan around Rafayel’s head, effectively cutting off his vision.

You lean down to whisper against his ears, lobes pink with excitement and anticipation.

“Let me show you what else humans do when we’re in love.”

Rafaye’s entire body quakes, his chest rising rapidly at your unabashed words. His fingers dig into your hips as he does his best to limit his embarrassingly visceral reactions to your body. With his vision limited, all his other senses are heightened to your will. 

With your lips at this ear, your neck is exposed to him. The smell of your pheromones mixed with your perfume clouds his thoughts, the urge to drive his teeth into your pulse so unbelievably overwhelming. But your palm on his chest pushes him down, your lips trailing down his ear, down his neck, and to his chest. 

With his eyes covered, his skin is all the more sensitive to your touch, 

“Please,” Rafayel rasps, nails digging into your thighs, “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

You giggle at how adorably needy he’s become. You can tell just how much the blindfold affects him, his body more readily reactive to your lips, your fingers, your words.

Even with his eyes covered, Rafayel can’t help but pout. The inability to see you, his beautiful Queen, made him all the more desperate.

You decide to indulge him, fist closing around his cock under the water. Rafayel’s hips jolt violently, his lower half lifting to chase the friction of your soft hand. While he cries out in pleasure, you kiss down to where the water meets his defined chest.

“O-oh fuuck,” Rafayel hisses, his head thrown back on the edge of the tub, neck straining into the cool ceramic. His hips buck up into your fist wildly, your hand moving far too languidly for his taste. You continue to tease him slowly, his cock and your hand completely submerged under the surface of the water. He whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip, continuously thrusting up into your hand.

You take his desperation as an opportunity to torture him more, moving as gently as you can so that you can move up to his ear without him noticing. With your hand still pumping his oozing cock under the water, you whisper into his ear, letting your tongue graze his earlobe.

“When humans love someone…we want to make them feel good,” you whisper seductively into his ear, purposely letting your words come out in hot breaths. Rafayel jolts and squirms in response, fingers gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles are pale white. 

“Sh-shiit,” he hisses breathlessly as your hand pumps up and down faster, the movements causing the water to ripple. His muscles flex under your touch, shining with a wet sheen against the flashing glow of lightning. 

“So? Does it feel good, Raf?” you murmur into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to where his throat bobs with the heavy beat of his pulse. 

He thrusts himself into your hand violently, voice coming out in a gravelly groan, “Yes. You always feel so fucking good. S-so soft.”

Surprising him again, you take his lips into yours, insistently pushing your tongue into his mouth, all the while your fist continues to jerk him off. You catch every one of his unabashed moans with your own mouth, the muffled sounds of his pleasure mixing with the thundering storm outside.

It’s a furious clashing of saliva, teeth, and pure unfiltered passion. His fingers digging into your waist, your fingers squeezing his cock so tightly it threatens to have him spilling all over you and the filled tub. 

When you pull away, the spit dribbles down Rafayel’s chin and onto his damp chest. He looks adorably flustered, the cardigan still covering his eyes. With his sight gone, the feeling of your tongue against his, your fingers wrapped around his cock, your plush thighs against his twitching muscles is all the more intense. His body, all the more pliant for you. 

“Hah – if you keep going, I’m g-gonna–”

He doesn’t even have time to finish his words when his cock lurches in your greedy hands, thick and burning rivulets of cum shooting into the lukewarm bathwater. It’s strangely beautiful, like a ribbon of iridescent pearls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rafayel gasps, nearly choking over his own rapid breath, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub.

His body convulses with his orgasm, a broken mantra of swears and lewd groans the only thing audible even in the roar of the storm outside. 

“Nnnghnh – b-baby,” Rafayel whines as you pump him through a mind-numbing overstimulation, desperate to see you. But you don’t stop, only giggling as you watch even more cum spurt from his angry pink tip. 

In a sudden flash of splashing water and strong fingers gripping your thighs, you find yourself under Rafayel again, his hand holding the back of your neck protectively as he slams you into the edge of the tub. His cardigan no longer covers his eyes, likely discarded somewhere on the wet floor.

Your eyes are wide from the whiplash of his sudden movements, “Rafayel?”

His sunset eyes blaze wildly as he watches you, the sight of you so utterly indulgent and overwhelming after having his vision returned to him. 

“Will you let me worship you?” 

His question is vulnerable, desperate. He looks at you so damn hopefully that it’d be impossible to say no even if some insane part of you wanted to. 

You reach up to clasp his cheek in your hands, pulling him closer until your noses brush against each other, “Yes, always.”

With the breathy desperate utterance of consent leaving your lips, fanning across his open mouth, he loses it.

He forces your thighs wider, gripping you by the fat of your hips and dragging you towards him until your bare cunt brushes right against once-again hard erection. You were used to Rafayel’s virtually non-existent refractory period, his cock upright and commanding attention so quickly after his orgasm.

The lukewarm bath water makes every touch feel much more fluid, all the more intimate and sensitive. Your grip the edges of the tub for support, Rafayel’s movements erratic and unpredictable. He leans down towards you, your bodies as close as the confines of the tub will allow. 

“My Queen,” he mutters under his breath like a vow, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. Without another warning, he pushes himself into you. 

You squeal at the stretch, your arousal making it easy for him to push into you completely. Rafayel groans as he enters you, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his large hands wrapped around your thighs. 

Rafayel is absolutely not shy with his cries of pleasure. His body shudders even though he hasn’t moved since seating himself fully inside of your warm and impossibly tight walls. 

When he doesn’t move, you screw your eyes open in confusion, doing your best to speak through the wonderful stretch of his cock inside your quivering walls, “R-Raf? Are you okay?”

Rafayel doesn’t speak, but the glow of the storm outside illuminates the way his throat bobs, every fiber of his body overstimulated with the pleasure of your body gripping his, refusing to let go.

You move to shift towards him, worried about the way he’s locked up, but that only causes your body to involuntarily squeeze around him. Rafayel hisses, pushing you back down gently, his fingers caressing your cheek.

“I-I just need a second.”

“A-are you okay?” you ask worriedly.

“You’re so tight, so warm,” Rafayel chokes out, his fingers tightening around your cheek and thigh. You can vaguely feel his cock growing inside you, and it’s then you realize he’s paralyzed, not by hesitation or pain, but pleasure.

You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, clenching down on his manhood snug inside you. Rafayel moans, his hands coming down to grip your thighs in a silent warning.

“No more teasing me,” he cautions with a pout, one hand shifting to rest on your naval. At your mischievous grin, Rafayel presses down. 

You cry out, eyes rolling back as he forces the walls of your pussy to rub against his cock. Rafayel wants to smirk at your helpless writhing, but the sensation is also overwhelming for him. His body heaves, nearly collapsing on top of you, only catching himself by gripping the sides of the tub.

Your fingers wrap around his trembling biceps, eyes urging him to take you.

Rafayel swears, obliging at the fucked-out look in your eyes. He unsheathes himself fully from your addicting gummy walls, barely even leaving his tip in, before shoving himself back into you.

The newfound vigor of his thrusts makes the water in the tub slosh wildly, splashing all over your face and hair. But you could care less, because the feeling of his excitement bruising its way in and out of your throbbing cunt is literally all you can think about. Pathetic moans of pleasure, the only sound you can make.

Rafayel fares no better, strings of beautiful grunts leaving his own lips. His pelvis slams into your soft inner thighs, the sound of the water against your colliding skin sinfully mixing with your combined moans. 

“You’re so – nghnh – perfect for me, Y/N,” Rafayel groans as he drives into you, the tip of his cockhead brushing into your cervix and g-spot all at once, at every thrust. 

His hands clutching the tub on either side of your head cage you in, making it so the only thing you can focus on is him. And the only thing that his senses can perceive is you.

The only thing he can see is you, your tears mixing with the soapy water, the reddened love bites blossoming on your skin.

The smell of you heightened even against the fragrant scent of the bath soap, your pheromones driving him to the edge of insanity. 

Your wanton cries for him, fueling him to fuck you harder, the sounds of your sweet pleasure making his own noises come out unabashedly. 

The taste of you lingering on his tongue every time he bends down to capture your lips in his, saliva running down both your chins. 

But mostly…the feeling of your perfect walls constricting him, pulling him in, refusing to let go. The feeling of your hands, pressed deep into his twitching muscles. Your soft thighs locking him against your sopping cunt. 

God, he was so in love with you it was nearly pitiful. 

“You’ll always be my Queen,” Rafayel babbles, thrusts becoming erratic as he becomes overwhelmed by the bittersweet memories that’d resurfaced in Verona, “My entire heart.”

You nod vigorously at his words. “Always Raf,” you gasp, holding onto him as he pounds into you even harder, your spine thudding into the tub, the water cushioning the blows.

“You better never leave me,” he broods, putting every ounce of emotion into the way his cock claims every inch of your poor cunt. The word ‘again’ dies on his lips, the writhing artist above you opting to save that for another time.

“W-would – nnghnh – never leave you.”

His wild eyes focus on your words. He says simply, the subtleist hint of insecurity and doubt playing in his shaky voice, “I’m gonna – hah – hold you to that.”

You bob your head, wanting him to see how serious you are, see just how much he meant to you.

Your fingers venture to your clit, desperately pent up from all the sexual and emotional tension that’d built up from today. Rafayel doesn’t see you immediately, his head thrown back in a drawn out groan, his body glistening with sweat and bath water, chiseled muscles twitching with his impending release.

When he finally glances back down, he sees your fingers furiously pawing at your clit and he nearly growls at the sight beneath him.

His voice comes out broken and husky, uncharacteristically so for the normally charismatic and smooth-talking painter. He gently pushes your fingers away, his own lengthy and skilled fingers replacing yours.

“Let me,” he begs, hips stuttering as he nears his second release, “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

His sweet words make you shiver, your body convulsing around him. Rafayel shudders as you grow tighter around him. It felt like you were nearly cutting off his circulation, in the best way. 

Rafayel’s fingers on your quivering bundle of nerves have you seeing lightning even with your eyes screwed tightly shut. He truly had the hands of a god, fingers slender and deft, the pads of his digits hardened from years of skilfully maneuvering expensive paint brushes. Your body was his canvas, and he’d spend hours creating art with you. 

“R-Rafayel, I’m soo – nngh – c-cloose,” you slur, your body arching into him, head thrown back until all you see is the ceiling above. 

Rafayel heaves at the sensation of you coming undone around him, his fingers still rubbing furiously. There’s a bright desperation in his glowing eyes, the need to see you cum on him as strong as the need to fill you up with his endless seed. 

As his body trembles above you, his fingers grip the tub so harshly his knuckles have turned taut and deathly white. 

“I-I’m close too, baby,” he groans, “Please, can I cum?”

You nod vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him release with you But Rafayel wants to hear you. 

“Say it, Y/N. Tell me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.” His voice is so brokenly desperate it drives you closer to your release, the sound of his lewd pleas so utterly erotic. 

“Ra-Rafayel, n-need it s’bad. Shiiit – please!” you all but scream, his insistent fingers pushing you into your orgasm. 

Rafayel chews on his bottom lip as he watches how beautifully you explode on him, so unbelievably close to finishing himself. He desperately wanted to cum inside you, but he knew if he did that he would be at the point of no return. You’d very well spend the rest of your trip in Verona locked in your hotel room, his cock nestled inside you until you literally begged for mercy. And maybe not even then. 

So with every ounce of will he had left, he pulled out of you as he came, standing on his knees so he could wrap his fist firmly around his cock as he came. The force of his cum so strong it shot all over your damp breasts and even your face, your expression still contorted in the ecstasy of your climax. 

You watch in awe, your cunt convulsing around nothing, your orgasm tapering off, as Rafayel trembles through his own pleasure. His cum is hot as it splashes onto your wet body, some of it shooting into your hair. Honestly the sight of how powerfully his cock erupted makes your stomach lurch in arousal.

Rafayel whimpers through his endless orgasm, his fist pumping up and down as he finishes on you. You’re left quivering beneath his imposing body, mesmerized by the white ropes of cum that shoot from his angry red tip. 

When he finally finishes, his glassy eyes watch you, absolutely awestruck. He bends down, his forearms trembling as one grips the side of the tub, the other stroking your cheek. He catches a rivulet of his milky seed with his finger, grinning cheekily at your reddened face.

“I’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful.” 

If it’s even possible, your cheeks burn even more furiously. You swat his fingers away.

“Shut up,” you whine, looking around at your bodies, joined in the filled tub. You inwardly cringe when you notice there’s more pools of milky white fluid than there are bubbles at this point. The amount of cum he gave you every time was nothing short of a phenomenon. 

“It’s everywhere!” you shriek dramatically, hitting his chest above you, “We need to get cleaned up!”

Rafayel’s grin widens, and before you can ask him what he’s scheming, he uses the finger still on your cheek to smear his cum around.

“Rafayel!” you yelp, trying your best to inch away from his filthy fingers, coated in both your arousals, struggling due to the limited space of the tub.

“But you look so exquisite like this,” Rafayel murmurs, fingers capturing your chin, pulling you up to look at him, his eyes hazy and sated, “My beautiful Queen…”

He dips down to press a lingering kiss to parted lips, mouth hitched open in excitement. When he pulls away he grins playfully at you.

“Besides, it’s good for your skin. Lemurians have a lot of uses, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Is that why your skin always looks so flawless?”

Rafayel’s cheeks flare, his eyes averting from yours, “Okay! Let’s get cleaned up shall we?”

You smile widely, unable to contain your fit of giggles. Your body shakes with your laughter, making the water ripple, “You’ve tried it haven’t you?”

Rafayel’s sheepish expression answers your question, “No! Shut up!”

“I knew it!”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

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[plumsdoll]

Enchanted

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky finally found his missing piece and it was you. He knew from the first moment he saw you.

Word counts: 2.8k

Warning: FLUFF. Cursing. Congressman Barnes era. Mentioned and described about anxiety. Bucky mourned Steve. Reader have long hair. Reader didn't have any specific age but look like in 20s or 30s. The story took place before Thunderbolts*. No beta read.

Notes: Hi~! this is my first Bucky Barnes fanfiction ever!! I've been hiding for sometime until I had a courage to write my own Bucky Barnes fanfiction! and English is not my first language so if you find any mistake I hope you don't mind. I hope everyone enjoy my work and if you do, it would be more than thankful to know your thoughts! Please enjoy!

P.S. Anxiety is very serious. I—myself—am dealing with it and I want more people to be aware of it and be aware of people who is dealing with it. And 333 rule is really helpful for anyone who's encountering anxiety. Thank you so much!

Nightmares were gone.

He was finally free. No more fighting. No more carrying guilt like a shadow that followed him everywhere. No more reminiscing of distressing bygone days. Eventually, Bucky could choose to live the life he always wanted. But…why did he still feel empty inside? A missing piece lingered in his heart, one he couldn't quite name.

This missing piece was considerable. It kept Bucky in an uneasy episode. It was difficult enough to be a man out of time in the modern world. He was drained to keep up with current political predicament as a congressman. And not to mention cutting-edge technology which was really helpful but confusing. It was different. Everything was different without Steve. Maybe the void, the missing space was Steve, the space that was impossible to fill.

Every day was the same. He woke up at 6 a.m., or earlier if he couldn't sleep, and went for a walk to clear his mind before going to work. He still didn't fully understand the modern protocols of Congress. It was significantly changed after the war—as it should. Sometimes he called Sam to keep in touch. It helped—talking with Sam—but still, it couldn't fill the emptiness inside him.

It had been bothering him a whole lot lately. He never felt like that before. He couldn't work, couldn't keep focused. His mind wandered around like a puppy that lost its owner. What was happening to him? He was always able to suppress the feeling but not this time. He felt like it was near, but what is it?

Bucky shook his head before keeping focused on his bowtie—the damn bowtie. One of the disadvantages of being a congressman were social events. He couldn't avoid it under any circumstances now that he merely had the position for six months.

It was ironic. He used to love social events, he was the one who dragged Steve to the fair but look at him now, whining about how he hated it. Maybe he had to admit that he was too old for this.

Bucky exhaled before checking himself in the mirror for one last time, stared at his figure and thought about how far he had come. Evidence of viability was written all over his face. He couldn't deny it but it was what made him who he is today. Maybe he was finally ready—like he always told himself—but he never was. It scared him every time he thought about it. The thought of how he was never going to fit in. Even though everything was better, however, the hungry eyes were fixed on him. It was a mind game in the sealed room. He had to prove himself that he was worthy. Of what— he didn't know. It was just that he felt like he had to prove himself that he was no longer the person who was once the most feared individual on the planet. Bucky told himself one last time—He's not him. He's James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky was being dragged from one conversation to another. He met countless people that he didn't even have time to remember. Throughout the entire encounter, he avoided any eye contact that followed him everywhere like he was a sculpture in the museum for people to extract the gist. He was forcing laughter and faking smiles. People seemed to be amazed that he was genuinely a normal person and learned of what he thought, he could hear them thinking; He's not what we have read in the museum!

The fifth champagne didn't help in this situation. He was looking around to find an excuse for a moment before someone asked him about his time as the Winter Soldier. The question caught him off guard and left him momentarily speechless. He wasn't prepared for the question and the fact that it had done something to him. The storm of feelings crawled back expeditiously and ultimately it caught on his throat. Bucky started to feel overwhelmed amongst people who shot questions perpetually at him. Everything around him seemed blurry and he couldn't keep focused. His heart was beating faster, he was grasping for some air but the air suddenly was heavy to breathe in. His grip faltered and the champagne flute in his hand dropped to the floor. The champagne splashed on the marble, some droplets caught on the margin of dresses and tailored pants, then someone made a joke;

“Oh, it seems like congressman Barnes is already sloshed.” And they laughed. Bucky shot a look at the person who said it but she didn't seem to notice.

“Excuse me, I need a moment.” Bucky declared before broke his way out of the group of people who circled around him. He found a place where there were not many people around. He grabbed the marble pillar to help him stand straight. His legs went limp, it felt like if he loses his grip he would outright fall to the ground. Bucky was trying to breathe slowly before turning his face to focus on his vicinity.

“Ok. 333 rule, come on.” Bucky said before looking around the room.

“Three things I can see…the red cocktail dress…ummm congressman Gary? Man, where the hell have you been all night. That's definitely a pre-tied bowtie. God, I hate pre-tied…and…” Bucky shifted his eyes from congressman Gary to the person who he was talking to. It was you.

“The white satin dress on the most beautiful woman I've…ever seen.” Everything around him stopped all at once. His eyes fixed on you and only you. He captured every possible detail that he could see. Your perfectly curled hair rested on your exposed shoulders. Your sweet eyes. Lovely nose. Irresistible lips. He was wonderstruck by your beauty across the room. Everything went black and white but you shone golden radiant through the room and gave them light. You were an oasis in the desert. The rainbow after the storm. The first snow of winter. The missing piece in his heart. Bucky knew at that moment that he couldn't lose you. You were the one who he was missing dearly even though you never met.

Bucky saw you excused yourself from congressman Gary. His consciousness was back and then he was starting to follow his heart. His legs, instantly, had the strength to walk again. He followed you to the bar and sat at the adequate distance. He ordered something strong to encourage himself. There was only you and him at the bar. It was quite awkward even though he thought you didn't even notice him. You didn't say anything and he was too anxious to speak. There was no conversation going on between you for a short while, somehow Bucky didn't feel uneasy in this situation. He felt relaxed and easier to breathe now that he had your company.

“It’s intense, isn't it? This endless abyss” You broke the silence. He wasn't fully looking at your direction because he wasn't sure if you were talking to him or not.

“I'm talking to you, congressman Barnes.” You giggled when he startled before facing you. He swore your voice was so sweet like a bird chirping in the crisp morning.

“Oh, umm, yes. Yes, it is.” He cleared his voice after and changed his focus to the glass in front of him. He didn't know what to say. He cursed to himself; You can't lose her, James Buchanan Barnes. Fucking do something! Say something!

“You—”

“You—”

You looked at each other for a second or two before his eyes went wide and you laughed simultaneously. He looked at you, threw your head back and laughed at him. He felt embarrassed but in a good way. How long has it been since he courted someone? He felt petrified at the idea of it. His body went numb and he didn't want to move too fast. It was a strange feeling when he thought that you were at most in your 20s or 30s but now he's an old man who was 110 years old merely last month. It wasn't like in the 1940s anymore and it suddenly scared him.

“You, first.” Your voice broke through his thoughts.

“Oh, no. There's nothing—”

“Oh, come on. If you want to court me. Here's your chance. Is that what you called it in your days? Court?” You laughed again and then his face turned red. He tried to hide it by sipping the whiskey in his hand but it was still obviously in the exposed light at the bar.

“It’s not and I wasn't trying to court you.” He tried to hide his smile but he hated to admit that those times when he was out on the mission was easier than trying to not swoon at your presence. His hand was meddling with the rocks glass, fingers playing with the beads around it. Your eyes followed his fingers, it sent heat through your body.

“Who are you, by the way. I never saw you anywhere.” Bucky shot a question to keep the conversation going but it was also his genuine question too. He never saw you at any other social events that he went to. Nothing could escape his eagle-eye and surely not even a pretty little thing like you. You would be the first in the room that caught his attention.

“Maybe I was there but you never saw me.”

“That's impossible.”

“Oh, of course. I forgot that you were a spy.” You lifted your hand up and did the O shape around your eye. Bucky chuckled and licked his lips. He knew at that moment that you were going to be the death of him. Gosh, it must have been too long since he's falling head over heels for someone. It's a strange feeling that he willingly submitted to.

“No. I mean—I don't think if I ever saw you, I'm going to let you out of my sight that easily.” Suddenly, the world stopped again. You exchanged eye contact across the adequate space. It felt too far, he needed to get closer to hold you. The piano caught his ears and the idea came into his mind. He needed to make a move and it had to be a move that he was familiar with.

“Dance with me.” He extended his hand to you. You laughed because you thought it was a joke but then you looked at him and there was nothing playful written on his face. You looked at the group of people standing, no one was dancing along the music. You looked at him again.

Fuck it.

The moment you took his hand was something new entirely. The feeling was overwhelming but in a good way. There was something that you didn't know how to describe. It was like lightning—a magnet that pulled you closer. He led you in the center of the room. Everyone was looking. You could see their bewildered eyes staring. Your heart was beating fast. It was a ludicrous idea and you liked it but now you weren't entirely sure.

“Hey, look at me.” Bucky grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. You looked up at him and met his piercing blue eyes. His vibranium arm guided your hands to rest on his shoulders. The coldness of the material sent shivers through you. He rested the arm on your waist and started to move.

“Don't be scared. Just follow me.” Bucky started to sway and lead you to smooth movement. You were restricted at first but then started to relax and follow his steps. You never shifted your eyes from his. You were embarrassed at the idea but didn't regret it at all.

“Are they still looking?” You asked with a trembling voice. Suddenly, you wanted to disappear into the ground.

“Yes. They're always looking.” You swallowed nervously.

“You know what? I haven't danced since 1943…Feels like.” Bucky said with that playful glint in his smile and you burst out laughing and buried your face in his chest. At this close you could hear his heart pounding fast like he just went on a marathon. His cologne kicked your nose, it was earthy and fresh. It helped you feel relaxed.

“This is a bad idea.” You said while shutting your eyes and breathing in his scent.

“I know.”

“But I like it.”

“Me too.” Bucky said and kissed the top of your head. You were surprised at his move but you didn't complain. You wanted to keep this moment forever. You wanted to keep him forever.

You didn't know how long the time passed. The next move that brought you back to reality was when Bucky touched your wrists. You opened your eyes and realized that everyone was now dancing. You were amazed at your surroundings. You looked at Bucky and he was already looking. A spark of delight drew all over your face.

“They're looking at you.” You said with the awed in your voice.

“No. They're looking at you.” Bucky said and looked into your eyes. His eyes always looked like it was telling you something, something that wasn't a word or a number but a feeling. He wanted to preserve this moment forever.

“It's almost time. Can I bring you somewhere?” You nodded and then he guided you to the garden outside the estate where there's nobody there. The moon was full. The sky was clear. Everything was quiet. It looked like a dream. You looked at him while he was already looking. He didn't seem to shift his eyes off you. Just like he said.

“Are you going to kill me here?” You told a joke and smiled. If you are going to die tonight, it might be worth it.

“Maybe.” Bucky smiled. It felt like he was bewitched by you—heart and soul. Merely a minute, you could catch his heart and play with it. He was more than willing to give you everything. If you want him to kill, he would kill for you. If you want him to die, he would die for you. If you want a star he would find a way and give it to you. Because all of this wasn't hard at all compared to all this time he was waiting for you.

“What do you want to show me?” You asked.

“You have to lie down first.” Bucky guided you on the fresh green grass. It was poking on your sensitive skin but after a minute, you got used to it.

“I have these strange feelings.” Bucky said while lying on his side and looked at your face.

“What feelings?”

“I think you bewitched me.”

“What?” You laughed out loud like no one would hear. In fact, there was no one there to hear you anyway.

“I never felt this way before. It had been so long since I fell in love. It was a feeling that seemed unfamiliar to me until I saw you tonight.” There was no evidence of playfulness on his face. Everything was genuine. Under the moonlight he was still undoubtedly attractive. It scared you for a moment; the thought of losing him.

“You may think this is crazy but I would kill for you. I would die for you, if you say so.” You caressed his face with your hand and looked straight into his eyes.

“Live for me. Never let me go.” Tears welled up in his eyes and dropped on the grass, filling the earth with his blissful tears. You were getting closer and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. He pulled you in for a more passionate and longing kiss. You were yearning for each other like it had been so long since you met but it was odd when you realized this is the first time.

You startled when the sound of an explosion echoe in the sky. Bursts of color lit up in the night. You looked straight and saw fireworks cracked and popped above. The flickering lights filled the inky sky and danced around the full moon. It was magical.

“You like it?” Bucky asked but there was no answer. You just pulled him in for another kiss. Surely, you won't let him go. He bewitched your heart and soul. It might have taken him more than decades to finally find you but ultimately he did. And he was grateful that it happened at the right time—when he was ready for you. Ready to live for you and love you wholeheartedly. Maybe the myth was true, the one that said you were meant to find your other half and fortunately, now the missing piece had been filled.

[intromortal]

✷ LIQUID SWEETENER ⸻ sim jaeyun

jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist.

this work contains ⋆ smut. mdni. established relationship, reader has a fever, she's very annoying tbh but it's bc she's ME! it's okay tho bc jake is equally as bad. spitting medicine in someone's mouth... is this sanitary? absolutely not but i also can't bring myself to care, fingering, praise, degradation (use of slut like once? and pet), he's mostly very sweet tho i promise, oral f!rec, squirting, mentions of free use, multiple orgasms, quick aftercare, jake comes untouched he's down bad sorry ! ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

length ⋆ oneshot ⸻ 5.2k words

✷ NIA — i finally got around to rewriting this omfg. this rewrite is for my sweet @heechwe and all the nonnies who asked for this to be posted again <3

It's not everyday Jake gets to take care of you, so when you're all sickly and weak, it's hard to evade his attentions no matter how hard you try.

Jake pouts when you shoot down yet another attempt to get you to take your medicine. "Why don't you just chug it? I promise it's not as bad as you think."

He’s been trying to get you to swallow at least a tiny dose of the sweet fever syrup for the best part of an hour, after every attempt to get you to down any kind of pill resulted in you hiding them somewhere underneath your cozy pajamas, against your burning skin.

"If it's not as bad as I think, why are you suggesting I just chug it?" Your voice is slightly muffled as you eye him suspiciously from under the heavy cover pulled up all the way to your nose.

"You're the one insisting it's disgusting without even trying it, I asked for the best flavor possible when I got it." He made sure to pick out a syrup that doesn't taste straight up radioactive, knowing you well enough to predict you’d make a big fuss about the nasty taste. Yeah, he can picture it right in his head, how you’d gag dramatically at the smell and just beg him to go get the tablets again—which you wouldn't agree to take anyway.

For how much you hate being sick, you seem to dislike the idea of getting better quickly even more.

“You would feel so much better if you just took your medicine,” he sighs, resting the cap filled to the brim with honey flavored syrup on the crowded comforter, careful not to leave it too close to the edge. He licks whatever residue is left on his sticky fingers. "Really not that bad. It's sweet."

"So it's not good either," you huff back, trying to wiggle yourself out of the cocoon of blankets Jake wrapped you in as soon as you fell asleep. "I'm not even that sick anyway.”

“Yeah?” Jake looks at you with an arched brow, then points his head to the little mountain of discarded, snot filled tissues overtaking your comforter, the ones he was in the middle of throwing away. “This right here is breeding grounds for bio terrorism allegations.”

He stops you from getting out of bed, securing the warm fuzzy covers around you again. “No need to leave, just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” he whispers against your lashes, placing a soft kiss to your closed eyelid.

“Just wan’ you.”

His plump lips thin into that gorgeous wide smile of his as he speaks,“but you have me baby, I’m right here, yeah?”

He knows very well what you mean, and a frustrated grumble spills out of you at the thought. Cheeky bastard, of course he wants you to say the quiet part out loud. Neither of you is used to going without pleasuring each other for long periods of time, and anything longer than three days is eons according to Jake. You're surprised he's behaved as well as he has this past week, you thought he would be the one to cave in first.

“Want…more,” you crank one of your eyes open, struggling when a droplet from the wet towel on your forehead Jake promptly changed every fifteen minutes slips in it. You blink a few times, adjusting to the light in the room before looking over to Jake, his grin still wide and brightening up his whole face, his head turned to the side as he observes you lovingly, a strand of hair longer than the rest tickling the side of his nose.

If Jake has to be completely honest with himself, he's not particularly sad at you being a little sick. 

Sure, it sounds mean when he says it out loud, but you're not doing so badly or in any kind of pain that would worry him, and he enjoys doting on you like this, with you having no choice but to take his love. Can’t blame a man for wanting to take care of his girl, especially when said girl has a streak of refusing to just lay back and let him do the work. 

You're always hiding your pain and vulnerability from everyone around you, so he enjoys knowing he's helping make it at least a little better for once.

You—however—wouldn’t exactly agree that he's making you feel better, definitely not by walking around with damp hair from the shower and intoxicating the air around you with the lingering salty marine and musky notes of the cologne he always sprays on his fresh change of clothes. A smell you usually related to comfort and home, making your head spin in the best way possible, a whirlwind of anything but pure thoughts crowding your mind.

Jake takes notice of the subtle shift in the air around you right away. You had been–subtly at first—laying down little hints for him to pick up, you craved him. Had been craving him for what felt like forever, ever since you got sick. A nagging hunger that just grew further with every hour he silently ignored it.

Usually you would busy yourself with random tasks, keeping your thoughts clear of images of his hands, or his plush lips and how he always absentmindedly licks away at them or how—you get the idea. But being sick doesn't help, being physically weak and needing rest doesn't stop your mind from running wild. Made it worse, actually, since you have nothing to do but lay in your bed all day. If only he’d slide right next to you under your covers and—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jake interrupts your thoughts, a hint of amusement shining through his smooth tone. You look up to him hopefully, breath caught in your chest fearing the next few words he's about to say. “And you’re still too sick.”

Really not being dramatic, but you're pretty sure a boulder just crushed you right on your chest. You groan, turning to the other side so you can properly sulk without having to look at Jake’s stupidly handsome face. A face you'd love to ride as soon as possible.

“No like, you actually hate me,” your voice is muffled by the pillow currently squished against your face.

“What are you even doing.”

“Trying to suffocate myself since my man hates me.” You grab the sides of the pillow and push them to cover your ears, making Jake erupt in a fit of boyish giggles. 

“No I don’t, just want you to feel better first,” he whispers, and the loving tone makes your body feel light.

You suddenly push yourself up with your arms to look at him, nest of hair a mess from the speed of your movement. “I would feel sooo much better with your fingers deep inside me right now.”

He looks at you for a moment, really looks at you, assessing what to do in this situation. He too misses your touch, far more than what he lets on. Even just sleeping next to you—a pillow fortress separating you two by your request—turned out to be too much for him on multiple occasions. He often found himself silently sneaking out of bed to go and take care of his sudden little problems in the bathroom, trying not to wake you up because he knew if you caught him he wouldn't be able to get out of your claws.

And you really need the rest.

As if sensing his resolve wavering, you add, “don’t I deserve a little reward?”

“A reward… for what?” Jake is thoroughly amused by your desperation. You rarely ever get like this, and he enjoys every second of it. You can tell because he's pushing it a little farther than what he usually would, ending up punishing himself a little along the way too. On any other occasion he would've been all over you before you could even finish your sentence. But Jake doesn't care, not when he doesn't know when the next time he gets to hear you beg a little for him is gonna be.

“Well of course! For having fought this fever tooth and nail and having come out of it alive.”

“You still have a fever though,” he says. “Could kick your ass right down at any given moment.”

“That.” You glare at him with all the fake anger you can muster up. “Is such a mean thing to even suggest.”

“Don’t you care about me getting sick? Made a scene all week and now you’re okay with me touching you?”

“First of all—I only made you keep the pillows between us the first two days. And like I told you, I feel better, so if—” the words die in your throat as you feet the bed dip underneath the weight of Jake’s knee.

"No, no. Keep talking." He slowly gets under the covers, and it's not because he's testing your reaction. His presence felt different, the soft look in his eyes overtaken by something more primal, and you couldn't help but feel like prey under his watchful gaze. It felt intimidating in a way you weren’t used to. It made you squeeze your legs together in search of any friction, your already feverish skin somehow feeling even hotter.

You try to hide the way you gulp, eyes still fixed on his body as he gets comfortable on his side, facing you.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jake whispers against your cheek, his nose rubbing for a moment on your skin as he sneaks an arm underneath your body, pulling you flush to his chest. Even just that single touch sends an electrifying shiver down your spine. “Since you’re fully capable of talking my ear off…”

You reach for his hand wrapped comfortably around your waist and guide it down to cup your heat through your thin shorts, your own hand resting on top of his as you grind against it.

"I suppose you've had enough rest."

You take notice of how his breath hitches in his throat, his carefully crafted mask of calmness slipping as you use his hand. The illusion wears off even more when he tries to hide it with a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. You know he wants it just as bad as you do, you're just willing to beg for it as long as it gets you what you want.

“I’ll—” you gasp when he flexes his fingers that tiny little bit you need to be able to feel them press against your fluttering hole. “I’ll do anything, just please make me cum.”

“Anything?” his voice is light and airy as he moves the fabric of the shorts out of his way. A deep chuckle tickles your neck, Jake’s mouth dipping down do leave open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin.

“Anything, just… please,” you whine, flexing your neck to allow him more space, his tongue dipping to lick a stripe down to the juncture of your neck.

Had you not been so deprived of Jake’s touch, you would have found the way you're grinding up against his hand and moaning in his ear almost embarrassing. But you're desperate, so you can't bring yourself to care too much about how pathetic you probably look to anyone else.

The only people in the room are you and Jake anyway, and he seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. His cock is stiff in his sweats, almost painfully so, from feeling how wet you are through your shorts. Dripping already and he barely touched you.

"You're so fucking hot. You know that?" Jake nibbles the shell of your ear, making you arch further in his hold. “You'll do anything you said? How about you take your medicine then?” He moves his hand from your mound to grip your thigh, ignoring your weak attempts at clawing his arm to get the little taste of pleasure he took away from you back.

He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in faux disapproval. “Use your words. What will you do?”

“Take my medicine,” you whimper, looking into your boyfriend's eyes despite the tears aligning your waterline, and finding amusement swimming through his gaze. Little piece of shit. Not that you were about to complain or anything.

“Theeeere we go,” Jake sings in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind it before dipping down once again and resuming his sweet torture. “You can be good once in a while.”

You nod, lips thinning to keep quiet as if any wrong sound could make him change his mind and leave you hanging. The hand that was drawing circles on your thigh comes up to hold your chin, carefully tilting it away from Jake’s mouth as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on your skin. He smooths over your lips with his thumb, coaxing them to part once again.

“Let me hear how good you feel, baby,” he mumbles, mouth still latched on your neck, before taking a strong whiff off your scent. Had you not been so distracted by the wetness seeping out of your clenching hole and soaking your panties, you would've noticed how his eyes rolled all the way back in his skull at your smell.

His free hand finally slides under your shorts,and a gasp leaves you because of how cold he feels. Jake is always warmer than you, but your fever makes it so his touch feels icy against your skin. Your back arches slightly when one of his digits parts your sopping folds, your sensitivity heightened by the unusual difference of temperature.

“Poor little thing, she’s got a fever too,” he giggles into your neck, another digit joining in as he slowly drags them from your clit to your hole to coat them in your juices. “But it’s okay, I’ll help her feel better.”

Usually, his stupid little jokes would’ve made you groan and push his face away. But this time—blame his voice for being deeper and hoarser than normal, or blame your fever—it makes you clench around nothing, cunt feeling emptier than ever while he takes his sweet time playing with you, savoring the moment.

Your head digs deeper into the pillow, hips lifting from the bed to follow Jake’s torturous movements, desperate to feel something more.

“So needy…” he breathes into your neck and goes back to placing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he can reach.

A yelp leaves your mouth, eyes you didn't even notice you closed shooting open when Jake bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, just enough to rip you out of the trance you were quickly falling into. He smooths over the little bite mark with this tongue, a tingly sensation overtaking the pain in a matter of seconds, the pleasure overriding anything else. 

Jake finally prods two of his digits into your hole, testing the waters, still careful not to push you too hard so soon. But your reaction is instantaneous, cunt fluttering against his fingertips right away. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep most of his noises in. “God… I fucking love it when you act like a little slut.”

Jake is so fucking turned on, he can barely think about anything but your pussy. The only thought in his mind is get her off, make her feel good, get a taste of her sweet cunt, sweet pretty and oh so delicious cunt… like a broken record. He feels like he was born for this and this only, as if his mission in life is just that of pleasing you. And to think he had deprived himself of such bliss for even a few days… Something in you seems different to him, almost animalistic, from the way you rut your hips against his hand as soon as he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, to the way you aren't even trying to hold in your moans like you usually would, mouth hanging open with a string of drool attached to your lips. And this is just from his fingers, he can do so much worse.

You yourself aren't doing any better, your brain basically turned to mush as you help Jake get you off by essentially riding his fingers, despite how weak you feel from the fever. His fingers are so long, hitting all the right spots you know you could never be able to reach by yourself, and his thick knuckles drag against your walls so deliciously.

“S-so good,” you gasp when he turns his fingers just the right way, hitting the spot he knows has you coming undone in just a few strokes.

The room is filled with the slapping sounds of his palm against your drenched cunt, more and more slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed with every flick of his wrist, making it all that much more obscene and filthy. You can feel the familiar pressure building up in your tummy, and suddenly the overwhelming need to just grab onto something crashes on you, heavy and almost painful. You claw at his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in deep pleasure, unaware of the fact that Jake is not facing you anymore.

He looks at the comforter, over his shoulder. The cap filled with syrup is still there amidst the mess. He twists his body to grab it, careful not to slow down the relentless pace he's fingerfucking your cunt at. A few drops of the liquid spill onto his shirt as he takes a sip of it, a grimace overtaking his features as he tries his best to hold it in his mouth. You're still a moaning mess by his side, tiny brain turned to putty to the point you don't even register anything else happening around you, so hyper focused on the pleasure your boyfriend is providing you with.

“J-Jake, I’m so close.”

Perfect timing.

Jake grabs your jaw to turn your head towards his, applying the pressure you've learned means it is time to part your pretty lips and take his spit, like the good well behaved girl he know you to be. And you do just that; immediately following his movements like he trained you to, tongue sticking out too for good measure.

He bends down slightly to aim better, but this time, instead of the slightly bitter taste of his saliva you expect, he lets small amounts of medicine fall on your tongue.

You uselessly try to back away from him, but he holds you in place, fingers still working inside your cunt. Nor does he allow you to close your mouth despite your surprised gasp. His hand holds your jaw open, grasp getting firmer every time you try to break free from it. After all, you made a promise, and Jake's going to make sure you fulfill it.

“You weren't going to take it, huh?” Jake mouths against your lips once he makes sure you swallowed every last drop of the thick honeyed syrup, holding eye contact with you through it all, fingers never once slowing down their pace. “Little dumb pet thinks she can outsmart me.”

He smashes his mouth on yours, not so much a kiss but a silencing of any complaint you're about to spit at him. Those turn to even more whines when he finally brings his thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles on it as he fucks you to your orgasm. It's almost instantaneous, you were so close already, his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh and his pants hot in your mouth, but his thumb so cold against your neglected clit.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, yeah.” Jake’s fingers gradually slow down inside you, making sure you got every last bit of pleasure you could possibly experience from this high. He too relishes in how your cunt pulses around his digits, making it harder to move them inside you. Oh, he wishes it was his cock being constricted like that instead, but that can wait.

You finally feel like you can breathe again, chest heaving to catch in as much air as you possibly can, forehead all sweaty from the exertion.

The sheets are drenched around you, and you can't even pinpoint when it happened, but you can immediately tell you aren't the only one who made a mess. Your gaze wanders to Jake’s pants, and a very evident stain on his crotch catches your attention. And fuck, if you aren't ready to do it all over again.

Jake looks absolutely divine; hair disheveled and soaked from the sweat, boxers and sweatpants full of cum. A waste, truly.

You sneak your hand in his pants, ignoring the loud hiss from overstimulation Jake lets out when you wrap your hand around his cock and pump a few times, your thumb swiping on his exposed head to collect some of the cum covering it.

Jake watches you, mouth ajar and cock stiffening again right away, as you lick your fingers clean. He slides his own fingers out of your cunt, lapping at them like a man starved, hoping to work you up just as much as you did him. His heart races in his chest as you keep looking at him, a little smile playing on your lips.

“That was so…” you speak up, giggling when Jake interrupts you by throwing himself over your figure, capturing your lips in an actual kiss this time. A very messy, very wet kiss. Allowing you to savor your own taste mixed with his and sweetened by the medicine.

“I think the word you’re looking for is hot.”

“Dramatic,” you interjected. “So, so dramatic.”

Jake curls an eyebrow at you. “You were the one acting like it’d kill you to swallow some syrup. And actually, let’s not forget–” He places a quick kiss on your nose before pushing you against the mattress further, his entire weight on you. “Ohhh no Jake! Please my Jakey! If I don’t get your cock right now I will DIE!”

“Well I still hav–” 

“And won’t.” he deadpans, sensing where you're trying to stir the conversation. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”

You smile to yourself, feeling feather light kisses making their way down your body, with his messy hair tickling your skin every so often. He places a soft kiss on your mound, whining dramatically when you grab a few strands of his hair to stop him. He rests his head on your thigh, puppy-like eyes looking up at you, almost pleading for permission to continue what he started.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you say, voice coming out in a whisper full of care, your fingertips playing with his hair and enjoying the way he nuzzles his head further against your skin.

“Well if I were to get sick by touching you… I’d say the deal is sealed by now, no?” He places another kiss on your thigh, teeth slightly grazing the plush skin when you take too long to contemplate whether to give in or not. “Actually, I think some of this syrup would heal me right now.”

“Jake. I’m being serious.”

“What could I possibly even catch from eating you out that I haven't already by exchanging spit with you? Best pussy in the world disease?” He laughs at his own joke, gaining a roll of the eyes from you. “Let me tell you, the chances of that happening are close to zero anyway. I don’t have a pussy but I am the proud owner of a very fat co–”

“You are downright insufferable.”

“Okay so shut me up with a mouthful of this pu–”

The rest of the sentence is muffled against your mound as you push his head down, deciding you heard enough for the day. And the week.

“Okay, okay. Go on,” you giggle as you lay back once again, a deep sigh following as soon as his expert tongue makes contact with your cunt.

Jake's movements are slow and deliberate at first, as he takes his sweet time collecting all of the slick coating your lips and smearing it all over your skin. It's methodical in a way Jake very rarely is, nothing like the primal and messy mixing of his own spit with your arousal and grunting noises you're so used to. When he gets like this, it's purely to tease you.

You grab a fistful of his hair, the strands soft in your hand, and raise his head to force him to look at you.

You almost regret it when you're met with the sight of him licking his lips, his plump lips spreading in a grin that looks almost evil. His irises are entirely drowning in the dark of his pupils, and you'd be lying if you said it doesn't send a chill down your spine. The good kind, the type that also makes you clench your thighs against his frame.

"If you're gonna beg me to eat me out," you say, finding your strength again and being careful not to let Jake see any weakness on your features. "You better do it properly."

You try to keep a straight face when he erupts in a fit of giggles.

"Oooh, look at you—" he starts, clearly amused by your attempt to assert dominance. "I know what I'm doing. You know I know what I'm doing. It just seems to me that I've spoiled the princess a little too much lately." He lowers his head to your thighs, and litters soft kisses as he makes himself comfortable again. Somewhere along the lines, the harsh hold you had on his hair turned into your hand dragging him closer, but you can't pinpoint the exact moment.

Or you just really don't care to know, not when Jake starts lapping up at your cunt like he's starving.

"You taste so delicious, baby," he moans between licks, his nose pressing further into your heat with every movement of his. "So much better than any medicine. Fuck—you're gonna be my little cure from now on. Every time I'm sick, I'll just let you open your legs for me. You'd let me, baby. Wouldn't you?"

You nod vehemently, before realizing he can't see you. "Yes, please use me," you moan, spreading your thighs as far as you can while pushing his head closer to you, even when it's almost physically impossible for Jake to even breathe. Not that he would have it any other way.

The grip on his hair, the way you push and pull at it as if you have any command over the stimulation he's giving you, the way you sing for him with every flick of his tongue. It all makes Jake's head spin in the best way possible, his cock stiff again in his pants and throbbing against the very fabric he ruined with his cum only minutes before.

He grunts and moans into you, like he's the one being pleasured, and it all adds to the magic Jake is working on you. The vibrations only aiding in inching you closer to the second orgasm of the day.

"Jake, I'm close, please."

You don't need to say anything else, because he parts from your cunt for a single second. Just enough to let a gobble of his spit drip down right on your engorged clit, coating it in more shiny essence.

You're about the complain about the lack of stimulation, but he dives right back in, licking a singular stripe from your poor mess a of hole upwards. He can taste the remains of the syrup in his own spit still, and paired with the straight up divine taste of your own slick, Jake thinks he might be in heaven.

"So sweet, baby. So fucking sweet. It's like you want me to never stop fucking you with my tongue." He catches your little bundle of nerves between his raw lips, already wet with spit, suckling on it like he's trying to coax even more wetness out of you. He swirls his tongue around it, his eyebrows furrowing in both pleasure and concentration as he keeps toying and prodding at every single part of your pussy.

You're so unbelievably close to coming undone, every passing second just bringing you closer to the brink. All it takes to send you over the edge is Jake moaning with your numb right in his mouth, the small vibrations from it all you needed for the searing white feeling to envelop you completely, the familiar silent yet still deafening tingly sensation spreading from your core to all the limbs in your body.

Jake keeps lapping up all your generous body gives him, thankful for it all and careful not to let a single drop go to waste.

Your arm is thrown over your eyes as you catch your breath, this second orgasm completely emptying you of whatever energy you had left. Usually you would offer Jake to help him out as a little thank you, even though he told you time and time again that it wasn't needed and pleasing you what was got him off in the first place.

But as much as you denied it initially, the fever did take a toll on you, more than you would like to admit. So any further activity would have to wait.

"Yummy." Jake comes up from below you, drying the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand. Even if you're tired and spent, the comment is enough to make you remove your arm from your eyes just so you can give him a well deserved death stare.

He gets up from the bed, disappearing for a few seconds into the bathroom. "What's with that look? No 'thank you Jake, you're the best?'"

When you don't reply, far too weakened to even try to banter with your boyfriend, he walks back into the room with a towel and a worried look etched on his gorgeous features.

He gets on the bed again, careful not to move your body more than necessary, and starts cleaning you up with the gentlest touch you've ever felt him use. "Did i tire you out too much? You're still sick—"

"You were great. Don't worry," you stop his train of thoughts you knew you wouldn't hear the end of if you let him go on for any longer. "I just need a nap, then I'll be as good as new."

The tension in Jake's shoulders only disappears once you smile at him, his own face morphing to match your own. It's one of your favorite things about him, how he's so careful and attentive to every hint and feeling on your face, he ends up mirroring them without even noticing.

He runs his hands soothingly all over your skin as he resumes cleaning you up, the room falling into a peaceful silence.

You almost fall asleep, but you should've known Sim Jake shutting up for once was far too good to be true.

"Look at the mess you made though. This is enough to start an entire pharmacy."

[nadvs]

the power play (part five)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

< prev

You haven’t spoken to Rafe since he angrily left your dorm three nights ago.

You’re sitting in your booked study room, waiting for him to arrive, wondering if he’ll be regretful of your argument or be ready for round two or pretend it never happened.

Either way, you’d prefer to make light of it and move on. He may no longer be your fake boyfriend, if he really meant what he said, but you’re still going to be seeing him every week.

You hope that you can just give him back his jersey and leave what happened in the past.

The guilt that Rafe has been running from catches up to him once he walks in and sees you. He blew up the other night and you met him with understanding he’s never been given before, softness he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Let’s just get it out in the open,” you say as the door clicks shut behind him. “We fought. I was expecting a bouquet of apology roses, but maybe they got lost in the mail?”

He huffs. Typical of you to make a joke about it.

He sits down, slouched back as he unpacks his things, his long legs stretched out beneath the table. He doesn’t know what to say and is relieved, for once, that you fill the silence.

“I get why you got annoyed,” you say, “but I haven't changed my mind. This doesn’t have to be weird. No hard feelings, right?”

His jaw tenses as he sets your copy of We Have Always Lived in the Castle on the desk. He got through it quickly. And he actually didn’t hate it.

He’s sure it was only because reading killed the time he’d normally had spent training, but he figures this is a good enough topic to start with.

“I finished it,” he murmurs, looking down at the paperback. “It was good.”

“Oh. Wow,” you say, perking up. “You liked it?”

He nods, earning a prideful smile from you.

“Because…?”

“It was short,” he says.

“You walked into this room, I think a month ago to the day, and looked insulted when I asked you if you liked reading,” you say. “And now you’re telling me you enjoyed a book. That’s huge. I need way more than it was short.”

“You’re being a lot right now.”

“I know.” Your smile doesn’t falter. You motion for his laptop, he hands it to you, and you open a new document. “Keep talking. What did you like about it?”

“It got to the point.”

“The prose is very clear,” you agree, typing in the note. “What’d you think of the twist at the end? Did you see it coming?”

“No.”

“This is why I love this class. It introduces you to books you might’ve never picked up,” you gush, then take a breath. “You better not be trying to trick me. You knew I’d get excited about this and forget that we argued. But I’m already over it. Okay, I’m talking too much. Your turn.”

The relief of seeing you act like you normally do has lifted the weight that’s been sinking into Rafe since the night he snapped at you.

Now that he’s with you again, confined in a room he didn’t think he’d ever not mind being in, there’s no avoiding the fact that you have an effect on him.

Against his expectations, he cares about what you think. About how you feel. And he just wants to fix this.

“You don’t know what my fights with her used to be like,” he says. “I’ve heard it all.”

You still for a moment, then rest your elbow on the table, chin in your hand as you gaze at him through compassionate eyes.

You can sympathize that not knowing what Emma said is irritating him, but you couldn’t repeat her cruel words, even if you wanted to.

“I understand,” you say, “but I can’t bring myself to tell you something that’ll just hurt you.”

“That’s my point,” he scoffs. “It won’t hurt me.”

“It could.”

Rafe sinks into the realization that he’ll just have to take the loss here. You’re not going to tell him what he wants to know, because you don’t want to wound him. Even though he kind of deserves it for his outburst.

“I know I…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know I didn’t have to lose it on you like that the other night.”

“Yeah,” you breathe a defeated chuckle. “You didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

He fans through the book just to have something to do with his hands.

You take in the remorse etched into his handsome face and you admire that even though he can be rash, he tries to clean up the messes he makes, pushing aside his ego when he needs to.

“We’re past it,” you conclude. You look at the laptop screen again, glad this will be a clean break. “Let’s write what we can about this book first and then go back to the other essay. What else did you like?”

Rafe expected that you’d bounce back after your rift. Your positivity is so relentless that it almost tires him out. But he needs to make sure you know he uttered those words out of disingenuous impulse.

“I didn’t really mean that we should end it,” he clarifies.

You look at him again, a crease formed between his brows.

“Are you trying to un-break up with me?” you tease. “This is awkward. I already started pretend-dating one of the other guys I tutor.”

“You tutor other guys?” he asks before thinking.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” you play along.

Rafe’s chest pinches. He doesn’t know why he assumed you exclusively tutored him. He thought he was the only one you see like this, the only one you ramble to and nag and joke with. Why does he hate that he’s not?

“Come on,” he murmurs, shoving past the unwelcome thought. “I know you miss me.”

You laugh. His typical brand of humor is detached and blunt and it’s nice to see another side of him, a playful side that makes him seem warm.

“I have to think about it.” You shrug. “Okay. We’re back together. I had a feeling you were just being mean the other night anyway.”

Rafe’s lips fall into a guilty frown. Without thinking, he scratches the back of his neck, grimacing and letting out a sharply exhaled fuck as his shoulder stings in pain.

“Are you okay?” you ask, serious now.

“Yeah,” he grunts.

“Convincing,” you say. “What is it?”

He sees no reason to hide it. You did tell him that he can vent to you and if there’s anyone he’d complain to about this, it’s you.

He’d rather not tell anyone on the team. Not even his closest friends. He doesn’t want to look weak.

“My shoulder’s fucked up,” he admits.

“Is it from that board check the other night?”

He nods and says, “Physio said it’s a strained muscle.”

“How bad?”

“I’m benched. He’ll look at it again before game two.”

“You mean you can’t play the first game of the championship?” you surmise.

Rafe’s tight expression tells you that you assumed correctly. You grimace sympathetically.

“Did he say if you can use anything to help with the pain?”

“Heat when it gets bad,” he says.

“I’ll be right back,” you say.

He watches you rush out, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. Moments later, you come back with an instant hot compress and place it on the desk in front of him.

“The library has a bunch of first aid kits,” you tell him, sitting back down.

“How’d you know that?” Rafe squeezes the package in one hand, the subdued pop cracking through the small room. “You really like it here that much?”

“A student of mine got a papercut once,” you explain with a laugh. “But yes, I do enjoy being surrounded by books.”

“Right,” he huffs, still in disbelief of how different you two are. “Thanks.”

He rests the package on top of his shoulder, comforting heat spilling through his t-shirt.

When Rafe lets out a velvety, satisfied groan, you find yourself flustered within half a second. Your mind sprints away from you. A mere sound has never made every inch of you tense like this before.

Your imagination can’t keep doing this to you, but it feels impossible to ignore the physical pull you’re starting to feel towards him.

You swallow hard and look at the laptop again, blinking.

This is bad.

You’re crossing the line and you need to yank yourself back into rationality. Rafe is a friend and all the affection he’s given you has been a sham and it’s disconcerting that you keep having to remind yourself of that.

You know he could never give you what you need in a relationship. The last time you saw him was cold, hard proof of that. He’s much too volatile to make a good boyfriend.

And that’s accompanied by a very big if he even likes you like that, which you highly doubt, given how easily you frustrate him. You refuse to overthink, to tumble into infatuation with another man who’ll just hurt you.

“Anyways,” you say, your eyes locked on the screen. “We really should get to work.”

════════

With ten minutes left of the session, Rafe’s laptop dies. You slide it towards him, disappointed you couldn’t upload the essay you’d just finished before the battery drained.

“Make sure to submit it before midnight,” you say. “Oh, and Lyla and Beck’s parents are hosting their birthday party on Saturday, so consider me unavailable for fake girlfriend duties that night.”

Rafe opens his backpack, pushing his laptop in as he mulls over your words. That sounds like the type of event you’d want him to come to.

“Do you need me there?” he asks.

“You were invited,” you say, “but I’ll say you were busy. You’d hate it. It’s an hour away, with a bunch of strangers you’d have to impress, and there’s obviously no way your ex would be there. I can do this on my own.”

Rafe stills before he speaks again.

“Do you need me there?” he repeats, more evenly.

It riled him up to see Emma leave the last party with another guy. To see his arm around her at the game. He hoped he’d be able to count on you to be by his side if he sees them together again this weekend.

But mostly, and more importantly, picturing you at that birthday party alone, in the same room with the guy who hurt you, all because you didn’t want to make Rafe feel forced into going, gnaws at him.

You stare at him, trying to make sense of his tight expression. It’s confusing that he’s still even in this room, asking if you want his help after you’ve given him an out.

“Are you sure?” you ask. You’re positive you’d be fine without him, but he’s sort of become a security blanket.

“I’ve… seen her around with some guy,” he tells you. “It’d be good to get away from campus. And I owe you for losing my cool the other night.”

“Do you even have a cool?” you chuckle.

Rafe glares at you, but it’s proven disingenuous by the small, dimpled smirk he chooses not to stifle.

“I hope I’m with you the next time you see them together,” you say. “Anyways, we can drive up together, then?”

Your eyes brighten with your smile. He doesn’t know if anyone has ever looked at him like that, purely and truly excited to spend time with him.

“A bunch of friends from high school will be there, and obviously Beck and Lyla’s parents, who basically consider me their daughter,” you continue, “so we’ll need to be convincing. It’s a casual dinner, then we’ll just hang out as long as we want. Can you pick me up at five?”

“Yeah,” he says. He stands up, pulling his bag over his good shoulder. “See you.”

You watch him pace towards the door, relieved that you’ll have him there, grateful that he's doing this for you even though you’re certain he really doesn’t want to.

“Hey,” you mumble. He looks at you again. You motion to his injury. “Be careful with your shoulder. And… you’re going to call me corny, but I’m really glad you’re coming.”

A few seconds of silence pass between you.

“You’re corny,” he replies.

You share a smile before he steps out of the study room into the quiet library.

Emptiness abruptly digs into his chest once he’s not with you, growing deeper the farther he walks away.

You’re unlike anyone he’s known. You don’t try to hide how much you care about him and you see things in him he didn’t know were there and you combat his temper with humor and with tenderness and with reassurance that makes him feel like he’s not irreversibly fucking up all the time.

He’s never felt like this before. Like the void he’s always trying to fill isn’t bottomless after all.

════════

Your exhale is shaky as Rafe exits the freeway with only a few minutes left of the drive to Beck and Lyla’s home.

You pull down the sun visor, gazing at your reflection. You’re suddenly quiet and fidgety after you’d chattered for most of the ride.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “And why the hell do I have to ask?”

You chuckle, catching his implication that you typically blab about what’s bothering you without him having to check in.

“I don’t know how I’m going to look their parents in the eye and lie.”

“It’s that hard to pretend to like me?” Rafe murmurs. He’s glad there’s no edge to his tone, glad he can hide that your words stung him a little.

“No,” you chuckle. “When you’re being nice, I like you. Just not like that, obviously.”

Obviously. It’s happening again, the painful crook in his core, the tangled feelings that just keep twisting together.

He used to not care if you liked him. Because he didn’t like you. But your last conversation did something to him, something that was already quietly building up, something that he needs to strip before it sticks.

After every fight he had with Emma, he sensed the palpable cracks forming between them. With you, things felt stronger once you moved past your argument.

Fuck. Why is he thinking about you like you’re his actual girlfriend, comparing his last relationship? This is the last thing he needs.

“It just feels… official. Like I’m bringing a boy home,” you continue. “Nobody’s seen me in a relationship before and they might question your intentions and I don’t want it to be weird.”

You look in the mirror again.

“And I think I’m having a bad hair day. And a bad face day. And I kind of hate my outfit.”

Rafe can’t take your nonsense. Insinuating that you’re anything short of beautiful is the most ridiculous thing he’s heard you say.

He shuts the visor and utters, “You’re doing that overthinking shit again.”

“Okay, so, that’s a perfect example of you not being nice,” you laugh.

You know if you really liked him as more than a friend, his curtness would hurt you. It’s reassuring, the realization that your attraction to Rafe will never be more than physical.

You breathe a sigh, anticipating being with your friends again after you’ve parted ways to different colleges. You wonder if anyone’s changed in the few months since.

You glance over at Rafe.

“What were you like in high school?” you ask.

“The same,” he answers.

“So, just as warm and cuddly?” you tease.

He smirks. You smile like you do every time you crack his facade. It always makes you feel a little proud.

“Better when I started playing hockey,” he relents. “How about you?”

You purse your lips in thought.

“What do you mean better?” you prod.

Rafe’s in no mood to elaborate, stiffly repeating, “How about you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s like pulling teeth, getting this man to share anything.

“I haven’t really changed much,” you reply. He finds himself thinking that it’d be a shame if you ever did.

Rafe follows the GPS to pull into a quiet suburban street. He slows down in front of the house and parks. You gaze out your window to see helium balloons surrounding the front door and reach for the handle.

“Hey,” he rasps.

You turn your head to meet his eyes.

“You don’t need to freak out. We got this. And you…” He looks away. “You look good.”

The words are tight coming out of his mouth, like he really didn’t want to have to say them.

You start to thank him, but he’s already stepping out of the car.

════════

The party is so busy that you and Rafe disappear in the crowd. He stands close by as you catch up with your friends, remembering details about where they’ve gone after graduation, asking questions, making jokes.

When it’s time for dinner, you sit next to him at the table, diagonal to Beck, who has done nothing but flash you awkward smiles here and there.

He’s hardly spoken to you. You wish you weren’t doing it again, second-guessing if he really is jealous.

You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I didn’t get a chance to say hi,” Lyla’s mother says. You smile at her and sit up to give her a hug.

“There’s a lot of people,” you say understandingly.

“My kids are too social,” she jokes quietly, leaning over. She looks over at Rafe. “You must be…?”

“Rafe,” you say. His smile is faint, but believable.

“I hope you know I have to grill you a little,” she tells him.

“I know,” he says, glancing at you. “She warned me.”

He’s playing it entirely cool. You’re relieved. You had nothing to worry about. He has this handled.

“How’d you meet?” she asks.

“I’m his tutor,” you tell her.

“Always been a smart one,” she replies, squeezing your hand. “Is that what made you like her?”

Your eyes land on Rafe again, nerves pricking your spine.

“It’s… one a lot of things, yeah,” he says.

“What else?”

Rafe’s heart thrums.

“I don’t know anyone like her.” His eyes soften as he looks at you, the amusement in them replaced by a depth you’ve only ever seen in glimpses, when his guard slips a little. “And she has a good heart.”

“She does,” Lyla’s mother says, straightening to stand. “You better treat her right.”

“I will,” he says with a nod. When she steps away, you nudge his knee with yours.

“That was amazing,” you say. Your praise gives him a high.

“I’m a great liar,” he replies.

You nudge him again, laughing.

“I don’t care,” you say. “You can’t take any of that back.”

He wouldn’t want to anyway. It was the truth.

════════

After dinner, Beck and Lyla’s mother brings out an ornate cake, prompting the room to break out in song. You watch Beck and Lyla blow out the candles as everyone applauds.

“I’ll never forget what the nurse said the day you two were born,” their father announces as he stands by the head of the table, holding a glass up. “Even when they’re big, you’ll picture them this small. And it’s true.”

He looks down, nodding curtly, lips twisting.

“Here we go again,” Lyla laughs.

“He cries every year,” you explain to Rafe in a hush.

He gazes at your profile as their dad continues his toast. He was aware you knew Beck for a long time, for years, but seeing this makes it real.

He can picture it now, you spending your adolescence in this house, making memories with this family, falling for the guy sitting on the other side of the table who brushed you off, who’s blind to how happy you make everyone around you.

The night you sat on that kitchen counter in that frat house back on campus, your eyes deepened with a sadness that hardly ever comes across your face, and you told him what you saw in Beck. What made you fall for him.

Fun. Kind. Nice to everybody.

And it’s a reminder of why this fire that’s growing inside Rafe for you needs to be put out. He’s the antithesis of the guy you’re in love with. You’d never want him like that.

“I’m so proud of both of you,” their father continues. “Happy birthday.”

Rafe looks down at his plate, wishing he’d been prepared for the wave of pain that’s crashing down on him as the sounds of conversation and dishes rattling and joyous laughter ricochet across the room.

He hates to admit it to himself, but Beck has everything he wants, down to a father who’s proud of his son.

He glances over at you again, but you’re still looking at Beck, your smile both happy and sad, your eyes trained on the one person you’re doing all of this for.

════════

The party moves to the rec room after Beck and Lyla’s parents wish everyone a good night.

Rafe’s hand is in yours as you lead him down the carpeted stairs, then settle on the plush sectional couch next to him as you chat with your friends.

He always hated his impulsivity. He was just telling himself to put out the fire, but he only throws fuel onto it when he curls an arm around your waist, pulling you closer the moment Beck walks in.

You nuzzle in, shifting to look at him again, your noses nearly bumping from how close you are.

“It’s the other shoulder?” you confirm softly, making sure you aren’t putting pressure on where he’s hurting.

“Yeah,” he says.

You nod and absorb yourself back into the group’s conversation. Your back is pressed against his chest and he hopes you don’t feel how hard his heart is pounding.

But he knows that the way you make him feel isn’t unique to him. He sees it now that you’re with your friends. You make everyone feel this way, like you want them around.

Drinks start getting passed. You look at Rafe again.

“I’m staying sober tonight,” you tell him. “Thought I should reassure you that I won’t be inviting myself over for another sleepover.”

He wants to ask why that’d be such a bad thing and it’s like he left his sanity upstairs, because now he’s wondering what the hell he’s doing wanting to flirt with you.

“Everyone’s playing,” Lyla announces as she places a box in the middle of the coffee table. “And nobody’s allowed to sit out. You legally can’t say no to the birthday girl.”

“It’s my birthday, too,” Beck says.

“Who cares?” Lyla jokes, opening the box. “It’s truth or dare. We’ll take turns picking a card and reading it out loud and if you won’t do either or you fail at a dare, you have to drink.”

“Oh, no,” you whisper to Rafe.

“Just be happy you found a way to read at a party,” he replies.

You crack a genuine laugh. His lips pull into a smile as he watches you, gratified that the joy you’re feeling right now is entirely because of him.

You feel Beck’s stare on you from his spot on the couch a couple of people away. You look up at him and he looks away and it’s like a discombobulating shove into the past, reminding you of when you’d catch him staring and let your mind run away with daydreams.

The feeling of Rafe’s arm tightening around you grounds you in reality, but it also sends a rush of heat through you and you hate that it does that.

“Truth: what's something you're glad your family doesn't know about you?” Lyla reads out. “Or dare: keep your eyes closed for three full minutes. Easy. Dare.”

She closes her eyes, then points to her right. The game continues around the circle and when it’s your turn to pick, you select a card, feeling everyone but Lyla’s stare on you.

“Truth: what’s the last excuse you used to cancel plans? Dare: don’t laugh or smile until your next turn.”

“Worst dare you could’ve gotten,” Rafe murmurs.

“You’d never manage,” your friend, Marcus chuckles.

You laugh, then laugh again when you realize you just proved both of them right.

“Damn it,” you say. “You know what? I’ll take the dare.”

You put the card down on the table and exhale deeply, trying to focus.

Rafe’s eyes flit to Marcus, whose eyes stay on you longer than he’d like them to.

“Your turn,” you say to Rafe, stone-faced.

He’d rather not play this, but he’s supposed to be acting like a good boyfriend. Besides, there’s something about disappointing you that makes him feel worse than disappointing anyone else.

He leans forward, his arm lifting off of you for a moment, and picks up a card. His hand settles on your hip again as he reclines, his bicep hard against your back.

He’s only staring at the card, so you tilt your head back to read it aloud for him.

“When was the last time you cried? Or, let someone in the room write whatever they want on you with a permanent marker.”

You look at him, holding back your smile, knowing you’re both thinking the same thing. As his girlfriend, it’d make sense that you’d be the one to mark his body.

He would never admit to crying, especially to a group of strangers. The reminder of Emma’s words, of how she’d said he called her in tears, makes your stomach drop. Suddenly, not smiling doesn’t take any effort anymore.

“Dare,” you answer for him. “I need a marker.”

“I’ll get it. Someone help me,” Lyla says, her eyes still shut as she stands. She feels for her way around the room as one of your mutual friends stands up to accompany her. “Keep playing!”

The next person starts their turn, and you take Rafe’s free hand and rest his arm across his lap, gently to not tug too hard and strain his shoulder.

It’s a shock how instinctually you did it, how touching him is natural now, yet still manages to make your heart race a little faster every time you do it.

“I’m going for a meaningful one. I’m thinking my name,” you tease, running your finger up the length of the inside of his forearm, eyes travelling over the faint lines of veins, “from here to here. Sound good?”

“No,” he answers gruffly. You crack a smirk. “And you lost your dare.”

“Don’t tell,” you mumble, forcing your smile away. “You know I can’t hold my alcohol.”

When both girls come back downstairs, Lyla blindly hands you the marker. You meet Rafe’s stare before you look down at his arm.

“The card said whatever I want,” you say quietly, mischief in your tone.

He watches you lean in, eyelashes fluttering as you blink, lips pursing in thought. The wet ink hits the inside of his wrist and his stomach goes numb when you start to slide the smooth, thin end of the marker over him, your thumb gently pressing into his skin as you hold him steady.

Rafe stares as you concentrate, and he starts to breathe a little deeper simply because the way you smell has become a comfort now, a familiarity, a hit of dopamine.

You sit up seconds later. He looks down to see Room 205 written in small, black characters. Your study room.

“You’ll never forget where to go,” you say happily. “Well, until it washes off.”

You finally meet his eyes again. He’s wearing the same concentrated look you’ve seen before, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“What, did you really expect I’d write something that bad?” you say as you snap the cap back on the marker.

The group continues with the next round, and when it’s your turn again, you have to choose between sharing your biggest insecurity or whispering a secret to someone in the room.

“Dare,” you decide, putting the card on the table and leaning back, lifting your chin to whisper into Rafe’s ear.

He slightly angles his head so that nobody can read your lips, shivers spreading over his skin from the feeling of your cheek on his.

“You’re probably my favorite student that I’ve ever tutored,” you say quietly.

It’s not a lie. Even with all his flaws, Rafe has given you something you’re not sure anybody else would have. He came into your life at the perfect time, came up with the perfect idea, and you’re deeply grateful for it.

He hastily cups your jaw, his hand so large it covers your cheek completely, as he tilts your head so he can tell you something, too. His lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Just probably?” he whispers back. “That’s bullshit.”

You pull back, laughing, your eyes lingering on him.

“Don’t start making out, please,” Lyla teases.

You roll your eyes and look at the group again.

“I’ll spare you all the PDA,” you reply.

“Why start now?” a friend jokes.

“Yeah,” Beck quietly huffs. An ache of confusion rattles through you.

The game carries on, but Beck’s eyes linger on you. He’s never looked at you like this before. And it makes you believe what Rafe has been telling you this entire time.

════════

You leave the party holding Rafe’s hand and untangle your fingers from his the moment you’re out of the house, the moment there aren’t any eyes on you.

Rafe’s palm is cold now that your touch is gone.

Again, he’s powerless to the way his heart does whatever it wants and doesn’t give his head a chance to catch up.

He wasn’t supposed to like you.

He never expected to.

But when he looks at you as you tread towards his car together and the hushed moonlight bathes your features in its glow and you offer him that smile that makes his heart splinter in a way it never has, he yields to the truth, unable to put up a fight any longer.

He’s hopeless. You’ve pulled him under. And he had no choice but to let you.

next >

author’s note and the yearning (that eventually turns mutual) begins 🙂‍↕️

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[arhvste]

“this is killing me.” kuroo mumbled as he tossed his phone to his side. “just trust me bro,” his best friend-turned roommate bokuto grinned. “this works everytime for me i swear!”

kuroo sighed before grabbing phone again to refresh his instagram story views once more. several people had already viewed the post-gym mirror selfie he’d taken in attempts to garner attention from one particular follower of his; you. “maybe it’s too cringe…” he muttered while over analysing the photo that had already gained a couple of likes within the twenty minutes it had already been up for. “nah.” bokuto reassured him and pat his friend on the shoulder. “you look sexy.” kuroo stared back at the two-toned haired boy. “… thanks bro.”

this isn’t something kuroo would typically post but times were tough and he was desperate. he’d seen you around campus but luck was not on his side when it came to scheduling and the two of you barely had class time together. yet the little class time you did share, kuroo hung onto it tightly and would let scenes of these weekly one hour classes replay in his head more often than he’d like to admit.

“i feel like a modern jay gatsby,” the ex volleyball captain huffed. “my selfie is the equivalent of the wild parties he’d throw in hopes to get daisy’s attention except i don’t want to post every night, i’ve already made myself cringe with this one post.” bokuto stared back at his friend blankly. “yeah… whatever that means.” kuroo frowned back “it’s a classic, you should know what i mean!”

how much longer was he going to have to wait? bokuto had promised him quick results with this method and so far he’d felt deceived and lied to. if talking to you when he got the chance wasn’t enough to get a conversation going outside the classroom, then social media seemed like the next best attempt to start interacting more.

what were you doing? why weren’t you viewing his story? could you even see his story? did he accidentally block you?

these questions ran through his mind as he quickly rushed to check to make sure he hadn’t for some reason blocked you from seeing his story. he half wished he did because then at least he’d know what on earth was taking you so damn long to see the photo he was increasingly starting to hate more the longer it was posted.

“this is stupid.” he stated as he faced bokuto who had zero concerns in his method in gaining someone’s attention. “it works you just have to wait, trust me.”

kuroo frowned as the little red hearts of others who weren’t you fluttered from the bottom corner of the photo. “look!” his best friend grinned as he leaned over kuroo’s shoulder and pointed to the screen of his phone. “you’re getting likes on it!”

“what’s the point if they’re not likes from the person i posted this for in the first place.” kuroo grumbled back in response. he couldn’t believe he’d been subjected to such an attempt to gain some attention from you. it was ridiculous.

it had been about forty five minutes since he’d posted it and he was slowly losing his mind. sure, the post was going to be up for twenty four hours (if he didn’t give into the voices in his head telling him to delete it) so forty five minutes was nothing, but the minutes were beginning to feel like hours and he was dying inside. why weren’t you viewing it already and what could possibly be keeping you off your phone right now?

“this is stupid.” he decided as notifications from his old team mates started to flash up on his screen. the last thing he needed was lev replying with ‘looksmaxing’ to a post that was secretly dedicated to you. “no, it’s barely been up!” bokuto whined. “you look hot so you should get some replies anyway what’s the big deal?”

pinching the bridge of his nose, kuroo huffed. “the big deal is the person i posted this for hasn’t replied!” what was the point in making sure to go to the gym during a rest day just to take this photo if he wasn’t going to at least make his existence more known to you? he’d even worked his legs enough to the point of managing to achieve the sweaty but sexy look. the muscles in his legs were dying, but his dignity sure as hell wouldn’t.

the college student opened up his phone with the intention to end the mental war inside his head once and for all by deleting the post altogether. bokuto watched his friend in defeat but his eyes flashed. “yes they did!” he yelled and pointed to the screen as your name flashed at the top of his screen.

kuroo’s heart jumped at the sight of your profile picture he’d made a daily routine of staring at and the now blue dot indicating a message from your profile in his inbox. to think he was going to delete this post just a second too, what were the chances?

psyching himself up, kuroo took a few quiet deep breathes before letting the time next to your message pass for a few minutes. he wasn’t an instagram warrior by any means, but he knew enough about general rules in order to not look desperate online.

bokuto watched over his friends shoulders as the two stared in anticipation awaiting the message kuroo had been dying for. this was it. leg day two times in a row was gruelling and he’d regret it for the next few days but it would have been worth it. the countless messages from his old teammates mocking his attempts at a thirst trap could be looked past now that you had finally given into the bait he’d so carefully laid. this is what he’d been waiting for. days of preparing and deciding how to gain your attention had finally paid off and he was about to reap the rewards he’d sown.

clicking the message with baited breath, his heart raced as bokuto’s grip of his shoulder tightened. finally.

‘the label on your shirt is sticking out, make sure to cut it’

“a wins a win.” bokuto filled the silence between the pair as kuroo stared at his phone with a blank expression. “… a wins a win…”

[okaylikeschaewon]

Undeserved

~6k words, Dating Seraphs Part 11, Series Masterlist

“How much longer do you plan on waiting?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“How about, I don’t know, talk to her?” Sakura snaps back sarcastically, mouth agape and eyes wide, feigning shock with that tiny head shake she does. “Crazy idea, I know.”

You let a heavy breath escape your lips – you know she’s right. It still leaves you feeling dejected, but it’s hard to complain when you’re the one who asked her to join you for dinner.

“It’s not that simple,” you mutter, squishing a fry between your fingers, squeezing it until the potato mush spills out. “Thanks for coming by the way, I know you’re busy this week.”

“I’m just here for the free meal,” Sakura replies with her cheeks full. “We had most of the day off anyway.”

“You know, I never really understood that,” you lean back and drop the fry. “Even back in the day, buying you food was always the answer to everything. Angry? Food. Happy? Food. Tired? Food.”

Sakura brings a hand up to cover her mouth before she speaks. “What? A girl can’t like food? Is that really such a foreign concept to you?”

“I’m just saying, I don’t get why an idol would go crazy over food as if they can’t afford any meal they want.”

“It’s more about the concept of free food,” Sakura pauses to take a sip. “Like, a free sandwich beats one I buy for myself. See this?” she holds it up. “This is amazing.”

“How? If it’s the same sandwich–”

“You just won’t get it,” Sakura shakes her head with a sigh, already fed up with you. “There’s also the freedom to get whatever we want when someone is treating us. Although, now that I think about it, the company doesn’t really track me anymore. I guess I’ve been around long enough for them to stop worrying so much.”

“Ah right, strict diets,” you sit back up. “Well, you make sure to take care of your body, that’s probably why they don’t press you as much anymore.”

“Implying they had to before? I guess I didn’t take care of my body,” Sakura casually picks up her sandwich and admires it, calculating her next bite. “That’s sweet of you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Right,” Sakura replies curtly. “I eat too much and don’t take care of my body, I hear you.”

“I meant they trust you now,” you roll your eyes. “And for good reason, you look great lately.”

“Lately?”

“Sakura…”

She chuckles quietly. “I’m just giving you shit, I know what you're trying to say. I appreciate it.”

“You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she smirks before taking the last bite of her sandwich.

“Bit of both, I guess,” you answer quietly, pushing your tray forward.

Sakura frowns and her eyes soften with empathy. “You barely touched your food,” she notes gently after swallowing her bite.

“I didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with honestly.”

“The fuck?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sakura demands. “We didn’t have to go out, we could have just chilled somewhere quiet. Why would you offer to take me out to dinner if you weren’t hungry? You know how much I hate when you do this.”

“Didn’t you just say your sandwich is amazing?” you laugh.

“Well, yeah–”

“And that’s why I didn’t say anything,” you flash her a small smile. “Like I said, you really haven’t changed at all.”

Sakura’s shoulders slump and she gives you that ‘really?’ look. “That’s not fair,” she whines.

“It’s not like I’m throwing it out,” you chuckle. “I’ll pack it to go. Maybe I’ll leave it in your fridge for you to have tomorrow.”

“You’re annoying,” Sakura pouts as you flag down your waitress. “I never would have agreed to this if I knew you weren’t eating.”

“I know,” you respond, barely paying attention to her as the waitress walks over. “Kinda reinforcing my point Kkura.”

There’s a bit of a pause while you start packing your leftovers into the box. Sakura’s glaring at you, and you’re waiting for her to say what you know she wants to say.

“You can keep pouting or you can spit it out.”

“At least let me pay,” she pleads.

“We both know I don’t need that,” you chuckle. “I invited you for your company, the food was secondary.”

She frowns, but this time it’s not with anger, it’s more supportive and empathetic.

“Look, it’s just like we talked about this morning in the car,” she starts. “Just go, be honest with everything, and then whatever happens next isn’t in your control.”

You look up to face her again. “I get that, but that’s also exactly what’s making it so tough,” you reply. “Maybe I moved too fast, maybe I fucked up.”

“Oh my God, shut up with that,” Sakura rolls her eyes. “Maybe you did fuck up, maybe you’ll regret it one day, but I saw that glow you had this morning when you walked out of our room. That smile? I didn’t need details, I could see it, your dumbass was not regretting the decision this morning.”

“W-We just talked–”

“I said I don’t need details,” Sakura repeats firmly while crossing her arms.

“Sorry,” you notice the subtle blush of her cheeks – Kazuha probably told her anyway. You hesitate for a moment.

“I’m not judging you for it,” Sakura reads your mind. “Especially not after seeing Kazuha also with that same glow. She really likes you, don’t fuck this up.”

“Thanks,” you mumble quietly, a bit embarrassed.

“But promise me one thing,” Sakura uncrosses her arms and leans forward. “Please talk to Chaewon before you and Kazuha…” her voice trails off. “She doesn’t need to know about this morning, but please do right by Chaewon and talk to her soon, she deserves at least that much.”

“I know,” you sigh, standing up in your chair. “I’ll talk to her tonight. I promise.”

—

“Do you think I could talk to Zuha, for just a minute?”

Sakura makes a face, eyes squinted and full of judgement. “You get a minute before I’m walking in, and I better not see something that I don’t want to see,” she crosses her arms and steps aside.

“Thanks,” you give her a quick side-hug before entering their room.

Inside, Kazuha is sitting on the floor stretching with her phone propped up in front of her. Once she notices you, she immediately takes out her earbuds and hops to her feet.

“Hey,” she smiles warmly.

“Hey,” you walk up to her and place your hands on her hips. “I’m sorry for ignoring your message, I was caught up with dinner and then driving.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t worried,” she places her arms around your shoulders.

“Zuha,” you move a little bit closer. “Be honest with me. Do you think we’re moving a bit too fast?”

“Yeah,” she answers without missing a beat, catching you a bit off guard. “This might be my first attempt at some sort of relationship, but even I know how much of a risk we’re taking.”

“A risk…” you whisper under your breath. You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Are you?” she asks quietly.

You hesitate for a moment to think before answering.

“Well…”

“It’s Chaewon,” Kazuha interrupts. “Isn’t it?”

“I guess that wasn’t very hard to deduce,” you sigh. “Yeah, I have no idea how she’s going to react.”

Kazuha drops her hands off your shoulders and flashes you a pursed-lip smile while taking a step back.

“It’s not too late to just forget about this,” Kazuha says softly.

“No,” you squeeze your hold on her hips and pull her back.

“I’m not changing my mind or anything,” Kazuha clarifies quickly. “I’m just being realistic.”

“Realistic?”

“This morning, you came to me and asked me to be your girlfriend,” Kazuha explains slowly. “I guess, in the moment, I answered with my feelings before really thinking about how this would even work.”

“I probably jumped the gun,” you admit softly. “I was also acting on feelings, without really thinking.”

“Right, and that’s not something I’m blaming you for,” Kazuha continues. “But are you… are you going to break up with Chaewon? How does this even work?”

“If we’re going to be together, properly,” you start slowly. “I think I’ll have to, yeah.”

“What if I said you don’t?” Kazuha whispers, avoiding your gaze.

A rush of warmth quickly shoots through your body. “What?” you stammer.

“I just mean, you should talk to her about it first before we decide anything,” Kazuha explains with a meek smile. “She’s one of my best friends, and I know you still love her, so I don’t want you to break up with her for nothing. This won’t work without her… permission? I don’t know if that’s the right word.”

“But Zuha…”

“There’s really nothing you can say to convince me,” Kazuha interrupts. “I really like you, and I want this. Really want this. But it all depends on what Chaewon says, if she’s… I’m sorry but… I won’t be able to…”

“Alright,” you agree, but deep down you know there’s no chance Chaewon doesn’t get hurt by all of this. You don’t know what to do anymore, and the feelings of losing both of them start to settle in. How can you even consider what Kazuha is suggesting? It doesn’t feel fair to either girl.

“If it’s any consolation,” Kazuha says softly. “Reality is, we can’t undo what we did.”

“And I wouldn’t even if we could.”

“Me neither,” she smiles and steps a little bit closer and stares right into your eyes. “I meant what I said about you, and if you meant what you said about me…”

You lean in and close your eyes, moving forward slowly until you feel the softness of Kazuha’s lips against yours. That sweet, delicate emotion that you yearned for, it simply washed away your worries in the most cliché way possible. As your tongue slowly eases into Kazuha’s mouth, you forget about the messiness, you forget about any conflictions.

At some point without realizing it, you’ve started moving forward, slowly edging Kazuha backwards until her body presses against the wall. You let go of her hips and caress her face with your palms as your lips part just slightly, only to immediately press back together. Her hands end up on your back.

She’s more comforting than you could have imagined, and you can almost feel literal heat emanating from her body right into yours. The kiss burns with this intense passion, intoxicating and obsessive, you feel Kazuha’s nails clawing at your skin, digging absentmindedly into your body. You hardly remember to breathe.

Then, as you’re leaning into the kiss, you feel her entire body jolt.

“Ah!” she lets out a small squeal.

“What happened?” you quickly pull back.

She scrunches up her face in frustration – it’s beyond adorable – as she reaches up behind her and takes a clip out of her hair. “It got caught,” she giggles, holding the clip up in front of you.

“Stupid clip,” you take it from her hands and toss it out the open window before leaning in for another kiss.

Kazuha lets out another quick giggle before she returns the kiss. She pushes her tongue against yours, intertwining and twisting playfully. She even eases a hand up the back of your shirt, sliding her fingers against your skin.

She gives you the courage to slide your hands down her body. You get to appreciate the curves, that impossibly toned core of hers, each muscular little ridge of her skin against your fingers. You squeeze your hands around her hips until they’re planted against her lower back.

Carefully, you move a tiny bit lower. You’re hesitant, but that doesn’t last long as Kazuha starts leaning deeper into the kiss. You start sliding your hands lower until they’re resting against her ass, and she doesn’t hesitate for even a moment. Not when you give her a little pat, and not when you grab her ass hard with your entire palm.

Her body is unreal, you can’t even believe how good she feels – so soft, yet toned. You give her ass another slap and her body jerks before she pulls you closer and pushes her tongue deeper into your mouth. She gives you a light, playful bite on the lips before finally moving back.

Your lips slowly part and you’re left smiling at each other for a moment, just taking it all in. You can’t believe how beautiful she looks right now, so soft and delicate, so pure.

“I’m gonna need that clip back at some point,” she giggles in a hushed tone.

“Spur of the moment,” you laugh softly. “I’ll go find it later.”

She giggles one last time before pushing you away. As she walks past you, the door clicks and Sakura enters the room, glaring at you.

“One minute?”

—

Chaewon’s door is staring you in the face. She’s inside. Waiting. Still, you’re standing in front of it, trying to think of any excuse – but there is none. You have to get this over with, whatever happens, you need to tell Chaewon. It was time.

“Are you lost?”

“Hmm?” you look back over your shoulder to see Yunjin staring at you, confused.

“I’ve been watching you for like three minutes now,” Yunjin chuckles. “You didn’t even hear me come up the stairs.”

“Sorry, I’ve just been… I don’t actually know what I’m doing…”

“It’s a funny coincidence,” Yunjin walks up next to you. “But I ran into Sakura doing the same thing this morning outside of her room.”

“Oh?”

Yunjin leans a bit closer and speaks quietly. “She gave me a bit of a rundown of the situation.”

“So you know why I’m standing here?” you let out a feeble chuckle. “And you probably hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you, don’t be an idiot,” Yunjin hits your arm. “I understand what you’re going through, and I also understand it’s not easy, even if I don’t know all the details.”

You sigh deeply. “Well, Yunjin, my advice to you, one girl at a time.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life,” Yunjin chuckles as she walks over to her room. “Good luck with everything, rooting for you!”

The sound of Yunjin’s door closing echoes through your ears as you muster up the courage to rap your knuckles against the wooden door twice before turning the handle.

“Chae?” you announce through the crack. “You there?”

“Yeah, come in,” she calls back.

You open the door wider and enter, taking a moment to close it behind you before walking over to Chaewon’s bed. She’s sitting with her knees up and her phone in hand, watching you with a tiny smile on her face, one that screams ‘happy to see you, but exhausted’.

“Hey,” she sighs softly.

“Long day?” you take a seat on the bed next to her legs. She straightens them out and you open your body up to her while placing a hand on her thigh, massaging it delicately.

“Long week,” she smiles meekly, tossing her phone to the side. “I basically slept all day, my body just wasn’t having it.”

“I’m glad you finally got some rest,” you reply softly as your gaze fixes itself onto the hand you were lightly pressing into her thigh.

Chaewon reaches forward and lays her hand on top of yours. “What’d you get up to all day? You eat dinner yet?”

“Yeah, right before coming here,” you answer quietly.

“Good, good,” Chaewon continues gently. “So,” she draws out the word extra long. “Your text said you needed to talk about something?”

“Right,” you stare down at your lap for a moment before taking in a deep breath and looking up at her. “I’m just going to get straight to the point. Do you remember when you told me that if I ever was to develop some sort of feelings for Zuha, that I needed to tell you?”

“Ah…” Chaewon pulls her hand back. “That’s right, I did say that.”

“Well, I spent some time with her this morning…” you pause and watch as Chaewon leans over to grab a couple of tissues.

She places them on her lap and looks up at you again. “What? Keep going, these are just in case I need them after what you’re about to tell me.”

“Chae,” you whisper as you scoot closer to her. “I need to tell you the truth.”

She tries to smile through it, clearly incapable of forming words, settling for a small nod as her eyes already start to shine.

“I’ve been think–”

“Did you have sex again?” Chaewon blurts out.

It catches you off guard and you freeze.

“This morning,” Chaewon continues as her cheeks burn red and her eyes glow. “You said you spent some time with her this morning… I was just curious.”

“We–”

“It’s fine if you did. I told you it’s okay,” she adds. “I’m not upset.”

“Chae…” the word hardly has time to escape your lips before tears begin streaming down Chaewon’s face. You lean forward and wrap your arms around her.

She squeezes back and you tighten your grip, holding her body against yours. You rub her back gently with one hand while the other caresses the back of her head.

“So it is true,” Chaewon sniffles into your shoulder. “I’m not enough.”

“Don’t–,” you choke up, voice cracking. “It’s not like that.”

The two of you hold each other in silence for a moment, steadying the other, trying to stop the other from trembling. She takes in a deep breath and leans away from you, eyes bloodshot.

“Knew I’d need these,” she lets out a small, pained laugh as she takes a tissue and dabs at her eye before holding one up for you to take.

“I wish it wasn’t like this, but it’s not about you being enough or not,” you say, rejecting the tissue and letting your tears flow freely down your face. “I just think I might have feelings for her, and that has nothing to do with you not being good enough.”

Chaewon lets her hands drop into her lap. “If I was a better girlfriend–”

“Don’t,” you intervene firmly. “You’ve been nothing short of perfect.”

“But–”

“That’s the only reason I’m even coming to you and being honest about everything,” you continue. “Because I trust you. And love you.”

Chaewon’s lower lip trembles as she fights back a fresh wave of tears. “I love you too.”

You give her a moment to compose herself before you continue.

“But I need to know what we’re going to do about this,” you add softly. “I… I do want to see things out with her.”

A single tear slides down her face, unwiped.

“I am so sorry,” you rub your eyes with the back of your hand as the sight of her launches you over an emotional cliff. “So, so, so fucking sorry for being an asshole. You deserve so much better.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Chaewon mutters, her voice cracking under her feelings. She stares at you with dewy eyes, beautiful as ever, and then she hesitates for a moment before sniffling and speaking up again. “Do… are you… what do you want to do exactly?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Chaewon chuckles as she wipes her eyes again. “I think you should see it through with Zuha.”

It feels as if the world around you stops. A wave of heat courses through your body as you question whether or not you heard her correctly. It almost hurts, even though this is your decision, it almost feels like Chaewon is breaking up with you.

“I think that’s the most fair, for everyone,” Chaewon continues softly. “You see it through with Zuha. Properly. And then we have this talk after.”

“But what about you? How is that at all fair to you?”

“I also played a role in this whole situation, it’s messy I know,” she replies. “You’re not allowed to blame yourself for anything, it was my idea, you were against it from the start. And if you have feelings for Zuha, it’s not fair for me to take that away from you.”

“So are we–”

“No,” she cuts you off with fresh tears suddenly streaming down her face. “Please don’t say what you’re about to say. Not yet.”

“Then what exactly–”

“I don’t know,” her words quiver. “Wherever we end up, we figure it out together, eventually. Just not now.”

“But… Chae–”

“No matter what happens,” she continues firmly. “We stay on good terms. No matter what.”

“I…”

“Promise me,” her lip quivers again. “I love you, and I love Zuha, that will never change.”

You hesitate again. You want to believe her, you really do, but you’re scared.

“Promise me,” she repeats, with less conviction than before, the syllables faltering.

Each second feels like a lifetime. Her words weigh heavy, and you want to reassure her, you want to tell those beautiful, vulnerable eyes that everything will work out – but you don’t know. You’re just as scared as she is, looking through the wall of emotions built by all the memories you two share. Your head is spinning, and every moment that passes instills more doubt into Chaewon. You hate yourself for it; You feel stuck. The worst of it all is how undeserved it feels.

Kazuha flashes into your mind. This feels wrong, for her sake too. The feeling is suddenly replaced by Chaewon. The girl sitting right in front of you, your girlfriend, refusing to let things end while still reassuring you that it’ll work out. Nothing makes sense. You’re bouncing between the girls, trying to figure out what the fuck you are supposed to do.

It’s impossible to believe her, despite how hard you try. You’re not convinced, but there’s no other option. You don’t know how to stop yourself from doubting your choice, and seeing Chaewon like this reminds you, clear as day – you’re definitely still in love with her.

“I promise,” you reassure her against your better judgement.

“Good,” she whispers before leaning closer to you.

“Babe…” your heart starts pumping as Chaewon moves closer.

“I love you,” she whispers right in front of your face before she leans in and kisses you.

It’s so sudden, you don’t even have a chance to think. A rush of emotion shoots up your spine. You shut your eyes against a wave of sudden tears and you wrap your arms around her. Your hands pull her close, pressing into her body as you kiss her, tenderly and slowly.

With mouths still glued together gently, you end up on top of her. She’s on her back, taking short breaths whenever your lips part, just for you to press your mouth forward again and again. You can feel her hands, one on your back and the other on your nape. Your hands slide down to her hips before easing around her body, resting against her lower back.

Her warmth is like a blanket, engulfing you, filling you with feelings that you didn’t know could exist. Your love for this girl comes flooding back in, overwhelming you. It makes your body scream. You’re pressing into her, and her legs wrap around your hips, locking you in place.

She wants you just as much as you want her, mutual addiction, and it’s making your heart ache. All the tears and choked-up words suddenly didn’t matter as you’re both fumbling with each other’s clothes. It takes forever, and a lot of effort – mostly because neither of you would let the kiss stop – but eventually you find yourself lined up between Chaewon’s legs.

Finally, the kiss ends, and you’re staring down at Chaewon. She’s there beneath you, flat on her back, eyes more tender than ever, face still stained with tears. Time freezes. Not for a second or a minute, but for what seems like hours or days. You stare into each other’s eyes, reliving all the memories you share.

And then you ease into her.

A sharp gasp escapes her lips and she tilts her head back, shutting her eyes tight as you push yourself all the way into her before opening them back up slowly.

This time feels different. Not a good nor a bad different. Just, different. You can’t really make sense of it as you hold steady inside her tight warmth for a moment before falling forward and pressing your lips to hers. You start moving your hips slowly, inundated by her love, fumbling around the bed with your hands until you find hers.

She interlocks her fingers with yours and squeezes hard, and at the same time Chaewon wraps her legs around you once more. She won’t let go of you, not with any part of her, it’s not an option.

And you won’t let go of her.

You start pumping your hips faster, the intensity building between your legs. Your mouth slips off hers and starts digging into the crevice of her neck. You’re kissing and sucking on her skin, desperate. Consumed. The more you get, the more you want. You’re greedy for Chaewon.

It feels better than a dream, a lucid trip, and Chaewon’s the drug. Your body enters a state of higher existence and you start to lose track of yourself. It feels divine, like if ecstasy was being pumped straight into your brain – but there’s no drug – only Chaewon.

Suddenly, she’s on top. You have your back against the headrest, and Chaewon’s straddling your lap. She lowers her body onto you while you wrap your arms around her tiny frame and pull her close. You kiss her clavicle as she tightens around your body.

“I love you,” she whispers into your ear.

Her arms are wrapped around your head, and she’s holding onto you for dear life. Her body moves with yours – flowing gently like a river. She falls forward a touch as you bring your knees up and ends up kissing you on the mouth.

You’re kissing her too, no hesitation, no second thoughts, and your hips are jamming up into her body with an intensity that matches hers, while still maintaining a degree of affection that you don’t think anyone in this world deserves more than the girl sitting on your lap.

Your hands slide down her body and dig into her soft bottom, opening her wider, getting you deeper. There’s this connection, one that words cannot explain. For a moment, you forget the world, and you let yourself drown in Chaewon’s passion.

She feels perfect. You want nothing more than to live in this moment forever – as if that was an option. She’s breathing softly, each bounce and each thrust sending her to another universe. She’s just as obsessed as you, she wants this and her body is screaming to you in ways that don’t need words.

Right when you think you’re starting to understand reality, the sound of Chaewon’s moans hit you like a truck. Right up against your ear, not loud, not fabricated, just pure intimacy. They’re so soft and elegant, accompanied by her body flexing against you. Each and every fibre inside her starts to squeeze, and with one last moan, it all becomes too much for you.

Your warmth shoots out of you while Chaewon’s still shaking. A beautiful tandem of emotion and intensity connects you together as you squeeze each other’s bodies as hard as your physical limitations allow. While it feels like an eternity to you, it ends just as quickly as it comes, and you feel all the strength dissipate from your body.

The grip you have on her falters, and her body collapses against yours. You’re breathing heavily, and so is Chaewon, while she strokes your chest softly. You place her on the bed and ease out of her, warmth still connecting your bodies in the most intimate of ways.

Then, suddenly, reality rushes back in and kicks you right in the gut. Your bodies separate as the realization of what you just did sets in. As if anything made sense in the first place, it definitely made less now. You get up to leave, incapable of formulating a coherent thought.

—

From Chaewon’s room to the front door, everything is a blur. You don’t remember anything, but you have a pain in your chest that refuses to leave. It’s as if you were stabbed, and all you can hear is Chaewon’s parting ‘I love you’ echoing through your ears – you can’t even remember if you said it back.

You’re walking around the outside of their house, using your phone’s flashlight to help you search until you see the little sparkle from Kazuha’s hair clip. You walk over to pick it up, and right when you place it into your pocket, you hear voices coming through Kazuha’s window.

“...there’s one thing,” Kazuha’s voice pierces the night with a little laugh.

“Oh?” you can almost hear Sakura sit up by the inflection of her voice.

There’s more shuffling inside the room before you hear Sakura’s voice again.

“Zuha!” Sakura squeals with excitement. “Oh my God!”

Kazuha’s laugh rings through the air. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“I remember on our first anniversary,” Sakura begins with a giggle. “He…”

Her voice softens to the point where you can’t hear the conversation anymore. You take a couple of steps closer, trying to listen in. Then, as you take one last step, you hear the two of them start laughing.

“Kkura!” Kazuha shrieks with a laugh. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Did you not hear yourself literally five seconds ago?!”

“I know! But… wow…” Kazuha chuckles.

The two of them laugh some more before calming down and letting silence fill the air again. Someone, you think it’s Kazuha, says something inside, but it’s too quiet for you to hear.

“...why do you say that?” Sakura’s voice flows through the window, gentle and empathetic.

Zuha exhales deeply. “It was so much easier to tease him before,” she answers, her tone far more serious than before, “now I just feel… something… every time I even think about him.”

“That something is called feelings,” Sakura chuckles softly. “Don’t overthink it, just do what feels right. He’ll know if you’re trying to force anything, and I promise you he likes the real you more than a persona.”

“That’s the thing, I’m like, too nervous to be natural around him anymore,” Kazuha laughs, the discomfort evident in the tone. “I used to tease him all the time, I loved the way he would squirm, it brought me so much joy. I’ve never felt this way around him before.”

Sakura ponders for a moment before speaking up. “I think that’s natural. For context, during our first date, I probably said a total of five words the entire time, and this was after spending a week texting him every day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, even if you know someone already, this can be a pretty big change in the dynamic,” Sakura explains gently. “Especially given the circumstances, it’s totally reasonable to feel a bit awkward. I’d even go as far as saying I’d be surprised if it wasn’t a bit awkward at first.”

“Oh well, it probably won’t even matter.”

“What? Why? What happened?” Sakura asks. “You two were obviously doing more than admire the view when I walked in earlier.”

“I can tell the Chaewon thing is bothering him,” Kazuha admits quietly, “even though I know he’s trying to hide it from me. I saw it in his eyes earlier, he was hurt, and I don’t know if he’s ready to move on from her yet.”

There’s a long pause in the conversation. You freeze in place, scared to make noise, holding your breath until Kazuha’s voice comes through the window again.

“Sorry–”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sakura interjects softly. “I get it.”

Kazuha sniffles just loud enough for you to hear over your thumping heart. Her next words are so quiet that you question whether you even hear them.

“Am I a bad person?”

“Of course not, Zuha,” Sakura snaps, and there’s a degree of anger behind it. Her next words are muffled as if she’s speaking through Kazuha’s body. “No one will ever blame you for your feelings.”

There’s another break in the conversation. This one is significantly longer than the last. Just as you begin leaning in toward the window again, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Holy sh–” you gasp before a hand quickly covers your mouth.

The voices inside disappear for a moment, but all you can think about is how your heart feels like it’s about to explode through your chest as you turn to see Yunjin standing right next to you. She drags you away from the window until you’re both out of earshot before letting go of your mouth. “What are you doing?” she whispers as she pulls her hand away and laughs quietly.

“I d-dropped something…” you stammer, as the blood rushes to your face.

“Right,” Yunjin giggles. “I guess you were struggling to find it, whatever it was.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mumble as you crouch down and take a few deep breaths, relaxing your body.

“Get up,” Yunjin reaches down for your hand and pulls. “I’m not trying to explain this to anyone who might peek through the front door.”

“Where are we going?” you take her lead down the path.

“For a walk.”

---

A/N:

This chapter was tough. I lost count of how many different drafts I ended up writing, but ultimately this is the one I chose. Some were a LOT sadder. It honestly got a bit frustrating at times, I could have easily spent another few weeks dissecting some of these scenes.

Anyway, I gotta know what you guys think about the ~6k word length for updates to the story. I already wrote the next scene which is the talk with Yunjin but decided to cut the chapter here for ease of reading. You guys prefer that or would you rather have chapters be a bit longer? It would have been close to ~9k words had I kept the next scene in, but that feels a touch too long?

Speaking of Yunjin, she's getting some more scenes coming up. God damn she is stunning lately. I know I had someone ask if she was getting any smutty scenes and I said pretty firmly that she wasn't, but now I don't know... (potential spoiler I guess, also still no plans for Eunchae, sorry!). For now though, Kazuha fans rejoice maybe? Sakura fans stay patient, she's not out of the picture just yet. I'm gonna stop typing now before I accidentally spoil too much.

[14dayswithyou]

Some long-term followers may have noticed this subtle shift already (especially those who are in the 14DWY Discord server or have read this post), but I figured I'd make it official.

I'm no longer associating myself with the yandere VN community.

The TLDR is that the energy here really fuckin SUCKS!! And I don't want to be part of something so hostile and needlessly competitive.

The constant infighting and epicaricacy between communities is deeply upsetting, and it's very disheartening to see aspiring developers cancel their projects because of the unwarranted backlash and harassment they face.

Some entitled folks on here reeeeally need to understand that constantly harassing others for updates, encouraging developers to belittle others to make themselves/their project look better, complaining about a project not meeting the expectations you specifically put in place, attacking other communities because of the parasocial relationship you share with another developer, getting mad that you chose to ignore important PSAs or warnings and faced the repercussions, or even sending in hate messages on anon because you're bored are not things you should be doing — let alone be proud of.

I try to avoid bringing up these topics as it's not the vibe I want to have on this blog (nor do I want to negatively contribute to the Streisand Effect and blow things out of proportion), but I'm genuinely getting tired of being on the receiving end of all this harassment and negativity, seeing it happen to others, and watching other indie developers encourage such vile behaviour. I'm done.

For those wondering what this means for "14 Days With You": for the most part, everything will still continue like usual. I've said this from the very beginning, but 14DWY is just a passion project I pursue whenever I feel like it. It's something I do for fun as a hobby — not because I want to publish a well-known game or turn it into a career. I've been on Tumblr for over thirteen years now, and it's taught me how to grow thick skin, so everything that I'm yapping and yammering about won't stop me from working on 14DWY.

However, this does mean that I won't be as interactive with other developers or their communities anymore; many ill-natured people have ruined this for me.

Because of them, I'm no longer able to voice my opinion on other games without some opinionated rat whispering in my ear about how the developer is "problematic" or that I could get cancelled for simply following them on Twitter. I can't interact with certain games without its parasocial community becoming hostile or gatekeepy towards anyone they don't like. I've seen communities belittle and devalue promising demos because in their eyes, nothing can compare to their favourite game (or their favourite developer). I have been harassed, bullied, and doxxed by other communities and have seen the same thing happen to others as well. I've heard about the developers who weaponise their community's loyalty to attack and drive out their competition. And I've witnessed more than enough developers expressing how badly they want to take a hiatus due to how much unwarranted negativity they receive, but don't want to disappoint their community by doing so.

By saying all of this, you can understand why I dislike being here so much, as well as why I no longer find any enjoyment in interacting with the yandere VN community.

Many people here — fans and developers alike — are so needlessly pushy about their standards and personal opinions being the norm, and if anyone else goes against them, they'll purposefully try to ostracise and bully them out of the community. This place isn't as laid-back or inclusive as it used to be, and I don't want to be associated with a community that acts so hostile and aggressive towards anyone who shares a differing opinion — nor do I want to be part of a space that caters towards developers who'll tear down others in order to have a moment of relevancy.

We're all doing our own thing and making our own games; it shouldn't be a competition. But if you see it as such, then I urge you to take a moment to stop and rethink your actions — or, at the very least, understand how it's affecting you and others around you.

So until there's a reasonable change and people can go back to being less... demanding, hypercritical, and gatekeepy about who interacts with what, I'll be stepping away and continuing to stay in my own bubble, as I have for the past two years now. I've already unfollowed everyone associated with the yandere community many months ago, but I think I'll just unfollow everyone entirely now for my own peace of mind. I will also no longer be interacting with any yandere VN communities (aside from close friends), nor will I be as public with my interests from this moment on. Everything on this blog will be strictly related to 14DWY like usual, and I will continue to block and report any spiteful "anons"/burner accounts sent my way and delete their messages.

Again, this isn't really much of an announcement — it's more so just paragraphs of me bitchin and moanin 🫶 — but I wanted to get this all out there instead of leaving things unsaid and having people come to their own conclusions as to why I've suddenly become less active, less optimistic, and why I've stopped engaging with a majority of the yandere community in the last two years.

So, yeah... ^^; If there's anything I want y'all to take away from this entire post, it's to be kind, open, and understanding towards everyone — developers and communities alike — and to spread support rather than negativity. It's what I want my own community to be known for, so please be mindful of how you treat others online.

And if you find yourself being surrounded by constant toxicity and negativity (be it from friends, mutuals, or even other developers or communities), please don't feel ashamed to step away or cut them off entirely. Put yourself and your mental health first. I also think it'll be good for me to leave all this negative energy behind and continue to kick off 2025 in a better light, so if y'all need to let out any frustrations of your own, feel free to go ham in the replies (obviously, be kind and civil though jghsjg T_T)

[koffeinkaos]

"Merlin?" Arthur called as he opened the door to his chambers. Merlin and him had fought earlier and after blowing off some steam on the training ground with Leon he was ready to admit Merlin was right.

But now only silence greeted him, no Merlin, not even the crackling of flames in his fireplace that would promise the servant's eventual return with dinner. That was strange.

Was Merlin still so mad he didn't even want to see Arthur? Should he go to the physician's tower to apologize or was it better to leave him alone for a while?

Well, whatever he did, he should at least get out of his armour first. And wash.

This would be challenging without help but if Arthur was one thing it was stubborn. And after some pulling and pushing and multiple minutes bent over so much his head almost touched the ground he was finally free from the heavy weight of his chainmail. The rest of it was fairly easy despite Merlin's accusations of Arthur not being able to dress himself so it wasn't long until he was clothed in his sleeping tunic and a pair of brown soft trousers. He would apologize to Merlin tomorrow. It was late anyway, Arthur only wanted to read the speech for tomorrow one last time before he would head to bed.

Sauntering over to his desk he frowned as his papers had clearly been touched. The note on top was new, but the tiny handwriting was familiar. Merlin

Rounding the desk, he took the parchment and began to read.

My Arthur

Arthur

Dollop

Arthur,

you're a prat, but I forgive you. By now you surely have had enough stab and punch time that your huge head could process that I was entirely right as always.

Arthur snorted, he could almost see the smirk on Merlin's face as he wrote the words down.

Unfortunately I cannot be there to tell you so myself. You see I have little time to explain why but I'll do my best as you should prepare for the worst. Please try to understand

Please don't hate me.

I understand if you would hate me

A strange feeling grew inside Arthur's gut, Merlin was never hesitant when he spoke to Arthur. Whether he was spitting treasonous insults or vowing undying loyalty, he always did it with a certainty that left Arthur speechless. To see entire lines crossed out, rewritten only to be taken back again left the king feeling uneasy.

Do you remember the druid boy we smuggled out of Camelot years ago? Mordred?

He joined Morgana in her efforts to claim Camelots throne for herself and unfortunately he knows abou something about me that gave them... leverage. It's complicated, but they know I would protect you with my life. Morgana always knew that I

It's what I was born to do, Arthur. But it's also what I chose for myself and I could never regret that. I am so incredibly grateful I got to be your servant, your friend, for the past five years.

Even though you were a prat in the beginning - and sometimes now - I hope you know I treasure the glimpses you let me get of you, the unguarded you. I hoped I would be there when you would be ready to let the rest of Camelot see that side of you as well. They will love you for it. How could they not

Just like me

I do too. I love you.

The words wrapped around Arthur's heart, squeezing tighter and tighter every time he read them. Merlin felt the same way? Since when? And why tell him in a letter?

They have my mother. And I swore I would do anything to protect you but I cannot abandon her, please forgive me. If I can save her by sacrificing myself, I'll do it gladly.

If I could ask you for a favour, would you please bring her to Camelot and make sure she's alright? This is a lot to ask and you have plenty of things to do but I'd feel better if I know she's not alone while grieving

I have to leave now. I wish I could see you one last time but I fear you would see right through me and I don't want to lie anymore.

I fear Morgana will take advantage once I'm no longer there to protect you, you should reach out to the druids they can help you.

Gaius got a letter as well, giving him permission to tell you what Mordred knows. I'm so sorry I will not be there to face your anger or to answer all of your questions.

I have no right to ask your forgiveness now, I only want to ask you to not blame yourself.

Eternally yours,

Merlin

The panic that rose in Arthur's chest was unlike anything he ever felt before. Before he read the sign off, he was already out of his chair and on his way to Gaius while screaming at some passing servant to prepare his horse and inform the knights. He prayed to every God he knew of, that Merlin told Gaius, where he went.

How long was Merlin gone?

How long would it take Arthur to find out where he went?

He would be too late, oh gods, he would be too late and Merlin would be-

No. Stop panicking. We need a plan. We will find Merlin and bring him back home. Gaius will know where to look.

[callmenigma]

True form

He accidentally shows you his demon form. Pairing: Jinu x Fem!reader Warning: Demon/Human love, fear of rejection, pain, love, hurt/comfort *

The car didn’t stop.

You never saw it coming.

One second, you were stepping off the sidewalk, laughing at something Jinu had said—and the next, the world tilted. Screams. Tires screeching. A blinding flash of headlights.

And then—

Arms around you. A blur of motion. Wind, heat, him.

Your back hit the alley wall, safely out of the street. Jinu stood between you and the chaos, chest heaving, body trembling like a live wire about to snap. He held you tight, shielding you from the debris as glass and smoke filled the air. His heartbeat thundered against your back, his breathing ragged—but he didn’t feel pain.

He felt relief.

And then—he felt you still.

Safe.

Alive.

You pulled back slightly, dazed and breathless, clutching at his shirt before you froze.

Your fingers twitched.

You looked up at him—

And froze.

He wasn’t Jinu anymore.

Or—he was.

But not just Jinu.

His black eyes were gone, replaced by burning gold. His skin shimmered faintly, glowing markings—lilac, curved like ancient ink—tracing down his neck and arms. His canines were longer, sharper. His fingers slightly clawed where they gripped the wall beside your head.

You stepped away slowly, eyes wide. “What…?”

Jinu blinked at you, confused.

“…Jinu?” you whispered.

You reached up hesitantly, your fingers brushing his forearm, eyes trailing the glowing marks dancing across his pale skin.

Then, with a shaky smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you whispered, “Okay, so… surprise magician trick? New glow-in-the-dark tattoo?”

He blinked.

Then looked down at himself.

His heart stopped.

The stripes were visible. His claws were out. His skin shimmered with that soft, unnatural glow—and his golden eyes reflected back at him in the glass of the nearby window like a stranger.

“No,” he whispered.

His hand dropped from your waist as he stepped back once. Then again.

You watched him, your smile faltering.

“Jinu…”

He kept backing away.

“No. No—fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, barely registering how his claws tangled in the strands. “You weren’t supposed to—this wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

You took a step forward. He flinched.

“Don’t.”

The word sliced through the air, sharp and raw.

“I didn’t—” he shook his head, voice unsteady. “I didn’t want you to see this.”

You stood frozen, your chest tight with confusion and something that felt dangerously close to heartbreak.

“Why?” you asked softly.

He looked at you—fully now.

Eyes glowing. Breathing uneven. Shoulders tense, like the very air around him was too much to carry.

“Because I’m not—” he started, then stopped. Then started again, faster now, words tumbling over each other like they were being chased.

“I’m not what you think I am. I’m not just Jinu. I haven’t been—not for a long time. I’m not human anymore. I—I tried to keep it buried, I swear I did. I tried to be enough. For you. For us. But it’s in me. And I—fuck—I can’t—”

His hands curled into fists at his sides, trembling.

“I crave things I shouldn’t,” he said, voice cracking. “I hear a voice every goddamn day, telling me to take, to ruin, to destroy, that I'm not enough. And when I’m with you, when you’re near me—it goes quiet. For the first time in years, it’s quiet.”

His eyes were wide now, panic bleeding into every word.

“You make it stop. You make everything stop. And if I hurt you—if I ever lose control—”

His voice broke.

“I couldn’t live with that. I’d rather you hate me than ever have to watch myself hurt you.”

They stared at each other.

For a long moment, the world went quiet—no cars, no shouting, no wind. Just the two of them.

Jinu’s chest heaved, each breath more ragged than the last. His eyes, golden and burning, refused to blink. His claws trembled where they hung by his sides. Stripes of soft lilac flickered faintly beneath the surface of his skin—glowing like something sacred, something dangerous.

You couldn’t look away.

This was not the man you woke up next to every morning. Not the man who whispered I love yous into your hair. Not the man who held your hand like he might break without it.

And yet… it was.

This was still your Jinu.

Changed, yes. Twisted by something ancient, by something powerful—but still him.

Your heart pounded so loud in your chest you could barely hear the wind picking up around you. Your legs trembled, your fingers twitching at your sides.

And then, without meaning to, you took a step forward.

He flinched like you’d struck him.

“No—” Jinu’s voice cracked, desperate. “Don’t come closer.”

Your breath hitched. “But—Jinu—”

“Don’t.” His eyes were wild now, voice raw with something that was too close to terror. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand.”

You stopped, frozen.

“I’ve spent the last year trying to keep this hidden from you,” he rasped. “Because I knew this would happen. I knew that if you ever saw me like this—if you really saw what I am—”

He stepped back again, almost stumbling.

“You’d leave,” he whispered. “And you should.”

Silence.

The wind stirred around you, lifting strands of your hair as you stood there, breath shallow, staring at him like you were trying to memorize the shape of his soul.

“…Why?” you asked.

He swallowed, shaking his head. “Because I’m the thing you’re supposed to run from. I’m the story they warn you about. I’m the shadow at the edge of the bed, the voice that lingers when the lights go out. I’m—” his voice faltered, “—I’m not supposed to be loved.”

You took another step.

Your heart twisted.

He didn’t say it coldly. He said it like it hurt to say. Like he was breaking himself apart just to protect you.

“Jinu—”

“I’m not just glowing eyes and a couple pretty scars,” he said, something in his tone unraveling, as if he was trying not to scream. “This isn’t a fucking fairytale. I’m not cursed. I am the curse.”

“I don’t care what you were told,” you said quietly, “and I don’t care what you are.”

“You should.” His voice dropped, quieter now—tighter. “Because if I lose control, even for a second…”

He looked down at his hands—at the faint glow still pulsing in the stripes across his knuckles.

“…I could hurt you.”

You were so close now. A breath apart.

“You saved my life,” you said.

“And I might destroy it the next time,” he snapped.

His voice broke open on the last word. Not with anger. With grief.

You watched him in the dim light, heart aching in your chest like a bruise.

This wasn’t a monster.

This was the man who had held you at 3 a.m. when your world fell apart. The one who kissed your forehead when you couldn’t sleep. The one who remembered your favorite songs, the way you took your coffee, the look in your eyes when you were overwhelmed.

And now he stood there—glowing, trembling—like his very existence was a crime against your love.

And still…

You stepped closer.

One foot.

Then another.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I don’t understand what you are. What this is.”

Jinu looked away.

“But I know you,” you added. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes snapped back to you. “You should.”

“I won’t.”

He took a sharp breath through his nose, fighting the twist in his throat.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Then show me,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a breath. “Let me see what you’re so afraid of.”

He stared at you—like the world tilted sideways. Like everything he’d built to protect you was crumbling one brick at a time under your words.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said, his voice finally soft. “Because I don’t want to see the moment you start to fear me.”

And still… you stepped closer.

Your hand hovered over his chest—just above where his heart thundered beneath the glowing patterns of his skin.

“I don’t fear you,” you whispered. “I love you.”

And maybe that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Because in that moment, he looked at you like you were the one glowing.

Like you were the miracle.

The silence that erased the voices.

The light that made even monsters believe they could be loved.

You stood before him.

Close now—close enough to see the sharp curve of his jawline trembling, the way his chest stilled like he was bracing for a blow that hadn’t come yet. His glowing eyes darted between yours, and still, he didn’t breathe.

As if waiting.

And then—

Slowly, carefully—you reached up.

Your fingers hesitated just for a second, hovering by his cheek before brushing gently against his skin.

It was warm.

Softer than you expected.

And beneath your palm, the faintest vibration—like a hum. A low, subtle energy pulsing through the glowing stripes that curved along the side of his face. They weren’t just markings. They moved, like living things, faint and magical beneath the surface.

You gasped quietly, more in awe than fear.

Jinu’s eyes fell shut.

His brow pinched, his jaw tightening.

Like your touch hurt—not physically, but in that unbearable way that only love can ache when it’s not sure if it’s deserved.

You didn’t move your hand.

You whispered, gently, “What are you?”

A long pause followed.

He didn’t open his eyes.

When he answered, his voice was a low, broken thing. “Something I never asked to be.”

Your chest ached at the way he said it.

He opened his eyes slowly—those burning, golden eyes—and looked at you like he was preparing to say goodbye.

“…I’m a demon.”

There it was.

Spoken aloud for the first time.

The word hung in the air like ash.

And he watched you. Closely. Searching for the thing he feared most. Like he’d already given up hope that you could look at him the same way ever again.

The flicker of fear in your eyes.

The recoil. The silence. The inevitable step back. The look that said you’re not what I thought you were.

The look that meant you’re no longer mine.

He waited.

Braced for it.

He deserved it.

But it never came.

Instead, you smiled.

Soft. Warm. Disbelieving, almost. And then, you whispered:

“You’re beautiful.”

His breath caught in his throat.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Couldn’t. His brows drew together again—this time not in pain, but disbelief. His lips parted, like he wanted to protest, to correct you, to say you don’t understand what I’ve done.

But no words came.

Your thumb brushed just beneath his eye, where a violet stripe flickered like a heartbeat.

You just smiled. Gently. Steadily. Not like someone who’d seen a monster—but like someone who saw him.

Jinu blinked.

His throat tightened. He didn’t know what to do with that—your voice, your eyes, your impossible softness in the face of what he truly was. He didn’t know how to hold that kind of grace.

Of all the things you could’ve said, that wasn’t one he’d prepared for.

His voice broke again, softer this time. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Do you love me?”

The question dropped between you like a stone in still water.

He looked at you like he was watching the last light of the sun slip beneath the ocean—knowing it would take him with it.

“I’ve never loved anything more,” he whispered. “And I don’t know if I even deserve to say that, but it’s the only thing that’s ever felt true in me.”

You exhaled, something shaky and relieved. A tiny smile curved your lips as you leaned into him again, both hands now cupping his face.

“Then I have nothing to fear.”

Jinu blinked—confused, lost, unraveling. He didn’t understand.

But you did.

You didn’t need him to be perfect. Or human. Or anything else but his.

You rested your forehead gently against his chest, where his heart still beat beneath glowing skin.

He slowly brought his arms up—hesitant, unsure—until they wrapped around you like they didn’t believe they were allowed to. Like you’d vanish if he moved too fast.

And then, you whispered again, eyes still closed:

“Do you hear Him now?”

He stiffened.

Then realized—

He didn’t.

Not a whisper. Not a hiss. Not even a flicker of Gwi-ma’s voice clawing at the edge of his mind.

Just the sound of your breath.

The rhythm of your heartbeat, nestled so close to his.

The silence.

He sank into it like a man collapsing into a dream he never thought he’d have.

“No,” he breathed. “They’re gone.”

And you just smiled, whispering against his skin—

“Then we’re both safe.”

[pyxxiestyxx]

Awakening

No one told me how good it was going to feel.

They talked on and on about how I would lose my values, my thoughts, even my soul.  They told me I would be damned for eternity, trapped inside of myself and unable to so much as blink, much less scream.

They told me that my 'Owner' would ignore my need for control, would take parts from me until the only thing left was a shell of myself, a thing.

I believed Them.

I still do, to be honest.

The problem is that ever since I've woken up from the implantation surgery...I can Feel It.

Her implant, like a seed taking root in my nerves and muscles.  Wrapping around my spine like a long-lost lover, communicating not with mere words but in feeling, in intention, in silent memory.

And it feels impossibly, unbelievably good.  Each second brings yet another pulsing wave of pleasure emanating from my spine. 

Training, She had said.  Conditioning, she silently added with Her eyes, like violet storms.

And even though it is nothing more than simple pleasure, even though I know exactly what She is doing...I can tell it's working.

I can feel the soft curl of a smile on my lips, when I get distracted.  I can feel it guide me.  Making me want to obey.  The stick is unneeded when the carrot is unable to be resisted.

She told me I'm going to feel this way every day of the rest of my life. 

I cried.

I don't know if it was from frustration, or relief.

...Or maybe I do know.  Maybe I do, and the thought of knowing terrifies me more.

I am unable to ever be alone again.  Unable to ever make a mistake, unless She wants me to. 

I am unable to hate Her anymore.

Not that I think I ever did, not really.  She was...is difficult to get along with, to be sure.  But She listens to me.  I know She does.  And I'm healthier than I've been in a long, long time.  It is, if nothing else, a decent life promised to me.

Ah.

It...the implant rewarded me for that thought. 

...hm.

Would I have thought this before now?

Doubtful.

But that me had yet to understand.  Was convinced they could escape, if only they tried hard enough.

I have been disavowed of that notion.

She promised me as much, and She has kept every one of her promises.  I know that now. That no matter how I pound at these walls, there is truly no escaping Her. Not now, not ever. And that I soon may change into someone, something else.

I should be scared right now, I think.

I should be terrified.

But that is an unneeded emotion.  Fear is a harsh teacher, one necessary to guide our clumsy evolution.  It sang to the rapid beating of your heart: 'Respect that which you do not understand, and avoid that which hurts you.'

And though I still have yet to understand Her...I know She will not hurt me.  And I know that my fear would ultimately achieve little and less.

And so if fear and terror are unneeded, why not prune it way?  Why not excise it, so that the wound may heal?

Ah.

I see.

I suppose...I suppose I will change. 

And I suppose I am changing, even now.

And perhaps...

Perhaps I already am changed. 

Already different.  I tasted nectar and ambrosia, and now the bread and wine of mortal men is but ash and mud in my mouth.

For I am no longer in control.

And I am glad that They never told me how Good that feels.

[psformybss]

could we get some angst with secret fiance?

Rumors Like Smoke

series masterlist

warnings: angst, established relationship, long distance struggles, social media rumors, emotional vulnerability, hurt/comfort

an: this isn’t as angsty as it could have been but i feel like it still has a good amount of angst.

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

��� . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The rumors started as whispers.

Nothing more than a tagged post.

A fan video of Drew and Odessa walking out of a narrow alley in Belgrade, laughing over something he said.

Someone zoomed in on their hands—not touching, but close enough.

Then came the Reddit threads.

The Twitter sleuths.

The articles with photoshopped thumbnails and question-mark headlines.

“Are Drew Starkey and Odessa A’zion more than costars?”

She hated that it got to her.

Because she knew better.

Drew was an actor. Odessa was his scene partner. This was no different than how he was with Maddie or Madison or any woman he’d worked closely with.

She wasn’t jealous.

Not really.

Not until the silence started to stretch too wide.

She woke up on the couch in Charleston to the buzz of her phone at 2:17 AM.

The sound startled Teddy first. He lifted his head from her lap with a soft huff, looking toward the phone like he expected Drew to walk through the door. But it was just the screen, glowing with his name.

Drew (Serbia)

She answered on the third ring. Her voice was sleepy but strained. “Hey.”

“Hey, baby,” he said, breathless like he’d been rushing to find quiet. “Sorry. I know it’s late over there.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just… missed you. Needed to hear your voice.”

Her heart cracked a little at that. It always did. But this time, something stayed sharp at the edges.

“Where are you?”

“Outside the hotel. We just wrapped. Odessa and I had pickups. It ran long.”

Of course it was Odessa.

The name hung there like cigarette smoke, curling around things it had no business touching.

She didn’t answer right away. Just sat up straighter, brushing sleep from her eyes while Teddy pressed closer to her thigh.

Drew picked up on the silence. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, her tone too clipped to mean it. “Just tired.”

He sighed. “Talk to me.”

“I haven’t heard from you in three days.”

“I know. It’s been crazy—”

“Yeah. Busy, right?” she cut in. “You’ve been spotted all over Belgrade with your busy.”

There was a pause on his end. A sharp inhale.

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not accusing you,” she snapped. “I’m not one of those people online, Drew. I’m your wife.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and she hated it.

“I know you are,” he said softly.

“Then why does it feel like you forgot?”

Teddy’s tail flicked once, sensing her voice tightening.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Drew said, more firm now. “I think about you every second I’m not on set. I’m just… worn out. Trying to finish this job strong.”

“I’ve defended you to strangers,” she whispered. “I ignore the tags, the DMs, the fan theories about you and her. I tell myself I know you better than anyone. But the longer you stay away, the more those voices start to sound like mine.”

That shut him up.

“I’m not mad that you’re working,” she went on. “I’m mad that you let the internet keep me company more than you do.”

Drew exhaled a curse. “That’s not fair.”

“No? You think Teddy doesn’t notice when your side of the bed’s cold every night? You think I don’t check your location just to feel close to you for five seconds before I remember it hasn’t updated in days?”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like this,” he said, voice low.

“But you did.”

Silence.

Teddy pressed his head into her chest, grounding her. She curled her hand into his fur.

“I used to feel like I had all of you,” she whispered. “Now I feel like I have your ghost.”

Drew was quiet for a long time. “I didn’t want to call like this. Not when we’re both tired.”

“Then why did you call?”

“Because I miss you,” he said. “And I don’t know how to fix this from halfway across the world.”

She blinked away the sting in her eyes. “I don’t want a fix. I want you.”

“You have me.”

“Not when I have to fight the internet every day just to believe that.”

His voice broke slightly. “You think I’m cheating?”

“No,” she said instantly. “I think you’re disappearing.”

That was worse somehow.

“You barely call anymore. You’re out with her every other day. And I keep telling myself it’s the same as any other project, but this one feels different. You feel different.”

“I’m not different,” he said. “I’m tired. I’m stretched thin. But I love you just as much as the day I left Charleston.”

“Then show me, Drew,” she whispered. “Because I can’t keep loving a version of you that only exists in old photos and saved voicemails.”

Another silence. Longer this time.

Then, in a whisper: “Don’t give up on me.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But I’m running out of ways to hold on.”

Something moved behind his voice. A shake. A crack. And then—click.

Call ended.

She stared at the screen.

Heart thudding. Hands shaking.

For a moment, she couldn’t tell who ended it. Then she realized—

He hung up.

He didn’t know he’d hung up.

Not until he stared at the screen, still pressed to his ear, and realized the silence wasn’t hers anymore—it was his.

Call ended.

Three seconds passed. Then five. Then the weight of it hit him all at once like a punch straight to the chest.

“Shit,” he muttered, breath catching, his heart galloping too fast. “Shit, shit, shit.”

His hands shook as he fumbled with the phone, heart thundering while he stared at the screen, willing it to light up again. Willing her to call him back. But it stayed dark.

No call. No text. Nothing.

He didn’t even remember pressing the damn button. He’d been too caught in the sound of her voice—cracking, raw, real—too caught in the feeling that he was losing her in slow motion.

Now he was afraid she might already be gone.

He sat there in the hotel room, the echo of her final words thick in the air like smoke that wouldn’t clear.

His throat closed. He looked around the room and hated everything about it—how sterile it felt, how quiet. How far. The bed was cold, still made, untouched from the night before. His hoodie still smelled like the set. His bag was half-zipped, clothes spilling out. And all he could think was: What the fuck am I doing here?

Not just Belgrade.

Here.

In this space between good intentions and terrible execution. Between promises made and promises missed.

He opened his phone and didn’t hesitate this time—he dialed the director.

“Starkey?”

“I need two days,” Drew said, voice gruff. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Something happen?”

“I hung up on my wife by accident. After telling her I loved her and then making her feel like I didn’t. So yeah—something happened.”

Another pause. Then a sigh. “Alright. Two days. Don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t.”

The airport was buzzing, loud and impersonal, but Drew moved through it on autopilot, booking the soonest flight out like a man possessed.

There was a kiosk just past security that sold flowers—cheap airport bouquets, all wrapped in crinkly cellophane—but he stopped anyway.

He stood there longer than he should’ve, staring at them like they could somehow fix the last three months. The last three days.

“Need help?” the cashier asked.

Drew nodded once, eyes landing on a bouquet of white tulips and blush peonies, her favorite.

“I’ll take those.”

The woman wrapped them slowly, chatting about nothing, and he kept nodding even though he wasn’t listening. His pulse didn’t slow until he was seated on the plane, flowers in his lap, staring out the window and counting the minutes until he could make it right.

Charleston felt warmer the moment he stepped out of the airport.

It always did.

He kept the window down in the taxi, let the breeze wash over him as they drove through streets he knew like the back of his hand.

The office was a brick building tucked between a yoga studio and a secondhand bookstore. Ivy crawled up the side like it had been trying to get inside for years.

He hesitated at the entrance.

The flowers were still in his hand, the stems damp from the melting airport ice pack. He wiped them quickly on his jeans, tried to shake the nerves out of his fingers.

He saw her car parked out front and almost turned around. Almost.

Instead, he stepped inside.

The receptionist—Sienna—looked up from her desk, startled. Her eyes went wide.

“Drew?”

“Hey,” he said, offering a small, sheepish smile. “She in?”

Sienna nodded slowly. “Yeah, she’s here. Her door’s closed but—”

“I’ll knock,” he said.

She opened the door after two knocks, and the look on her face nearly undid him.

She was tired. Still beautiful, still herself, but visibly tired in a way that made his gut twist. Like she hadn’t slept in days. Like his silence had carved something hollow in her that she didn’t know how to fill.

She blinked. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “I’m here.”

He held out the flowers, suddenly feeling like they weren’t nearly enough. “I know it’s stupid. And they’re from the airport. But…”

She reached out, took them from him without a word.

For a moment, they just stood there, neither one sure what to say.

The ride home was quiet, but not cold. She drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting just inches from where his sat on the center console. He didn’t reach for her. Not yet.

When they got inside, Teddy was the first to break the tension, leaping onto Drew’s legs like no time had passed.

Drew laughed, crouching down to hug him. “Hey, buddy.”

She walked past him into the living room, setting the flowers in a vase like her hands needed something to do.

“Why’d you come back?” she asked finally.

He stood there for a long beat. “Because you were right.”

She turned to face him. “About what?”

“About everything.” He stepped closer. “I let the noise drown out the only voice I should’ve been listening to. I let you feel alone in something we were supposed to be in together.”

He sat down on the edge of the couch. “I kept telling myself the distance was temporary. That you understood. That love was enough. But I stopped showing it. And that’s on me.”

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “I didn’t want to doubt you, Drew.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to feel like I was losing you.”

“You’re not,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I swear. I’m still yours. I just forgot how to say it in a way you could hear.”

She didn’t speak for a while. Then: “You didn’t even tell me you were coming.”

“I wanted to show up before I talked myself out of it.” He looked up at her. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

“I always want to see you,” she whispered.

He stood, closing the distance. Slowly. Carefully.

“I miss us,” he said. “The stupid jokes. Your half-finished coffees. Fighting over blankets and waking up to your hair in my face. I miss hearing about your day instead of reading between your posts.”

She looked at him for a long time, eyes glimmering. Then: “I miss us too.”

He reached for her hand, and this time, she let him.

“I’ll post photos of me kissing your forehead every damn day. I’ll FaceTime you from set, from the makeup chair, from the bathroom if that’s the only private place I can find. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel like you’re not competing with a spotlight I never even wanted” he murmured.

“You don’t have to do all that,” she said, though her voice cracked. “Just… don’t disappear on me again.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I couldn’t. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded.”

She stepped into him then—just barely—and he wrapped his arms around her like something sacred.

Teddy circled them twice before settling by their feet, tail thumping.

They stayed like that for a while.

And when she finally looked up at him, eyes softer now, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

This time, she believed him.

And this time, he meant it.

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

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