#but it has a very special place in my heart not even sorry

[pullupinarari]

I feel so cold without you [LH]

summary: Lewis' schedule has been crazy, and he can't spend much time at home. but little Grace doesn't understand why.

author's note: I am still struggling with a writer's block so I'm so sorry cause this is honestly so bad and makes no sense, but I'm trying to get my creativity flowing again so pls bear with me. this is angsty but doesn't have a destructive ending. also barely proofread

• masterlist

wc: 5531 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Everybody knows that Lewis’ life involves traveling a lot, to different countries, continents, all the time - that’s not new to anyone. You met him in this reality, married him with this crazy agenda, and Grace was born in the middle of what you consider to be ‘normal’ for your life beside your husband. 

As a couple, you always managed to deal with the schedules, the work trips, the races abroad. As a family, you learned how to juggle being a mum and a wife to a F1 driver, with your own work responsibilities, teaching little Grace the best you can all about why her dad has to be away so much. 

When Lewis is away for a little time, your daughter understands it. She sees her daddy racing on the television, she chants his name as if she was there in person - she knows her dad is doing what he is best at, besides being the bestest daddy ever to her.

But Grace is very, very attached to Lewis, in the exact same way that Lewis is extremely attached to his princess, and they can’t stay away from each other for long. The problem is, for the past couple of weeks, your husband hasn’t been home. 

Lewis was in Italy, preparing everything at Ferrari, and setting everything up for the day you and Grace will meet him there, at the new place that you will call ‘home’ for this new period of your life. Then, the driver had to fly with the team to Spain, to prepare for the pre-season. So, his schedule has been incredibly tight, leaving him with no chance of flying back to London, to his girls’ arms, even for just a night. 

As the weeks pass by, your daughter starts growing confused. Daddy isn’t racing on the telly, he isn’t home to play with her, so the toddler could show him how she is feeling more confident to ride her pink bike, and the only time she sees him is through a video call that he does when calling you at the end of the day. 

So, why is daddy not home to tuck Gracie into bed every night? To give her the special forehead kisses that only he knows how to do, the ones that would scare away all the monsters?

Inside the three-year-old’s brain, everything made more sense while she could see him driving his car on the television, listening to him talking on the interviews following the race, knowing for a fact that her daddy is working. And, as much as you keep telling the toddler that dad is at work, where is he working? Why can’t Grace watch him on the television now? And why can’t he come home?

It’s been too long - you know. You admit it too. But you can’t say that to your baby’s face, adding more to the exasperation living inside her confused mind. It’s already heartbreaking enough to see your daughter’s eyes growing sadder by the day, noticing how she grows quieter through the week, seeing the disappointment plastered all over her face every time you have to say ‘no’ whenever she asks ‘is daddy coming home today?’

The salty tears painting the toddler’s features when she begs her daddy to come home over the phone are enough to make yours and Lewis’ hearts sting with an indescribable pain - one that seems to never cease, no matter how hard you try to nestle her close to your chest, trying your hardest to shush her fears and insecurities, making her feel protected in the first home she ever knew - your skin. 

- You don’t love me anymore, daddy? - Grace blurts out in between sobs, her little voice sounding muffled against your skin as she hides her face on the crook of your neck. 

The words leaving her mouth were enough to make Lewis’ heart sink, making sure that question will forever be engraved in his mind, not letting him forget about this moment, about the hurt in his princess’ voice when wondering why he is not home with her.

The man is left speechless for a minute, feeling a bunch of hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as well. It has, definitely, been too long since he got to have a moment just for his family, dedicating all his hours to his favourite girls. 

He knows exactly how Grace is feeling, because Lewis feels the exact same void fulfilling his days, desperate to have some free time so he can go back home as soon as possible. But unfortunately, everything has been too much, lately, and the driver’s schedule is not giving him a break. 

- Daddy loves you more than anything else in this world, princess, you know that… - Lewis’ trembling voice cuts his phrase short, swallowing the knot that’s stuck in the man’s throat as his daughter continues weeping on the other side of the line.  - Then come home! I miss you so much, daddy - Grace insists, her sobs growing louder as the little girl tries to understand why her dad can’t be by her side, right now. 

He wishes he could. Lewis feels every bone in his body frail at night, when he lays his head on the pillow and opens his camera roll, going back to every picture and video that reminds him of some moments when he genuinely felt happy and at peace - with Grace in his arms, with you by his side. 

Tonight, some silent tears are finally freed from his eyes, looking at all the pictures of his child in his phone, while his brain is still replaying the toddler’s harsh question that she let out over the call earlier today. 

Lewis feels this moment completely wrecking him, especially when he stops to think about all the videos you send him while he is away, updating him on every new achievement and discovery your daughter makes during the days, trying your best so your husband won’t feel like he is missing too much. 

But he is. And he knows it - especially when he realizes how fast time passes by, how tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for anyone. How does he know that tomorrow is coming? Your husband keeps waiting for it, hoping that a break will eventually arrive so he can go home, but he shouldn’t suppose that tomorrow is coming, because nothing in this world can assure him that there will be one. And that thought kills him, because while he is thinking about it, he realizes that it’s been five weeks since the last time he got to be home, tucking his daughter to bed. 

The excited, bubbly Grace you know has been missing lately, leaving room for a sad and confused toddler to show up in her place - one that holds tighter to you when you hug her, when you’re holding her in your arms, kissing her curls as her lips just show you a downhearted pout. 

As your child grows up, she finds new challenges in life, and dealing with new emotions definitely is one of them - and missing her daddy this much has been leading to a rollercoaster of questions to erupt in your baby’s creative mind. You tuck her into bed, but it’s not the same thing. Your kisses are sweet and protective, but they are not Lewis’ cuddles that make sure to create a shield around the little princess, making sure no monsters can reach her. 

Your days have been hard as well, trying your best to deal with Grace’s doubts and tantrums, hushing her as you assure her that you are right there for her, informing her that her daddy will be by the girl’s side in no time. But, in the silent darkness of the night, heavy sighs escape your figure as well, loud noises of concern erupt in your mind, questioning if you are doing a good job, if you’re being a good mum, if you’re supporting your husband the right way. But, sometimes, you also ask yourself: where do you stand, in the middle of all this?

The arms that hold Grace are the same ones that hold Lewis when he needs it the most, you being the pillar of your family, holding everything in place when a storm threatens to push your boat away from safe land. Either way, you know better than to complain, understanding how this entire situation is hard for your husband as well, sharing the same pain and apprehension when you talk to him over the phone. 

Feeling restless from so many sleepless nights, being haunted by the infinite thoughts running through his brain, the man finally managed to get a free day - just 24 hours, but enough for him to fly back home, accepting the short break if that means he can hold the light of his life in his arms for a bit, shushing away all the small weeps that leave the toddler’s figure. 

Arriving early in the morning, you are already waiting to see your husband walking through the door, with a cup of warm tea in your hand. You can’t deny that there’s a small glimpse of nervousness bubbling inside of your stomach, at the thought of finally seeing him again, praying that his presence will lighten up the mood and help your daughter feel better. 

You’re sipping on your tea when you hear the front door open. Shortly after, his shadow appears on the kitchen’s tiles, mere seconds before the man himself is in front of you - the shine in his eyes, the relieved smile cracking through his tired features is noticeable, as he immediately walks over to you. 

Once your figures meet, Lewis wraps his arms around your figure, holding you close without saying a word, sharing a deep, tight hug while kissing your shoulder lovingly from time to time. There’s a heavy sigh leaving his body, as if being home is the magic solution that helps improve all his problems, taking a huge weight off his shoulders. 

His face is glued to the crook of your neck for a while, as your fingers reach to caress his scalp. It feels like time has stopped, as if the world is not spinning anymore. Both of you are merged in a bubble of comfort and reassurance, almost making up for all the stress and agony that your parental hearts have been feeling lately. 

When your lips finally connect again - after so long, a deafening silence is created between your bodies, as if your kisses speak for the two of you. I miss you, I need you, things have been so hard without you by my side. Both of you feel the same, both of you know how hard the past weeks have been for your family. 

Breaking the kiss, your foreheads are still glued, the tips of your noses touching, wanting to feel the other as close as possible. 

- She’s still asleep? - your husband breaks the silence, asking about Grace. He has very little time to stay, and he wants to enjoy every second by his daughter’s side. Still, the man can’t help but bite his own tongue as he looks at the time: it’s 7:24 am, and he knows that his baby usually doesn’t wake up that early. 

He earns a nod from you. The little girl hasn’t had nice nights of sleep lately either, constantly waking up after having bad dreams, always begging you to cuddle her to sleep, to let her sleep by your side. To tell the truth, your heart softens every time that your daughter asks to sleep with you, loving how she helps you fight Lewis’ absence as well, you two cuddling each other so you don’t feel so alone without his bright, powerful presence around.  

- She’s on your side of the bed, though - you inform him. Last night wasn’t any different. Another nightmare, another cuddle session in your bed before the toddler falls asleep again. 

Lewis furrows his eyebrows at your words for a second, before remembering that you had already told him all about how Grace has been having more bad dreams than usual, especially since she started feeling so down, constantly asking if her dad doesn’t want to be around her anymore. 

Again, a deep sigh leaves his lips, filling the air surrounding you. The memories of everything that his daughter has been saying, make an incredibly heavy weight to form on his shoulders, hating how he has to stay away for work so much, how he hasn’t been able to give his princess all the attention she needs and deserves. 

Trying to shrug those thoughts away, the man serves himself a cup of coffee before reaching for your hand, guiding you to lay on the sofa with him, wanting to enjoy this day to the fullest - starting with a cuddle session with his wife, until it’s time for Grace to wake up. 

Having your husband’s arms wrapped around you again almost feels like a dream. Something that has felt so distant for the past weeks, that you were craving and needing so much. And now, you finally have him all to yourself, and as you rest your head on his chest, a comfortable silence strings your bodies along. No one dares to say a word, just focusing on how each other’s touch feels light yet soothing against the other’s skin, leaving kisses here and there, hugging tighter and closer. 

In the back of your head, there’s a small assumption that keeps itching you. As much as you want to believe that he is home to stay - at least for a week or so, unfortunately, you noticed how small is the bag that he brought with him when he arrived. An incredibly small one, the type that Lewis only uses when he is only away for a weekend or so. So, as much as you want to make the most of this, the cuddles, his presence, you know it’s something that it won’t last. 

It’s like Lewis can feel the tension that slowly creeps on your muscles the more you think about it, his hands rubbing your back to try and calm you down, showing that he is here, right by your side, trying to take your mind off of whatever is bothering you. 

But in reality, he too has been obsessively thinking about the time passing by, how he needs to leave again in the middle of the night, not even being able to sleep beside his wife for an entire night - wanting nothing more than to cuddle you and Grace to sleep in his chest, protecting the loves of his life. But he can’t. Not tonight. And he knows that he hasn’t told you about it yet, but it’s like he can’t find the courage in his body to do it, to drop the bomb in your face, to ruin the moment you’re having right now. So he decides to keep it to himself, for now. 

8:47 am, you and your husband are climbing up the stairs to your shared bedroom, where your daughter is still sleeping. Opening the door to her tiny figure wrapped in the sheets, her curls all over his pillow, truly is the sight that the man didn’t know he needed to heal every wound in his heart. 

Lewis doesn’t even hold back, his body moving on its own as he sits at the end of the bed, on his side of the mattress that now apparently belongs to Grace, so he can have a better view of his baby’s features. 

She looks gorgeous as ever, the most beautiful and precious thing that Lewis has ever laid his eyes on, the most important thing in the driver’s life, the owner of his entire heart, without a doubt. Some small tears tingle in his eyes as his fingers gently caress the toddler’s cheek, slowly nudging her so the girl can wake up. 

- Princess - he calls quietly, before landing a small kiss on his child’s hand. - Time to wake up. 

Slowly opening her eyes, the little girl rubs her features as she wakes up from her slumber. Her gaze immediately is glued to the figure in front of her, almost as if she is trying to make sense of reality, questioning if she is still dreaming. 

- Daddy? - Grace whispers, before some tears appear in her eyes as Lewis nods at her question, getting close so he can hold her small body close to him. 

Small cries escape the toddler’s figure, as she immediately wraps her arms around her dad’s neck, using all her strength to not let him go, scared that he might leave again if she breaks the hug. 

Lewis can’t even describe the feeling washing over him as he can finally hold his daughter safely in his arms, noticing the scent of her baby shampoo, how her skin still holds his favourite smell ever. He can only take deep breaths, kissing the top of Grace’s head countless times, trying to calm himself down so as to not break down crying while holding his baby.

It’s an emotional sight, even for you , now that you are watching your two favourite people reunite, feeling your heart beating stronger in your chest, as if it’s being refilled with love again, after so many insecurities pooling over your head lately. 

And your daughter’s cries quickly turn into an excited gasp that leaves her lips, forgetting about all the sadness that she was carrying lately - now being substituted by happiness, the genuine type, from having her father near her again.

Soon enough, the toddler is jumping on the mattress, giggling loud as she celebrates the fact that daddy is home again, and now he can have tea parties with her, she can show him how she has mastered all the techniques he has taught her about riding her pink bike, watch her favourite cartoons with her on the sofa, and do everything that the girl has been wanting to do with him while he was away. 

Lewis giggles for a moment, before feeling a weight sinking in his chest again, remembering how he can’t do any of that with his princess, because he will leave again in a few hours. 

- Daddy! Can we go see the cute ducks at the lake tomorrow? Mummy took me there the other day, and there are little ones now! You need to see them, they are sooo cute!! - Her excited tone, mixed with the puppy eyes that she is giving him, are enough to break the man’s heart. And he knows that his next words are about to break his daughter’s heart as well.

Sighing, he tries his hardest to find the right words to say it, but it’s like his brain just forgot every single one of them. 

- Daddy can’t make it tomorrow, love. - the little girl furrows her eyebrows, not really understanding what her dad is trying to say. - Are you tired from the trip back home, daddy? It’s okay, we can go the day after tomorrow. We can just stay home and have a tea party instead? - her cute smile is just making everything hurt even more for him.  - Bubs, daddy is only home for today. I have a day off work and came back to see you and mummy, but I have to leave again after you go to sleep tonight. - there it is, the words that he didn’t want to say, and the ones that no one in the room wanted to hear. 

Your head hangs low as you hear it. Deep down, you already knew it. You knew it, as soon as you saw the bag that clearly showed that he wasn’t going to stay for long, when neither of you wanted to talk about the day he had to leave you two again. And now, you know why. 

His words hit Grace like a million bricks, the poor little girl being met with reality once again as she tries her best to hold back the tears that still slide down her cheeks. 

- You don’t love me anymore! You don’t want to spend time with me anymore! - the toddler screams before running away from her dad, hiding in between the four safe, pink walls of her room. 

And again, Lewis is met with his daughter’s harsh words, that are enough to tear his entire world apart. He gets up from the bed, wanting to go meet his child again, only to be stopped by your hand, touching his chest in a silent ‘don’t’. He too can see the disappointment evident in your eyes before you break eye contact, turning your back on him as you go to your daughter’s room. 

Your husband sits on the edge of the bed again, his head in his hands as he rethinks every small decision that he has ever made, questioning why his schedule has to be so chaotic, why life can’t ease up on him a little more, so he can have some more time for his family. At this point, he doesn’t know what he can do to be better, to make things right, to make it easier for everybody, knowing for a fact that he has, above all, been failing his family lately: failing you as a husband, failing Grace as her father. 

Opening the door of your shared bedroom a little bit, he can hear his baby’s loud cries again, as you hold her close in your chest, trying your best to calm her down again - something that has become a part of your routine already. And the sounds, the mental picture of what’s happening behind Grace’s bedroom door is enough to break him, to make some tears fall from his eyes as well as he clenches his fist, absolutely hating this entire situation, cursing himself from having to leave his family so soon. 

Grace doesn’t know how to deal with these new emotions that have been erupting through her small figure lately. All she knows is that she is sad, very sad. And very confused with her dad’s agenda, not understanding why this is making her chest hurt, only making her cry out more, feeling scared with the discomfort that these newfound emotions provide her. 

Tired of hearing his princess cry while staying still in his bedroom without doing anything to help or to make it better, Lewis decides to step up, gaining the courage to walk to the toddler’s room.

Knocking on the door gently, he hopes to be met with a ‘come in’. But instead, he is met with a loud ‘I don’t want to see you!’ coming from his daughter’s mouth, hearing how you reprimand her due to the attitude she is giving him, now. There’s a desperate sigh escaping Lewis’ lips now, but still, he decides to ignore Grace’s words, walking inside the room. 

Once he does, the toddler immediately hides her face in your chest again, trying her best not to look at her dad’s face, keeping her words. 

- Grace, please look at me - Lewis asks her with a serious tone, crouching down so he is eye leveled with the kid. But still, all he gets in return is silence, and the girl only hides her face further into the crook of your neck. 

Rubbing his features with his hands almost desperately, he looks up at you, giving you a pleading glance, needing your help with this - begging you to forget about how sad and disappointed you are feeling at him now as well, so you can help him solve this problem with your daughter now. 

With a tired sigh, you give in. 

- Grace, look at your father - you say. Still, nothing. You know she is as stubborn as you are, but you absolutely hate when she is acting up this way. - Grace. - you say more sternly, catching the girl’s attention as she slowly turns to look at him, now. 

Once Lewis’ eyes meet his child’s again, the pain in both of their chests connects, feeling it in the exact same intensity. Taking in the sight of his daughter’s tear stained face is the worst part of it all. 

- Bubs, please listen to daddy carefully. - he starts speaking, feeling his voice cracking a bit, laced with the million different emotions surrounding his body as well.  - You know how you and mummy are going to move to the new house that daddy got in Italy, right baby? I even showed you pictures of your new room and everything - he asks Grace, trying to give her a calm, light tone. The girl nods her head, not really in the mood to talk now.  - So, daddy needs to go because I am preparing everything so you can move there as fast as possible love, so we can spend every day together again. - the thought of having his family next to him all day, every day again, makes a small smile appear in the man’s face.  - But you are never home anymore. You can leave that house and come here! And you don’t want to play with me anymore. - the toddler finally speaks up, finding a perfectly reasonable solution for the problem. 

Lewis tries to get closer to the little girl, his fingers gently touching her small hand, hoping she will give in a bit, so she can better understand what’s going on and hug him again in no time. 

- Princess, my favourite thing in this world is to play with you. Tea parties, riding our bikes, you painting my nails, watching ducks at the lake, you name it. My favourite time in this world is the time I get to spend by your side - he admits, being completely transparent as he looks right into the toddler’s eyes. - You know daddy loves you more than anything in this entire world, bubs. 

The three-year-old slowly nods her head ‘yes’. She does know that her dad loves her more than anything, but she is still hurt. 

- I promise everything will get easier, princess. I’m doing everything I can so we can be together everyday again really, really fast, okay? Please forgive me, my love. Daddy never wanted to hurt you - landing a small kiss on her cheek, his hands caress her hair as the little girl moves in your lap, stretching her small arms to hug her daddy. 

And once Lewis is able to hold his princess in his arms again, everything feels a bit more right, as if the toddler has the power to glue the pieces of his heart together. The only things that can be heard in the room are muffled ‘I love you, bubs’, ‘I love you so much’, that Lewis keeps whispering to his daughter, to which Grace quietly replies ‘I love you too, daddy’. 

Today, there were no tea parties, the kid didn’t paint her dad’s nails, they didn’t go to see the ducks at the lake. Instead, they ate the toddler’s favourite breakfast together, at home, and decided to just spend the entire day cuddling on the sofa, enjoying the time together as a family, playing some small games, singing songs, dancing in the middle of the living room, to an extent that loud giggles would erupt through the walls.

After dinner, the air grows heavy again, as the three of you know that the day

is coming to an end, and that Lewis won’t be home again once you and your daughter wake up. 

The man carries Grace safely in his arms, her tiny limbs strongly wrapped around his neck as well, as they reach the toddler’s bedroom. Now, you decided to let them have this moment to themselves, waiting downstairs for your husband to come back. 

Tucking his princess in bed as he usually does, the biggest kiss lands on the little girl’s forehead, ready to scare all monsters away, so she can have the most peaceful of sleeps, with the sweetest of dreams. 

- Have a nice night of sleep, my love - Lewis says, trying not to show how this goodbye is killing him, playing it off with a smile. 

However, he notices the kid’s big chocolate eyes looking up at him attentively. 

- Please come back fast, daddy. I feel so cold without you here. And mummy misses you too - the toddler whispers, almost on the verge of crying again. 

Lewis needs to swallow the lump forming in his throat again, staying silent for a second as he takes in his daughter’s words. 

- I promise I’ll be fast, bubs. You’ll be in your new room, in our new house, in no time. I promise - he shows her his pinky finger, knowing how serious Gracie takes pinky promises. 

The fact that her daddy is pinky promising her that they will be together again soon, makes a sparkle appear in the girl’s eyes, as she wraps her own pinky around his. 

- I love you so, so much, princess. More than anything in this world. Never doubt that - he insists, kissing her forehead again before giving her another bear hug.  - I love you too, daddy. And please make sure that my new bedroom has the right shade of pink in the walls - the three-year-old jokes, lightening the mood as her dad gets up from her bed.  - I will, baby. I will - he giggles lightly, before blowing one last kiss to his biggest reason to live, closing the door behind him. 

Lewis takes a moment before coming downstairs again, wiping away some of the tears that escaped his eyes. Saying goodbye to little Gracie is always the hardest, and definitely the worst part. 

Finally meeting you in the living room, the man completely breaks down as you engulf him in your arms, noticing how much of a wreck he is. You let him cry in your arms, staying silent as he apologizes over and over again to you. For not being home as much, for not having many days off of work, for failing you when you need him the most. 

At this moment, he starts thinking that maybe you were right all along. He should have slowed down already, he should have left F1 behind, dedicating himself to his other projects and especially to his family, which needs him so much. But he couldn’t say no to the opportunity of joining Ferrari, putting his dreams in front of everything else. 

This might only be temporary, until you and Grace finally meet him in Italy, but you are sure that you can’t keep up doing this for much longer, now. 

- Things can’t continue like this, Lewis - you tell him, hot tears sliding down your cheeks as well, now.  - I know, love. I know. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make everything right. In a blink of an eye, the three of us will be together in our new home, baby. Please, just be a little more patient with me - he begs, his arms wrapping tighter around your silhouette as he voices his pleads. 

You sigh. You know you will end up giving in, but you can only take so much, and now, there’s not a day that you aren’t concerned about the future of your family. 

- Just don’t let this sport break you, baby. Don’t let them take you from us. We need you so, so much - you confess, seeing Lewis nod as his tears match yours, holding you in his chest as you mourn the time you had for each other. 

Before he has to leave, he makes sure to cuddle you extra close in bed, your words echoing in his mind to the point where he feels like he could drown in them, dying in your arms as you fall into a peaceful sleep in his chest, almost as if he will still be by your side once you wake up. 

But you know he will leave during the night. And so, while you have the privilege to fall asleep in his chest, you trick your mind to dream about him, so you can have him twice, making sure that, one way or another, he will still be with you once you wake up in the morning. 

In your absence, everything is suspended for Lewis. Your husband is so addicted to seeing you, that he just daydreams about your figure being right by his side, inventing you everywhere, feeding the void that the distance insists in creating between him and his family.

He hates it, he really does. But unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do right now. He wishes he could make a call and cancel all his responsibilities for the rest of the week, spending all day by his girls’ side. But he can’t. And right now, he can only pray for you to be even more patient, until the day you are together again, in your new house.

Tucking you in bed with a forehead kiss, the man leaves your shared room, feeling all the weight coming back to his shoulders as he picks up his bag, leaving his happiness behind as he travels back to his job, leaving his heart behind, in his home in the human shapes of you and Gracie, wanting to be right where his family is. 

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 10

Source for pic

Trouble 10

Word Count: 4546

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I feel like this story just keeps going from bad to worse! But bear with me, please! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Chapter 11 will be NSFW and will end with a cliffhanger, just a heads up!

Masterlist

Just in case people missed this, I can't stop raving about @laidenbreecatchall art for Zoro! Just look at him! *sigh* Okay, back to the story:

This can't be happening. It can't. It's all a bad dream, and you're bound to wake up soon, drenched in sweat and tears. It has to be a nightmare. 

Because the alternative is too terrifying. 

“Tremble for me, Kitten.” He purrs against your ear, his breath sickeningly hot, as the fingers he has wrapped around your neck squeeze with a gentleness you wouldn't associate with a psychopath. “I get so turned on by seeing you scared.”

Gross. Sick. Disturbing. 

Why does nobody come to your aid? The club is packed, doesn't anybody sense your distress? You try to move your head around in the vain hope of making eye contact with someone - anyone - but he just squeezes tighter. His chuckle is low, and somehow, you still hear it perfectly, even with the loud music thumping away in an infernal rhythm. 

“Nobody is coming to help you, Princess. To everybody else, we look like a couple.” The hand that's gripping your wrist, holding it tight against your waist, pushes further, and you feel him pressed against your back. “To everybody else, you look like you're mine.” 

He moves his lips, placing wet kisses along your neck as you sob softly. There's barely enough strength in you for more than that. You're terrified. Fight or flight instinct? How about frozen in fear? And what does he plan to do to you? Kidnap you? Abuse you? Kill you? 

You try to turn your head to the side to get a glimpse of who he is because you can't shake the feeling that you've heard this voice before. You know this man. But the movement only makes him squeeze your neck tighter, and the only thing you glimpse is a black beanie. 

“Not yet, Princess. You're not ready to see me yet.” He tuts softly and inhales your hair with a lewd groan. “Now… you know why I'm here, right? You misbehaved. You let the cop stay the night; you let the cop touch you; you let the cop kiss you.” He growls as he delivers the sentences, and his hand grips your wrist tighter. You're starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers as he seems to be cutting off your circulation. “I don't want to do this, Kitten, but I need to punish you. You need to learn.”

He sounds upset. Almost as if he's actually sorry he has to do this to you. 

“But first…” He removes his hand from your neck, but it's as though a phantom limb is still pressed against your throat. The power and terror he exerts over you are unthinkable and terrifying. Then, you feel a weight in your pocket, and he sighs against your ear. “Here's your phone back, Princess. I got it from our kitchen drawer.” Our? “You can't shut me out. You won't change your phone again. Got it?”

You stay still, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Your heart is thumping in such an insane rhythm that you wonder how you're not having a heart attack right now. 

“Do you understand?” His free hand climbs your nape and grips your hair. When he pulls, you gasp and nod stiffly. “Good girl.” Another purr makes your ear vibrate, and you tremble from the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His feverish touch travels from your nape to your neck, then to your clavicle, his nimble fingers gathering the fabric of your clothes as he exposes the flesh of your shoulder. Another involuntary shudder makes you tremble as you plead silently for one of your friends to come find you. 

“You will do as I say and stop indulging the cop. Sever the connection, Kitten, or I will. And you won't like it.” His lips hover over your shoulder, and the hand on your wrist keeps squeezing. The bite of the bracelet is harsh and unforgiving, making your blood run cold. 

“It would be the simplest thing. He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot…” The stalker's chuckle sounds unhinged. “Boo-hoo. Another cop killed in the line of duty. No one would blink an eye.” Your lower lip trembles, and your heart constricts. He’s capable of hurting Zoro. And if Zoro dies, it's your fault. “But you'd know why he died. Do you want that, Kitten?”

“D–don't hurt him.” You whisper, and it's unlikely he heard you over all the loud noise of the club. Even so, for you, it seems as if the music is coming from a faraway place. 

“That is entirely up to you.” He sighs, and you close your eyes. “Your punishment, Princess.” Then, his massive gloved hand covers your mouth as he sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder. You feel a sharp sting of pain traveling down your arm and back. Tears sting your eyes and your sobs drown in a muffled whine against his hand. The pain is blinding and hot, and you're pretty sure he's drawing blood. 

A stark realisation hits you just as he removes his teeth from your flesh, his tongue collecting droplets of blood as he eases the sting. 

He's marking you. 

“Mine.” He growls, and a tear rolls down your cheek. 

You feel helpless, violated, and terrified. 

“You won't disobey me anymore, Kitten. You won't misbehave anymore, and more importantly, you'll get rid of the cop.” His hand leaves your mouth as he fixes your clothes to cover up the bite mark. “Or I will. Don't forget it.”

His other hand releases your wrist, and you let out a ragged breath as your fingers twitch from lack of circulation. 

He's still pressing against you. 

“You're almost ready. We'll be so happy together, Kitten.” Your head slumps forward when he presses his lips against the back of it in a mockery of affection. “Don't disappoint me anymore.”

Then, just as swiftly as he approached you, he leaves. You turn quickly on the spot, trying to get a glimpse of your tormentor, but you only seem to catch a sliver of white. 

Was it hair? Clothes? The reflection of the lights? 

Or just your tears playing tricks on your mind? 

With trembling fingers and uneven breaths, you dislodge the bracelet that seemed to mould into your skin. The redness is daunting - it will bruise. Another whimper makes your lower lip tremble as you try to keep your wits about you. 

You need to calm down. You need to act like nothing happened. 

Zoro will be here any second now, and the stalker's threats were very clear. He'll hurt Zoro. He'll get rid of him if you don't push him away - whatever that might mean, so your plan to tell Zoro everything just went out the window. 

You need to keep him safe. At all costs. 

“Miss, your drinks are ready.”

A gasp leaves your lips, and you nod at the bartender. You’re still massaging your wrist, trying to alleviate some of the redness, but it's not disappearing. It's just getting worse. 

The way your heart is beating out of sync is a testament to how scared you still are. You need to compose yourself. New plan: take the drinks to the table and immediately excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Then maybe you can leave, claiming to be sick. You can't disguise the bruising on your wrist, though. Thank heavens the bite on your shoulder is hidden. 

With a steadying nod, you pick up the tray of beverages and make your way to the booth. 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

It's simple. You can do it. And then you can work out a plan. Maybe you can make an anonymous tip to the police about your stalker. Would that work? Or beg Ichiji again for protection? Even if you have to grovel? Maybe ask your father where he stores his rifle and take matters into your own hands?

You try to ignore the fact that just the stalker’s presence left you frozen in fear. It's highly unlikely you can fight for yourself. Who are you trying to kid? 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

You repeat the words like a mantra, but as soon as you set the tray on the table, you feel a touch on your waist, making you immediately flinch and hide your arm behind your back. 

“Hey, Troublemaker.”

“Zoro!” The moment your eyes fall on his, all your resolve crumbles. He can help you, you know he can. 

“Get rid of the cop… Or I will.”

“He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot.”

No. You can't tell him anything. 

Not yet, at least. Not before you have a foolproof plan to protect him. Can his captain help? Surely he can. You just need time to think this through. You need to shake away the fear and think with a cool head. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro's eye scans your face. It's most likely still red. Your eyes still feel watery, and you're sure he's picking up on those signs. Zoro's hand still lingers on your waist, so you shuffle away from him and force a smile, your arm tucked behind your back. 

“Yes, Zoro. I'm fine. Did everything work out with the bomb threat?” You step away from him and distribute the drinks with just one hand, your jaw clenching with the fakest smile you've ever produced. 

“Not really, it was a freaking mess.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Most of the time, these things are fake. Someone wants attention and pulls one of these, thinking it's funny. This time, it was a real threat.”

A small gasp leaves your lips as you lock eyes with Zoro again. A real bomb? But… Does that mean it wasn't the stalker who planted it? Or does it mean it was him, and he's just showing you again how seriously he can play? 

How easily can he hurt Zoro?

“Another cop killed in the line of duty.”

“Shit.” You exclaim, and Zoro nods while reaching for a beer from the tray. After a sip, his expression softens, and he reaches for your waist again. 

“Come here. We can talk later - we need to talk later - but for now… just come here.” 

Your heart thumps louder than the music, and you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. He's still watching. 

“It would be the simplest thing…”

You take a step back to avoid Zoro's touch, your smile faltering as you try your hardest to keep a neutral expression. 

“Trouble?” Zoro reaches again, and it's like your chest is exploding as you avoid his touch once more. “You're running again.”

The faintest flicker of pain darkens Zoro's gaze, and you bite your lower lip just to keep it from trembling. 

“I'm not… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” And before he says something else, you rush towards the dimly lit corridor that leads to the bathrooms, but before you can take refuge inside, you hear Zoro call your name. 

He’s following you. 

You pretend that you don't hear him and press on, hastening your step. 

“Wait!” He calls you again, and you raise your hand to push the door open, unshed tears are already pricking the back of your eyes. Would it be simpler to just tell him everything and hope for the best? 

“You'd know why he died.”

You can't tell him. 

“Trouble, stop!” Zoro nearly growls, his hand wrapping around your injured wrist in an effort to stop you. Instant pain shoots up your arm as you let out a hiss and a grunt. Stopping and turning towards him with a pained expression on your face, you almost let out a sob. 

Zoro releases you instantly, his hands shooting up in a defeated position while his brows scrunch, searching your face for any clue as to why you reacted like this. 

“I barely touched you.” Then it happens fast, and you don't have time to react. 

Zoro's eye lowers as his gaze settles on your bruised wrist. You see it widen, his pupil dilating as realisation washes over him. 

“What the fuck?” The music seems farther away in the bathroom corridor, yet it still vibrates low, making your chest thump in the same rhythm as the electronic tempo, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't come from the loud noise. 

You've been caught. 

“Who the fuck did this to you?” Zoro takes a menacing step forward, and you can physically feel the way the air shifts. You have no time to react when he grabs your arm again - avoiding the bruised area - and inspects it, revulsion and fury contorting his expression. “Tell me, Trouble. Now.” Zoro's tone brooks no arguments. He sounds deadly serious. No. He just sounds deadly. 

“I–” You take a deep exhale and try to release your arm from Zoro's grasp, but it doesn't budge. His eye jumps from your face to your arm like he can't stand the sight of the bruise, but can't stand to look away either. “It's nothing, Zo!” You force a laugh, and it sounds fake and high-pitched. “I bumped into someone earlier and almost fell. The guy grabbed my wrist to keep me from falling, and the bracelet dug into my skin.” Another fake laugh. “You know how clumsy I am.”

That was believable. You think. 

Zoro's jaw clenches and unclenches, and he snaps his neck, rotating his head as he also takes a deep exhale, a gesture meant to calm himself down. 

“Lie to me one more time, Trouble…” 

“I'm not–”

“You are! That's not an accidental bruise! Stop trying to fucking gaslight me. What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck do I have to kill?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“You're being dramatic, Zoro, it really is nothing, I–” 

“You stop showing up, you look like a ghost, you don't eat, you're scared, jumpy, you run from me and avoid my touch. Yet yesterday, you clung to me as if I was your lifeline.” Zoro takes another step forward, and now he's almost flush with you. 

Safety. He's safety. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“And now this? Let me in. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You can't. 

“Zo…”

“There you guys are! Come on! We're going to sing happy birthday to Nami before Luffy raids the fridge and eats the cake by himself.” Usopp says, without really realising he’s intruded on a private conversation, but you couldn't be more thankful to him. 

You take the opportunity while Zoro's distracted to actually run away from him, confirming his earlier affirmation that you're running and not caring one bit. 

He can hate you all he wants. He can even be hurt with you. 

You just can't bear it if he actually ends up hurt. 

Or worse. 

Dead. 

-*-

The thumping music stopped just for Nami. The DJ got the birthday melody playing, and the whole club is celebrating your friend's birthday, even the ones that don't know her. 

You can't stop a small smile from spreading on your lips: everybody loves Nami. 

You somehow managed to lose Zoro amongst the hordes of people - he's big and bulky, so that gives him more trouble to manoeuvre around the crowd - and as soon as Nami blows out the candles, just after she and Vivi share a sweet kiss, you hug her and make up a quick excuse to leave the party early. 

Then you flee the club without another thought. Not even caring if you don't have a ride home or if you didn't say goodbye to your friends. 

You just need to get away from Zoro and his questioning. 

The slight night chill and the difference in temperature make you shiver, though another buzz from your phone assures you the tremble comes from something other than the cold. 

Yet, before you take two steps, his voice makes you stop. 

“Stop running from us.” It’s Zoro. “Stop running from me.” He sounds exasperated and conflicted. 

Your shoulders slump forward as you inhale deeply. He's relentless, and he will get to the bottom of this if he keeps pushing. And you can't allow that. 

Even if it will destroy you. 

“Tell me what's wrong, Trouble.” You turn to face him, and your knees wobble. Zoro's eye is full of anguish. He runs a hand through his hair and paces forward - everything in his posture is desperate. “I don't know what else to do to help you. I've tried being tough, I've tried giving you space, I'm trying to be understanding… Trouble… meet me in the middle. Please.”

You can't do this. You can't. He looks so broken, so helpless. And this could be easily remedied if you just told him what's going on. 

But you can't. Because you know the Stalker will kill Zoro. And you can't bear that. You'd rather be scared and trapped for the rest of your life than risk Zoro's. 

Zoro sees you struggling and takes full advantage of it, trying to sway you by cupping your face as he forces you to look at him. 

“Let me in.” He pleads with a whisper. 

Closing your eyes, you open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your voice was stolen. The lump in your throat grows, and so does the pain in your chest. 

There's no other way. 

“You got it all wrong, Zoro.” Your voice sounds foreign and affected. Still, you now focus your gaze on Zoro's scar. Not his eye, you can't bear that. “I'm not interested. I never was.”

Zoro's hands twitch slightly as his brow furrows, but you barely give him time to process your words before you deliver more pain. 

“You just can't take a hint, can you? I'm trying to get away from you, but you keep pushing. I don't care for you like that, Zoro.”

You have to close your eyes to keep away the moisture and to prevent acknowledging Zoro's pain.

“Gosh, stop being clingy and needy. Leave me alone. That's all. I'm fine, I just need you to give me space.”

Zoro's hands part with your face torturously slow. You don't look him in the eye anymore, clenching your fists to prevent them from shivering violently. 

But you stand your ground. 

You need to push Zoro away. He needs to be safe. Even if your heart is shattering. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

He stopped touching you, but he didn't back away. And as your eyes raise to meet his, you can see steely determination where before was only despair. 

“You heard me: Bull. Shit.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

Fuck. 

“I'm dead serious, Zoro. This was fun and all, but I'm done. Leave me alone.”

You turn on your heel, trapping a sob behind clenched teeth and fighting back tears. 

“Is this how you want to play? I can see what you're trying to do, Trouble, and it's bullshit.”

Bzzzz. 

You shouldn't read it. 

Yet you do. 

Unknown: Try harder, Kitten, or I'll make him go away permanently. 

“I’m not playing at anything. You don't matter.” The words leave your lips in the form of a whisper, but they linger in the air as if they were poisonous gas. Your insides twist and turn, and you feel nauseous. 

“Say that again, Trouble.” You barely hear him, not only because of all the ringing in your ears, but also because his hurt is drowning the words. 

Bzzzz.

No, no, no. You can't. 

Bzzzz. 

You have to. 

“I said–”

“Turn around and say it to my face.”

A sob claws its way up your throat, and you swallow it back down. You need to keep it together for now. 

With a slow turn, you face Zoro's disbelief, willing your heart to slow down, trying to keep your own emotions at bay before you collapse in tears. 

“You don't matter.” You repeat the words, and the way Zoro's face turns from disbelief to pain is immediate and heartbreaking. “I was just having fun, but I didn't expect you to become so obsessed with me.”

You aimed to hurt, and it worked. 

Zoro takes a step back as his eye faces the ground. The way his chest rises up and down with heavy gasps almost brings out the tears you're trying so hard to suppress. 

“Goodbye.”

You turn and hasten your step, wanting to get away from him as fast as you can. 

“Fine.” Your steps waver for a second when you hear Zoro’s voice, before you return to your uneven stride. “Fine! I'll back off. But I know you're lying to me.”

He doesn't say anything else, and you don't want to acknowledge the pain you heard in his voice. The pain you caused. Because your own pain is unbearable and immense. 

And now you've pushed away the one person who would help and protect you unconditionally. 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: That's my good girl. The punishment worked. You're almost ready. 

-*-

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Zoro grits his teeth as his eye follows your shrinking form, watching it disappear into the dark horizon. Every freaking instinct tells him to follow you, but you've just pushed him away with everything you've got. 

‘You don't matter.’

“Fuck!”

“Hey! What's going on?” Usopp places his hand on Zoro's shoulder, and he sighs, running a desperate hand through his hair. 

“Nothing.” Then Zoro spots Kaya buttoning her jacket. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I'm taking Kaya home, we have an early day tomorrow.” Usopp looks around and spots your disappearing form. “Where's she going?”

“What did you do?” Kaya interjects, hands already placed on her hips with a menacing scowl to back up her tiny, aggressive stance. Usopp’s brow raises at his girlfriend, and then he mimics her stance, his gaze also demanding answers Zoro doesn't really want to give. Zoro grits his teeth again, trapping a growl against them. He's so pissed, he can't even think straight. 

“I didn't do anything!” He answers, exasperated. “Fuck! Usopp, can you give her a ride home? She just fucking left.”

Usopp nods, and Kaya jogs a little, trying to catch up with you before you gain more distance from them. So Zoro starts walking towards the club again before you come back, wanting to avoid another confrontation. 

“Thanks.” He pats Usopp’s back and goes inside to say goodbye to his friends and grab his stuff. 

This shit’s not over. You may think you've pushed him away with your performance, but all you did was reel him in more. Zoro had his suspicions, but now he's sure. 

Someone is messing with you. And though his brain is telling him that someone is connected to Lucci and the store clerk, his heart is trying to push that possibility away. Because that fucker is dangerous, and Zoro's hoping against all hope that he didn't set his eyes on you. 

Or Zoro’s going to have to murder someone. 

Zoro's jaw keeps clenching as he drives towards the station. Even though he has the night off, he can't stay still. He's going to present his suspicions to Captain Mihawk and then forge a plan to protect you. Even if he has to drag your ass to the station and lock you in a cell. 

He'll fucking do it. 

Anything to keep you safe. 

You're not going to spend another fucking day terrified of something you won't even tell him about. 

‘You don't matter.”

Like shit, he doesn't. You can lie to him all you want. 

He'll never give up on you. 

-*-

It's barely after midnight when Usopp and Kaya drop you off at home. They have to get up early in the morning, so they couldn't party  late, and you told them you weren’t feeling very well. 

Neither of them pressed because they could clearly see the tears you were trying so hard to fight back. And you're sure they both know that you're crying because of Zoro, seeing as it was him who told them to give you a ride. 

They just don't know that you were the asshole who brought the pain to both of you. 

As Usopp’s car disappears down the driveway, you bolt the lock on the front door and place a chair against the doorknob, knowing deep down that it won't keep the stalker away, but still aiming for a sense of safety you know you won't achieve. 

You do the same to your room, discard your club clothes, and finally look in the mirror to see the mark he left there. Your eyes widen as your trembling fingers run over the bruise: you can clearly identify the teeth marks, there's still caked blood around the wound and it's already turning a dark bruise colour.

You choke back sobs as you disinfect the wound and dress in your pyjamas. Outside, the weather seems to match your mood as you start to hear the gentle pitter-patter of the soft rain against the window. 

You feel drained and exhausted. You were, once again, pushed into a corner. Never have you felt so trapped, helpless, and lonely. All the earlier fight, the will to try and find ways to get out of this predicament, left your body along with the hurtful words you delivered to Zoro.

‘You don’t matter.’

Gosh… he’s everything! But if it takes breaking you both apart just to save him, then you’ll do it over and over again.

Tomorrow is another day, and maybe after some serious consideration, you’ll know what to do.

As you curl up in your bed, trying to stay awake, but already knowing you'll succumb to exhaustion after having cried your heart out, you glance at your buzzing phone before closing your eyes. 

Unknown: Such a good Kitten. My beautiful Princess. My love. Sleep. I'll watch over you. 

-*-

You wake up with a jolt, feeling that something is amiss. You look around, your eyes darting to every shadow and every corner because your room feels wrong. Yet, you find everything in the same place. The shadows are still, and the room is quiet. 

Your heart thrums against your chest, and you take a deep breath to try and calm down. It must've been a nightmare. 

Patting your nightstand, you grab your phone. 01:15. It's still so early. Why did you wake up so suddenly?

And then you notice it. At first, it's just a red blur standing in your nightstand, but then, as you focus your wet eyes, they widen in fear, and you clasp your hand over your mouth. 

There's a single red rose in the nightstand. He's been in your room. 

He was near you. 

A sob disturbs the quietness of the night, and almost immediately, it gets drowned out by a loud thunderclap. And then, you see something else. 

Trembling fingers reach out, and you grab the small paper: it's a photo. And when your eyes adjust to the image and your brain processes it, you stay frozen in place, your breath held in suspension as more tears flood your eyes. 

It’s a polaroid of you sleeping. Your brows are furrowed, and your cheek is wet, but what steals your breath is the huge, veiny, tanned hand that's gripping your hair in possession. The word ‘mine’ is scribbled in red across the picture in a distinct claim. 

He was in your house. 

He was in your room. 

He touched you. 

And you didn't even notice.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

[yelenasdiary]

Olivia Benson x fem reader valentines request

Olivia has to work on valentines Day. Reader is watching Noah for her while she's gone. The two of them decide to make Olivia some valentines for her to come home to.

A Cozy Valentines Haven

Pairing: Olivia Benson x Fem! Reader

Summary: Liv is called into work on Valentines Day, so you and Noah decide to make something special for her to come home too. 

Fluff & Light Angst

Warnings: Normal SVU Talk | 1.4K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I have found write Olivia really comforting! I hope you enjoy! x

Cupid’s Dream Masterlist 2025

The morning started off soft and sweet, you woke up to Olivia wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to her in bed, placing a kiss on the back of your clothed shoulder. “Happy Valentines” she whispered, making you smile softly. “Happy Valentines baby” you replied, soaking up this rare, peaceful moment. “How long do you think we have until Noah wakes up?” You asked, turning in her hold to face her. Olivia lightly chuckled, “I think I heard him turn the tv on 5 minutes ago”.

Before you could fit in another word, Olivia’s phone buzzed, tearing the two of you away from this rare moment. Olivia placed a soft kiss on your forehead before she rolled over and reached for her phone. “Benson” she said sternly, slowly sitting up. You rolled over and quietly slipped out of bed, grabbing your dressing gown before leaving her to take the call in private. 

The sound of cartoons softly filled the apartment as Noah sat comfortably on the sofa watching them. “Morning kiddo!” You said as you entered the kitchen. Noah turned, looking at you over his shoulder, “Morning Ma!” He smiled sweetly, his messy curls showing proof that he had a decent nights sleep. “What do you want for breakfast this morning?” You asked, flicking the kettle on.

“Um….toast, please!” He replied before turning his attention back to the cartoons. 

You made Noah’s toast and placed it on the counter, calling him over as you grabbed Liv’s travel mug from the dishwasher. “Thanks Ma!” Noah smiled, pushing himself up onto the stool. “Morning Mom!” He added, beaming another smile at his mother. 

“Good morning” Olivia replied, giving his curls a light tussle before she turned to you. 

“Got a case?” You asked, pouring her hot coffee into her mug. She nodded lightly, “I’m sorry darling, I’ll try and get home as soon as I can” she said, wrapping her arms around you. 

“But mom, it’s valentines day” Noah pouted, “you said you would help me with my valentines card” he added. 

“I know sweetie, I’m sorry but maybe Ma can help” Liv suggested, looking over her shoulder at Noah. She placed a kiss on your cheek before pulling away, “I promise to make it up to both of you. How about, after work, we order the biggest pizza we can get and watch whatever movies you guys want” she added. Noah perked up at the mention of pizza, “can we get peperoni on it?” He asked, his eyes wide with hope. 

Olivia chuckled before running her hand through his dark curls once more, “of course we can sweet boy. Whatever you want”. She placed a kiss on the top of his head then pulled you in for one last tight hug before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “I gotta go, I love you” she spoke softly. 

“I love you too, Liv. Be safe, okay?” You replied, looking into her eyes. 

“Always” she said, grabbing her keys in one hand and her travel mug in the other before heading out the door. 

Once she was gone, the apartment fell silent, even with Noah’s cartoons playing in the background, you saw your son’s slight disappointment as he finished his breakfast. “So, who’s this card for?” You asked, wanting to try and cheer him up. 

“A girl in my class but she won’t be at school until Tuesday, and I don’t want her to miss out on a card” he explained. His kind heart made you smile softly, “that’s very kind of you honey, maybe after I’ve had a shower and some breakfast we can work on it. How does that sound?” 

“Mm, I was thinking maybe we could do something special for mom? You know, since I guess I won’t be going over to Aunt Amanda’s now” he suggested, reminding you of the original plans you and Olivia had in mind. “Sounds like a perfect idea, what did you have in mind?” You asked, sipping your coffee. 

“Mom loves double choc chip cookies, could we bake some?” He asked.

“Sounds like a great idea!” You smiled at the young boy. 

Soon enough, the morning was quickly filled with baking, chatter and lots of laughter as you and Noah baked your wife some of her favorite cookies. You watched as Noah took the lead, reading the recipe from his phone, he’s grown up so fast it was hard not to take in this bittersweet moment. 

When the cookies were finally out of the oven, you turned to Noah who now was busy playing on this Switch. “Hey bud!” You called out, catching his attention. 

“Yeah?”

“Did you want to decorate these cookies?” You asked while you were looking in the cupboard for the baking decorations. Noah paused his game, “do we have red icing?” He asked, wandering back into the kitchen. “We do! I can whip some up, what else do you need?” You smiled softly. 

“Uhm, sprinkles?” He replied, racking his brain. 

“You’re in luck!” You said, pulling out the rainbow-colored sprinkles, “they’re rainbow but with some red icing, I think they’ll be perfect” you added. 

As the day went on and the cookies were complete with their red icing, sprinkles and some very wonky writing on top, you and Noah spent the rest of the day thinking about what movies to watch when Liv would get home. A scroll through the pack while enjoying a cheeky muffin kept the two of you from feeling cooped up in the apartment and before you knew it, it was reaching dinner time. 

Noah, armed with cushions and blankets he had nicked from his bedroom and your bedroom turned the living room into a cozy haven while you helped at his command. “Pizza time!” Noah declared, practically bouncing off the balls of his feet. 

You chuckled, grabbing your phone from the countertop. “You said pepperoni, yeah?” You asked, just to be sure. Noah nodded, “and the biggest!” He reminded you. 

As the sunset that casted a warm glow over the apartment turned to dark skies, you and Noah sat on the sofa patiently waiting for your wife to come through the front door. The pizza, almost too big to fit on the coffee table was placed in the oven on a very low heat to keep it from getting cold. 

“Look out Ma!!” Noah chuckled while the two of you played a game of Mario Kart, his character speeding past you. “Oh! I’m gonna catch up!” You replied, using your red shell to hit Noah’s kart. 

“Hey!! unfair!!” He laughed

Before the match was over, the front door slowly opened. “Mom!” Noah beamed, almost forgetting about the game in front of him. “Hello, my sweet boy” Olivia smiled, her heart swelling with warmth as her eyes locked onto the two of you. “Oh my, what have you two been up too?” She asked, noticing the cozy haven the living room had become. 

“Ma and I got everything ready for tonight!” Noah beamed, finishing the race in first place. “We made cookies and got pizza!!” He added, his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“This looks very cozy!” Liv smiled once more. You pushed yourself off the sofa and wandered over to her, greeting her with a tight hug. Her arms naturally wrapping around you, “you’re incredible, you know that?” She whispered. 

“Don’t be silly, you deserve this” you smiled softly before kissing her softly. 

“I’m going to go wash up!” Noah said, not wanting to see his mothers kiss. You and Olivia chuckled as he ran down the hall into the bathroom. “I’m going to have a quick shower, and I’ll come join you both” Liv said, gently pulling away. You nodded softly at her words, it wasn’t the time to ask but you could see that the case she had today was a tough one. 

“Hey” you said softly, gently grabbing her arm. She looked at you, her eyes softening, “it’ll be okay” you assured her. All she could do was nod before wandering down the hall to the bedroom. 

----

The night was one to remember. The three of you sandwiched on the sofa covered with blankets, the large pizza almost half eaten, Noah leaving his crust behind. The small plate of cookies were the winner with only two left on the plate. Noah was fast asleep after 2 movies, leaving you and Liv to enjoy the rest of Valentines Day together.

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as you nuzzled into her neck, a small sigh of contentment left her lips. It was the Valentines Day you both had originally planned but it was one that you both enjoyed the most.

Taglist: @noturlondonboy | @deathbylesbianwitches | @red1culous | @torihobby1226 | @filmedbyharkness | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[septembersung]

What are you thoughts on horses?

There’s only one possible answer here:

[clickety-clacker]

Been seeing so many cool Clickies on my dashboard since getting into GGG, I just had to take the time to draw a few of them- plus, it was a bit of a challenge to try new styles. A lot of these guys were also super influential to how I draw and even think about Click Clack on my own time, so you should definitely check them out! Names below the cut cus it got long heehoo

Top left: @malartsorte

Top middle (holding papers): @scribblelimbo

Top right: @wishgraanted

Leftmost middle: @beastwhimsy

Middle (peace sign!): @sootnuki

Rightmost middle: @molabuddy

Bottom left: @pespillo

Bottom middle: @artuurle

Bottom right: @modmad

I know I said it already, but all of yall are super cool and I had a lot of fun challenging myself to make this! Keep on being awesome 👍

[teddybeartoji]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BOY I LOVE YOU SOOOOSOSOOO SO FUCKING MUCH<33333333333333

[seven-tastic]

planets

[the-river-rix]

Rip Hodgins you would’ve loved Harry Allen

[fleurdov]

this update actually broke me how am i supposed to function and act normal when i’m actually only thinking about the horrors of The Answer.

i really really loved this chapter though thank you so much for updating!!!! and now i will scream into the white void!!

THE ANSWER: XXVI

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist

chapter word count: 10,791

“What the hell did you say to Hongjoong?” 

Seonghwa is quick to start grilling you as soon as San leaves the two of you alone, glaring at you across from the dinner table. It takes you a few seconds to even remember what he could be referring to, that conversation with Hongjoong taking the back seat in your mind to everything else that had happened today. 

You set your spoon down, resting your elbows on the table, “I could be asking you the same question.” 

Seonghwa scoffs, mirroring your actions. He leans over the table, though, getting closer to you, “Well I asked first.” 

Frowning, you look him up and down, trying to make him squirm a little bit. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to find you very intimidating. In fact, he only leans closer to you, his face basically taking up your entire field of view. “What did Hongjoong say that I said?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flit to your lips, but you pretend like you don’t notice. “He said that you told him we had sex. Among other things.” 

“I said no such thing,” you glare back at him, “I only heavily implied it.” 

“Why?” Seonghwa wets his lips, “do you want to get me in trouble, Princess?” 

You don’t want to be the one to back down from this confrontation, but being this close to Seonghwa without him touching you might actually make you insane. His stupid fucking hot ass fucking face. It’s too distracting. 

But… you’re more stubborn than you are uncomfortable. “Only if you want to get me in trouble.” He smiles a bit at that, but you continue, “if you must know, though, I had to use you as a bit of a scapegoat. I figured you wouldn’t mind, considering the lies you’re telling him about San and me.” 

“Lies?” Seonghwa says sarcastically, “what ever would I lie about?” The question is clearly rhetorical.

But you answer it anyway. “You told him that San and I are together.” 

Seonghwa’s smile grows, “and is that a lie? Aren’t you?” 

“Frankly, it’s not Hongjoong’s business, and it’s not yours, either.”

He brings a hand up to rest under his chin, shrugging his free shoulder. “Difference of opinion. Why should I lie to Hongjoong for you?” 

“Well, San and I aren’t together,” you shrug as well, hoping he’s not picking up on the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. It’s actually a bit… uncomfortable to lie about it like this. You don’t want to have to deny… whatever it is that you have going on with San, but that’s just how it is. You suck it up and hope that Seonghwa can’t see your internal battle as you spit the words out.

Seonghwa bites his lip, “is that so? So he wouldn’t mind if I…” 

You do lean back, then, smacking his elbow out from under him so that his head falls, hopefully shocking him back into reality. “You wish, pervert.” 

He catches his head before he actually hits it on the table, gaping at you, his eyes wide as if he can’t believe that you really just did that. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised that you did it, too. Seonghwa is so fucking tempting. But you’re stronger than that…

“Plus, what would he think,” you tip your head in Hongjoong’s direction, not surprised to see him already staring directly at the two of you. He had been congregating with some of the Followers, but his attention is now clearly occupied, a sneer appearing on his face when he catches you looking. “He already thinks we had sex, no?” 

Seonghwa looks back over his shoulder to glance at Hongjoong, quickly spinning back to face you when he sees the look on his leader’s face. “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. I had the time of my life trying to explain that I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.” 

You shrug, “I needed some way to get his mind off of the fact that someone told me about Haneul. It worked.” 

His eyes really go wide, then, “Haneul? Who the fuck told you about Haneul?” 

“You did.” You smile, finally picking your spoon back up to eat some more of your soup. This is a damn good soup, you have to remember to compliment Wooyoung on it… if you guys are on speaking terms. You’re not sure about that. 

Seonghwa groans, also resuming eating his dinner. “I’m going to get my ass handed to me, Princess. Why wouldn’t you just tell him the truth?” He pauses, dropping his spoon back into his soup, “ wait, let me guess. San told you?” 

You shake your head, taking another bite, ignoring his eyes.

“Who else have you been alone with?” 

You shrug again, just to piss him off. 

It doesn’t work. “When San attempted to help Haseul with the escapade last night, did he have someone watch you?” Seonghwa smiles in disbelief. “He really covered his bases. Who was it?” He searches your face as if the answer will be plastered on it. 

It might be, frankly. “It had to have been Wooyoung. Am I right, Princess? Wooyoung watched you? And told you? How on earth did you get that out of him?” 

Staying silent, you opt to keep eating your soup. Wooyoung is the obvious choice, looking at the people that San is close enough to trust with such a secret, so it makes sense that Seonghwa would be able to guess him so easily. But you’re not about to tell Seonghwa that he’s right, so you do your best to keep your face plain. 

“Oh, this is quite fun information. What else did he tell you? Did you see his back?” 

That must be what Wooyoung had been referring to, where his scars are. But, again, you’re not going to ask questions or make Seonghwa believe that he’s right. The last thing that you want to do is throw Wooyoung under the bus for spilling cult secrets that he clearly shouldn’t have. 

Seonghwa leans closer again, whispering, “if I promise to not tell Hongjoong, will you tell me? I’m very curious.” 

You also lean in closer, putting your spoon down once more, “absolutely not. But will you tell me about Haneul?” 

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into his original position. “No, I won’t. She’s quite a sore subject around here.” 

… Yeah, you could’ve guessed that. “Can you at least tell me about Jongho and her?” 

“No?” Seonghwa looks at you like you’ve really lost your mind, “that’s not your business, Princess.” 

“Oh, so their relationship isn’t my business, but my relationship with San is yours?” 

“So you admit to having a relationship with San, then?” Seonghwa smirks, pleased to have finally gotten something out of you.

You sigh, “if you’re jealous, you can just say so.” 

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “why on earth would I be jealous of Choi San? If I wanted you so badly, you would be with me.”

You try to make yourself look disgusted at the mere prospect, “that’s bold, even for you.” You say this like the two of you had never been intimate. 

Seonghwa shrugs, looking you up and down before leaning closer once more. “If anything, I’m jealous of his ability to disregard Hongjoong’s orders.” The meaning of this admission isn’t lost on you.

You can’t resist returning the look, letting your eyes linger on the way the sleeves of his shirt strain around his biceps. Personally, you don’t give a damn about Hongjoong’s “orders,” but you’re not about to let Seonghwa win this by giving into him. And you have San to worry about. You lean in closer as well, smiling at Seonghwa. 

“You’re a pervert,” you whisper, keeping the smile plastered on your face. 

Seonghwa smiles, too, despite scoffing at your comment, “that’s really cute, coming from you, Princess.” 

“What is?” San’s voice appears from your side, making the both of you jump backward from each other. 

Seonghwa keeps the nasty smile on his face, looking up at San, “perfect timing, San. If you’d left her alone with me any longer…”

San gives you a puzzled look, sliding onto the seat next to you. He doesn’t get himself a meal, which is… a little strange, but you ignore it, going back to eating your own. 

He ignores Seonghwa’s comment easily. “I couldn’t miss the announcement, could I?” San asks Seonghwa, smiling tightly across the table. 

“Announcement?” You ask, looking between the two of them.

Seonghwa holds a hand up before San can start explaining. “You’ll see, Princess.” He smiles at you like you’re not going to like this announcement at all. “But, San, pray tell, where did you just run off to?” 

San gives you a sideways glance, and you can only imagine that he probably was doing something that you wouldn’t exactly care for. “I had a conversation that needed to be held, privately.” 

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows, “is that so? What ever about? Whomever with?” He asks these questions as if he knows perfectly well their answers, but wants to hear San admit it anyhow. “Why couldn’t your dear (Y/n) be in attendance?” 

You honestly aren’t really sure what San means, but the only explanation that you can think is… he apologized to Mingi? That would honestly make you rather happy, though, so you’re not sure why he wouldn’t want to say it in front of you. Maybe Seonghwa truly doesn’t know, and he wants to keep it that way? You’re honestly not too bothered by the fact that he doesn’t want to say. 

Before San can respond, the cafeteria falls completely silent. 

You twist in your seat to face the front of the room, not at all surprised to see Hongjoong standing there, his hands folded behind his back. He still has that weird outfit on, the ties of the robe dangling down, brushing against his knees with each small movement he makes. 

He looks to you, then, giving you a sideways smile before turning back to address the room. 

“It is with great joy that I make this announcement tonight.” The cafeteria is just as silent as the chapel. You look around, not at all surprised to see that not a single pair of eyes aren’t on Hongjoong. “Finally, we are prepared to start our harvest season.” 

A gentle applause starts, much like the kind you would expect at some sort of… gala, or something. Hongjoong holds a hand up and it immediately halts, everyone in the room once again waiting with baited breath. “Of course, this indicates the start of prosperous times for our group,” he gives you another glance, “but it also invites upon us some of the most troublesome ceremonies and events, as well as opening the door to… unwelcome possibilities.” 

… Yeah, whatever the hell that means. 

“As harvest will commence in the morning, our first event will happen during our morning gathering. I expect everyone to be in attendance, including children and those otherwise excused. It’s important that we are united as a group, as you all very well know.”

Everyone? Does that include Haseul? Surely it does, even if she hasn’t had a Choosing Ceremony. You want to believe that you’ll get to see your friend, but… You’re not sure. Hongjoong probably will keep her from you as long as he can; keep you on his little leash until he’s decided that you’re obedient enough again.

He waits, holding the attention of the room for a second longer, a tense look on his face. “You all must know that I don’t say these things to scare you. But the harvest season is trying for the Sign, and our connection is in peril every second that…” Hongjoong clears his throat around the words. “That we leave it unguarded. Those participating in the morning ceremony will be notified tonight.” 

With that, he turns away from the center of the cafeteria, eyes locking onto your table. Conversation picks back up as he strides toward the three of you, a smile replacing the tenseness. 

“Let me guess,” you say to neither Seonghwa nor San in particular, “I’m about to be notified of something?” 

Seonghwa smirks, “you can be so bright sometimes.” 

“(Y/n)!” Hongjoong calls your name when he’s a few feet away, closing the distance enough to rest a hand on your shoulder before asking, “Are you excited for your first harvest?” 

You blink up at him, amazed that he still even bothers, “you just made it sound like something to be weary of, rather than excited for.” 

He shrugs, squeezing your shoulder once before releasing you to sit next to Seonghwa. “We haven’t covered the Guardians yet.” 

“The what now?” 

Hongjoong waves his hand in the air to dismiss your question, “you’ll learn in due time.”

For a second, you think that Seonghwa even rolls his eyes, but that would be truly unfathomable. You’re happy enough to write off whatever the fuck the ‘Guardians’ are. The last thing you want right now is another lesson in cult lore.

“Anyhow,” he clasps his hands, resting them on the table. “You’ll be participating in the ceremony tomorrow. Its a fun one, too.” 

You look at San, though he’s looking anywhere but at you. Turning back to Hongjoong, you ask, “do I get to know what this ceremony entails ahead of time, or are you going to surprise stab me again?” You’re honestly surprised by how bold you feel, given everything that’s happened. Maybe seeing him cry reduces him a little bit… no, that’s not it. Whatever it was, you’re just not feeling particularly intimidated by Hongjoong at the moment, surprisingly.

Hongjoong waves a hand in the air, “there’s no need to be so dramatic, (Y/n).”

Honestly, you still think it was a fair question. But you feel lucky that he’s clearly in the bantering mood as well.

“You’ve already been Chosen; you won’t have to prove yourself again,” San offers, albeit rather quietly and more so to himself than to you. 

“I feel that its best that you’re prepared for the ceremony,” Hongjoong ignores San’s comment, “Seonghwa can cover it with you.” 

Seonghwa jerks his head toward his leader. “I can? I thought I wa—”

Hongjoong smiles, stopping Seonghwa in his tracks. “You’ll do as I say.”

He only nods in response, turning away from Hongjoong. To your relief, he doesn’t lay a glare on you once more, returning to his meal instead. 

“San, let’s talk privately for a moment,” Hongjoong rises, beckoning San to follow him. San furrows his brows, but stands anyway, following Hongjoong until they’re out of earshot from your table.

You turn your attention back to Seonghwa. “Let me hear it.” 

He drops his spoon again, looking annoyed at the prospect of having to spend anymore time with you. “I need a copy of The Answer to properly explain it.” 

“You’re telling me you don’t keep one on yourself at all times?” 

Seonghwa blinks at you. Leaning back, he unbuttons his jacket, reaching a hand to the inside pocket. Low and behold, he pulls a copy of The Answer from the interior pocket, gently placing it onto the table between you two. 

You had been half joking. 

He buttons his jacket again, sliding his tray away from himself. Wordlessly, he picks up the book, flipping to the back pages before landing on whatever page he was searching for. He turns his wrist, showing you the page.

Highlighted in yellow and underlined maybe five times is the title:

HARVEST PRACTICES

The chapter that follows is broken into a few different sections, from what you can see on the pages in view. The first subtitle reads:

INVOCATION AND PROTECTION

“Your hand is shaking too much for me to read that,” you complain, grabbing the book from Seonghwa’s hands. You slide your own tray away, setting the book on the table to read. 

The text continues.

Perhaps one of the most strenuous times a year comes during harvest season. Though the crop can be bountiful and the blessings many, there are also dangers that follow. This implicates the necessity to instate a protective guard around our group; a ward to protect ourselves so as to protect our Clones. 

On the first day of the harvest, the following ceremony must be conducted to insure safety throughout the season. The steps are outlined here; however HONGJOONG may adapt these provisions as he sees fit per the requirements of the year. 

Typical ceremony regalia should be worn by all Followers. Ten Followers are chosen at random to participate in the ceremony.

Participation is mandatory once selected; certain Followers may be required to participate every year due to their given role in Universe One. 

At 6 A.M. The ceremony begins. The ten Followers link hands in a circle.

They recite the following incantation, taking three steps to the left following each break.

On this day we make our vow.

The Answer is near; we shall not wonder or fear.

I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew

The barrier is weak.

United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.

Following the incantation, each member shall raise their hands. The ceremonial blade is presented, and each Follower shall gently open their left palm, letting the blood drop into the center of the circle while reciting:

I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.

At the completion of each vow, the final words will be said:

We call upon you to stay away.

The Sacrifice will then be presented. It is to be left on the altar for one day.

This is the conclusion of the ceremony.

This ceremony is not infallible. Should trouble arise before, during, or after, HONGJOONG and designated Followers will resolve the issue. 

You stop reading, looking up at Seonghwa. “Sacrifice?”

He nods. 

“That’s, like, pretty cliche,” you frown, “and that rhyme sucks.” 

“Be more respectful.” Seonghwa mirrors your frown, “Hongjoong isn’t a poet, he’s a prophet.” 

“Really? I thought he was God?” 

Seonghwa only gives you a more exasperated look, rolling his eyes.

You scan over the ceremony again, trying to make sure you’re getting the details correct. “What’s this about ‘calling the evil towards me?’ And the blood? Is that really necessary?” 

He glances over your shoulder, a relieved expression gracing his features, “San, you have a knack for perfect timing today.”

You turn to look back and, sure enough, San is approaching your table again. 

San looks between you, Seonghwa, and the copy of The Answer in your hands, putting the pieces together. “Questions?” 

“A few,” you mutter, suddenly not very interested. You don’t mind pestering Seonghwa for answers to all of your questions, but you aren’t keen on asking San the same way. “But it can wait. What did Hongjoong want?”

San takes his place next to you again, shrugging as he does so. “He was just letting me know the plan for tomorrow.” 

Seonghwa reaches for his book, plucking it out of your hands before you can respond to San. “I trust you won’t be needing my copy, anymore.” 

Resisting the urge to mock him, you respond to San instead. “Such as…?”

“When to be there, how to help you dress, so on.” 

So on… Why does it feel like there’s a lot more emphasis on the ending of that list? They had been gone for a good five minutes, there had to be more than that, surely. Why wouldn’t San tell you the whole truth? What good would that do for him? 

You stay quiet, trying to ignore your suspicions. If you can’t trust San, who can you trust? 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

It turns out that you have to wake up significantly more early than usual.

San shakes you awake at four, ignoring your pleas for five more minutes. “I waited as long as I could, (Y/n).” 

You grumble and moan, but find it in yourself to get out of bed. For Haseul. That’s what you tell yourself. All of this is for Haseul. Your cooperation is for her. Had she not been here, you’d be kicking and screaming the whole way. 

But, unfortunately, Hongjoong figured out how to play you like a damn fiddle. So here you are, tugging on the same black dress pants that you had put on… what, three weeks ago? A month ago? Longer? You have no idea. 

You manage to button your shirt correctly this time, though your face burns at the memory of Seonghwa having to help you dress. What had happened to you? You never would have thought that the day would come where you would voluntarily wear this… cult regalia. 

San watches, already fully dressed by the time that he woke you up. You have to admit that he looks handsome in all black, the clothes clearly tailored to fit him. Two or three silver necklaces hang down his chest, matching rings gracing his fingers. He hasn’t put his mask on, yet, or his hat, leaving his features exposed in the security of your apartment. 

“Let me help,” he offers, squatting to his knees to help you tie your boots as you pull them on. He ties your right shoe as you tie your left, lacing them with the deftness of well-trained hands. 

Of course, he finishes before you do. He takes over tying your left shoe, smiling up at you as you yield the laces to him. “Thank you.” 

He only pats your knee, standing back up and offering his hand to you. You take it and rise as well, glancing at the clock. 4:29. 

The ceremony starts at 6. You’re not really sure why you have to be in positions so early, but… whatever. You’re not going to fight it. You can do this, you’re sure of it. For Haseul, you’ll do it. 

San opens the wardrobe, grabbing your two hats off of the top shelf. Had you ever noticed them sitting there? You’re not sure. Maybe someone had brought them in. 

He hands you yours, swirling his around on his finger instead of putting it on. “How are you feeling?” 

You put the hat on. “Fine.” 

“You sure?” He sounds genuine enough, and you don’t doubt that he’s at least a little worried for you. And, obviously, given the circumstances with Haseul… 

“I just hope I don’t fuck up.” 

San frowns, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. 

“Everything will be fine,” he promises, rubbing your hand with his. “It’ll be over before you know it!” 

Forcing a smile, you nod. He’s probably right. If you just grit your teeth and bare it, the whole thing will be over as quickly as you can say the stupid little incantation. There’s no reason to be afraid or worried. 

… That’s what you really want to believe. But you can’t bring yourself to think that it will actually be that easy. Something is going to happen. Something bad. You’re sure of it, now, in this moment. You’re more sure of it than anything else. 

Hongjoong won’t just let this happen. He won’t just let this pan out easily. He has something planned, and you’re sure that it’s something terrible…

The sacrifice mentioned in the steps… you had never had the chance to ask about it. Something is going to happen then, you’re sure. At the moment of the sacrifice or the moment that it’s presented, it’s going to be something beyond even your imagination. 

Hongjoong’s insanity knows no bounds, and that is something that you know for a positive fact. He can’t just have something go well or normally when you’re involved. He will have to stick his fingers in the pie, have to meddle to make something happen. 

Your stomach flips as you consider the possibilities. You suddenly feel woozy. 

“Hey,” San calls your attention back to the moment at hand, grabbing your other arm with his free hand. “Are you alright?” 

You blink at him, “Just a little lightheaded is all.” 

“Do you want something to eat?” He starts to pull you toward the kitchenette, but the thought of eating only makes your stomach feel heavier. 

Planting your feet, you shake your head. “No, no, I’m fine. I just want to get this over with.”

You’re not lying. If something is going to happen (when something is going to happen), you would rather just have it be done and have it be over. 

Whatever it is, you’re sure that you can survive it. You’ve made it this far without losing your wits or dying, you’re sure that you can make it through a ten minute ordeal. Even if it is particularly nasty or horrible. 

Fuck, you just hope the sacrifice isn’t a person. You’re, like, sixty percent sure that it won’t be, but… that forty percent is still a question mark. At least you know it won’t be you. 

That’s probably not the right mindset. But, hey, that’s life, isn’t it? 

San looks between you and the clock, looking disappointed. “I guess we don’t really have time, anyhow. I’m sorry.” He apologizes, dropping his hands from you. 

You brush off the apology, following him as he leaves the room and approaches your door. 

“You’re sure that you’re okay?” San asks again, pausing by your front door. “I can make up some excuse if I have to.” 

You don’t have to force a smile, this time. “I’m going to be fine as soon as this is over.” 

He nods in acceptance, opening the door and holding it open for you.

The two of you head to the chapel in silence, other Followers wearing their all-black regalia crowding the hallways and stairwells. A few people smile and wave at you, though you can’t really say that you recognize them. 

As you squeeze through the halls, you wonder where Haseul is being kept. In one of the single rooms, you’re sure, but which one… 

You almost have the urge to start knocking on every door on the women’s floor, jangle each doorknob and greet each person until you find her…

But that would be silly, and you know that. You’d only be punished if you went looking for her. Worse, she would probably be punished for your stupidity, too. 

That’s not going to happen. 

So you fight the feeling, just as you fought your panic. Your stomach is still a wreck as you follow San. You don’t hold his hand, not in public, but you wish that you could grab him for some semblance of comfort. 

He would take your hand if you tried, you realize. Clearly, he doesn’t have much of an issue speaking about your relationship, at least with Mingi. 

The memory of their argument brings a sour expression to your face. You’re still not very pleased with how San had acted, or with how Mingi had, either. Even after the apology… 

And San never confirmed that he apologized to Mingi. Well, you had never asked him. 

But whatever. That has to be a problem for another day, for another you. Or at least for the you of three hours from now. You can’t go into this being pissed at basically the only two people that you like here. 

That doesn’t give much credit to Nayeon or Yunho or Wooyoung or Yeosang, you realize, but whatever. You don’t need to be debating who your friends are and who your friends aren’t.

After what happened with Wooyoung, anyways, would you really consider him a friend? Had you really processed any of what he had told you? What the fuck.

Your head swims with the reality of everything that has been happening to you in the past couple days. You’ve experienced enough goddamn trauma to let Dr. Phil run another 12 seasons on you alone. Fucking hell. Literally what the fuck.

You finally reach the big doors, relishing the feeling of stepping into the cool outside air. The hallways had been stuffy with the weight of all of the Followers, and the sudden breeze is refreshing; especially given your fucking outfit. 

The sun hasn’t even poked above the horizon, yet. You wouldn’t even call it dawn. But you don’t have to squint to make out the chapel in this distance. 

The sea of Followers in front of you lead the way to the holy place, a swarm of black across the farm. 

You wonder how many of them there really are. If Hongjoong said that everyone had to attend this ceremony… fuck. There’s a lot of people. Just the people you can see outside seem to outnumber what you would have originally thought. 

How in the world had Hongjoong recruited so many people? 

How many of these people actually believed every word that he said? You’d have to assume most of them. What would they do to make him happy? To keep him happy? 

The thought sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine, only making your stomach worse.

The walk isn’t long, and you soon find yourself passing the doors that are being held open by the swarm of people crowding through them. 

It’s fuller than you’ve ever seen it, the chapel. Some people are already seated in the pews, chatting with their peers. The majority of the Followers, however, are still standing, mingling in the aisle.

You follow San’s lead, presuming that he’ll take you wherever you need to be. He goes about halfway to the front of the chapel, stopping in a less-populated area of the aisle in what you assume is an attempt to make you calmer. You’re not sure that it helps, but you appreciate the gesture, anyhow.

You wonder who the other Followers that were chosen for the ceremony are. Will anyone that you know be up there to comfort you? It probably wouldn’t make a difference, but at least one familiar face would be welcome. 

As you glance around the room, you find your eyes tugging toward the Sign of the Answer, the huge one on the wall. Hongjoong’s chair is gone in preparation for the ceremony, so you’re able to see it in all of its glory. Per usual, the chapel is lit by candles, and the light glints off of the Sign exactly how you remember it looking the night that you had been Chosen. The memory makes you more nervous.

San puts a hand on your arm, calling your attention back to him. You glance at his face first, only to see him looking ahead as someone approaches. For a split second, you’re worried that its going to be Mingi. 

But it’s only Wooyoung, you realize. 

He stops in front of you, two glasses in his hands. “Hello,” he greets you, looking between the two of you.

San returns the hello, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. Something about the sight of him disturbs you. And the glasses in his hands.

He gets straight to business.

“Drink this,” Wooyoung holds out a champagne glass filled with something that is decidedly not champagne. Instead of sparkling, yellow liquid, this is a flat, blood red. 

You hesitantly take the stem, tilting the glass to watch the liquid move. Thankfully, it doesn’t actually seem to be blood. You take a sniff, not all that surprised to smell the familiar red wine scent. 

“It’s just wine. For the nerves.”

Shrugging, you take a sip. He’s not lying, but… “Last time you fed me in this room you also drugged me.” 

Wooyoung mirrors your shrug. “Don’t drink it then.”

You glance at San, who also shrugs. 

“Well fuck it, then.” In an action reminiscent of your college days, you down the glass; ignoring the bitterness as best you can. 

Wooyoung takes the glass back from you. “Good luck, then.” 

He excuses himself, wandering back into the crowd with the other glass. You assume that he’s handing them out to all of the participating Followers, but you opt to stop watching him to look back at San.

“Do you think that was drugged?” You ask San, rubbing your palms on your jacket. 

His eyes go wide, “I wouldn’t have let you drink it if I thought it was!” 

“I’m not sure I trust Hongjoong that much.” 

“I do.” San puts a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently. His words don’t offer you any comfort, but the hand is pleasant enough.

Well, you’ll know soon enough, anyhow. Maybe this would all go a lot more smoothly if you were drugged, somehow. Your heart feels like a damn jackhammer in your chest.

You try to look around, wanting to spot any familiar face in the crowd for any sense of comfort. It’s just so damn hard with everyone dressed like the fucking grim reaper. You think that you spot Nayeon, briefly, her long brown hair contrasting beautifully to the fitted black of her coat. 

Yunho is hard to miss, his height only exaggerated by the hat atop his head. You’re not entirely sure where you stand with him, though, given your place with Mingi. If Mingi’s still pissed at you (which, to give him credit, you’re not sure if he is), Yunho probably is too. 

Speaking of Mingi, he approaches Yunho, his own height rather hard to miss in the crowd. He grabs his friend’s shoulder, exclaiming something that’s a bit too quiet for you to make out. But you know Mingi’s voice when you hear it. 

After this, you have to talk to Mingi. Even though you might be a little… upset? Disappointed? At his outburst and his childish behavior, you have to make things right by him. Yunho, too, you suppose. 

You still hold out hope that Haseul will make an appearance, though you’re sure Hongjoong made arrangements to keep her away. Though… if Mingi is here, who's watching her? It probably wouldn’t be hard to find someone else, but someone else that Hongjoong trusted that much… that’s a different story. You know that you should probably just drop it, but there’s something in you that feels like she’ll show up… you certainly have a lot of feelings, this morning. 

A hand wraps around your elbow, startling you. You don’t have to look to recognize Hongjoong, his touch alone enough to identify him, burning hot even through your jacket.

“(Y/n),” he purrs, holding you close to him, “how are you feeling?” 

You try to pull your arm away, to no avail. “Like I’m going to be sick.” 

Hongjoong laughs, “you’ll be completely fine. You’re not the sacrifice.” 

That doesn’t do anything to calm your nerves. That’s not what you’re worried about. And you’d rather not have to play one of his stupid games. “I have a sense that some anvil is about to fall on my head.” 

“Hmmm,” he hums, “maybe. Maybe not. It depends on what you’re picturing.”

“I’m picturing what you wrote in The Answer.” You force the words out through gritted teeth. It’s so fucking annoying when he does this; when he doesn’t just speak his mind. You’d much prefer him telling you that, yeah, you’re about to be grievously harmed than have him just dangle the thought in front of your eyes.

“Well, either way, I’m sure you understand what will happen if you disrupt the ceremony.” Hongjoong’s voice is laced with that sickening smile of his, “or if you fail to complete your part in it.” 

He’s right, he doesn’t need to remind you in the slightest. You can only imagine the fear that Haseul is in right now, but your own fear for her must be ten times worse. The idea of Hongjoong putting his hands on her makes your gut churn.

The fact that he backed you into such a perfect corner is almost sickening. It pisses you off to no end. Why did he have to bring her into this? Not that you would want him to use this treatment on Mingi, but, like, fuck, he at least already had him here. Was it really necessary to involve a completely innocent girl? 

If you didn’t care what happened to her, you might just spit in the man’s face at this very second. 

“I get it, Hongjoong.” 

“Then you’ll do great!” He releases your arm, opting to pat your shoulder a couple times. “Simply stick to the outline. Do your part. And it’ll be over quickly.” 

You take a deep breath, “Hongjoong,” you hope that saying his name will make him listen to you, “can I see her, afterword?” 

His hand stops on your shoulder, squeezing. “Let’s see how you fare, first.” His voice seems harder with these words, more sharp. Hopefully that wasn’t some sort of huge overstep to him. 

He cuts off the conversation at that, leaving your side to rejoin the crowd of Followers. He’s wearing the same outfit he had been wearing yesterday, the shiny material catching the light of the candles ever so as he moves. 

“San,” you turn toward where San was standing, only to find him gone. You whirl around in a circle in a way that must look comical, searching for where he could have gone off to. He doesn’t appear to be in your near vicinity, somehow completely, wordlessly disappeared. 

Dread swirls in your stomach. You were going to ask him if he knew what the sacrifice was going to be, finally reminded.

As if commanded by some outside force, the majority of the Followers suddenly stop their conversations. The room falls silent as people make their ways to their usual pews, sliding silently into their seats. 

Per usual, you’ve been left out of the loop. 

Without San to guide you into place, you really have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing. You look toward the front of the chapel, expecting to find Hongjoong glaring at you, but not even he is there to tell you what to do. 

Looking around to the other Followers that are still standing, you’re mildly surprised to see Yunho only a couple feet away. He catches your eye, tipping his head toward the front of the room in signal. He starts walking, so you start walking. 

You’re hyper aware of the sound of your footsteps on the wood floors, your boots clicking with each step. Yunho’s do, too. The steps are the only sound in the chapel. 

With bated breath, you reach the front of the room. You glance toward your usual pew, hoping to see San sitting in your spot. He’s not, however, only making the rock in your stomach that much heavier. 

Yunho steps up onto the little stage, offering you his hand to help with the step up. You take it, joining him and turning toward the congregation of Followers. From this angle, you can see… it takes you a second to count the heads… eight other Followers approaching the stage. You try to find Hongjoong among them, but he’s not there. Neither is San.

After what feels like forever, Yunho and yourself are joined by the others. You read this part, you feel okay about it. Well, not okay okay, but, like, you know. At least you know what to expect. 

Yunho grabs your left hand, as someone you can’t recall the name of takes the place to your right; taking that hand into theirs. 

The ten of you link into a circle, hand-in-hand. 

You had kind of expected there to be more guidance from Hongjoong in this process. A narration or a sort of sermon over the top of your actions, but Hongjoong remains unseen and unheard as the Followers around you start their recitation. 

“On this day we make our vow,” you don’t jump into the speech until the next sentence, unsure of how they knew that it was time to start. “From henceforth we pledge ourselves.”

You take three steps to your left. The Sign of the Answer twinkles in your peripheral vision. The Followers in the pews have their heads bowed. 

“The Answer is near. We shall not wonder or fear.” 

Three more steps. 

“I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew.” 

Three more steps to the left. This time, you almost step on Yunho’s toes. You try to look at the other Followers in your circle, but their heads are similarly bowed. You look back down at your feet. You’re lightheaded. 

“The barrier is weak.”

Your hands float upwards, along with the rest of the circle’s. Still connected, everyone’s hands hang in the air of the center of the circle. 

“United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.” 

Someone, you’re not sure who, breaks the circle first. Your eyes are closed, you realize. You open them only when Yunho’s hand leaves your own; barely hearing his hushed whispering at your side. Before you know it, the knife is in your own hands. 

It’s already sparkling with blood. At least Yunho’s. The lowlight makes it hard to see, but the Sign of the Answer does a beautiful job of illuminating just enough to reawaken your nausea. What the fuck is happening, right now? What the fuck are you about to do?

Yunho’s blood drips down the blade and onto your hand. It’s warm. 

You’re sure that you’re going to faint. 

But you hold the blade to your left hand, anyways, saying the words as quietly as you can. Surely, this is all just some batshit insane cult ceremony, but the weight of speaking them outloud is still sickening. 

“I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.” 

You swipe the blade across your palm, handing it off to the Follower next to you as fast as you can manage. You close your eyes again. Your hand burns. You almost think that you can hear your blood, dropping from your palm and hitting the floor.

At some point, the last person finishes. The knife clatters to the floor, the only sound in the chapel. You know to take three more steps to the left. And to finish the words. 

“We call upon you to stay away.” 

The scream makes you open your eyes. 

Disorientated, you realize that you’re facing away from the crowd, staring directly at the Sign. But it’s not glowing anymore. 

You turn around, blinded. Every candle in the chapel has gone out.

Was that the source of the scream? The lights going out? What the fuc—

The door behind the stage slams open. You jump again, spinning back as though you’d be able to see anything, anyhow. 

Someone in the audience wails. 

Are they seeing something that you’re not? Your heart pounds hard, so so hard. Is this panic? The spell? A heart attack? 

You need to sit down. Yunho grabs your hand before you can stumble off of the stage. He pulls you behind him, keeping the arm behind his back to hold you there. 

You fist the back of his coat, probably soiling the material with your blood, but it’s all you can do to keep yourself standing upright. The urge to vomit hits you again, but you prevail, closing your eyes as tight as you can. 

Is this supposed to happen? This wasn’t in the outline. Are you meant to feel like such shit right now?

How did all of the candles go out?

Who the fuck is interrupting? 

Something, or someone, drops in the middle of the circle. 

You open your eyes again, peering around Yunho. The rest of the circle had stayed in place. 

At the center of your circle, now, is a head. 

Not a human head, thank God, but a pig’s. Your stomach still revolts, still tumbling over and over itself as you slide back into your spot in the circle. You clamp onto Yunho’s hand like its the only thing that you’ve ever known, grounding yourself the only way that you can. 

Its still so dark. You close your eyes again

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do now. Is it over? You hope to God that its over. You can’t take another goddamned minute of thi—

You open your eyes at the same instant that Yunho yells. Everything happens so fucking fast. 

Yunho falls backward, off of the stage. You process this secondly. Chiefly, however, your attention is caught by the figure now in front of you, where the pig head had been seconds before. 

It’s huge. You can’t comprehend it entirely, what it is that you’re seeing. It doesn’t even look human. It grabs your now vacant hand, pulling you away from the Followers. 

There’s a collective scream behind you, and you’re not surprised to realize that you’re also screaming. 

You try to look into the face. But it doesn’t have a face. It’s nothing. Is this death? 

You’re falling backwards, now. Before you know it, you’re on the ground, curling in on yourself.

Someone turns the overhead lights on. You cradle your hands to your chest, aware of the fact that you’re crying. The tears are hot on your cheeks. The blood is hot on your hands. The feeling of that, that, fucking thing making you want to retch. 

What the fuck was that? What the fuck? 

Hongjoong appears at your side, his face blurry. From your tears, from the panic? You’re not sure. 

He asks if you’re okay. You can’t answer him. You close your eyes again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

In your sleep, you see it again. 

Even in this instance, you can’t tell what it is. It’s shaped like a person, but you can’t look directly at it. You know that if you look, it won’t have a face.

In your dream, it’s even bigger than it was. It towers over you, grabbing you over and over, your screaming and begging doing nothing to appease it. 

You can see its hands as they reach, as they latch onto you. They’re white. But they’re not skin. It’s cloth, you realize, gloves. 

The rest of it is white, too. But it certainly doesn’t look like clothing. You couldn’t ever explain it to someone if they asked, and you’re much too terrified to go digging into the details. 

All you know is that it doesn’t have a face. It’s not natural. Every part of you hates every part of this thing. 

You want to wake up.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

And so you do, in the infirmary. 

The first thing you see are the familiar ceiling tiles. The second thing is Hongjoong.

You startle awake, twitching in on yourself as you try to sit up. 

Hongjoong sucks in a breath, though he doesn’t get to his feet to help you. He’s still wearing that outfit. 

You’re still wearing yours, you realize. The pants rub uncomfortably against the blanket laying over you. You’re able to sit up easily enough, and you’re relieved to realize that nothing hurts. You feel fine.

“So, do you believe me now?” Hongjoong asks once you’re up, but he’s not smiling in triumph as you would’ve imagined.

“What the fuck was that thing?” 

Hongjoong sighs, “Exactly what I was trying to protect us from. A guardian.”

You blink at him, dumbfounded. There’s literally no fucking way in hell that Hongjoong has been right about any of this. He’s insane. He is fully, entirely, batshit insane. 

You can’t explain away whatever the fuck just happened, but you’re not about to accept that he’s been telling you the truth. That there are alternate universes and demons that can jump between them. That’s not real life. That’s not how the world works. 

Whatever just happened, whatever that was, there’s a reasonable explanation. Surely. 

Though you can’t imagine what that explanation would be, it must exist. The last fucking thing in the world that you’re going to do now is believe in Hongjoong. Like, what the fuck? What the fuck? Why would you fucking believe in a fucking religion that has fucking faceless demons fucking running around freely? You wouldn’t. You refuse. You will not. 

Even if that is the only explanation for the thing in white, you are not going to believe it. You would sooner believe that you have a hallucination disorder than accept that Hongjoong is right about anything. 

Thinking about it, you probably would have to have some sort of psychosis to accept any of this. But, then again, this is exactly the sort of thing that would trigger psychosis… 

You’re thinking way too fucking hard about this. It is simple. Hongjoong is a freak.

“Where’s San?” The question is natural. 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, “Interesting follow-up question. I thought it best to separate you two for now.” 

“Why?” 

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he stands up. “How is your hand?” 

You had honestly forgotten about it. Holding it up, you examine your bandage. “Fine.” 

The two of you stay in silence. Hongjoong seems mad. 

“Is that really all you’re going to ask?” He asks, almost sounding whiny. Like a child. 

It’s certainly all you’re going to ask him. He’ll only lie to you. “Can I see Seonghwa?” You ask instead.

Hongjoong scoffs. He brushes his hair back, looking around the room as if he’s expecting some live studio audience to empathize with him. “I know you’re not fucking him.” 

You shrug. “Are you okay, Hongjoong?” 

His face falls flat. He crosses his arms over his chest, turning to fully face you again. “I’m great.” The words are strained. You’ve never known Hongjoong to be a bad liar. 

“You seem kinda pissed.” 

“I am not—” He closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “I’m fine. I’ll have Seonghwa come visit, since you clearly won’t be speaking to me.” He says this like he expects you to apologize. But what the hell would you apologize for? 

Hongjoong leaves without another word once it becomes clear that you won’t be giving him what he wants. You’re sure that he expected more crying, more fear, more begging and pleading for answers. 

You save that for once you’re sure that he’s gone.

Trembling, you pull your knees to your chest. Your fingers twitch with fear, your hair feels foreignly heavy, your wrist burns and burns where the thing had touched you. 

You refuse to believe that it was real. It cannot be real. None of this can be real. There was some trick, some show, some plan that you weren’t privy to. Seonghwa will tell you. He’ll have to tell you. He’s honest, most of the time. He’ll explain it away, he’ll tell you how Hongjoong did it and why it seemed so real. 

Where was its face? 

How had they done that? Where the fact should have been, there was nothing. You couldn’t even say that it was a color. It was a void. An emptiness. There was nothing there. 

The memory makes you dizzy. You lean back against the pillows, praying to God that you’re not going insane. Had you really seen that? You couldn’t have. Because that’s just not something that’s possible. 

If Seonghwa can’t explain this, you might go crazy. You might. What else is there to do? It wasn’t real. But the fear that you’re feeling now certainly is. 

What if it comes back? What if they make it come back? What was it? Where was its face? 

Even though whatever the fuck that was wasn’t real, the memory certainly is. You’re going to be lucky to sleep soundly one night for the rest of your damn life. What the fuck. 

Seonghwa lets himself into the room only a few minutes after Hongjoong had left. 

“You like me so much that you ask for me now?” He smirks, approaching your side. 

His face falls flat when he takes a good look at you. “Stop that. Why are you crying?” 

“Seonghwa.” You feel that it’s quite obvious why you’re crying. 

He only blinks at you. 

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice shakes with the question. 

“I—” He starts, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Its complicated.” 

You cover your face with your hands. “Was it real? Just be honest.” 

You can’t see his reaction to your question, and he doesn’t answer it, either. 

“What was it?” You moan, hardly able to even spit the words out. To basically admit to Seonghwa that you were scared.

“I think it would be better if you talked to Hongjoo—”

“I am not talking to Hongjoong!” 

You take your hands away from your face, needing to look at him. You hate him. You hate him more than fucking anything. Why can’t he just be honest? Why is he Hongjoong’s little fucking doll? Why does he worship him to such a degree when he’s this fucking evil? Where would he draw the line? 

Seonghwa is stunned into silence. He only stares down at you.

“All I can say is that I didn’t know it was going to happen.” 

He looks blurry through your tears, only making you angrier as you recall Hongjoong looking the same way.

“Stop bullshitting me, please, Seonghwa,” you beg. “I think I’ll go insane if you don’t fucking answer me.” 

He turns away from your bed, striding to one of the medicine cabinets in an attempt to look anywhere but your face. He rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead momentarily. 

“What do you want to hear?” He asks, turning back toward you, though he keeps his distance. “Would you rather know what Hongjoong is capable of or would you rather keep the comforting thought that he’s right? Wouldn’t that just be easier for everybody?” 

“You’re saying that Hongjoong can do things scarier than the thought of fucking interdimensional demons being real?” You throw your hands out in front of you, almost yelling in frustration. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Yes!” Seonghwa matches your tone. “He’s only going to come at you harder. He exists to make you break! Just fucking accept the truth for what he says that it is, and everything will come easily!” 

“I’m not going to do that!” 

Seonghwa laughs bitterly. “I’m sure you believe that, too, Princess.” 

You stare back at him, sure that you look insane. “Can you be genuine for one fucking second?” 

His face contorts into a scowl. “I’ve never been anything but genuine with you. You’re the one that deludes yourself.” He strides back to the door, freezing in the frame. “Is there anything else you wish to fling at me?” 

“I’m taking this to mean that it wasn’t real.” 

“If that helps you sleep at night.” 

Seonghwa leaves. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Can you bear some girl time? You’re not sure as Nayeon lets herself in, walking casually into the room as if the literal antichrist of her religion didn’t just make a physical appearance before her. 

“How are we feeling?” She asks, dragging out the vowel sounds in her question. 

“Uhm,” you look at your hand, the only injured part of your body, “fine, I guess.” 

“Perfect!” She smiles, reaching out to put her hand under yours. “The bandage looks fine. I don’t think it’ll reopen.” 

Nayeon had found time to change her clothes. She’s back to her usual farm girl outfit, smiling and happy. 

“Are you alright, Nayeon?” You ask, curious to know what a regular Follower made of what the fuck happened. 

She frowns, and then shrugs, and then smiles again. “I mean, it was, like, a bit scary. But Hongjoong made it go away, and he’s always with us, so it’s not like it can come back to hurt us. I was definitely scared at first, but then he showed up and I knew it would be okay.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly. Nayeon has always been a valuable source of information for you. 

“It was just so valiant; do you remember how he saved you?” She giggles, “he still has it going for you. It’s amazing.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t say that I remember much…” Other than the fucking maw of emptiness. 

“Oh, well I got you.” She pulls up one of her rolling stools, sitting herself down right next to your bed. “So the ceremony went great. Textbook, really. But as it was finishing… I guess I’m not really sure how it happened, either. Like, one second everything was fine, and the next Yunho was on the ground— he’s fine, by the way; wind knocked out of him, but yeah, anyways— and the Guardian was there and everyone was screaming, it was so scary. I guess it grabbed you… and then Hongjoong appeared and it was like his presence just scared it away. I didn’t see what happened exactly… but the next thing I knew you were on the ground and Hongjoong was hollering for my help.” 

She shrugs. 

What you gather from that is that she didn’t see how it got there or how it left. Good signs, probably. She’d certainly remember seeing something… appear out of thin air. You almost want to smile. What a silly thought, that that could have all been real… haha… ha… yeah, funny…

“I see…” You respond, not sure what you’re supposed to say, “how much time has passed?” 

Nayeon looks at her watch, “like, three hours.” 

Great. Perfect, actually. It would be very unfortunate to find out that you had been unconscious for a week again, especially given the circumstances with Haseul. She’s probably already freaking out, but not hearing anything from you for a week… 

Is Hongjoong going to let you see her? After your brush with death? It wasn’t your fault that… whatever happened happened. Like, he planned that, not you. Surely he can’t hold this over your head. If anything, you basically almost just got kidnapped into a parallel universe, he should be treating you very kindly, right? 

Asshole. He’s probably going to bitch and moan for the next week about you not being scared of him. Fucking asshat. 

But… God, ugh, this is all so frustrating. On one hand, you’re pissed at him for, you don’t know, literally everything that he’s ever done to you, maybe? But on the other, you know that you’re going to have to play by his rules to get him to leave Haseul alone. Or, well, at least as alone as he can.

When is she going to have a Choosing ceremony, you wonder? Yours didn’t take very long… 

Well, if he doesn’t let you see her after this, at least you have that to… tentatively look forward to… ew, you don’t even want to be thinking like that. 

Nayeon stands at your side, bringing you back. 

You don’t realize why until you look behind her, only to spot Yunho standing near the doorway. 

He’s changed out of his clothes, thankfully. But just seeing him is enough to flood your mind with the thought of the thing, your stomach lurching over again as he welcomes himself into the room, clearing his throat. 

Nayeon pats his shoulder as she walks past him, excusing herself. Yunho stops at the foot of your bed. 

You have to admit that he might be one of the last people you would have expected to visit you, now. You had been thinking it before everything happened, but you don’t really think he has any lost love for you, given your circumstances with Mingi. 

“Thank you,” you break the silence, forcing the words out before you can think better of them, “for, uhm, trying to help me. And, I mean, actually helping me, too.” You can’t forget that he had kept you standing when the sacrifice was presented. How ruined is his coat?

He awkwardly looks at his hands, which are gripping the rail at the end of your bed. “Don’t mention it.” His voice is so meager that you barely can hear him. 

Yunho doesn’t look up. You’re not sure what else to say. So you speak without thinking, again. “How’s Mingi?” 

He peeks up at you, but then goes right back to staring down. “He’s… uhm, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

He pries his hands off of the rail, but then stares at them like he’s unsure that they’re even his hands. Tucking his hands behind his back, he continues, though he still doesn’t look straight at you, “I, uhm, yeah. Mingi is worried about you, and I think his worry came off the wrong way to you and San.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly, and semi-sarcastically. You could’ve guessed that. “He has an interesting way of showing it.” 

Yunho takes a deep breath, “He doesn’t know that I’m here. I just thought that I would try and explain his side of things. From his perspective, he is the reason that you’re here and he feels guilty for that; but he’s also pissed that you’ve gotten close with San so quickly, because he doesn’t like him and he feels like you won’t take his concerns seriously.” 

“I don’t see what there is to be concerned about,” you plainly state, “do you have something against San, Yunho? Any reason at all to believe that Mingi could have reason to suspect that he’s not what he shows me?” 

Yunho startles when you say his name, like someone barely inhabiting their own body. “I mean, no. I think Mingi is probably just projecting his fear onto San, but don’t tell him I said that.” 

“Exactly. So why should I have to cater to Mingi’s ego?” The words sound harsh even as you say them, but its a genuine question. You don’t have much reason to believe that San would ever do anything to hurt you… besides him being someone that Hongjoong clearly trusts, but, like, you’ve been over that a million times before. 

Yunho just shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that maybe you would hear me out, since I know it’s hard for you to be alone with Mingi.” He stops his nervous fidgeting, finally looking directly at you. “I wasn’t nice to you because I harbor any sweetness towards you, for the record. I don’t even care that you’re the new object of Hongjoong’s affection. I only tried to help because I knew that, if I didn’t, Mingi would have.” His voice is harder than you’ve ever heard it; a shocking contrast to how he had been speaking just moments earlier. He maintains eye contact with you, his eyes dark. 

You’re the one to look away, this time, disturbed by what he said. What a very random and slightly disturbing thing to say. 

When you look back up at him, Yunho is already nervously looking around the room. His hands are in front of him again as he plays with his fingers. 

“Well,” you clear your throat, “thanks anyways, Yunho.” 

“Yep,” is all he says before leaving your room, basically running. 

… That was strange. Very strange. 

Nayeon doesn’t return. You’re left alone, puzzling over that entire interaction.

What… what was the point of that? Like, okay, sure you can get him wanting to try and vouch for Mingi. But… uhm??? The last part? What? Why was that so ominous? Huh? 

You had never known Yunho to be particularly timid… or… rude… This all is just very weird. Maybe even weirder than the fake demon situation. 

No, scratch that, definitely not any weirder than that. That one is gonna keep you awake for a while. A good while. But Yunho’s behavior was definitely not his usual, which is almost concerning. Almost… only because you suppose that you don’t really know him that well. Maybe he’s only really nice and outgoing to strangers… 

That wouldn’t make sense, either. 

Whatever, you really can’t be worrying about that right now. You have priorities. 

Priorities of which you would list, at least in your head, if San didn’t come barreling through the door the next moment. 

You startle, shocked by his sudden appearance. He’s changed, but he doesn’t look great. His hair is a mess, his lip is split, his shirt is untucked in places.

He reaches out for you, and you reach him halfway, grabbing his forearms as he grabs yours. Wordlessly, he looks over your face hastily, pressing his lips to yours before you can ask what happened. 

Your lips part, and he puts his forehead on yours. “We need to get out of here. As soon as possible.” 

← previous || next → || masterlist

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: EXTREMELY HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER, heavy depictions of domestic violence, physical and verbal abuse, NON CON, smutt, major angst, rough, breeding kink, dirty talk, mean Steve, housewife kink, domesticity kink, victim-blaming, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, self-blame.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve was always a great husband. Until he wasn't.

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Very angsty. Very heavy subject matter. This fic explores domestic violence. This fic can be triggering so please read warnings beforehand and please do not read unless you have read them.

“Sweetie, come downstairs.”

Steve only has to say it once and it’s enough for you to drop whatever you’re doing and follow wherever his voice is calling you. On this occasion, you switch off the iron and set it aside before straightening your dress and scurrying down to greet your husband.

“I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in my chores,” you explain, helping him take his jacket off before he wraps one strong arm around your waist and pulls you into him. Gosh, he was so big and strong! Steve’s physique always made you nervous and skittish – but in a good way, mostly. Carefully, you link your arms around his neck, reaching up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“You’re still learning,” Steve says after a long, lingering kiss to your lips followed by several small pecks that make you smile. “I don’t expect you to know everything straight off the bat. But for every rule missed, you must repeat it back to me.” His hand slips down to cup your ass through the thin material of your dress, and he gives it a firm squeeze as if to prompt you. “So, what’s the rule, baby?”

“That a good housewife always greets her husband at the door when he gets home from work.” You recite it dutifully, because by now you know all the rules by heart. Steve had made you learn them before you’d got married. You remember the long days of sitting in his lap and repeating each rule after him, and you also remember the soreness of your ass each time you got it wrong.

You never got them wrong anymore.

“Good girl,” Steve praises and you glow. You take his tie off for him, all the while asking him questions about his day. How work was, if anything special happened, if he was hungry. (Of course he was hungry, you knew Steve had a voracious appetite for both food and… other things.) He could eat enough for three men in one sitting – which was probably why he was so big and strong and imposing. And scary. Well, you were definitely scared of him. Sometimes. But you try not to think about that.

“This looks great, sweetheart,” Steve sits down on his place at the head of the table and pulls you into his lap. That was another thing about Steve, another one of his rules. He preferred you in his lap instead of in your own seat – at the dinner table, on the couch, anywhere. Even in the presence of other people, which embarrassed you sometimes but you’d never tell him that. It was one of his rules, and that meant it had to be obeyed, no questions asked.

“Thank you, Steve. I tried really hard to make all your favourites.”

He feeds you and himself at the same time, and now it’s his turn to ask you questions.

“Oh, my day was pretty boring,” you accept the bite of chicken pot pie he feeds you, chewing thoughtfully and trying your best to ignore the way your heart starts pitter-pattering harder. “I did all the chores I was supposed to do, and then I did some shopping. I got us some pretty new bedsheets.”

“That’s nice, sweetie. Did you buy anything for yourself?”

“No. I just came straight home after that, and…” Your voice trails off, and you hope your increased heartrate and clammy palms aren’t showing in your face.

“And what?” Steve blinks, those angelic blue eyes looking at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t lie to him. He was your husband. And it was one of his main rules, after all – you weren’t allowed to lie. And it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong…

“Well…”

The change in his demeanour is subtle, but it doesn’t escape you how he grabs your arm, his finger stroking against your bare skin as a deathly silence falls over the room, as if he’s awaiting your next words with careful patience.

You shuffle on his lap. Oh, why didn’t you just spit it out the moment he’d come home!? Now he’d think you’d deliberately kept it from him until he’d asked, and-

You take a deep breath, “Th-The car broke down on the way back.”

Silence. You dare to peak up at his eyes to see them impassive, waiting for you to continue. He gently sets the fork down beside his plate, an unreadable expression on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I don’t know what happened, but it broke down and it wouldn’t move and I…”  

“Why didn’t you call me?”

It’s a toneless question, any warmth he’d possessed earlier now gone, and it makes you start shaking even more.

“I tr-tried but there was no service, and I knew you’d be busy, and… and… I’m sorry, Steve, I know I should have called you. I know I’m meant to call you when stuff like this happens, but in that moment I–”

“How did you get home?”

Another question. His voice flat, but the grip on your arm tighter than ever. You gulp.

“L-Luckily there was someone passing by, and they said their auto-repair shop was only five minutes away, and–”

“They?”

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now, and you clasp them in your lap in a bid to get them to still. Your breathing grows more rapid, you can feel your palms grow sweatier as you squirm under your husband’s deathly calm gaze. You’re too afraid to look directly at him, but you know he’s expecting an answer. For a split second, you consider lying. But the consequences of that notion have you spitting out the truth before you can think about it any further.

“H-He.”

Steve goes deathly still. You hear him inhale sharply, his body tensing up even more underneath you. A part of you wants to burst into tears and run, run, run! But fear has you rooted in place, and even if it didn’t, he’s got a firm grasp on you, and you could never, ever overpower him.

“You got into a car with another man.”

He doesn’t even pose it as a question. No, the words leave Steve’s mouth in a statement of contempt and accusation. Except his tone is still so levelled, so dangerously low and contained.

“N-No! No, Steve, no! He offered to tow the car, and take it back to his repair shop. H-He was fixing it, Steve! And I swear I was only there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes! I promise, and then I came straight home!” You’re tripping over your words, trying to get your explanation out. The explanation you’d subconsciously been rehearsing in your head all day because you knew it would come to this. You knew the moment that friendly stranger had tapped on your car window and offered his help. But what else could you have done in that moment?

“Steve, I know I should’ve called you the moment I had service, but I –”

“–But you were too busy with the mechanic.”

“No, no, Stevie, it’s not like that at all!” In hopeless desperation for this not to end badly, you bravely lock eyes with him, cupping his face in your hands, “I just didn’t want to bother you, I knew you had an important meeting around that time.” And I was also too scared to call.

His grip on your arm steadily tightens, till you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh. And you can see the vein in his forehead, the way his face is flushed red, the way he’s clenching his jaw, the way his eyes look so dark.

You wince, “S-Steve, please, you’re hurting me.”

“What did you do?”

“H-Huh?”

“In those fifteen, twenty minutes you were at his shop. When you should have been calling or texting me. What did you do?” Steve grips your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing painfully down on your skin as he makes you look up at him. His expression is unreadable, his tone still low, but you can see that vein pulsing in his forehead. You know what it means.

“Nothing, I promise! I just sat in the waiting area, and…and there was no service, and–”

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not, I-"

“You were fucking him.”

The accusation drops like a pin, except it feels more like a car crashing straight into your heart. You feel everything; hurt, panic, but most of all – fear.

And Steve’s eyes are so, so dark, and his words so matter-of-fact. He’s still got a death-grip on you, holding you firmly in his lap while you start shaking violently. Oh no, no, no, no… How could you persuade him that you hadn’t done that? How you could never do that?!

“No, Stevie, I would never! I t-told you, he was fixing the car, I barely spoke to him, I–”

“You fucked him. In the car that I bought for you. And then you thought you could keep it a secret from me.”

He isn’t hearing you. No, he’s going to that place. That place where his eyes turn black and his expression goes all far away, and his anger consumes him to the point where rationality goes completely out the window. And you’d give anything to not be dragged down into his dark place, where your pleas reach deaf ears, where your tears and screams don’t mean a single thing. Well, not until it’s all over.

“I didn’t, Steve, please believe me. I would never cheat on you, never ever. Please, you’re hurting me!”

His fingers clamp down on your upper arm so hard, you know they’ll leave a mark. Another one you’ll have to hide with a meticulous makeup routine and carefully selected clothes.

It takes all your strength to pry his hands off you, and you jump off his lap like a hot poker, slowly backing away as dread fills up your stomach. Dread that increases tenfold the moment he stands up too, up to his full height that makes you cower in total, utter fear.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his tone is hard now, louder, more biting, and your eyes zero in on his hands as they curl into fists at his side. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

You continue backing away slowly, acutely aware that he’s stepping forward each time you take a step back. And like clockwork, you know how this goes. Soon your back would meet the wall, and then… Your eyes dart up behind him, up the stairs… Maybe, if you could get to the bedroom in time, perhaps lock the door?

“ANSWER ME!”

You jump, “No, Steve, I don’t! B-But I’m telling the truth. I barely spoke two words to the man, all I did was wait while he fixed the car. Please believe me,” your voice drops down to a broken whisper, “please…”

No talking to other men. It was perhaps Steve’s biggest rule. And it hadn’t always been like that, but slowly, through time, this rule had developed into one that your husband was the most obsessed with. The most angered by if ever broken by you. And what had started out as a little bit of a jealous streak had turned into white hot, obsessive, possession – almost paranoia. He saw red if a man ever looked your way, and God forbid if he thought it was the other way around…

“You’re fucking lying,” he spits out, each word coated in pure disdain that feels like ten stabs to your heart. “Had you been telling the truth, you wouldn’t have hid it from me until I asked you how your day was. You would have told me yourself, but you didn’t. You slept with someone else, and you thought you could fucking hide it from me, didn’t you?”

“No,” you whisper.

It only takes him two strides to get to you. And you’re frozen in fear but it’s like your body goes into fight or flight mode. He lunges at you, and you know he’s going for your throat but by some miracle you dodge him. And then you run, run, run for the stairs. Two at a time, oh you could make it! You’d lock yourself in the bathroom, wait for his anger to subside. You’d done that before, sometimes it would work, sometimes–

You take the stairs two at a time, but Steve’s legs are much longer than yours. He’s bigger than you in every way possible, stronger, faster too. It’s almost laughable how quickly he catches up to you, his footsteps heavily thudding on the floorboards. On the upper landing, and you’re almost at the bedroom door when he grabs your arm and yanks you back, and then–

SMACK.

The first hit always winds you. You never get used to it – his fist connecting with your jaw, the way your head snaps to the side, the ringing in your ear that blocks out all sound for a handful of moments. And then the pain, the numbing paint that’s all too familiar, radiating and spreading like hateful wildfire as you reach up to shield your face.

“Don’t fucking run from me, you little slut.” Steve slams you against the wall before pinning your wrists by your sides. “Look at me, look at me. I’m going to give you one last chance to tell the truth, and you better think very carefully before you speak, and don't you fucking lie to me. Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

A broken sob escapes your lips, a whimper filled with desperation, “N-No.”

It’s almost like he’s donned a mask as his handsome features twist into a snarl, his eyes narrowed to slits and yet you can still see the crazed darkness that consumes them like a cloud of black smoke. His lip curls in what looks to be contempt, and he shakes his head. “You’re a fucking liar.”

His grip on you tightens, if that was even possible, and his eyes flash, and suddenly he’s shaking you violently, your head hitting the hard wall with a thud as you cry and struggle against him.

“How the fuck could you? How could you sleep with him? After everything I do for you!? Answer the fucking question, how could you!?”

You want to defend yourself, tell him that you didn’t, you wouldn’t, how could he possibly believe you could? But you know there’s no point, you know he doesn’t hear anything when he gets like this. No matter how hard you cry, how much you beg and plead with him. He only sees red, never facts. And you’re still in shock from the first hit, so when you open your mouth nothing comes out.

The slap comes out of nowhere, the harsh cracking sound echoing across the hallway and bouncing off the walls as if to mock you. Your head whips to the side, and you’d have fallen down from the sheer force had he not been holding you up with his other hand.

“P-Please stop,” you croak out, finally finding your voice as the tears stream down your face from the pain of it. From both the physical and the mental anguish because you’d truly done nothing wrong! Hadn’t you? Sometimes he made you question yourself with how angry he’d get at you. “Please, Steve, it hurts, I didn’t–”

“Shut the fuck up and stop lying!” Steve roars, shaking you so hard you have to close your eyes because everything’s starting to spin now. “You thought you were fucking slick, didn’t you? Fucking someone else behind my back while I was at work, then coming home and acting like everything was fine, doing your fucking chores like you didn’t just act like a goddamned whore,” he shakes you again, his grip on your shoulders so hard you feel like passing out. “-thinking I wouldn’t’ find out, thinking I’m some fucking idiot who can’t put two and two together. That’s what you thought, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

He backhands you hard when you don’t answer, before throwing you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes. Limply, you lay there, half disorientated and half crestfallen because you can’t even find it in you to defend yourself anymore.

He strides into the bedroom before throwing you on the bed, hard. You land with a thud, still clutching your face that blooms with never ending pain. Again, you try to shield yourself, but it’s like a rabbit trying to hide from a hungry lion. A hungry lion fuelled by crazed hatred and contempt. And that’s what hurts you the most – how he looks at you like that. As if you’re the worst person in the world. As if he really hates you and truly believes you’d ever cheat on him.

“You’re mine,” Steve snarls, climbing on top of you and once more grabbing your wrists. “I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re a free piece of ass who can run around town spreading your legs for the first man who looks your way. I own you, you fucking whore, and it’s your fucking fault that I’m doing this now. But you need to fucking learn…”

“N-No, please,” you cry out weakly when he grabs the material of your dress and rips it clean in half. Oh no, not this. Please not this. Not when he was so mad, so violent, not when he had that crazy look in his eye. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t. He wouldn’t be gentle, and it would hurt so much. And you were already hurting so much. “Steve, I’m begging you, please, please, don’t! D-Don’t, I promise I’ll be better! I didn’t cheat on you but I swear, next time I’ll call you, next time I’ll–”

Another slap to your face shuts you up, and your sobs turn silent. Still there, just silent. Filled with dread and anguish and fear for the horrific roughness that is to come. That always came no matter how hard you begged. No matter how careful you were to follow his rules. You always messed up somehow. Oh, you could’ve been better! You should’ve been better and then you wouldn’t be here! And he’d still be nice, and you’d be sitting downstairs eating dinner and laughing, and…

Oh, how did it get to this?

“Everything I do for you, and you throw it all back in my face,” Steve snarls, and he’s so unrecognisable. Like a dark stranger looming above you, pelting out harsh words that he knows will cut deep, twist like a knife straight through your heart. Make you feel like you’re the worst person alive, and certainly the worst wife. Someone who can’t do anything right. Someone who can’t even keep her husband happy.

“I give you everything you could fucking want, I provide for you, don’t I?” He grabs your face with one hand, squeezing so hard it hurts. “Don’t I? Don’t I fucking give you anything you could ask for? And all I want in return is for you to listen to me. Your goddamned loyalty, that’s all I want. For you to fucking understand that you’re my property, that you need to do what I say. And what do you end up doing? Cheating on me like the fucking whore I always knew you were.”

He makes you believe it sometimes. Well, at first you didn’t, but now you’re not too sure. Maybe you were a terrible wife, because otherwise why would he always get so mad? You always tried your best to keep him happy but you never did enough. Did other wives do more than you did? Was that why their husbands never got mad at them? Was that why they were always happy and relaxed? While you walked on eggshells, waiting for him to explode? Maybe he wouldn’t be like this if he were married to a different woman. A better woman. Someone who didn’t make as many mistakes as you did. Someone who didn’t annoy him that much. Someone who kept him happy and didn’t make him so mad all the time that he had to accuse her of cheating. Someone he didn’t look at with pure hatred in his eyes, like he was doing with you now.

Steve kisses you roughly, possessively. Pressing his lips down on yours as if he wants to imprint the feel of them on you, sear it straight into your memory. As if you could ever forget. But it’s the sweet kisses from Steve that you want to remember, not the hate-fuelled way he’s kissing you now. But you just lie there limply, lie there and let him kiss you, let him pull your now tattered dress off you. And you wonder if he can taste the saltiness of your tears, and you wonder if even a tiny part of him cares.

How did it get to this?

“I’ll show you,” Steve mutters darkly, “I’ll show you who you fucking belong to. And it’s all your fucking fault, because you’re gonna feel it. And maybe this time, you won’t fucking forget it.”

You look beyond his shoulder as he unzips his fly and pulls his hard cock out. You look at the tiny speck on the wall, focus on it really hard. Focus on it till your vision blurs, focus on it so you don’t feel the excruciating pain as he forces his huge cock inside you. Focus on it till you can’t feel his hand wrapping around your throat, till you can’t hear the pure hatred hurtling out of his mouth. Maybe if you focused hard enough, it would all go away. Like magic.

It wasn’t always like this.

You remember your first date with Steve, almost a year ago to the day. Your friends had set you up with him, telling you he was only a couple of years older than you. Great looking, had an established career. But a bit shy, a bit reserved, someone who mostly kept to himself. You’d agreed, because you were shy and reserved too, and suggested ice-skating as a first date activity to help, well, break the ice.

And it had been so funny, because Steve couldn’t ice skate for the life of him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he’d huffed, awkwardly “skating” up to you in the middle of the rink. Except he was less skating and more just dragging his skates across the ice while holding his huge arms out to balance himself. It was comical, because he looked so big and out of place, and yet so cute that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“It just takes a while to get used to,” you’d answered, skating around him before impulsively grabbing his hands in case he fell over or something. And you’d immediately widened your eyes when you’d realised what you’d done, about to drop his hands like hot pokers because you were never this forward on a first date! But Steve had chuckled, keeping a tight grip on your gloved hands and pulling you closer.

“Nope, I just think it’s in my genetic makeup to be bad at ice skating,” he’d said as he’d let you guide him back to the side of the rink where he could hold the railing, and yet he didn’t let go of your hands as he winked. “Either that, or I’m actually a pro who’s faking it just so you’ll hold my hand.”

You’d gone to the Christmas market after that, and Steve had bought you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. You thought he’d stop holding your hand once you were off the ice, but he’d held it throughout your stroll through the markets. You’d delicately sipped your hot drink, secretly thrilled at how nice and safe it felt to hold his big, warm hand. How he was so handsome and he genuinely seemed interested in you.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose,” Steve had pointed out, and before you could wipe it off, he’d done it for you. And then his hand had stayed on your face, cupping it gently while the market bustled around you, busy as ever but the two of you seemed to be in your own little bubble. And then he’d kissed you, and it had felt so incredibly right. Like coming home from a long, cold day and being met with the warm familiarity of your own house. A house where you felt safe, and content, because in that moment, that’s what he made you feel.

Safe, warm, content, happy.

“I’m never letting you out of this fucking house again, you hear me?” Steve grunts, slapping your cheek not-so-lightly and knocking you out of your reverie. You blink several times, hoping it’s just a dream. But his rough thrusts remind you that it’s not, and your mouth curls in pain as his hand goes back to wrap around your throat. “Not until you learn not to act like such a goddamned slut, not until you learn to fucking listen to me, and be good. This is all your fucking fault, okay? That’s why I have to teach you.”

“St-Steve,” you cry lightly, unable to breathe because of how he’s pressing down on your neck, “I-I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up!” His thrusts grow harder, even more unforgiving. And all you can do is lie there and take it, and hope and pray and wish that you were somewhere else right now. With someone else. Or no one at all. His hands, which you’d known to be so gentle once upon a time, are rough as they squeeze and fondle and slap you as if you’re an animal, a toy, something he wants to pound till he breaks. “You deserve this, you little whore. Tell me, was that fucker’s cock worth it? Was it worth ruining what we have? FUCKING TELL ME!”

So unfair. It was so horrifically unfair. Because you’d never think of cheating on him, never ever. You love Steve, despite everything you love him so much. But he didn’t love you. Of course he didn’t. Maybe he had at first, but he didn’t anymore.

What had you done to make yourself so unlovable? What had you done to make him hate you so much?

Again, you think how he feels like a stranger, a stranger who’s hurting you and violating you in the most unforgiving way possible. All while you lie there and take it. And how was this Steve? The very same Steve you’d fallen in love with less than a year ago? The same Steve who’d confided everything in you? Told you that you were the one for him, told you how much he loved you, how happy he was that he’d found you? How was this the same Steve?

You still remember how surprised your friends had been with how close you and Steve had gotten in such a short amount of time. But they’d also been happy, and taken all the credit of course, as they’d set the two of you up.

And you remember feeling so goddamned happy all the time. Happy whenever you got off work and you got to see Steve. Giddy because of how comfortable you felt around him, despite knowing him for such a short period of time. One date turned to two, which turned to five, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to spending nights at his place. Cooking for him, kissing him, climbing up on his roof and talking all night while staring up into the stars.

It was during one of those moments when Steve had told you that you were the first person he’d felt close to in a very long time. He’d told you that he hadn’t had a great childhood, that his parents hadn’t been very nice people. And because of that, he’d run away when he was sixteen and never looked back. He didn’t speak to them anymore.

He’d told you he’d had a girlfriend before, and they’d been together many years until she cheated on him. And he’d squeezed your hand then, looking up at you from where his head had been resting on your lap, and the stars in the sky had reflected in his eyes so brightly, and he’d told you that you were the first person since then that he’d felt connected with, that he’d felt like he could be himself around. That he loved you so much despite the fact he’d only known you a couple of weeks. He loved you so much and so hard, that you were all he could think about. That you consumed him. And he loved that. And he loved you.

So, where did all that go?

That’s what you wonder now, your body jolting from each unforgiving thrust as the man who is your husband fucks you relentlessly, fucks you like he hates you. Tells you repeatedly, again and again that it’s all your fault.

Your fault. Maybe it is your fault. Oh, if only you hadn’t gone out today! If only you’d just stayed at home and been good! Then the car would’ve never broken down, and none of this would have happened, and Steve would’ve been happy. And you wouldn’t have made him upset like how you always seem to do now.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking disobey me again,” he mutters, pushing your legs up and throwing them over his shoulders while you moan in pain underneath him. His cock is a blur, pummelling in and out of you like a jackhammer. And it’s crazy, the very person who’d made you feel such pleasure in the past, could be inflicting so much pain on you now. “I’ll make sure they all know who you belong to the moment they fucking look at you. Fuck, I’ll show you.”

The contempt in his tone kills you over and over again. Makes you think you’ll never be good enough to make him happy. Make anyone happy. Maybe it was you who had ruined Steve, turned him into the monster he’d become. Maybe it was all your fault, your fault that the sweet, caring man you’d met had turned into your worst nightmare. Someone you were so fucking scared of that sometimes you couldn’t even breathe.

“I’ll knock you the fuck up,” Steve grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours, “Maybe then you’ll get it through your head that you’re not the free piece of ass you seem to think you are. And everyone will see who exactly you belong to.”

You whimper, too frightened to protest, your body jolting with each thrust. And it always hurts when he’s this rough, it always burns so bad because of how big he is.

You remember a few months into dating him, when he’d taken your virginity. He’d been so sweet, so gentle. Holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while you cried in his arms despite trying to be brave. He’d told you he was big, and that it would hurt and he’d pull out if you wanted him to. But you’d held on to him so tightly that night, because despite the pain, it had been so special to you. And he’d been so kind, so tender, and you’d basked in the glow of being loved. And the pain had been worth it, because you’d felt so close to him, and he’d told you over and over again how much he loved you, how special you were. How you completed him. How you were so pretty, so exquisite, how if he could take all the pain away from you and give it to himself, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Now, he roughly presses his huge palm against your abdomen, and you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach as he continues to jut into you with inhumane force. Each thrust makes the bed rock underneath you, the bedposts hitting the wall with thwack after thwack while you silently lay there, the tears drying up on your cheeks, and yet your whole body still burns with pain from the constant onslaught.

“God fuck, your pussy’s still so fucking tight despite how much of a fucking whore you are,” Steve mutters through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, get you pregnant once and for all so everyone knows not to fuck with what’s mine. And I swear to God, from now on you won’t even look at another man, let alone fuck some hick ass mechanic who’s trying to take you away from me because you’re too goddamned stupid to realise it.”

He hadn’t always so possessive to the point of insanity. Not the way he is now. You remember the old Steve, how he’d see you having innocent interactions with other men and not think twice about it. But slowly and surely, that had changed.

“I don’t like you talking to other men,” Steve had admitted to you once a few weeks into your relationship. “I know it’s irrational but I just hate it.”

“Oh, Stevie, it doesn’t mean anything,” you’d giggled, although you remembered secretly feeling so giddy that he cared enough about you to be jealous. That meant he was serious about you! “It’s you that I want, I couldn’t care less about anyone else!”

“I know,” he’d sighed, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses on them in a way that made you giggle even more. “I guess it’s just something I have to work on.”

But what had started out as simple, innocuous jealousy had morphed into something so much bigger, twisted, and ugly.

It began with a simple request; “please baby, don’t talk to him. I don’t like it.” And you found yourself listening to him, thinking he’d leave you if you didn’t. You distanced yourself from any male friends you had, including co-workers and even your relatives. You couldn’t stand to see Steve upset, and he’d asked you so nicely, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

After that, he’d made you move in with him. “It’s just easier this way,” he’d assured you, despite the fact that you’d only been going out less than two months, “I feel more comfortable knowing you’re safe in my bed at night, and then I don’t worry as much.”

Then he’d made you quit your job. “I don’t like how those men at your work look at you,” he’d said, “I’ll take care of you, sweetie. You don’t need to work anymore.” And so, you’d quit without a second thought. It’s what had made Steve happy, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

Then, he’d wanted to know where you were all the time. “I worry about you so much, you have no idea,” he’d told you once when the two of you were in bed and he was holding you close, stroking your hair while you lay on top of his chest. “I need to know where you are all the time, okay? I just… I need to know. And who you’re with. You need to tell me, or else I’ll go insane.”

Constant check-ins, constant texts. You were allowed to go out with your girlfriends, but never past a certain time. And certainly never a holiday or a girls’ trip. He had to know who your friends were, if they had boyfriends or brother, he had to know everything. And you were so in love with him, you hadn’t even realised that maybe it was all too much.

“My ex-girlfriend was having an affair behind my back for one year,” he’d told you quietly one night. One hot August night when the two of you had climbed up on his roof, and he lay with his head in your lap. His feathery lashes fanning his cheekbones, and his face softened by the moonlight, he’d looked like an angel that night. “One whole year, and I didn’t have a clue until the day I caught her. Them. I caught them in my bed.”

You’d listened with baited breath, because Steve never really spoke much about his life before you. Not his childhood, nor his parents who he didn’t speak to. And definitely never his ex-girlfriend.

“I just can’t lose you,” he’d said, staring hard at the dark night sky, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, if you left me. If someone took you away from me, I think I’d die.”

You’d kissed him then, and whispered against his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, Stevie. I love you so much, and there’s nobody else out there for me. Just you. So don’t worry, because you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

He’d sat up and taken you into his arms, hugging you so tight you couldn’t breathe – but in a good way. “Forever,” he’d mumbled into your hair, “I’ll have you forever, and then after that too. I’m never gonna let you go.”

You’d married him a month later in a small ceremony with just your family and some friends. And he’d looked so happy on that day, so handsome and happy and he’d held you close to him the whole night. You were happy too, and thrilled that he was so happy. “Now everyone knows your mine,” he’d whispered in your ear while you two slow-danced, “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you. I love you.”

“If you ever fucking cheat on me again, I’ll kill him.” Steve grabs your jaw hard, his fingers pressing against your skin until you cry out, ripped away from the safety of your memories and back into the present. “And you too. You got that? I’ll fucking kill you both.”

You’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and so you just lay there. Limp, shaking like a leaf yet feeling so numb. So numb and alone because he wasn’t your husband. He was a monster, a monster you didn’t even recognise. Your angelic husband warped into a monster because of you, because of you, because of you!

With a grunt, he unloads inside you. His hot cum searing you from the inside out, and there’s so much of it. And he holds you up, with your legs pressed up over his shoulders, spilling load after load of his seed into you, making sure it stays, making sure it sticks.

And then he throws you aside, rising up to his feet and staring at you with blazing eyes. He’s still fully dressed in his suit, while you lie below him in your tattered dress. The one you’d chosen so painstakingly to wear for him today.

With glassy eyes and limbs that don’t move, you watch him as he does up his fly, muttering profanity under his breath. He’s still so angry, you can tell by that vein on his forehead, and the way his fists are balled up by his sides. You hate his fists. They scare you more than anything else in the whole world.

He doesn’t utter another word. Instead, he leaves. You hear him go down the stairs, hear the jangle of the car keys, the slam and lock of the front door.

He was gone.

Your body curls up into foetal position, and you hug yourself hard. It’s the only solace you can give yourself. Everything hurts. From your face, your jaw, your arms, your whole body down to your heart and your soul. Oh, you hate yourself! For being so weak, so pathetic!

But most of all, you hate yourself for making him how he’d become. If only you’d been a better wife, if only you’d been able to make him happy. Good wives didn’t get hit. So maybe this pain was what you deserved.

If only you hadn’t lied about the car…

Oh, the car! The goddamned car! You wish to God you could turn back time. But what could you have even done differently?

You remember feeling a sense of dread the moment the car had stopped working. And it had increased tenfold when you’d taken your phone out to call Steve, only for there to be no signal. Of course, the car had decided to stop working in the middle of nowhere. It was less than ideal, since you had to get home and finish all your chores before Steve got home. Otherwise, he might get mad, and then…

“Hey there, you OK?”

The knock on your window makes you jump, and you find a man peering in at you, a friendly yet slightly concerned look on his face. Oh gosh, Steve would be so mad if I spoke to this man now, you think to yourself. And yet… there’s not much else you can do. Your car won’t start back up, and you don’t know the first thing about repairing it.

“H-Hey,” you roll your window down, trying not to look directly at the stranger’s tanned face. “I’m OK, thanks for asking. My, uh, my car isn’t though. I think. It won’t start up.”

The man nods, “Yeah, that’s why I came over. Saw you on the side of the road and knew you wouldn’t be parked here for no reason.” He pauses, listening to the hum of your engine with a thoughtful look on his face. “I think I recognise the sound. If I could get this car back to my auto-shop, I think I could fix it.”

“Really?” Hope fills your heart before reality comes crashing down. Steve wouldn’t like for you to be going into auto-shops with men you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to talk to any man unless Steve approved it. And you gulp, thinking how mad he’d be if he found out. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you think about the last time he’d gotten mad at you… No, you couldn’t go with this man, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“I, uh, I think I can get it to start back up myself. Thanks anyways though!” You say with false brightness. But after a few more failed attempts, you slump back against your seat in defeat, and the man chuckles.

“A valiant effort. But as I said, my shop’s only about a mile and a half down that way. And luckily, I’ve got my tow truck with me now. Let me help you, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

His face softens when he sees the hesitant look on your face, and he runs a hand through his unruly brown hair before fishing something out of his pocket. “Here’s my card, just so you know I’m legit. C’mon, let me help you. I couldn’t possibly leave a lady out here all on her own with a broken-down car that’s an easy fix.”

You bite your lip. His business card did look legit. And after another quick glance at your phone – still no signal – you nod and smile at the stranger. Maybe Steve would be proud of you for taking the initiative and getting yourself out of a sticky and potentially dangerous situation.

The ride to the man’s auto-repair shop is short enough. And he spends the next fifteen minutes fixing your car, all while you sit in the waiting room fretting and typing out texts to Steve that you’re too scared to send. You need to think of the perfect way to explain what had happened with the car, the most delicate explanation that wouldn’t result in him getting mad. Oh, you didn’t want him to get mad! Not when things had been going so well recently, and he hadn’t gotten mad in a long time, and you were starting to believe that he still loved you, and wasn’t annoyed by you all the time, and didn’t hate you, and–

“She’s almost fixed!” The man had announced cheerily, walking into the waiting room and shooting you a bright smile, one that had melted off his face the moment he’d seen the look of worry on your face. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” standing up and smoothening down your dress, you’d shot the man a puzzled look. “What do you mean, almost?”

“Almost as in I need an extra part to complete the fix, but it won’t come in until tomorrow.” The man runs a hand through his wavy brown hair that curls charmingly at the base of his neck. “But don’t worry, she’ll be back home in your driveway by noon tomorrow at the latest. I promise.”

“T-Tomorrow?” your blood runs cold, and it’s insane how your hands start shaking instantaneously. “But it can’t stay here overnight, my…my husband, he’ll find out, and then–”

“Husband?” The man repeats slowly before quickly gathering himself and taking a step back. “Well, ma’am, I’m sure he won’t mind about the car, so long as you’re alright. And don’t worry, I can give you a lift home.”

“N-No, you don’t understand, he…” you swallow harshly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second and clasping your hands to get them to stop shaking so violently, “N-No, he can’t know I was here, he can���t, he’ll…”

“Why don’t you let me speak to him,” the mechanic says slowly, pointing at your phone. “I’m sure I could explain the problem with the engine–”

Your eyes widen in pure fear, “NO! I mean, uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I just, oh God, I-I…” Suddenly, you can’t think straight. If Steve found out you were at this man’s auto-shop alone with him, that he’d spoken to you, that you’d spoken back to him… Oh no, Steve couldn’t find out. He’d get so mad, and he’d hurt you, and then everything would be awful for days.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” The guy has a look of serious concern painted on his face as he stands before you. He’s tall, tall just like Steve, and looks just as strong too. “I know it’s none of my business, but you look awfully scared.”

You force a laugh that comes out a tad too high-pitched, “I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just…”

“Let me give you a lift home,” the man says gently, taking a hesitant step closer to you. “I can speak to your husband, let him know it wasn’t your fault that your car broke down.”

“That’s not what he’d be angry about,” your eyes widen when you realise you’ve said too much. “I mean, he won’t be angry at all. Not at all. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

More than him, it seems like you’re trying to persuade yourself.

“I, uh, I’ll call myself a cab,” you say, but the man places his warm hand on your wrist to stop you, and the contact makes you jump. He’s so… gentle. It’s a strange sensation. And then he just… looks at you. For a handful of seconds that feel like ages, he just looks at you with inquisitive blue eyes, as if he’s trying to read you, or at least trying to understand.

“Please, allow me,” finally, he tears his eyes away, and he’s got his phone out and he’s already dialling the number, “the reception here isn’t great, but my phone seems to work through it.”

It’s only later, when you’re getting into the cab, that he grabs your arm once more. Well, “grab” would be the wrong word. He gently placed his hand on your arm as if to stop you, and you hesitate, half distracted by the need to get home before Steve and come up with an excuse about the car, and half curious about what the mechanic has to say.

“You have my card,” he says slowly with significance, his voice lowering to a deep rumble. “Call me tomorrow about your car. Or,” he adds when you start closing the cab door, “if you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

He holds your gaze for a moment or two, a few wayward strands of his brown hair falling over his forehead before he pushes them back. You find yourself forgetting to breathe, before you quickly shake your head and force a smile before looking away.

“Thank you for your help.”

Now, you lie alone on your bed, on your side with your knees up to your chest, shielding yourself and your poor body from whatever lies ahead. You can feel the outline of the mechanic’s card in your dress pocket, and muster up the strength to take it out.

Should you call him? It’s not like you had anyone else. Your family lived miles and miles away on the other side of the country. Steve had moved you to a different state after the wedding, claiming the two of you needed a fresh new beginning to start your new life together. And so you’d left all your friends and family behind without a second thought, loyally following your husband into the sunset because you loved him and trusted him.

You’d made new friends now, but they were the wives of Steve’s friends, and you didn’t know if you could trust them. What if they took Steve’s side? What if they recognised that it was you who’d turned him so awful and mean? That it was you who was the rotten one, poisoning everything you touched because you couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t be a good wife?

You stare so hard at the card until your vision blurs, and then you stare some more. After a while, your thoughts just cease altogether, and you just lie there. Just wishing you didn’t exist. Wishing you were never alive to begin with, wishing you never felt the immense love in your heart that you still do for Steve. Wishing love never existed and neither did you. That you just disappeared into thin air one day and Steve could move on and be happy and be better for someone who made him better. Someone he genuinely loved and cared for and wanted to be better for.

Someone who so clearly wasn’t you.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Motionless. It’s different this time. In the past, after he’s left you like this, you’ve been able to get back up. Brush yourself off, make yourself pretty again and pretend it never happened. For the sake of both of you, just pretend it never happened.

You remember the first time he’d hit you. It was a month or so after your wedding, and Steve had taken you out to a work party of his. And you’d felt so relaxed, so pretty on the arm of your husband, wearing the dress he’d chosen for you, the jewellery he’d bought you. The diamond earrings sat pretty on your ears, a present from him that very night. He’d come up behind you while you’d sat at your vanity getting ready, and kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you, how you deserved all the prettiest things in life because you were the prettiest thing in his life.

You’d felt so at ease, being led around by Steve whilst you mingled and spoke with his work colleagues. But his good mood hadn’t lasted as the night had gone on, and halfway through the evening, you’d sensed him go silent next to you. Deathly silent. His grip around your waist had tightened to the point where it was almost uncomfortable, and his jaw was tight too. His lips set into a straight line.

He’d been just as silent on the drive back home, and it was only once the two of you were back in your bedroom, that he’d chose to speak.

“You were getting awfully comfortable with some of the men at the party,” he’d commented while you were undoing his tie.

You’d wrinkled your nose, “What?”

“Don’t say what. You know exactly what I mean.” His tone was cold, colder than you’d ever heard it. Soon, you’d grow used to the tell-tale signs that he was going into that dark, forlorn place he went to when he got like this. But back then, you didn’t really have an inkling.

“D-Did I do something to upset you, Stevie?” You’d asked hesitantly, not knowing what to make of his detached anger. You’d reached back to undo the zipper of your dress. Usually, he did it, but he wasn’t offering to do it then.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone had been so cutting that you’d physically flinched, and when he’d turned back around, his eyes were blazing accusatorily, “You were acting like a goddamned slut tonight, flirting with all those men.”

You remember the insult not even hitting you, because the absurdity of his statement had taken you so far off guard that instead, a giggle had escaped from your lips. An awkward giggle, like you had no idea what to say to such an absurd accusation.

“Do you find this funny?” You’d never forget the look he’d given you then, how he’d strode across the room, how big he’d looked, how scared you’d felt in that one second.

“No, Stevie, I was just–”

The strike had come out of nowhere. Like a clap of thunder, almost. You’d heard it before you’d even felt it. The slap that seemed to reverberate off the walls, except it was his palm against your cheek. The force of it had you reeling, and you’d lost your balance. Crashed against the wall with a thud before you’d fallen down.

You still remember how unreal it all had felt. Like an out of body experience, almost. Surreal. And the pain had bloomed instantly on the side of your face, and you’d looked up at him and he’d looked down at you, a horrified look on his face. He’d held his hand out in front of him, staring at it hard, and the darkness from his eyes had cleared.

Back in the present, and you can’t stop shaking. You feel numb, empty, and yet you can’t stop shaking. You try to think back to the old Steve, the good Steve. The sweet Stevie who was a little bit shy, and yet so charming and witty at the same time. So poetically in love that he’d made you fall for him, hook, line and sinker. The romantic Steve who’d whisked you off your feet and you’d happily followed him into the sunset without a second glance backwards.

Steve. The love of your life.

You just wish he still loved you back.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Seconds, minutes, hours, they don’t mean a thing. Not when this was to be your reality for the rest of your life. Again, you feel the charming mechanic’s card in your hand, but now you can’t even muster up the energy to hold it up.

It’s the dead of the night when he finally comes back. You haven’t moved an inch, but the sound of the front door shutting and the footsteps thudding up the stairs has alarm bells going off in your head.

No, no, no. No more hitting, no more pain. You couldn’t take another slap, you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t! In fight or flight mode, you heave yourself up, shaking with fear. The only place you can think of to hide is under the bed. And maybe he wouldn’t care to look for you, maybe he’d stay in the guest room, maybe he’d just leave you alone.

But you see Steve’s shoes as he enters your shared bedroom, and you find that you’re holding your breath. Slowly, he steps inside, and you hear him call out your name quietly. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to be transported away. Far, far away where nothing cruel could reach you, and you could be happy all the time and not have to feel any pain, not ever, ever, ever!

It’s when his fingers wrap around your ankle that you start crying again. But no sound comes out, perhaps because you’re in shock. Or maybe because you’re just too scared. Rigid, frozen in complete fear, you’re limp as he pulls you out from under the bed.

“Oh God,” he whispers as the stark white orange light of the bedroom hits you. “Oh…Oh God… I…” his voice catches, his blue eyes clear and alert, blinking several times as he takes you in. Your poor, quivering body, and haunted, dead eyes that look anywhere except at him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he hoists you up into his lap gently as he sits on the cold floor, a mix of shock and regret on his face as he repeatedly shakes his head, surveying your face, your arms, your shoulders, your stomach, “Baby, I… Oh God, I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t…”

You find the tiny speck on the wall once more, and you fix your gaze upon it until it blurs. You're so numb, so far away, and you barely feel his hand as he gingerly touches the bruises and marks he’s left on you. Some old ones, some new. Some that had yet to turn dark and noticeable, some half covered in makeup from before.

Carefully, Steve strokes your face, the same side he’d slapped repeatedly only a few hours before. But the gentleness doesn’t register to you. Nothing does. You stare at the speck even harder, wondering if it was always there.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, his tone hushed, regretful. Filled with anguish. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I… I got angry, I shouldn’t have got angry but I just…” his voice trails off as he stares hard at his own hand. As if he can’t believe he’s done this, as if he can’t believe that his own hand was capable of doing so much damage.

The speck on the wall seems to get bigger. You wish to God it would swallow you up whole.

“I swear I won’t do it again; I won’t ever hurt you like this again, I swear on my life,” Steve holds you up against his chest, cradles you like you’re a baby. And it feels so alien, to be handled so delicately. He hugs you close, burying his face in your shoulder, and that’s when you hear his voice break, “I won’t do it again, you have my word I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so fucking sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

I won’t do it again. You’d heard that before. That’s what he’d said the first time he’d hit you. That’s what he said after every time. The speck grows blurry.

“Baby, please say something,” he stops hugging you, but still holds you in his lap, his strong arms around you in a way that should make you feel safe but right now you just feel nothing. His voice is thick, “I swear on everything, I won’t lay a hand on you again. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know why I get like that. Everything goes black, and it’s like I can’t think straight and then by the time I can, it’s too late. But I swear I’ll get better, I swear on my life this won’t happen again, baby, just please. Please say something.”

If you painted over the speck, would it still be there? Would it disappear entirely, or would the paint chip off after enough time had passed, and reveal the ugliness once more?

“I’ll go to anger management, therapy, you name it,” he shakes you gently, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “I want to get better for you, be better for you. I know I’m not a good man, baby, I know you deserve better and I’ll do anything. I swear, this is the last time I hurt you, okay? Please, just believe me, okay? Just say something.”

Steve stands up with you in his arms, your limbs falling limply down by your sides, your head lolling down too. Almost like you’re not real, like you’re a doll who was alive for a little while but you’re not anymore. You certainly don’t feel alive. You don’t feel anything. Just numbness.

Tenderly, he lays you down on the bed. The same bed he’d roughly thrown you down and violated you on just a few hours earlier. And a part of you, a tiny part of you from the deepest recesses of your mind, wants to muster up the courage to look into his eyes. To search for the man you love, to see if he’s still there. But the dark numbness eats you from the inside out, and so you just stare blankly at your speck on the wall.

“I promise I’ll change,” Steve repeats, the desperation now evident in his tone as he clutches your face, wills you to look at him. “Please, just listen to me. Believe me when I say I’ll change. Wh-When we… when we have our little girl, I’ll change. I’ll be a good husband and a good dad, make both of you happy. I won’t ever get like this again, I can promise you that now, alright? That’s a promise I’m making to you right now.”

A child? Would he hurt it too? Would he grow to hate it too, simply because it would be yours?

He grabs your hand, and his is so warm. Or is yours the one that’s freezing cold? It had been cold under the bed, but you’d liked it. Feeling cold was a different kind of pain, one that distracted you from the pain he’d caused you.

He kisses you desperately, all over your face as if trying to get you to say something back to him. Instead, you notice another speck on the ceiling above the closet. How many were there? Were they secretly laughing at you? Mocking you for staying so long in a speck-filled house?

“Baby?” Steve’s eyes glisten, his face so ghastly pale as he grabs your hand and presses more desperate kisses on it, “Baby, please say something. Say you forgive me. I-I don’t know why I do it, okay? I just, I’m so fucking terrified of someone taking you away from me. Taking away the one person, the only person, in my whole fucking life who means everything to me. I couldn’t stand it, I thought he’d take you away from me, and I just saw red, and I’m so sorry. I hate myself for doing this to you, baby. I’m so sorry, please say something!”

But you can’t! How can you, when it doesn’t even feel like you’re real anymore?

The specks are all around you now, growing larger and larger. You can hear Steve apologising over and over again, hugging you close as he begs for your forgiveness. But you’re too far away, so far away that you can barely hear him anymore. Lightyears away, in your own universe where you’re brave and confident and nobody ever messes with you. Nobody ever hurts you. And you take care of yourself, and it’s enough.

You find yourself hurtling through windows of time, entering one before flitting into the next as the specks grow so large it feels like they’re consuming you. You find yourself observing your birthday last year, when you’d baked your own cake and Steve had spent hours decorating it for you. Using your favourite-coloured frosting, and of course you’d gotten some on your face. He’d kissed it off for you, and told you that you were adorable.

Now you’re on Steve’s roof, the night he’d told you about his big promotion at work. You’d yelped in excitement, hugged him so hard it had hurt – but the good kind of hurt. And he’d had those stars in his eyes as he’d held you. “You’re my best friend, you know?” he’d said, “Every time anything good happens, you’re the first person I look for in the room to tell.”

Memory after memory, one cherished moment after another. And you’re so possessive of these moments, like you want to lock them up in a jar and keep them safe forever. Not let them get tainted like how he’d gotten tainted. Because of you, of course.

Maybe I’ll stay here, you think as the specks continue to consume you. It’s safe here. I’m happy here. He’s happy too. Maybe I’ll stay forever...

But something's stopping the specks from swallowing you up and taking you away. Taking you far, far away where Steve couldn't hurt you anymore, the place where there was only love and never hate. But something's stopping you, pulling you back like gravity that you simply couldn't defy. A stranger's voice, warm and sweet like honey, cutting through the freezing cold numbness.

“If you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

You feel the card clutched tightly in your hand; the hand Steve isn’t holding on to. And it pulls you back, back, back to reality. Another memory, but this time it’s a stranger with blue eyes and a friendly smile.

The specks slowly start to disappear, and you find yourself back in your bedroom. Back in Steve’s arms. Back in his warm embrace, except it does nothing to stop you from feeling so numbingly cold.

“I love you,” Steve whispers, “I love you so much, I’d die if I lost you. Please forgive me, baby. Come back to me. I won’t ever hurt you again.”

He lifts you up and hugs you once more, holding on to you so tightly as if his life depends on it. Strokes your hair and whispers sweetly in your ear, says all the words of regret that you've heard before. But you lie motionless in his arms like a broken doll, your poor cheek resting limply on his shoulder.

And it’s over Steve’s shoulder that you look down at the card in your hand, and read the man’s name, along with his number. And suddenly, a coolness washes over you.

Your finger twitches. You take a deep breath.

“Baby?” Steve draws back till you’re both face to face once more, and his eyes have those stars in them again, the stars you'd fallen in love with, the stars you'd wanted back so bad that you'd let it get this far. He cups your face, and presses his forehead against yours.

“You forgive me, don't you?"

THE END.

Okay so. That was a lot. It was a lot to write. If you're still here, then thank you for sticking around till the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope you found the story that I was trying to tell compelling. Please do let me know what you thought. What do you think reader will do now? What do you WANT her to do now? Who was the stranger? Why is Steve the way he is? IDK. Any raw thoughts and feedback would be incredible as always. Thanks so much for baring with me while I tried to post this fic. One last thing - this is a work of complete fiction. Thank you <3

[atrirose]

𝒥 : PLACES THEY LOVE TO KISS — enha

はい bf!enha x f!r . . . 🍵 warning. kissing duh ! + FLUFF ★ seiu msg: wanna get back on to writing stuff soon in the mean time enjoy this! rbs/feedbacks are appreciated

— HEESEUNG LEE

heeseung loves kissing your neck because he knows it gets you hot and bothered, he loves the sudden shocked squeak you let out when he random kisses your neck, he came behind you, gracing his cold lips on your neck “AH what’s wrong with you seung” you turned towards him, your hand on the place he kissed “my lips are cold, i ate ice cream” he said pulling you back “so?”

“so i gotta warm them up” he said as he bit ur neck lightly, kissing it, his breath leaving tingling feels down your spine, something about neck kisses just makes you feel light headed “i know you love it princess” he whispered, his hands roaming around your body as he blabbers like a loser.

— JAY PARK

jay loves kissing your lips, though it very common but for him it is special, he love the feeling of his lips against yours, especially after you put on lipgloss or lipstick “jayyyy i just put it on, look it’s all smeared and on your lips too” you said frustrated as you try to fix your lipstick, “it’s a nice colour i like it on you” he said snaking his hands again around your waist as he turns you around “doesn’t give you an excuse to ruin it, and we have to go or else we will be late to the party” you said resisting his touch as he leaned over again.

“doesn’t matter” he said as his lips moved against yours, his hands around you waist, him teasing your lips by lightly nipping on it, your hands in his hair tousling it.

“we got stuck in the traffic sorry” he said to his friend as you shot him glares, did i forget to tell you that he loves kissing you when you are mad at him? works like a charm, all the anger goes poof.

— JAKE SIM

jake loves to nom on your cheeks , he says it’s like bread. he loves to peck your cheeks at any given moment, or just have his face smooshed by yours, if he could he could live under your skin. jake likes to bite your cheeks while pecking them despite being warned a hundred times to not, but how can you resist his puppy eyes.

sometimes he get this kissing aggression towards you where he just keep on kissing and giggling as you try to escape him “jake too much” you say as he kissed you all over your face, “not enough” he said as he continues smooching your cheeks, biting them “nom, you taste like strawberries” jake hugs you as he calms down, cuddling you.

— SUNGHOON PARK

he loves collarbone kisses, loves to randomly feather kisses around your collarbone while cuddling, exact reason that despite being so tall he like you be a small spoon most of the times, likes to be a princess “hoon it tickles” you said as he pressed kisses, he loves when you wear off shoulder as he gives him easy excess but if not then he just pulls the piece of clothing you are wearing to expose your collarbone, now that has gotten him in trouble when he accidentally rip your clothing’s neckline but that obviously never stopped him.

“i will get you more mmm” he said as he kept kissing you, he loves to inhale the soft and mild scent of your perfume.

— SUNOO KIM

loves to kiss your forehead, to appreciate even the smallest of things you do for him, while that’s very sweet of him and you love it with all your heart, there are times when he likes to annoy you by kissing you after applying your lip tint so now you have kiss mark on your forehead, or kissing it and then telling how small you are.

towers over you sometimes so you look up at him and he can kiss your forehead.

“i got nice scores this time” you told sunoo as he smiles and kisses you forehead “im proud of you love”

— JUNGWON YANG

he likes to kiss your nose, just a little boop to make you laugh, you talking about your day? oh he is so in love, boop, you are cooking? he is drawn in by your beauty, boop, you are just laying around? you look so cute, he can’t believe you are his, boop.

“why do you like kissing my nose so much” he looks at you as he smiles, eyes closing like a cat as he kisses your nose “because you are cute” it’s a way he expresses his love, it’s his way of saying he treasures you and a simple expression of his limitless love for you

— RIKI NISHIMURA

he loves to bury his face in your neck after a long day and kiss your shoulders, just like sunghoon he loves when you wear off shoulder dress or else he just pulls on them, but lucky for him you wear his oversized hoodies all the time so it’s easy to gain excess, sometimes it’s hard to express who he feels, or how much he loves you so he just kisses your shoulder and hope you understand his attempt to say ‘i love you’s’.

“what’s wrong baby” you asked as you played with hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck “just tired” he said nuzzling “aww poor baby” you said as you kissed his head “you better not tell how act with you” he warned you still kissing your shoulders.

“like a baby? AHH-” your giggles turned into sudden shock as he bites you “oh that left a mark” you smacked him with a pillow as he laughed and dodged it “not tired anymore huh?” you said pouting moving away from him just to get pulled back to his lap “i am” he pecked you “meanie” he snicked at your pouty lips before kissing it.

[fibretwo]

˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ Cure Fasting Boredom ⋆⁺‧₊˚

“Oh, I’m fasting, but I’m incredibly bored!!“ — so what I’m hearing is that you have nothing to do except eat? Or you eat when you’re bored..? Well, that needs to be fixed, but fear not, that will come with time. Keep fasting by the way, you’re doing great! So well in fact that I’ve actually compiled a list of things that you can do to keep yourself occupied!!

1. Make a playlist

2. Find some new music

3. Listen to music!

4. Take a shower

5. wash your hair

6. cut your hair?

7. dye your hair, even?

8. paint your nails

9. put on a perfume you barely wear

10. brush your teeth

11. put on some makeup

12. make a pinterest board of makeup looks and try them out!

13. wash your clothes

14. lay outfits on your bed and take photos/write them down

15. make some “for when i’m skinny outfits” and take photos/write them down

16. meditate

17. compile things that trigger you (YouTube Playlists, Pinterest boards, Screenshots of tumblr posts etc!!!)

18. Go for a walk

19. Walk to the supermarket and look at food (maybe i just like doing this)

20. walk to ur local train station and go to the mall OR!! walk to the mall (sorry if you live in buttfuck no where 😓)

21. journal!! prompts vvv

22. write down everything that’s keeping you going

23. write down all the things you want to eat when ur at ur ugw

24. write down your safe foods

25. write down your fear foods

26. write some triggers

27. write some thinspo quotes

28. reflect on yourself

29. get to know yourself

30. look at journalling prompts on pinterest

31. vent

32. brain dump

33. put lipstick on and cover a page in kisses

34. draw thinspo

35. draw an oc

36. try finding your art style if you don’t draw often

37. draw a scene you remember from your childhood

38. do a jigsaw puzzle

39. find a deck of cards and order them

40. study!!!

41. practice an instrument

42. look for jobs if your unemployed

43. go out with friends

44. talk to online friends

45. text ur irl friends

46. play minecraft

47. clean your room

48. de clutter draws & desks

49. make a thinspo board on pinterest

50. Make a pinterest board with all those facebook mom weight loss motivation quotes and things (they have a special place in my heart, okay?)

51. watch media that has characters w/ EDs in them. i recommend To The Bone (ofc), Skins (Cassie), Gossip Girls (Blair), Heathers (Heather Duke), Heartstopper (Charlie Spring)!!

52. find low calorie recipes

53. practice an instrument

54. contour your bones

55. write down rewards for when you reach another gw (eg, perfumes, new scales, new clothes, safe foods)

56. listen to some ED podcasts (i rlly like SciGuys Ep #201 and DRAMA MAMA Ep #32)

57. sometimes i watch swan liyah on YT

58. Make yourself some ice cold water

59. Fill up the ice cube tray (this is personal, i usually do this when i’m bored)

60. Commentary YouTubers 🙏

61. ED short films on YT

62. ED documentaries on YT

63. Quora ED stuff can be triggering too!!

64. Have a bath

65. De-clutter your phone

66. Get out there and reblog a whole bunch of stuff!

67. Duolingo

68. paint

69. haha 69… uh, read a book!

70. Stalk my ED Pinterest Account: https://pin.it/6IDHsH7jh

(it’s very cool i promise)

71. watch ED WIEIAD videos on youtube

72. look for different diets

73. watch cooking videos and save recipes for when your skinny

74. Make a playlist of workouts to try (reminder, you don’t have to work out when ur fasting<3)

75. write a letter to someone

76. practice your handwriting

77. Walk all the way to your local supermarket, get some gum and/or sugar free soda and walk back

78. hold a little fashion show for yourself

79. Listen to those songs you never got around to

80. Get into that artist you’ve never had time to get into

81. watch that show you’ve never started

82. Look into poetry

83. Write a poem

84. make a bookmark

85. draw one of your friends to give to them (no matter how poorly, it’s funnier when it’s bad)

86. Have a dance party, why tf not?

87. put beads on some of your shoelaces

88. Headphones up, eyes closed, laying on your bed blasting your favourite song. Just let yourself be surrounded by the music for a moment. It really helps your mood

89. Mess with spotify equalisers

90. Try some hairstyles out

91. straighten/curl your hair

92. watch a tim burton film

93. Watch a Studio Ghibili film (it helps to have an activity to do at the same time, like literally anything else on the list)

94. look at halloween costumes you can wear next halloween when your skinny

95. heal your inner child and watch a childhood show!!

96. sew something!

97. learn to sew? :)

98. make some jewellery

99. FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS!!

100. research a random topic (band backstories and mythology are my favourite!!!)

101. Look into the biology of a human digestive system (there’s a video of digestion we had to watch in school once that you can find on YT and it’s so gross and triggering)

102. look at mouldy pictures of food

103. watch time lapse videos of food decomposing

104. count loose change

105. burn your favourite candle because if not now the when?

will add more when i think of them! stay safe and do what feels right for you, don’t push yourself just stay disciplined

Take care <3

[ping-ski]

UGLY CRYING I AM UGLY CRYING PLUCK THANK YOU OH MY GOD

The Finale we've all been waiting for. The End of the Good End. Thanks for joining me on this wild ride, and don't forget to check that author's note at the end for a special surprise.

[lomltrentarnold]

someone — jude bellingham  ₊˚ෆ

contents: 1.6k words, fem!reader (she/her), fwb!bellingham is down bad, lil angsty but happy ending, they like each other so much SIGH

🍓 hana’s note: hi my loves!! hope u enjoy <33 i actually had fun writing this, please tell me what u think 🫶 sorry if nothing makes sense LOL

📞 main masterlist!

Jude was sure that the muscle on his wrist had gotten stronger in the span of three days. He moved to check his phone again for the hundredth time that day. The whole situation feels like a thirteen year old boy waiting for his girlfriend to reply to his text. 

The only difference is that he’s twenty one years old, and his ‘girlfriend’ is not actually his girlfriend. 

His gloomy mood attracted his assistant who was off clicking the keyboard computer.

“Whose text are you waiting for?” they asked, immediately bringing him out of his little pity party.

His heart stuttered, “No one.” he replies, shaking his head, before tucking the phone away into his pocket.

A skeptical look was thrown, “Yeah, sure.” 

Jude took a minute before he relented, “She’s…someone.” he sighed, not really in the mood to throw up his gut to his assistant.

He ran his hands through his hair down to his face, frustrated.

They were sure this ‘someone’ was not just anyone, “The same ‘someone’ who had you giggling and kicking your feet last week?” his assistant smirked, noticing the little smile that Jude always wears every single time he stares at his phone.

But not in the last few days.

Recently, he has been more sad when he stares at his phone.

Heat trailed from the back of his neck to his cheeks, “I was not giggling and kicking my feet.” tummy twisting with nerves.

“Oh, you so were. She has you wrapped around her fingers, Bellingham.” the keyboard clicking stopped, as a teasing smirk was sent his way.

Jude’s heart made a backflip–oh she definitely does– “She’s just.. special. And I really really like her.” his cheeks heating up more as your pretty face fresh flashes in his mind. 

“So? Why don't you ask her out on a date?”

He sighed, “I would, but she’s ghosting me.”

“Someone ghosted THE Jude Bellingham? Damn, your ego must be hurt.” they laughed.

Jude took a deep breath, “It's not about my ego, I just–” he paused, “I thought we were going somewhere, I like her and I thought that she liked me but I guess...” his voice trailing out as sadness coats his words.

His assistant noticed how Jude’s head dropped in disappointment, immediately feeling bad for him, and an idea lightbulb immediately went off, “Go to her place then.”

“What?”

The assistant shrugged their shoulders, “Go to her place. Ask her out.”

He coughed out, “She doesn’t wanna see me.”

“Ask her face to face, get confirmation. If she really doesn’t wanna see you then, fine. But try at least! Fight for her!” their encouragement send Jude into a full dedicated state. Already having a full plan in his head.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Screen lights from the tv illuminated your already dark room with a movie playing in the background. You really should be asleep right now. But your mind was too cloudy with a certain, seriously attractive, very sweet and nice footballer. 

What did you think was gonna happen?

Getting into a friends-with-benefits with someone you harboured a big fat crush on was not the brightest idea. 

Jude is a bigshot footballer, everyones’ starboy, all he needs to do is smile and all girls fall to his feet (including you). The strategy of pushing him away was pretty solid, considering that he might not even notice that you haven’t been replying to his texts. 

He probably has hundreds of girls on his phone anyways.

Not that you care, he can do whatever he wants, he’s not your boyfriend. 

Not your boyfriend. 

Then why does it still bother you?

A sudden knock, broke you out of your spiralling session, shooting your heart rate up. Who knocks at 2 in the morning?

A buzz from your phone alerted you.

—

bellingham :)

I’m outside your apartment

I need to talk to you

—

You contemplated opening the door, what do you even say to him? Another knock. 

Another buzz.

—

bellingham :)

Please.

—

The door swung open and Jude was met with the sight of you, with tired eyes and a scowl on your face. You don't look too happy seeing him, and he doesn't blame you.

“Are you insane?! What do you want, Jude? It’s two in the morning!” you huffed out, taking his wrist and pulling him inside. You do not want to get a complaint from your old cranky neighbours. 

Both of your hands tingle the second it touches, fingers twitching as you hope the other doesn't notice. You move to pause the movie, hands gravitating towards the blanket on your couch before draping it around your shoulders. Trying to cover up your well-loved worn pyjamas.

You look like a mess. 

Jude’s hand sweats in his pockets, his heart was pounding after finally being in your presence. With your messy hair, pretty droopy eyes, paired with your profile being highlighted by the tv. His heart rate shoots up when your eyes meet his. 

You look really pretty.

Focus, Bellingham!

He awkwardly coughs, trying to cut the thick tension in the room, “You still watching that show?” he voiced out, hand gesturing to the tv behind you. 

It was a show recommendation from him. You had made fun of it at first, but then the plot was too good to be ignored, you needed to know how it ends. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “Yeah, I was curious.” voice small as your hands tightened around the blanket, bringing comfort to you.

A beat of awkward silence went on.

And Jude has had enough of it and decided to go for it, head first, no thoughts.

"Why are you ignoring me?" he finally said, saddened brown eyes met yours. You can feel your defence chip away the more you look at him.

You avert your eyes immediately, trying to formulate words, "I'm busy."

"That you ghosted me for three days straight?" he scoffed.

"Jude-"

"I don't think you understand how much you’re in my head." his voice shook, heart trembling in his chest, “I wake up and my first thought is to check if you have texted me back and you know how embarrassing it is to not see anything?"

You scoffed, “So this is about your ego?”

“No! I didn’t say that–“

Another scoff, "Jude don’t lie, you get messages every single day. Your notifications are always flooded! Don’t act like I’m suddenly special!” you rolled your eyes, lungs burning with anger.

His face contorted into confusion before turning into hurt, “Did I give you that impression? That I don't care because you’re not special?” Jude’s voice cracked, maybe it was your head playing tricks but you swore his eyes were glossy with tears. 

Anymore second looking at him than you might just break. 

“Jude-” you started.

“Because I do! I’ll buy you more flowers, pick up your favourite coffee, watch those reality shows that you love so much, we can have a picnic or even a fancy dinner!” he rambled, hands animated as his feet started to move towards you, eyes pleading. “I really want this to work. I want to be in your life, as your boyfriend.” 

The distance between two got so small that you can feel his warm breath hitting your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

He smells like mint.

Did he chew one before he got here?

The call of your name hits your ears, his voice soft and sweet. You really like how he says your name. You miss it. You like him. You miss him.

“Please say something.” Jude whispered, eyes involuntarily dropping to your lips, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“I really really like you.” you softly said, nothing but a whisper but it sends just into cloud nine.

His eyes shined, mouth already opening to say something before you cut him off.

“But-“

His heart dropped.

“But?”

“Jude, you can literally have anyone you want in the world!” you raised your voice. Tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. Why does he have to be so complicated? Why won’t he understand that you will never be enough for him?

By now, he can have a general sense on why you ghosted him. You have been insecure and worried ever since this little relationship started. Jude partly understands it, his popularity is intense and the media is poking at every nook and cranny of his life. Judging at the littlest things he does.

But he also doesn’t understand because-

“But, I want you! Don’t want anyone else!” he exclaimed, big calloused hands move to the sides of your face, thumb softly running on your cheeks. “I want you.” he added, softly pressing a kiss at the apple of both of your cheeks.

A lovesick smile broke out on your face before you can even control yourself. “I want you too.”

Jude eyes twinkled at the sight. His heart elevates in the process. Was this a dream?

“Pinch me.” he snickered.

Your hands move around his waist to pinch his skin, “Dork.” you giggled, his smile getting wider at the sound.

A comforting silence blankets over you both. Smitten eyes staring at each other with heavy yearning. Hearts fully enamoured with the other.

A soft kiss was planted on your lips, tender and gentle as his hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He can’t get enough of you.

Your whole body was on fire. It has been so long since you both got together.

“Jude-“

“Mhm.” he hummed, lips still pressing against yours. His hands wander to wrap around your waist. It feels like he wants to eat you whole.

He definitely does.

You carefully pull away, chuckling at the small whine that leaves him as he chases you again, “It’s late.” you affectionately scolded.

“Let’s go to sleep then.”

“Together?” you teased.

“Yes, please.”

Well, how can you say no to that?

reblog for a kiss <3

[luvt0kki]

training wheels | k.h.j

pairing : Professor!Hongjoong x innocent!reader ft!Wooyoung

♡₊˚( wrote this listening to ‘training wheels’ by Melanie Martinez)

summary: Too innocent for your own good, your professor's little hidden crush only grows the more he could spend time with you. You were so pure before his eyes. A sweet young woman who deserves the sweetest kind of love but still had trouble in paradise with her boyfriend…but he’ll be there for you. After all, he only wants what’s best for you and to protect you.

wc: 10.7k

cw: University AU, smut, coquette-ish fem!innocent reader, virgin reader, slightly older Hongjoong, manipulation, obsessive stalker-ish behavior, yandere behavior, corruption kink, cheating , frat boy behavior from Maknae line, oral!male receiving, there'll be more spice in the next part

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: hello so it’s been awhile and this has been cooling in my drafts for so long. Special thanks to @songmingisthighs for helping me whenever I’m stuck with writing and for being one of my favourite persons on this app 😭i wanted to write something that isn’t apart of the Sway With Me universe just for a change and a breather ( I hope you guys don’t mind that). I just wanted to write.

- this is will be a two part series!

READ CONTENT WARNING BEFORE READING!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

Note: Hongjoong is a couple years older but he’s still young for a professor. Maknae Line is in their last year of Uni and is part of the University’s Varsity baseball team.Y /N is innocent ( smh). Kinda coquettish vibes but yuh, sweet girl.

The rain storming outside made anxiety bubble in your chest as you clutched your laptop bag and books tight. You glanced at your phone, the bright red bar of the little battery icon glaring at you. That just made your situation even worse and it didn’t help that the last message you saw was the reason you were stranded here in the first place.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. The team meeting is going overtime tonight. Get home safe. Please message me when you’re home.”

You waited for him. You should be angry at him but instead, you were only heartbroken and sad that he didn’t keep his word. You were frustrated that you couldn’t even hate him the slightest bit for forgetting to pick you up and the sudden downpour was just the cherry on top.

“Ms. L/N, is that you?”

That voice. That familiar tone that you heard every Monday and Wednesday from 8 am til 10 am. The voice that made your Art Appreciation lecture so interesting that you’re excited to come early every morning to learn sounded from behind you.

You turned around and quickly bowed your head in his direction out of respect.

“Mr.Kim.”

The young professor frowned at your presence.

“It is you. What are you still doing here?” He asked, extending his arm a bit to glance at his silver watch. “It’s almost 11 pm.”

“I-It started raining…” was all you could say. You couldn’t nor want to admit to your university professor the real reason why you were stranded on campus.

“Indeed…,” he gently grasped your arm and pulled you into the covered shade of the hall. “Do you need a ride home, Ms. L/N? I was just about to leave and go home but I can drop you off at the nearest bus stop or if you’d like, your home.”

His offer made your heart melt. Mr. Kim Hongjoong has always been so kind and sweet to his students. He has always shown such care and patience to their studies and well-being, and as the many girls in your classroom would whisper amongst each other, he was also very handsome. Which was a fact everyone in the whole campus knew.

“I don’t want to be of a hassle to you, Sir. I can wait for the rain to stop.” You tried to kindly turn down his offer, not wanting to bother him but also you felt it was inappropriate for a student to be in any proximity to a professor alone.

“Ms. L/N, it’s late and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. I assure you it is not a bother to take you home. I’ll be worried if I just left you here.”

He was right. Both about the rain and the time, and you’re never out this late. Well at least not alone and it made you antsy. Mr. Kim looked at you with so much care in dark brown eyes that it felt impossible to say no to his kind offer.

“O-okay.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of your professor's fancy car.

You looked around subtly observing the luxurious interior of the vehicle. It smelled like new leather and Mr. Kim’s cologne. Your phone buzzed breaking your little observation as Mr. Kim typed in the location of your apartment into his phone GPS.

“Baby? Are you home? Please let me know.” The text message notification shone brightly.

You let out a little sigh.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice your rather wilted demeanor. He looked over you in the corner of his eye as he started the car. Little did you know, he was admiring your look today. You didn’t have class with him on Fridays so seeing today was rather…refreshing. Baby pink always looked so pretty on you, he thought to himself. Your blouse almost had a ballet-like aesthetic to it, it wrapped around your torso so elegantly and gently accentuated your curves. It was matched with a very pretty flowy white skirt that wasn’t too short nor too long, and there was a thin pink ribbon in your hair, the finishing touch to your very sweet ensemble. You always dressed so cute.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He asked his voice so calm and gentle that it calmed your silent frustration.

“Not really…” you muttered your gaze down at the hem of your skirt, your books, and your laptop sleeve on your lap.

The defeated expression you wore made the older man’s heartache for you. He didn’t like to see you like this. You were like a ray of gentle sunshine whenever you entered his classroom, a doe in a beautiful blooming field of flowers that radiated warmth that made anyone and everyone around you comfortable and calm. It was odd to see you like this.

“If you want to talk about it I’m all ears,” he offered with a smile, reaching behind the head of your passenger seat and glancing behind as he reversed up his car from the parking lot.

Your heart raced at the gesture. You didn’t know what about it was making you feel all flustered and small. His kind words and warm tone made it hard to keep your emotions in. Maybe you can just tell him…a little bit.

“I waited for my boyfriend to pick me up…but he didn’t come.” You murmured, heart aching as you said those words.

Hongjoong’s heart dropped, and he raised a brow at what you just said. Your boyfriend didn’t show up?

“I know I shouldn’t be so upset…it’s just he promised. I understand he has obligations to his team…I just feel like he forgot about me.”

Your sweet voice was so small. Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to soothe you and reassure you. Underneath all of that, he was bubbling with irritation. He kept a softened and caring expression on his face as he listened to you, gripping the stirring wheel to hide his annoyance.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that,” he said so sympathetically. “You’re such a sweet girl to be so understanding of your boyfriend. If I remember correctly your boyfriend is…”

“Wooyoung.” You whispered his name, your lips between your teeth as you tried to hold back your disappointed tears and hurt.

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened.

Right.

Jung Wooyoung.

“Ah…yes. The university’s baseball star.” He was also a student in one of his classes. A heartthrob along with his best friend and Baseball Vice Captain, Choi San.

“I’ll feel better when I get home and sleep it off.” You didn’t want to talk about him forgetting to pick you up any longer.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Ms. L/N, how long have you been together?” He asked, hoping his question was not so out of the blue as he continued to drive.

“Almost three months now, Mr. Kim.” You replied, the idea of being with Wooyoung for so long making you a little happy despite tonight’s disappointment.

Lucky bastard. “Oh, that’s very recent.”

“I know…but he’s very sweet to me. He takes care of me and he really makes me happy.” You listed the good things that always made your heart flutter. Your sweet loving boyfriend who had pursued you and never pushed for anything you weren’t ready for. If you were to describe your relationship with Wooyoung, it was like the love you see in the movies.

“That’s good to hear. You’re one of my sweetest students and I’d be worried if you weren’t happy,” Hongjoong smiled, earning the reaction he wanted and expected from someone as innocent as you.

Your pretty eyes widened at his words and you looked even shyer. He wondered if that’s why your boyfriend was attracted to you.

You didn’t know what to say but there was a small smile on your face when he called you one of his sweetest students.

“Thank you, sir.”

Sir.

Hongjoong’s night was getting better than he could ever imagine. First, the surprise of seeing you still on campus alone as he left, then you accepting his offer to drive you home, and now, Sir? For a long time, he loved how that name slipped from your pretty glossed lips.

“I’m sure your boyfriend feels really guilty about not having shown up. Sometimes these things happen.” Hongjoong tried to reassure you, not really wanting to defend the University senior you were seeing but he needed to say what you wanted or needed to hear.

You take his words as it is. He was older than you so he knew about these things more than you. He was wiser. He was right, these things do happen. Wooyoung did apologize too. So maybe it’s not as bad as you were making it out to be.

Hongjoong noticed how you sat up a little, no longer sulking so cutely in the passenger seat. He smirked a little to himself, his eyes on the road. Did you trust his words that much? Was that how much power he had over you?

You were too innocent it concerned him.

You were truly a doe in a field of flowers. So pretty and so completely oblivious to the wolves hiding in the tall grass. He was sure your boyfriend was one of them and that he too had a deep dark desire for your innocence.

“Is this your place?” He pulled up outside an apartment complex, people passing by in the street as he looked up at the building observing it.

“Yes, it is!” You chirped, happy that you were able to get home safely and it was all thanks to your kind and sweet professor. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kim. I really appreciate it. I really cannot thank you enough…and talking to you made me feel better. I’m really lucky that you were here tonight.”

Hongjoong smiled, holding back from reaching over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to scare you away.

“If you ever find yourself in any kind of trouble, Ms. L/N, you can come to me okay? Here,” he reached into his pocket, getting his card but writing down his personal phone number in the back of it before holding it your way.

Like he expected you didn’t think much of it, what a sweet girl.

“Mr. Kim you’re so kind.” You took the pretty name card with his phone number in the back. “I don’t get into trouble but I appreciate this. Thank you.”

“Let me help you get inside, okay?” He got out of his car with an umbrella, going over to your side to open the passenger seat door and to hold the umbrella over you and him so that he could escort you to your apartment lobby.

You stepped out of the car and blushed when you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders to gently guide you to the sidewalk and your apartment lobby. He made sure you were dry and safe and also took note of how an access card is needed to get in. He was glad you lived somewhere so safe.

You thanked him again, unable to look him in the eyes because the warm smile on his face was making your heart flutter.

“Now I can go home without worrying if you got back safe,” he lightheartedly teased, making you giggle. He was such a kind person. “Take care of yourself, Ms. L/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Enjoy your weekend, Sir.” You bowed your head respectfully, appreciating how handsome he was in his coat and suit. It made him look like a character from the dramas you see on television.

Monday rolled around quicker than you thought while Hongjoong found the weekend went by agonizingly slow. As he set up his laptop in the lecture hall as other students filed in, he couldn’t help but anticipate your arrival. He kindly smiled and greeted the students who had the energy to wish him a good morning, he even kept glancing at your seat that was still empty.

Were you not well? Did you catch a cold over the weekend from the rain on Friday night?

“You really didn’t have to walk me, Woo.”

Your gentle soft voice made the professor perk up and his heart race a little. Subtly, he glanced at the door, more students entering but behind them in the hall was you.

“Hey, I still feel guilty about not having picked you up on Friday. I’m gonna make it up to you.” Wooyoung placed his hand on your waist, feeling the soft fabric of your skirt. “You’re too nice if you’re just gonna let me off the hook. I’m gonna be extra attentive, okay baby?”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the young dark-haired boy, his varsity jacket telling everyone that passed who he was and the status he had in the university. He zeroed in on the hand on your waist, Wooyoung’s thumb caressing you gently and his fingers even playing with the cute ribbons on your skirt.

“O-okay,” you blushed, trying to fight back the giddy smile that was forming on your face.

Wooyoung grinned at your response and glanced left and right before pulling you closer til you were pressed against him. Your wide eyes looked up at him in surprise and you got your body tingling when both his hands rested on your waist.

Your fluster only made your handsome boyfriend grin even more with that twinkle in his eyes that always made you feel special.

“You have a nice day, okay?” He whispered and before you could respond, without a care in the world and with no shame if any other student passing would see, he leaned down and kissed your glossed lips.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. This was different from the soft pecks and quick kisses he’d give, these were the kisses you liked from him. The deep ones that made your head feel all hazy. The one that made heat pool in your lower belly.

Wooyoung pulled back and pressed another kiss on your forehead. “I’ll see you for lunch.”

“O-okay.” You murmured, feeling everyone’s curious eyes on both of you and wanting to remain hidden by Wooyoung’s form.

Wooyoung smiled and then licked his lips. “Oh? Strawberry?”

The mention of your flavored lip gloss made you look up at him, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“You’re gonna have me craving you all morning, baby.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “How will I ever survive? One more.” He tried to go for another kiss and you squealed as he pulled you back.

“Woo, I have class!”

“But strawberry!” He pouted as he kept you in his embrace, some students rolling their eyes at the two of you and some finding the two of you cute and amusing. Wooyoung’s teammates from down the hall caught wind of the two of you and hooted.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’ll be starting my lecture soon.”

The voice of Mr. Kim made your eyes widen as embarrassment made you want to hide from his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Kim,” Wooyoung spoke his professor's name with no shame of getting caught being affectionate with his girlfriend. “Morning!”

Hongjoong could only manage a nod to his greeting before turning to you, still in your boyfriend’s hold and unable to look him in the eyes.

“Ms. L/N, class starts in five minutes.” He spoke sternly, his tone making your lips form a small pout.

The way you reacted to him made the older man before you swoon. God, you were too cute.

“Yes, sir.”

There it was again. The way you said ‘sir’ all defeated and cute.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” Wooyoung apologized. “My bad.” He removed his varsity jacket and draped it over your shoulders before kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch, baby.”

Then Wooyoung sauntered away with a swing in his step and his bag over one shoulder, on his way to his respective class.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” You murmured, keeping your gaze down and hugging your books to your chest as you went inside the room along with the last few students who arrived.

Hongjoong watched as you made your way to your seat. Your pretty skirt swayed with each step and he wondered if skirts made up most of your wardrobe. It must be such a delight for your boyfriend.

Loosening the grip he had on his pen as he watched the whole interaction between you and Wooyoung, he smiled at his students. What mattered the most to him was you were safe. You were here and you were safe and well. Never mind the fact that you and your boyfriend easily made up from Friday night’s incident.

You were here.

The lecture was an enjoyable one not only for the students but him as well. As he discussed the significance of art during the Roman Empire, his students were all hooked in with his explanations and discussions, and even he got carried away excitedly with every question and topic.

“Mr. Kim is so hot.” A classmate beside you, Jennie, whispered to her friend, the two of them giggling as your professor shared his knowledge with the class.

“And he’s so nice too. You think he’s a virgin?” Minsol whispered back and you felt your heart grow hot listening to them.

You fidgeted in your seat and tried to block them out, focusing on Professor Kim.

“He’s so young to be a professor. Maybe he spent all that time studying to the max, you know! Maybe he is!”

“He’s so cute.” Minsol chuckled. “But then he’s so sexy when he pushes his hair back.”

And almost as if on cue, Mr. Kim ran his fingers through his dark brown locks, pushing them back as he smiled at his students in awe at the discussion.

He was handsome. You admitted that a long time ago. Attractive? Yes. But he was your professor. It was wrong to think of him the way Jennie and Minsol were.

Til now, their voices couldn’t be blocked out completely.

“I’d gladly blow him for a good grade,” Jennie whispered, her eyes looking Hongjoong up and down.

“Jennie!” Minsol playfully smacked her friend, her voice still hushed.

“What? Just think of it. Goody two shoes Mr.Kim so kind and worried that your grades are slipping, and then you tell him you’d do anything to raise your grade.” Jennie described the scenario so vividly. “No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors.”

Your heart was racing in your chest as you listened to the fantasy. It didn’t help that Mr. Kim was right there before your eyes as Jennie’s voice whispered discreetly to her friend such a scandalous scenario.

“But it won’t stop there.”

That piqued your interest and you felt ashamed to have been so curious.

“He has a nice car too. Imagine fucking in the backseat of that luxury car way past campus hours in secret.”

Your heart thumped strongly at the mention of his car. You had been in his car and the dirty thought of Mr. Kim being all over your body and kissing you in the spacious backseat crossed your mind.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned all his students, happy that they were enjoying the class but paused when he saw you. Your body was swallowed by your boyfriend’s big varsity jacket and you looked flustered, even biting your glossed lips, fidgeting in your seat.

Then he saw the two girls next to you giggling and gossiping. What were they talking about that was making you blush so much? Briefly, your eyes moved from your notebook and locked with his but you immediately looked down when you saw that he had been looking your way.

Hongjoong could only assume they were talking about him. In what way? He wasn’t sure but it was a way that was making you look even shyer and could he dare say, hot and bothered?

Then the bell rang.

“Alright, we’ll continue the discussion on Wednesday and I’ll hand you all your Renaissance art period essays that I already graded then. Have a nice day.” Hongjoong’s elegant and calm voice echoed in the lecture hall, as he made his way behind his desk, sitting out the papers.

A chorus of thanks was sent his way as the students little by little exited the lecture hall. He looked your way, watching as you packed your things and gathered your books.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jennie turned to you. “How are you and your stud of a boyfriend?”

“Oh, m-me and Woo?” Your lashes fluttered so prettily as Hongjoong pretended he couldn’t hear you and the girls.

“Yeah! We saw you two being all cute and kissy out in the hall.” Minsol chuckled as she touched up her makeup with powder.

“We’re great.” You couldn’t stop the happy smile on your face as you thought of your boyfriend.

“He’s your first boyfriend, right? Have you two…you know….”

Your brows furrowed. “Have we what?”

Hongjoong fought his sigh at how oblivious you were.

Minsol’s eyes widened as she snapped her compact closed and leaned over. “You guys haven’t?”

“What are you two talking about?” You tilted your head like a puppy.

The two girls exchanged looks of shock.

“Y/N…” Jennie leaned closer, lowering her voice even further but Hongjoong’s ears were sharp. “Are you a virgin?”

Immediately, your face was burning as you hugged your books to your chest, wanting to cover your face with Wooyoung’s jacket.

“Holy shit!” Minsol exclaimed then realized she had been loud. She looked towards the whiteboard and saw Mr. Kim looking at the three of you questioningly. “Uh…sorry Mr. Kim!”

Hongjoong only smiled and he shook his head, returning to his papers and was glad that he was sitting behind his desk as the idea of you never being touched morphed from shock and into desire. He kind of guessed you were…but dating the star athlete and heartthrob of the campus made him second guess that you were.

“Girl, you need to come with us!” Jennie hooked her arm with yours and Minsol on the other as the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall.

“Bye, Mr. Kim!” They chimed as they dragged you out with them.

“B-bye, sir.” Your little voice reached his ears as the three of you finally left him alone in the empty hall.

Hongjoong hunched over, crossing his arms on his desk as he groaned.

You were driving him insane.

What’s worse was that you didn’t even intend to do so.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

As the afternoon passed, Hongjoong made his way to his office. The hall was empty as students were in their classes or their club activities. It was peaceful til he heard hushed whispers ahead from an empty classroom, the door only slightly ajar.

The professor frowned. Were there students doing another weed deal on campus? Before concluding, through the very small gap of the wooden double doors, he took a peek.

“S-someone could walk in.”

Was that his sweet Y/N’s voice? Hongjoong’s heart began to race.

“Baby, I promise no one is. This room is always vacant at this hour.” Wooyoung reassured you, kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, specifically caressing your thighs that were parted as he stood between them.

Hongjoong swallowed the lump in his throat.

Perched on the large mahogany desk, was you. Your skirt was hiked up higher as your boyfriend pressed against you, his paws all over your soft body, feeling you through your clothes.

“You look so sexy in my jacket,” Wooyoung whispered in your ear, his hand moving lower til they were under your skirt. “I couldn’t stop thinking of how good you looked during lunch.”

You softly yelped when his fingers pressed against your core through your cotton panties. “W-woo!”

“Awe, baby, are you getting wet? All for me?”

“W-woo,” you whimpered when he traced his fingers along your slit, embarrassed at the dirty talk.

“Fuck, you’re soaking through your panties, baby. Tell me you want me to touch you. Ask me and I’ll make you feel good, baby.”

You wanted him to keep touching you but you felt a little guilty. You had started to feel hot way earlier than your boyfriend knew. Jennie and Minsol’s hushed whispering from class about Mr. Kim…ashamedly had made you ache.

“M-make me feel good, Woo.”

Your boyfriend groaned against your neck, rubbing you through your panties. “My pretty baby. You deserve so much.”

Your back arched when he applied more pressure to your clit.

“I’ll make you feel good, baby. I promise…. but I won’t make your first time here in a classroom.” He kissed your neck messily, licking your skin.

“But Youngie…” you didn’t want him to stop touching you. He has touched you like this many times before when he came over but it never went past that. He didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for but as time passed and the more you fell for him, you’ve been wanting to go all the way with him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you cum. I’ll be a good boyfriend and let my pretty girlfriend cum.” He kissed your forehead, slipping his hand under your panties to truly feel you. “You’re so wet, baby.” He moaned, collecting your slick and spreading it all over your pussy.

“Youngie,” you whimpered, gripping his shirt as your thighs trembled at the delicious friction.

“I love it when you call me that,” he sighed, repressing the urge that he indeed in fact wanted to ruin his pretty untouched girlfriend. He loved you and he wanted to treat you right as best as he could. You weren’t like the other girls he’s been with. He liked how you looked at him with stars in your eyes.

Your thighs squeezed at his sides unable to close as he continued to play with your pussy, touching you heavily and the way you liked. You couldn’t help but softly moan and pant at the intoxicating pleasure.

Hongjoong was burning with jealousy. A part of him wanted to disrupt the two of you and scold the two of you for misconduct as he had every right as a professor to do so. But…you looked so pretty falling apart for your boyfriend. Brows furrowed as your lips part and sigh, the setting sun hitting your skin in such a way that the lewd imagery before him was like a movie. He could feel his desire straining in his trousers. He wanted to watch.

“Youngie,” you whimpered so prettily.

Hongjoong took note of how your back arched when Wooyoung nibbled and kissed at a spot on your neck. You must be extra sensitive there. He also imagined how soft your breasts would be if he was the one cupping them through your cute blouse.

“You close baby?” Wooyoung rasped against your ear, rubbing your clit faster, making you lean your head forward to rest on his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, his right hand leaving your breast to grab you by the chin, making you look at him. “Let me see your pretty face, baby.” He swiped his thumb over your lower lip and bit his lip when you suddenly took his digit into your mouth, softly sucking on it. Where the fuck did you learn to do that? “C’mon, baby. Cum. Cum for me.”

You released his thumb with a soft pop, your lips even glossier from your gloss and saliva. You were panting and moaning so cutely, Wooyoung felt he was going to cum in his pants just at the sight of you getting off his fingers. He massaged your clit faster, watching the way your lids began to droop as you blinked up at him hazily and your lips part in a cute little ‘o’.

“Youngie!” You cried out, back arching and thighs trembling as you reached your high, your pussy dripping more arousal all over your boyfriend’s fingers.

“That’s it, baby. Such a pretty baby.” Wooyoung cooed, enjoying your fucked out expression. It was addicting really. His sweet innocent girlfriend falling apart for him. If you were this fucked out by just fingers, he can’t imagine how fucking delectable you looked when he finally fucked you.

Hongjoong bit his lip as he watched you come down from your high. How your arms wrapped around your boyfriend as he slowed his circles on your clit. He wished he could see how your pussy looked, how wet it was, and how sweet the nectar it produced.

Wooyoung took his hand from your panties and brought his fingers to his lips, your eyes widening. His hand left its grip on your face.

“W-woo!”

That didn’t stop him from letting his tongue dart out to lick his digits. “You taste so sweet, baby. Maybe I’ll come up tonight once I drop you off and really have a good taste of you.”

You blushed at his words and felt heat spark in your lower belly at what he hinted. Did he mean that he was going to kiss and taste you down there? With his tongue? The idea made your cheeks grow hot but that only made your boyfriend grin.

“Oh? You’re not opposed to it?” He teased, enjoying the way you only huffed and pouted your pretty lips. “Here, baby. Taste yourself.”

Hongjoong watched as you wearily, so curiously, poked out your cute tongue to lick your boyfriend’s fingers. How did you taste? Did you like it? You batted your lashes up at your boyfriend who awaited your verdict.

“So? How do you taste?” He took your hand in his other one, just relishing the moment you two had in the orange sunset-lit classroom.

“G-good.”

“Atta, girl.” Wooyoung grinned, taking you into his embrace and kissing you again.

Hongjoong felt his head pound from how hard he was in his pants. He wanted a taste. He needed a taste.

How was he going to get close to you when you and your boyfriend were all fine and dandy again?

“What do you say, baby? Friday night? I’ll come over and we’ll watch a movie. I’ll bring your favorite strawberries coated in chocolate. Then maybe…” he caressed your cheek. “We could go all the way?”

“W-won’t it hurt?”

Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s hearts ached at your sweetness.

“Well, when Friday rolls around, and you’re not up for it. It’s okay. We’ll just have a cozy little date and make out. I’ll wait for you when you’re ready. Okay?”

His gentle voice along with his care for you made your stomach flutter. “O-okay.” You leaned your cheek into his palm. “I love you, Woo.”

“I love you too, baby.”

While you and Wooyoung basked in the moment you two found yourselves in, Hongjoong made a beeline to his office and locked the door. He glanced down and saw the bulge of his cock poking through his tailored trousers. He threw his head back, slamming it against the door as he groaned.

He was going to have to take care of it himself cause it wasn’t going to go away til he did.

He didn’t know when the stalking— okay, in his defense, following and keeping an eye on you, started.

All Hongjoong knew was, he needed to get to know you. He needed to get closer somehow, be a friend. Someone you could turn to and cry to. Plus, you lived alone, away from your parents. You needed someone to protect you.

From all the wolves that surrounded you, including that boyfriend of yours.

As he passed the baseball field from where he parked his car, he couldn’t help but overhear a group of young wolf pups gathered and talking beneath the morning sun. They all wore the same varsity jacket, making Hongjoong’s pack of wolves analogy even truer.

“So? Did you and Y/N go all the way yet?” The Vice Captain of the team asked, the young and handsome Mr. Choi.

The rest of the boys began to nudge and tease their Captain who had been tossing the baseball in his hand nonchalantly.

“Yeah, have you and little Miss all prim and proper done more than just second base?” The tallest of them, Song Mingi, joined in the teasing, the boys all grinning and tossing oo’s and ah’s. “Your girl has a nice ass.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung harshly hissed at his teammate. “Yeah, and that’s my girl you’re talking about.”

“Can’t blame Mingi. You’re with the campus’s dream girl.” Jongho added, running his fingers through his brown hair.

“Dream girl?” Wooyoung’s brows furrowed.

“Yeah! Sure she’s lowkey and literally the nicest person on campus. Hell, she even helped me with calculus. I even thought of asking her out on a date.” San chirped. “But you got to her first. Anyway, that’s beside the point, did you guys finally do it? Friday night?”

Hongjoong remained hidden behind the shadows of the bleachers, needing to know the answer to San’s question.

“We didn’t. She got nervous and you know, I have to be a good boyfriend and wait. I don’t want to pressure her. She’s a nice girl.” Wooyoung finally responded, his answer earning a groan from his friends.

Mingi stared at him for a moment. “You should be a saint. That amount of self-control is crazy.”

“Well, good things come to those who wait, Mingi.” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m a hundred percent sure my girl is worth the wait and more.”

“You’re really down bad for her, huh?” Jongho laughed softly, actually admiring the fact that Wooyoung was becoming a better guy with you.

“Y-yeah…she is. I really love her.”

“I just can’t believe she fell for you. After all the girls you slept with in the past and the parties. She still fell for Jung Wooyoung. Anyways,” Jongho clapped Wooyoung on the back. “I hope you get some soon.”

San wouldn’t relent though.

“Has she at least been…you know….giving? I know you worship the fuck out of her in different ways but has the pretty princess given back?”

Hongjoong should head back to his office before he’s caught but…he needed to know the details.

“San, she doesn’t know how.”

Wooyoung’s response made San groan and Hongjoong fought back his own.

“She’s a fucking angel your girlfriend.” San huffed his crush on you not concerning Wooyoung as he knew San would never cross the line.

“Dude, when you get to teach her, it’s gonna be so fucking hot.” Mingi sighed, thinking of who to contact for his next hookup. He needed to fuck.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but agree. To teach someone as beautiful and pretty as you, how to use your cute mouth and delicate hands…the fantasy of you between his legs while he sits on his office couch…guiding you while you look up at him for him to lead you…the young pups have a point.

“Okay, can you guys chill and not talk about my girlfriend like that?” Wooyoung lightly scolded his friends. “Anyways, you guys better be on your best behavior for tonight’s practice. I'm driving Y/N home for our date and I really don’t want to have to bail again because Coach isn’t happy with our performance.”

“We’ll do our best,” San spoke for them, sending a pointed glare to Mingi and Jongho, they’re bickering always getting their Coach to overtime their practices. “But coach hasn’t been in a good mood as far as I know.”

Wooyoung swore under his breath, worry bubbling in his chest when he imagined your disappointment and the way your eyes become glassy as you fight back tears. He really didn’t want to make you feel like he didn’t care about you again…he knew you understood his obligations to his team. He just hoped he wouldn’t forget to update you this time and keep you waiting for him.

Hongjoong didn’t stay long after that. He went off his merry way back to his office, wondering if tonight would be another chance to have some time with you again. Be your knight in shining armor if your boyfriend doesn’t pick you up again.

All he needed to do was stay in your good graces.

After all, he just wanted to take care of you…

It began with longer conversations after class, asking how you were doing and if you understood the lecture or not. Then when midterms started to round the corner he would casually stay past campus hours just so that he could ‘by chance’ be finishing up late at the same time you were finished up studying in the library.

But this time, when he found you, the sun was beginning to set and you were in one of the library aisles, in the sections students don’t frequent, on the floor hugging your knees to your chest. Your back was against the tall wooden bookshelf and you were by the window, your head below the window pane as you softly sniffled.

Hongjoong felt his stomach twist. What did your boyfriend do?

“Ms. L/N?” As softly as he could, he called out to you and he saw you visibly stiffen.

“M-Mr. Kim?” You kept your head down, too embarrassed to look up at him because he would see the tears and puffiness in your eyes.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He slowly approached, observing your body language if you would shrink away from him. He kneeled before you. “Did something happen? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, fighting back the way it quivered as you wanted to tell him exactly what happened but you were crying over something so silly.

A gentle warm hand softly patted your head, your heart stopping at the touch. Maybe you could tell him everything. Besides…he has been so kind to you and only ever wanted to make sure you were okay. When the two of you spent time together and talked, you would sometimes forget he was your professor and not just a friend.

And yet, your heart couldn’t help but want to be in the palm of his hand, knowing he’d be gentle with it.

When you lifted your head to look at him, the tears in your eyes had Hongjoong almost falling to his knees and wanting to embrace you right then and there. “I’ll take you to my office okay?” He offered, taking out his handkerchief and putting it in your trembling hands.

“O-okay.” You murmured.

With a guiding arm around your shoulders and making sure no wandering eyes would see the two of you, the likelihood being low since it was past class hours, the varsity teams were training and it was a Friday, he led you to his office.

You stood awkwardly in the middle of his office, clutching his handkerchief in your hand, a part of your brain contemplating the idea of being vulnerable in your professor's office. It was highly inappropriate. Should anyone find out—

You were torn from your thoughts when a pair of warm arms wrapped around you so gently. You blinked a couple of times unable to process what was happening and the beating of your heart. Hongjoong cradled the back of your head as he held you close to him, your cheek brushing against his neck.

“It hurts to see you cry.” He whispered, unable to hold himself back from soothing you then he pulled away and led you to the leather couch in his office.

You sat on one end while he was on the other, the gap between you reminding you of the intrusive thought of the distance you and Wooyoung might have soon…

“What’s wrong, darling? You can tell me, you know. I’m always here to lend an ear. Whatever it is I won’t judge you, especially when it hurts you this deeply.”

Hongjoong tried to meet your eyes that were cast down on your fingers on your lap, fiddling with his handkerchief. Was it your boyfriend? He swore if it was Jung Wooyoung he was going to teach that boy a lesson.

Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to speak freely to him.

A moment of weakness?

“I-I overheard Youngie’s friends when I was in the library…they were about to leave for practice and…” you felt that lump in your throat creep up higher, making you want to sob again as you remembered what they said. “They said that they felt b-bad for him.”

Bad for him?

“It’s a bit…tmi…sir. I’m sorry it’s hard to speak about it.” You stared at the edge of your skirt, feeling the shame and embarrassment you had felt earlier crawling on your skin.

“Ah? TMI.” Hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing to make it comfortable for you to tell him. “Well, Ms. L/N, we are two adults, aren’t we not? Plus, it’s after university hours. I’m here for you right now as a friend and I’d like to help soothe your troubles if you would let me.”

It was almost too easy the way you caved into his words. Jung Wooyoung did not deserve a sweet girl like you.

“Youngie’s teammates…said they feel bad for him because I haven’t…” you paused, heat blooming in your tear-stained cheeks. “I haven’t slept with him.” Then you felt that ache in your heart return. “I don’t want to lose him, Mr. Kim. I love him so much. I-I want to be a good girlfriend.”

Hongjoong’s heart broke. His beautiful wilted rose. How dare those dumb boys speak so ill of you?

“You’re a good girlfriend I’m sure, Ms. L/N.” He reassured you with such calmness, his words made you perk up a little. “You didn’t hear these words from Wooyoung himself right?”

You nodded.

“But even though…I still want to make him feel good. He always makes me feel…” you trailed off, realizing that you were talking about the intimate things you and your boyfriend do. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with Wooyoung like that…I just…I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Disappoint him how?”

“Wooyoung has been with girls…with experience. He’s my first boyfriend and he’s the first man to ever touch m-me…kiss me…”

Hongjoong was fighting back the attraction grew the more you spoke about your lack of experience. He couldn’t believe those boys had you questioning your worth all because you were scared to go all the way with your boyfriend.

“I-I even tried watching…videos…on how I can do things for Wooyoung…but I just am too scared to initiate it. What if I do something wrong and it goes horribly?”

“You shouldn’t need to worry about that. I’m sure your…” Hongjoong held himself back from saying what he said with jealousy. “…boyfriend would be more than happy to teach you. Has he offered to?”

You shook your head.

“Ah…I see.” Hongjoong sat back, trying to think of what to say next. “I’m pretty sure what you lack is practice…” he trod carefully, gauging your expression with each word he was choosing. “You’ll never know til you give it a try. With everything in life, you learn as you go.”

He watched as you took each word seriously, a rather sweet pensive look on your face as you nodded at his advice. Hongjoong hoped he didn’t cross the line by saying that and made things awkward between the two of you.

“If I may speak as another human being helping another,” Hongjoong continued, hoping to calm your stormy mind. “I just hope you don’t feel pressured to do anything with your boyfriend or anyone. It’s very sweet of you to want to do something this intimate with someone you desire but I’d rather you won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, going over all the caring and sweet affirmations Mr. Kim was giving you. How was it you felt so safe with him? He was too kind to you…yet you enjoyed the company he gave.

When Wooyoung wasn’t able to take you home from extended practices and last minute cancellations and texts, Professor Kim was always there to somehow salvage the day. To stop the breaking of your heart with his warm smile and effort to get to know you and make conversation.

“M-Mr. Kim…”

You finally spoke. Hongjoong smiled warmly at the call of his name. He observed how your cheeks began to flush. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you hesitate to continue. You suck in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be brave and look him in the eye.

“Could you guide me?”

Nothing but your voice rang in his ears at this moment. Hongjoong was shocked by the question. Was it a question? With the way your eyes were bleary and glossy, how your lips were trembling, and how flustered you appeared. It was a plea.

“Ms.L/N….” He tried to resist as much as he could, knowing that if he were to cross the line, he wouldn’t be able to go back. You were his forbidden desire. If he were to take a bite, he would want nothing more than to consume you.

You knew what you asked was silly and inappropriate, and a part of you regretted asking but if you were to leave this room right now, all you would be able to think about was how Wooyoung’s friends talked about you and wonder how much Wooyoung shared to his friends about yours and his relationship.

Mr.Kim looked speechless and flustered from what you asked of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

“Mr.Kim, I-I’m so sorry,” you quickly blurted out, trying to salvage the odd atmosphere. “Please forget everything I said. Thank you so much for comforting me—

"Are you sure you want me to help, Ms. L/N?” Hongjoong stopped your rambling, taking your hand that you hadn’t realized was trembling from nerves but the moment he spoke and he touched you, your body found a sense of calm. “I just don’t want to make you do anything you’ll regret.”

Oh, he wanted to help.

“I-I wouldn’t have asked anyone else but you...I feel safe with you.” You mumbled shyly, staring at his pretty hand holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles.

“Your trust in me is something I shall cherish and I wouldn’t dare break it.” He looked you in the eyes as he said that, the warmth and intensity of them made your heart flutter. “I promise I’ll keep it strictly professional and I’ll make sure to put your comfort first.”

Your heart fluttered again. “O-okay.”

“How would you like this to go?”

“I-I’m not sure…Wooyoung usually takes the lead whenever we do anything more than kissing…” you were speaking so softly, it was pulling at Hongjoong’s heartstrings. You were so precious. “I wouldn’t mind you taking the lead…teach me how to make Wooyoung feel good.” You squeezed his hand nervously and he kept his soft smile on his face, hiding his excitement.

You’ll let him take the lead?

“Okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with okay?” He caressed your cheek fondly, forcing himself to not brush your lips with his thumb. “Tell me to stop when it gets too much.”

“Thank you, sir.” You whispered, feeling all tense as he got closer.

Sir? Were you trying to kill him? He scooted closer, your knees touching his own. “Do I have permission to touch you, darling?”

The pet name made you feel just a little bit more hotter. The way he said it, his voice a low purr, made you feel things you thought you’d only feel with Wooyoung.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Experimentally, he slowly glided his hand up the side of your thigh, the sweet gasp falling from your lips making him smirk against your neck. He brushed his lips against your neck, before whispering in your ear. “You’ve watched videos as research, correct?”

You stuttered out your response, feeling your body grow warm with the way his hand smoothed up and down your thigh, never going higher than where your skirt stopped. “I did…” Was it wrong that you wanted his hand to move higher?

Hongjoong held back from kissing your neck, testing the waters of what exactly he could do to you. His hand moved to your waist now, caressing the curve of your side then stopping so that his thumb was just below the underside of your bra covered chest.

“Why don’t you show me what you learned, hm? Then I’ll guide you along the way.” He suggested, his tone going just a little lower than usual.

And that’s how you found yourself on your knees, between your professor's trousered thighs, your eyes looking at him with such uncertainty and the willingness to learn.

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure you won't disappoint,” Hongjoong reassured you, petting your head lovingly while his thoughts were going wild at the mere sight of you all cute and demure between his legs.

“O-okay.”

As you had watched and observed, you placed your hands on his thighs. They trembled a little. What if you messed up here too? You shook the thought away. Professor Kim was going to guide you. You’ll be okay and then you’ll be able to make Wooyoung feel good too.

All of this was for Wooyoung.

You slowly slid your hands up his thighs feeling the smooth fabric of his trousers as you recounted the videos you had seen. You remembered how the woman in the video would trace her fingers over the man’s groin…but was Hongjoong even…turned on?

You remember how stiff Wooyoung would get when you were on his lap as you two made out, his hands running up and down your sides then over the curve of your ass, squeezing it.

Do you need to kiss Mr. Kim too?

Before asking, you experimentally softly placed your palm against his groin, blushing to find that he was hot and rather stiff through his pants. A shaky breath escaped him and you retracted your hand.

“W-was that not okay?”

“It was fine,” he managed a smile for you, getting hard at just how shy and sweet you were. “You’re doing fine.”

“O-okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, gliding your palm over his clothed groin before sliding higher, your other hand joining to unbuckle his belt.

Each gentle and inexperienced touch or ghost of your fingers over his crotch was making his cock twitch to life. It was so easy for him to be turned on…well…because it was you. It was endearing how focused yet nervous you were and once you tugged his briefs down low enough for his cock to spring up, your eyes stared at his length.

From his reclined position on the couch, his legs spread to accommodate you, he was able to notice the way your thighs squeezed to tether at the sight of him.

Your face was hot as your eyes took in the sight of his cock. It was way more intimidating to see one in person than on a screen…was it odd for you to think it was rather pretty? The head was a soft pink and it glistened with something that made your tongue somehow itch to want to try and wrap your mouth around him. Would he fit in your mouth? Would he fit in— you stopped yourself from thinking that. You can’t go all the way with Mr. Kim, you were going to do that with Wooyoung.

Feeling his warm gaze on you, you gently wrapped your hand around his length. The feeling of him hot and heavy in your palm, the girth of him, made your core pulse.

Hongjoong bit his lip at the gentle touch, the smoothness of your palm, and the dainty way you held him making him sensitive to whatever you were doing. He knew it wasn’t on purpose that you were prolonging any sort of movement, you weren’t sure what to do next.

“Tell me what you learned,” he managed to speak calmly. “Or what you observed.”

Squeezing your thighs together and inching closer to get into a comfortable position, you thought of what to answer. “In the videos…the girls take their partner in their mouth…and some just move their hand…I'm not sure what to do next, I’m sorry.” You looked away, embarrassed.

This was exactly why you never initiated it with Wooyoung. If you did and you messed up or did not even follow through, he would’ve mentioned it to his friends somehow in their talks.

Hongjoong saw how nervous you were and tried to suppress the desire to command you what to do and how you should do it, he placed his hand over yours that was softly holding his cock. He couldn’t be mean to you…as much as he wanted to completely control you and make you feel pleasure that would have you falling apart for him, he wanted to be gentle with you.

“I’ll guide you, okay?” His other hand petted the top of your head, making the nerves yo I had been feeling dwindle. You nodded.

“You have to spit on it first, sweetheart.”

His words made your eyes widen. The dirty notion was embellished with a sweet term of endearment. Hearing it from him, from the mouth where only kindness, care and knowledge was all you heard come out of it, made you feel warm.

“Spit on it?”

“I know it sounds odd but it’ll help. I’ll guide you on how to use your hand first. Don’t be shy, darling.”

His encouragement only made you want to do as he says. You told yourself it only feels weird because you’ve never done it before and Mr. Kim was kind enough to help you be more confident when the time comes for you to do it with your boyfriend.

Leaning over, you collected your saliva and spat softly. Hongjoong bit back any sound that dared escape him at the moment not ready to break the promise of being professional for your sake but the warmth of your spit and how shyly you did it turned him on even more.

“Now,” he guided your hand. “Spread it around with my precum like this.” He loosely moved your hand, letting your dainty fingers be covered by the mix of your spit and his precum. “It’ll be easier to move your hand this way, it’ll feel good.”

You nodded, feeling the slickness against your palm and how it now easily glided along his length with his hand still over yours.

“You have to hold it just a little tighter.” He closed his hand over yours a little tighter but not too tight but just enough to tell you how much pressure you should be applying.

“L-like this?” You adjusted your grip and slowly while your hand moved in slow up and down motions, he removed his hand and a deep sigh of bliss left him.

“Just like that, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice dipped lower and his head rolled back a little, giving you the perfect view of his sharp jawline and pink lips.

Your eyes kept shifting from his face and to his cock in your hand, entranced somehow by the idea of how he was feeling good by just your hand. Watching a video was completely different from actually doing it. You recalled the way a girl in a video would twist her hand as she glided her hand up and down, and you decided to try the motion.

Hongjoong hissed out a curse at the new movement. “That feels good.” His hips bucked up a little, pushing his cock up in your hand.

Feeling a little braver, you leaned forward to press your lips on the head of his cock, kissing it and feeling heat surge to your core at how warm the tip was against your lips.

Hongjoong lifted his head from its thrown back position to look at you, the sudden sensation of your soft lips on his cock turning him on further.

“You want to try that already?” He asked, his hand gripping the armrest of the couch when your doe eyes looked up at him so innocently, your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and nodded, it was driving him crazy. It was getting harder and harder to retain any sense of composure. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Show me what you learned. You’re already doing so well. You look so cute like this too.”

His words of praise and compliments made both your heart and core throb. It made you try even harder to please him. You wondered if it was okay that you were getting wet. You could feel your slick sticking to the gusset of your panties and against the lips of your pussy.

Hongjoong moaned softly when he felt your hot tongue swirling around his cock head. He twitched within your hand continued their rhythmic twisting and up and down rhythm. He watched as you tasted him. He could see the way your brows furrowed at the taste and when he felt you take more of him in your mouth and suckle at the sensitive tip of his cock, you were making it harder for him to not buck his hips up into your pretty mouth.

“You doing okay?” He asked, gently placing his hand behind the back of your head, caressing you.

You nodded, humming, the vibrations of your sound adding some extra pleasure to the way you were giving him head.

“F-fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. Such a good girl.”

The way he said that made your pussy clench. Why did that have some effect on you? It sounded so hot coming from him and it made you want to please him even more.

Eventually, you took what you could of him in your mouth, fighting back your gag reflex and bobbing your head shallowly along his cock. Your hand continued to jerk what you couldn’t fit of his length in your little mouth. You were aching so bad, you couldn’t help but let your free hand slide between your thighs to find your pussy, surprised at how wet you were. It was easy to spread your arousal all over your cunt and begin massaging your clit the way you liked, settling for the friction of your fingers.

Hongjoong noticed your dainty hand between your legs. The sight of you suckling and bobbing your cute head up and down along his cock, and touching yourself was sending him to the edge. Plus your lips tinted with pink gloss were mixing with your saliva as you continued to suck him off. You were so fucking cute.

“I’m close darling. You’re doing so well. You had nothing to be so nervous about. F-fuck.” He shuddered when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you squeaked so adorably, the sound muffled. What a cute little slut you were touching yourself as you stuffed your little mouth with his cock. Though he was saying such sweet praises, deep down he wanted to fuck his cock into your mouth and watch you cry from taking him. He was betting you’d look up at him with wide pleading eyes with tears as you let him use you as his personal cock sleeve.

The mere thought of that sent him over the edge and without warning, he came. A small squeak left you as sudden hot spurts of cum spilled into your mouth. You latched off of him in surprise, your hand still pumping him as he came. His moans and the way his head was thrown back, made you stop touching yourself so you could focus fully on the way he climaxed all over your face.

“Fuck!” He groaned as his hand that was cradling your head gripped your hair and his hips bucked up into your hand, riding out his high. You whimpered as he tugged at your hair, the sensation making your clit throb. Why did that feel good? Why did having his release on your cheeks and in your mouth, turned you on?

“Open up, darling. Let me see.” Hongjoong tugged your hair back almost forcibly, his gaze almost predatory, it scared you a bit. You’ve never seen such a dark, menacing yet charming expression on your sweet and kind professor.

You parted your lips and he smirked.

He wondered if you knew just how cute and ruined your look right now. Pink gloss smeared over your lips and your cheeks flushed and stained with his white sticky cum, and the best of all, his seed was on your tongue.

He wished he could take a picture.

You didn’t realize you were breathing slowly as your heart was racing and he stared down at you with a glint in his eye that you couldn’t quite place.

“You look so pretty like this, darling.” His grip on your hair loosened and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb dipping into your mouth as you still obediently kept your lips parted for him. He smeared more of his cum all over your lips and chin, finding the idea of him on your skin so hot…it’s like he marked you. “Such a good girl.” He cooed and you didn’t know why you did what you did but you swallowed his salty release, and his reaction made it all worth it. “What a perfect girl you are.”

His praise only made your heart flutter, his words only feeding that part of you that wanted to please him…to please Wooyoung.

“D-do you think Woo will like it?” You asked, your voice a little hoarse as you sat there on your knees, looking up at him so sweetly.

Hongjoong held back from rolling his eyes at the mention of the boy who didn’t deserve you. He masked his annoyance with a smile. “He’ll like it, darling. You did really well. I mean it.” He took his handkerchief and began to clean you up, gently dabbing your cheek.

Despite the ache between your thighs, you couldn’t stop the way a smile grew on your face at the approval from your most trusted mentor.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kim—

“Hongjoong.” He cut you off with a gentle smile, looking at you lovingly.

“What?” You stuttered that same feeling you felt earlier, the confusion of the same way he made your heart flutter like Wooyoung does.

“You can call me Hongjoong when it’s just the two of us, darling. I think with how close we’ve gotten…I’d like you to call me by my name. Don’t you think we’re rather close?”

There was something about his eyes that captivated you. It was so magnetic it was hard to not be completely wonderstruck and in control of that powerful gaze.

All you could do was nod.

“That’s a good girl…” he cooed, smiling warmly. “Perhaps, you need more guidance. You want to be a good girlfriend for your Wooyoung right?”

You did, you wanted to be the best girlfriend for him.

“I do…”

“Sometimes what you see online is not entirely reliable. I’m offering you…private lessons…doesn’t that sound good for you?”

You nodded, letting him pull you up on and onto his lap, gasping when your core pressed against his thigh.

“I’ll teach you all there is to know. I want what's best for you and for you to know exactly what you’re getting into.” He ran his hand up and down your thigh, slowly. “You don’t want to disappoint Wooyoung, right?”

“I don’t Sir…” you said so quickly.

So innocent. So naive. So dumb. So perfect for him to ruin.

He never thought he’d get to this point.

All this time, he has only ever admired you and desired you from afar. He kept his reputation as a well-loved and kind professor so that no one and you, especially you, would ever question his motives.

“Now, I think we should try this again. You did really well but I can teach you a little extra something that will make your boyfriend so, so, so happy.”

feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl with you and I love feedback. It keeps me writing.

special tags : @khjcs @skteezcursed @caityelise99

[neo-nomatrix]

Hate the AM, Hate the PM, But love you

Hobie Brown x reader

word count: 969

find the mini series here

tags: @maxjesty @marshallowy @sh-tposter2021 @ilovebhna @ladyagagaslefttoe

synopsis: Hobie is still a slightly infuriating neighbor, but there’s something about that jacket and guitar that are all too familiar.

a/n: DRUNK CONFESSIONS!! Part two of this fic. I wasn’t going to write another part to it but i caved 😔

You stood him up. You fucking stood him up. Hobie spent the entire show looking out into the crowd, ignoring the blinding stage lights, to try and find you. But you were nowhere to be found. He asked so nicely too! Despite his nonchalant attitude it took him so long to build up the courage to ask you out. He had dinner reservations planned, which he has obviously never done, looked up places to get a Mr.Whippy and even found a small secluded area where he could play his guitar for you.

The worst part is how it made him feel. He genuinely liked you and it hurt him to think you didn’t feel the same when he thought you did. So what was his solution? Go out with his mates to a pub until 3 am to drink his feelings. Hobie was a bold drunk, bolder than he usually is. He’s also a sloppy drunk, tripping when he walks and slurring his speech like it’s all one word.

You’re peacefully sleeping in your bed with your spiderman eye mask cuddling with your Spider-Punk plushie. It’s not a random occurrence to hear Hobie stomping his boots late at night but it was different today. You heard his boot buckles dragging across the floor and a loud bang against your door. Not necessarily a knock, more of a body slumped against the wood.

“Love! You in there?!” You hear him yell.

You try your hardest to ignore him but as he keeps yelling and pounding against the wood you start to feel sorry for everyone else on your floor. You force yourself out of bed and towards the front door. As you reluctantly open it a drunken Hobie falls into your flat.

“Hobie get your arse up,” you roll your very tired eyes.

He surprisingly agrees and makes his way to your bed.

Great, you think

He tosses his guitar to your couch and gets into your bed like it’s his. Conveniently throwing the spider-punk plush off the bed. He cuddles up with your blanket and closes his eyes. You cannot let him fall asleep.

“Hobie! Hello? That is my bed. Get out!” You yell at him.

“Why’d you do it?” He whispers.

“What,” you ask, still annoyed.

“You stood me up. I asked you to come to my show and you didn’t. Why,” he asked less of a question and more of a statement.

You sigh, of course you knew that was tonight. In all honesty you don’t quite know why you didn’t go. You weren’t doing anything special and it probably would’ve been nice. But you were scared. Scared of what? You also didn’t know that, you just were.

“I… I don’t know,” you admit.

“Really hurt me, Love. I wanted to see you and take you out on a nice date,” he looked away from you.

Your heart shattered. You knew Hobie liked you but not to that extent. You thought he was just playing around with you and didn’t mean anything by it.

“I’m really sorry, Hobie. We should go out some other time, okay? My treat,” you promise.

“Nah, don’t think i’ll have the time,” He says, clearly less sad than he was a few moments ago.

“Oh yeah? Busy with what? Trying to tear down the government from the inside?” You laugh.

“Of course not, that’s for the first saturday of every month. I’ll be busy being Spiderman,” he says, cuddling closer to your blanket.

You stop immediately. Your mind goes blank, the world around you stops. You’re suddenly much more awake than you have ever been. Hobie is… no you can’t even say it. The man you’ve hated ever since you had moved in was the person you loved more than anything else? That can’t be right, he’s having a laugh. That’s gotta be it.

“I don’t believe in comedy,” you remember him saying.

Fuck. He’s not joking, is he?

“What?” you manage to get out.

“I’ll be busy, being spiderman and all. Yknow who that is right? Don’t know if you noticed but he’s- i mean I’m kinda all over your room,” he lets out a drunk giggle.

He pulls out his mask from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to you.

“See?”

You grab it in disbelief. You run your hand over the spandex in awe. Spiderman is right in front of you, you realize.

Oh. My. God. SPIDERMAN IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

You just can’t believe the man you’ve idolized for years was in your bed. YOUR BED.

Hobie takes the blanket off of him, lifting up his shirt to reveal his suit. Blue and fucking red material.

“I don’t believe in the labels though. It’s stupid,” He says in the most Hobie way possible.

“You’re a superhero,” you say, still a little shocked.

“No. No, don't say that. I'm not a hero, because calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologising, narcissistic autocrat,” He says. God even drunk he’s still a smart ass.

“So you still wanna go out?” He asks.

“What? I just found out you’re fucking Spiderman and that’s what you’re asking me? If I want to go out with you?” You respond.

“I mean what else is there to say? I already know you love me,” he nods to the spiderman memorabilia.

Even in this state he still leaves you speechless.

“Well- yeah I guess. We can go out,” you say slowly.

“Cool,” he nods.

He lifts up the blanket and scoots over, inviting you into your bed with him. You roll your eyes and get in with him. He wraps his arms around you and smiles.

“I knew you wanted to snog me from the start,” he laughs.

Hobie is still pretty infuriating, but that is slowly becoming one of your favorite things about him.