#but the bitch I was looking for was 'briny'

[tc-doherty]

the hardest part about writing was me sitting on the couch this morning trying to think of a word but not even able to come up with the name for the type of word I was looking for just going "what genre of word is this even? what do I even look for?"

[hwanchaesong]

Folklore: A Trilogy (August)

Childhood friend!Jake X F!Reader

Synopsis: Ever since you left home to pursue the city life, you really did think that everything was over. Then you returned, and you still see him there. Will something rekindle and burn inside you once more?

word count: 24.6k

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, childhood friends, kind of slowburn, summer love/fling au, this fic is taylor swift inspired (maybe you'll also see other song references but who knows), mentions of bullying & childhood trauma, cursing, drinking, party/festival, country side & small town settings, fights, jealousy, built up sexual tension, implied situationship, lies lies lies, sop (with bf!sunghoon), cheating (zont zo this, stay loyal!), oral m&f rec, fingering, nipple play, dry humping, overstimulation, creampie, kitchen sex, bedroom sex lmao, multiple unprotected (wrap before you tap!) sex scenes, appearance of other idols, & reminder!! the idols' characters here do not mirror real life! not proof read! etc etc mdni

a/n: this is the first part of the Folklore: Trilogy, which focuses on Jake aka our August. also the longest fic that i have ever written for now 🥲 and yes, i changed the 'aesthetic' moodboard bc i am obsessed with this kind of layouts lately 👺

ps. likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated! let me know what you think y'all. thank you so much and enjoy! 🩷

🎧 playlist

You stretched your back, muscles cramping from seven hours of traveling, drawing in the conventional briny ocean breeze that passes through the air as you stepped onto the sandy sidewalk, opening the brown gates and the creaking metal alarmed the people inside the building of your arrival.

"Well, aren't you home earlier than expected?" your mother greets you, giving you a welcoming hug when you enter the house and you take notice of something delicious wafting around your nostrils.

"Yes, there wasn't much traffic on the way here," you returned her embrace after dropping your bags on the floor, "and I smell something good." you remarked, heading towards the kitchen to find your dad bustling in front of the stove and your little brother mixing something in a bowl.

"They're chefs now." your mother jokes, following you in the kitchen and making small talk when the men of the house told you two to sit back and relax, to let them do the work this time.

"Wow dad," you peeked over his shoulders and you almost drooled at the delicacy he's concocting, "your cooking skills have greatly improved."

"Me too!" the youngest of your family spoke, walking over to you and nudging you with his elbow, "Look, I made your favorite dessert."

You lovingly ruffled his hair and ignored his complaints, knowing that he secretly loves it, "You're doing great as well, Riki."

You assisted with setting the table, sitting down in your usual spot and helping yourself to a large portion of food, wolfing the grub with the utmost gratitude because seriously, dorm and university meals kind of suck.

While eating, your mother decided to bring up a topic that you dare say, plain horrendous and tedious, "Now that you're here, you should come with us to the town fiesta before your summer break ends."

You groaned, not liking the idea of spending your beloved summer around other people, only wanting to be a couch potato, to sleep, eat and play games all day long.

"Don't be like that!" your father chides, eating a spoonful of the tiramisu that Riki made before speaking, "Besides, your old friends will be there. Aren't you excited to see them?"

Old friends. Pft.

Can you even consider those people your friends when all they ever did during your elementary and highschool years was to approach you whenever they needed something?

You hated them, really, they are one of the many reasons why you were determined to depart from your hometown. You only come back here from time to time because of your family. The moment you set foot into the city, you've already cut those stupid, snarky bitches in your life.

"Come to think of it, Jake will be there." Riki added, then you paused.

Jake? The aussie boy whom you've spent most of your childhood with? The same Jake who gifted you the largest teddy bear that he won in a shooting range in a local carnival?

You cautiously peered at your brother, asking him a mindless question for good measure, "Jake with a government name of Sim Jaeyun?"

"Yep, good 'ol Jake. Do you know that I'm taller than him now?" he snickers, visualizing the older boy's rage if he hears that comment.

"He's still here?" you asked once more, because surely, you thought that he's gone by now. Back to Australia to pursue a career there, it's what he has informed you before going your separate ways for college.

"Of course, where else would he be?" Riki side-eyed you then realization flashed on his face, "I get it."

"You get what?"

"You missed him." he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly that it had you slapping his shoulder in an attempt to terminate his annoying ass down.

"I don't! I was asking because he told me that he w-"

"Excuses, excuses." he cuts you off, waving his hand around dismissively, "I'm so gonna tell him that you missed him so dearly."

"Really?" you crossed your arms over your chest, a challenging aura radiating off of you, "Go ahead then, guess I'll give the clothes I bought to Sunoo and Jungwon."

He whined, you gave him the cold-shoulder, he pulled your hair, you yelled at him and you nearly went nuts when he licked your spoon filled with the last tidbits of the chocolate goodness. (which he knows is your pet peeve.)

Before a fight breaks out, your parents ushered you both to your respective rooms, saying that they'll take care of the dishes. Rubbing their foreheads and saying something along the lines of 'sibling dynamics never change.'

While showering, you pondered over the invitation, maybe you should go. Check out what's new, totally not because of a certain someone... you think?

Jake was your closest companion back then, a kind person with a heart of gold. If anything, you'd call him your true friend. He made you laugh, shared his food with you, and did everything together; attached to the hip like you two were born from the same seed.

Not until he told you that he's moving back to Australia to attend a university that he's been dreaming of since he was young.

You remembered crying yourself to sleep that day, then you made the decision to study in the city because there is no way in hell you'll survive college life here without your one and only friend.

So it really was a surprise to you when Riki revealed that he's still here. Does that mean that moving out was nothing but a mistake on your part? Does that mean that you could've stayed here and lived a peaceful life instead of hustling in a swarming city?

You shook your head, 'Y/N, don't be silly.' If you didn't explore outside your small town, then you wouldn't have the chance to meet him.

A giddy smile crept up your lips at the thought of your boyfriend. One day, you'll bring him here and he'll definitely love the area, especially the lake when it's frozen so he could skate on it, then you'll be there beaming then-

You slapped your soapy cheeks with both hands, scolding yourself for daydreaming, 'Stop being a delulu! It's only been a few months since you started dating him!'

You quickly rinsed and dried your hair, changing into some of your comfortable childhood pajamas and letting yourself fall into dreamland.

---------------------------------------------------

"What the fu-" you must have resembled that one Morty meme when he woke up, because who on earth is making all the noise downstairs when it's... oh, it's 1 PM. Dang, you slept that long? Like a log even.

You went to the bathroom and freshened yourself up, and when you deemed yourself presentable enough, you headed down to check what the commotion was about.

You definitely heard Riki shouting, but there is someone else. A voice that is eerily familiar but is somehow foreign to your ears.

You steadily walked into the living room, ceasing when you detected a mop of long black hair sitting next to your brother's shorter one.

"Huh?" you unconsciously uttered, catching the attention of the boys who are currently playing Mario Kart.

"Y/N?"

The rotation of the earth seemed to slow down when you saw him again.

There he was, the old friend that saved you from a gloomy childhood.

"Jake?" you hesitantly called out, making him smile, nodding his head in your direction before standing up and lurching towards you for a bone crushing hug.

"Y/N!"

"Jake!"

You hugged each other for what felt like hours, disconnecting when Riki cleared his throat, standing up from his position on the couch and retreating in the kitchen, "Imma go and fetch us some snacks, call me when you're done being lovey-dovey."

You rolled your eyes at your sibling's sass, returning your attention to the sunny boy in front of you.

"How are you? You look great!" he beams, tightly holding your hand in his while he scans you from head to toe.

It kind of made you self conscious, wishing that you should've made an effort to dress better but hey! He's your sweet, lovely Jake, you’re assured that there's no ill intention behind his stare.

"I’m good, busy with college and all. How about you? You look fine as heck!" you answered him with all the sincerity that you could muster, especially at the last part of your statement.

He looks great, like really great. You’ll even say that he’s transformed into an actual disney prince.

You do hark back to him being one of the rare good looking bunch of kids , but boy, did you not expect puberty to hit him like a bullet train.

Given that Riki is taller than him (man did not lie), his visuals are insane. He retained his puppy-like eyes, prominent cheekbones that were the result of his baby fats disappearing, his tall nose and jawline that are now sharper than a knife, and his lips.. his godforsaken lips. It's fuller and thicker, and not to mention, his beige skin is glowing.

He's a totally different person from what you can remember, and the more you observe him, the more you discern how much of a man he became. Only did you realize that you were blanking out when his phone rang, and being the nosey person that you are, you couldn't help but peek at the caller.

'Yuna.'

Oh, so he has a girlfriend. Well, you should have expected that. A pretty boy like him would surely bag any girl that he wanted.

"Right, I'll be there in ten." he ended the call and turned to you with an apologetic smile, "Guess we'll continue this talk later."

"I don’t mind, no problem."

Perfect if you say so, it'll give you some extra time to relax and sink the newfound information in your brain, that your childhood friend grew up into a dashing, debonair man.

"Here, give me your number so we could easily communicate." he hands you his phone, allowing you to type and save your contact.

"You're leaving?" just then, Riki emerges from the kitchen, holding a tray of munchies and setting it on the coffee table.

"Yeah, sorry man, I need to do something."

Riki side-eyes his friend with a sarcastic hum. (you think that side-eyeing people is his new habit from the amount of times he did it within a short span of time.)

"Do something or do someone?" Riki haphazardly asked, making Jake glance at you nervously, an awkward chuckle erupting from him.

"It's not like that," he glances at the clock, clicking his tongue and bidding his goodbyes, "I gotta go now. Y/N, I'll text you later."

He waves at you both, bolting through the door and Riki lets out a sardonic laugh, "Look at that fuckboy, so ready to get his dick wet."

"Hey," you pinched Riki's cheek, earning yourself a pained drone from him, "watch it. Since when did you learn vulgar words like that."

He swats your hand away, "Since birth. Ouch! Stop it!" he protests when you start pinching him more, not appreciating his raw sass.

"But really, he's a fuckboy now?" you inquired, flopping on the couch and grabbing a cookie from the plate, chomping on it while you watch Riki pour some juice for you two.

"Why? Are you jealous?" he teased, doing that same taunting eyebrow wiggle that you hate so much.

"I will literally choke you." you threatened, making him raise his hands up in surrender.

"Simmer down." he sat next to you, exiting Mario Kart and opting to play some anime on Netflix, "I don't know if it's true or not, but word from others is that Jake's been screwing girls since last year."

"Is that so?" you nonchalantly replied, listening to your brother gossip but then you got lost in your own thoughts.

The rumors are bad, but you somehow can't bring yourself to believe it. In the short amount of time since you've left, maybe some things have really changed. You wouldn't know, you weren't here to witness it.

You shrugged and watched the anime playing on the tv, something about a reincarnated slime. This is a good distraction instead of waiting for Jake to text you.

---------------------------------------------------

You don't know what came over you when you heard your phone go off, the message notification sound making your heart skip a bit. You hurriedly got off your vanity and laid down on your bed, gripping the phone and opening the text.

'Hey Y/N! Jake here, this message is kinda late, so sorry, I got caught up with something.'

You smiled and saved his number, typing in a reply... which you didn't give much consideration to and now you are regretting your uninhibited decisions for sending that.

You (8:45 PM):

Got caught up by your girlfriend? Who was she again, Yuna?

Jake (8:46 PM):

You saw that?

Noo, it wasn't like that I swear. I helped her fix her brother’s computer. She is just a friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Again, you don't know what came over you as you rolled over your bed, staggering at the fact that he's explaining himself even though he’s not required to. And you guessed you took too long to reply when your phone buzzed, signaling that he's calling you.

You straightened your back, clicking the green button, "Hello," his voice sounded gruff over the speaker, "are you mad? Promise, she's not my girlfriend or anything. Please don't be mad."

Straight to the point, you see, and his chatterbox personality still comes out whenever he gets mousy about something.

"Jake, chill out." you giggled when you heard his relieved sigh from the other side, "I'm not mad at you, I just did something for a while." you lied, "Besides, why would I be angry if you got a girlfriend?"

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, "I mean, we did make a promise back then so.." he trails off, and the flashback about your salad days takes over.

"Promise me that I'll be the only girl in your life!" you cried, smacking little Jake on the head.

"Ack!" he yowled, his tiny hands flying to the stinging area of his skull.

You were being unreasonable, but the thought of losing Jake to that ugly girl in class 2-A made your younger self throw a tantrum. Wailing like a toddler while stomping around the empty playground.

"Y/N! I didn't do it on purpose! She touched me first!" Jake tried to explain, sprinting to you when you accidentally tripped on a rock, face planting on the dirt, "Are you okay?!"

You hurriedly sat up, not wanting to look weak despite your crying and looked at him, staring at his teary eyes, maybe you are being unfair to him.

You sniffled, wiping your tears away before mumbling, "Just promise me."

Jake sighs, dropping to his knees in front of you and holding his pinky finger out, linking it with yours forcefully but with care, "I promise you, in the name of all my ancestors, that you'll be the one and only girl in my life!" he exclaims, giving you a toothy smile that immediately soothes all your stupid concerns.

"Well, except for my mom and Layla... and maybe some relatives."

You bit your lower lip, heart rate speeding up, "You haven't forgotten about that? We're like, what? Eight?"

"I take my pinky promises seriously!" he declares, making you laugh heartily at his mindless yet captivating jest.

"So, wanna catch up? Let's hang out at the beach." he suddenly proposed, catching you off guard. You peeked at the clock, it's nearing 9 PM but oh well, you're old enough to do this, unlike before that you had to sneak out of the house just to meet up with him.

"Yeah sure. Just give me a few minutes." you agreed and he happily cheered, the call ended after that and you hurriedly stood from your bed; Fixing your hair in the mirror, making sure to spray a decent amount of perfume and tiptoeing out of your house, trudging the road for a seven to ten minutes stroll to the beach.

When you arrived, Jake was already there, fixing a blanket that you assumed he brought so the two of you can sit comfortably instead of getting sand on your buttocks.

"Hello, kind sir." you greeted him like a princess, bowing to him gracefully.

"Hello to you too, mademoiselle." he takes your hand as he mimics the bow that you did.

"You speak french now?" you razzed, resting on the blanket first and tapping the space beside you.

"I was trying to go along with whatever skit you're doing." he says, his tone sprinkled with some attitude but nonetheless still sat beside you.

The atmosphere was tranquil as you both stared at the clear night skies, letting the evening wind blow through your faces, bringing a sense of solace that you really missed.

Until your mouth itches and you break the congenial quietude, bringing up the topic that has been bothering you.

"Say Jake," you started, staring right ahead and disregarding his sparkling eyes that he directed at you when he heard your voice, "you told me that you're going back to Australia for college. It really was a surprise that you're still here. What happened?"

He averted his gaze when you went and returned his stare, "Nothing. Just.. something came up, so my parents told me to stay here instead."

You frowned, your guts telling you that he wasn't telling you the entire truth, but you ultimately decided to let it go for now. You don't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing him to open up to you, knowing that it's been a while since you two had hung out.

Heck, you think- no, you believe that he's closer to your brother now.

You let out a sigh, giving him a covert smile and patting his back, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Nah, it's fine." his mood shifted into a lighter one, seizing your hand on his shoulder and clasping it into his, "Aside from that, I'm glad that I didn't leave, because if I did," he squeezes your hand, his warmth seeping through your bones, "I wouldn't be able to see you again."

For the nth time that night, for whatever mysterious reason, you went and reciprocated his actions, squeezing his hand tighter, sitting next to him closer, and smiling blithely at him, "Welps, I'm here now." you whisper, and you swear you saw something twinkle in his irises.

"You are." he smiles back, releasing your hand and slinging an arm over your shoulders, "That is why we need to make the most of it, okay?"

You hummed, leaning on his side and snuggling under his hold.

You’ll later say that you missed him, that’s it. You missed your friend, the person who stuck by your side despite your annoying and messy ass.

There's nothing wrong with spending time with a person that you had regarded as your human diary, the person that you once held feelings for. That was all in the past, for now, you'll catapult your qualms away and enjoy the moment.

When it was getting colder, Jake offered to walk you home, laughing like some elementary schoolers while trudging to your house, talking about the dumbest shit you had done during your juvenile years.

It was nice, it was always nice being with him. A sense of warmth within you knowing that you're safe when you're with him.

The reminiscing went to a halt when you stood by your humble abode's gates, "Welps, I'll see you again soon." you stood awkwardly, like you wanted to say more, to do more, but you don't know what words or actions there are to say or do. 

Finally, Jake took the initiative and stepped towards you, enveloping you in his arms and wishing you a good night before parting your own ways. 

As you lay down on your mattress, drowsiness lulling you to sleep, you couldn't help but think about the light pressure on the crown of your head when Jake hugged you.

You chose to remain ignorant, along with the thunderous thumping of your heart in your chest.

---------------------------------------------------

"Oh my god! He's a hottie!" Sunoo exclaimed, gaping at the picture on your phone.

"Let me see!" Jungwon dropped the other side of the shirt that he's been vying for with Riki, making the younger stumble on the floor, the other dashing on Sunoo's spot on the couch.

Your brother groaned, rubbing his stinging buttocks that made contact with the cold wooden tiles, "That fucking hurt."

"Language, Riki." your scolding fell on deaf ears as he continued muttering curses under his breath, directing such vile words to his friends.

You, Riki, and his childhood friends’, Jungwon and Sunoo, are currently in the living room, busting out the souvenirs that you bought for them when the topic of your boyfriend was brought up. (courtesy by the pocketz.)

They were whining to you, begging you to show them a photo, to which you shyly presented your phone up, your lover's social media account opened and ready for them to rubberneck at. It was safe to say that they were awed by his visuals, except for your bratty younger brother.

"I'm much more handsome than him," he comments, draping his body all over the boy who's holding the gadget and looking at the image as well, "bet I'm taller than him too."

"Shut up. Is height your only way of hyping yourself?" Sunoo rolled his eyes, shoving Riki off of him and letting Jungwon grab the phone and have his turn of stalking your boyfriend's instagram account.

"Wow, Y/N, your man looks like he came out straight from a manhwa." Jungwon stated, "And no, sorry Riki, I love you but there is no way you're more handsome than this guy."

"Whatever." Riki gave it up, choosing to hide the shirt that he's keeping tabs on from the corner of the box that made Sunoo shriek, yelling that he already called dibs on the piece of fabric.

Jungwon returned your phone back to you, going over to his friends and joining the chaos.

You chewed on your lower lip, staring at your boyfriend's picture. He does look ethereal. Standing in a field, looking sideways to subtly flex his side profile, and to top it off, the mixture of bright orange-blue hues of the skies highlight his sharp, charming visuals even further.

Your dopey smile was difficult to fight off, suddenly missing him and wishing for him to appear out of nowhere so you could hug and kiss him.

"What's the commotion all about?"

A wild Jake appears, infiltrating your home with a grin and scanning the area before sauntering to the venue of the ruckus You quickly close your phone, tossing it on the table and giving the aussie a side hug when he flumps on the unoccupied space beside you.

"These boys are bickering over the clothes that I bought." you explained, answering his question as he scrutinized the three idiots who kept on fighting over a hoodie, ignoring his existence in the room. "Apparently, they love these kinds of styles."

"I bet they do. Look at them going crazy over a pink hoodie." Jake derides, kicking Jungwon on the butt and chastising them for not even sparing him a glance when he popped up in the room.

"Sorry, didn't see you there hyung." Jungwon nonchalantly says, the other two temporarily paused and muttered an uninterested 'hello' before going back to their serious business of sorting outfits.

"Wow, really these guys." Jake sighs in displeasure, a grimace on his face as he watches the youngsters, "How long have they been at it?"

"About.." you trailed off, peeking at the time, "two hours now. It's getting kinda boring."

Jake pondered for a while, after a minute or two he turned to you and fished out his car keys, dangling it in front of you with a smirk on his face and hazel orbs full of mischief, "Whaddya think of a ride around town?"

You blinked at his spontaneous behavior, shrugging and pretending to think about the suggestion even if you already had an answer, "Sure. I mean, there's nothing much to do here."

Jake cheered and made a dash towards his car, mumbling something about revving it up and you have to come quick. You shook your head endearingly at his excited demeanor, truly like a puppy.

You went to follow him but not before telling the boys who are, until now, arguing over the mundane things about your souvenirs, "Y'all, I'm going out for a while. Look out for the house while I'm gone, and don't destroy anything while mom and dad are not here too."

You stood there for a while, observing their squabble, then you chose to drop the formalities since they're too centered in their own world to even give you the time of their day.

"No, I'm telling you, this is my size!"

"You're too puny for this, c'mon man, be serious."

"I ain't the size of your dick."

"Wha-! Say that again you fuckhead!"

Truly a pandemonium, you purse your lips and rubbed your forehead, shooting your parents a text about your whereabouts and leaving the house altogether because some children just won't listen.

Something scintillated within you when you saw Jake patiently waiting outside, leaning on his car and playing with his phone.

You took your time to extensively admire him, finally seeing him in a holistic perspective.

Him, standing there with his leather jacket, clad in an all black outfit down to his shoes. His charcoal tresses flowing the same way as the wind and oh, how he glows under the glittering rays of the afternoon sunlight is blinding you.

He's flawless.

"Yoi!" you snapped out of it when he called for you, opening the passenger door and motioning for you to get on. 

You hurriedly went in, suspiciously not making eye contact, making you miss the knowing look he sent you. Now, you tried to relax, sitting on the leather seat but my god... his scent is so strong inside, it invades all of your senses, making your hands clammy.

Jake went and sat in the driver's seat, laughing when he saw you struggle to put on the seatbelt. He bent over to your side to help you out, brushing against your hand in the process.

"Your hands are sweaty." he remarked, then raised an eyebrow, "Are you.." he peeked at you from under his long hair, batting his lashes at you, "Nervous?"

Well that did the trick. You were caught red-handed and you’re not quite sure on what to or not to do, stumbling over your words to try and explain yourself.

"Hey, hey, calm down."

You took a deep breath. He's close, too close as he's still hunched over to you. Faces mere centimeters from each other but you need to be brave, gazing into his mellow eyes and feeling yourself settle when his hands enveloped yours, "It's just me, okay?"

"Right." you giggled nervously, "But no, I wasn't nervous. I was only out of it. You know, 'cuz I'm tired." you tried to play it cool like you weren't losing your mind just a few seconds ago.

He, at long last, moved away from you, letting go of your hand and starting to drive away.

"Really now?" he asked, a sly smirk on his lips but it was wiped off and was replaced with a pout when you, shockingly, flipped him off. (he did not expect you to do that, earning you a whiny "Since when have you been so violent?" from him.)

In your defense, flipping someone off is not a sign of violence, but rather an off-handed way of showing affection.

---------------------------------------------------

The trip went smoothly, you weren't anxious like a shivering chihuahua anymore, allowing you to appreciate the beauty of your hometown.

There were a lot of recently developed things.

New buildings, new attractions, and you even saw a glimpse of the upcoming jubilee; the stalls and decorations are a total giveaway.

"Woah, I was gone for a bit and changes like these happened already." you remarked, surprised at the amount of transformation in your settlement.

"Like they say, change is inevitable." he replies and you couldn't agree more. "By the way, can we go somewhere as our last destination?"

The sun was starting to set, the time for you to go home was getting close because your parents made you promise to join them for supper. But it's okay, one more location with Jake won't hurt.

So you agreed, letting him drive while you close your lids, enjoying the salty breeze from the ocean and letting the current of air brush your hair and skin, relishing in the serenity that you barely experience in the city.

After a few minutes, the vehicle went to a halt, hearing Jake murmur a small 'We're here.' made you open your eyes, and you were greeted by the familiar view.

"Oh my god, Jake!" you grinned, running towards the small, dinky wooden house that stood in the middle of the wild grasses and flowers. A rush of happiness flowing in your veins at seeing your 'secret base.'

You gasped when you entered, Jake following closely behind, you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

"Yeah," he bashfully puts his hands inside the pockets of his ripped jeans, biting his lips whilst he inspects your expression, "I took care of our secret base all this time. Corny, I know, but I really wanted to keep this in good condition."

He rambles and you listen, walking around the expanse of the room and true to his words, the four corners of the house are basically spotless. Despite the rust forming around the edges of the metals and a portion of the wood being eaten by some kind of insect, everything is still the same.

"Are you kidding me Jake?" you spun on your heels and ran to him, pulling him into a bear hug and burying your face in his chest, "This is like, the best thing that ever happened to me ever since I came back here!" you exclaimed, staring up at him gleefully.

He lets out a relieved sigh, returning your amity with the same fervor, "I'm glad, I thought I was way overboard with this."

"Pft. No way!" cue you trying to do his Australian accent, breaking the hug and proceeding to jovially push him away, "But genuine question here, why did you go all the way and take the job of being the caretaker for this supposedly tree house." you jokingly quoted the word 'tree house' with your fingers, making Jake hoot in laughter at the hidden agenda of your sentence.

"We really did our best to make this a tree house, unfortunately, we were too dumb to figure out how to build a damn house. Good thing your father is a good carpenter." he chuckles, recalling the memory of how and why the miniature flat was built.

"No, but really, the thing was.. I, ah fuck-" he runs a hand through his silky strands of inky locks, his ears turning red and your heartstrings were pulled by his adorable mien.

What your younger brother told you suddenly echoed in your brain, "Jake's a fuckboy now."

Yeah, he might be, considering the amount of girls that kept on clinging to him while he toured you around the metropolis. You saw a glimpse of it, his flirty persona, but right now, you firmly believe that he's still the same Jake that you knew.

Jake Sim, the guy who befriended you when no one else was willing to because apparently, you were a freak during your girlhood. The same guy who always protected you, stopped you from making poor life decisions that you'd probably regret sooner or later.

The same guy who took you to prom during your senior year, the one who gaped like a fish when he saw you all dressed up, a large grin on his face while he complimented you throughout the night nonstop. The one who never left your side and danced with you during the said event, not glancing at any other women's direction and focusing on you and only you until he couldn't take it anymore and kissed you on your front door.

Jake Sim, your first friend, first kiss, and inescapably, first love.

"Tell me." you urged him, cupping his face and staring right through his worries, "You can always be honest with me."

Jake visibly gulped, his hands moving on its own and engulfing yours that are planted on his cheeks.

"I wanted to preserve the memories." he admits, his eyes softening at your astonishment, "This was the place where we started our family, with our daughter Layla."

You snickered, "Layla.. how is our daughter doing?" you asked, suddenly curious about the adorable dog's whereabouts.

"So now you remember her?" Jake rolled his eyes, but still answered you nonetheless, "She's doing fine actually, she missed you a lot."

"She did?"

"Yeah, she missed you." the volume of his voice dropped, almost purring, raspy and feathery, tickling your insides, "Even her father missed you, if we're going to be blunt here."

"And who is the father?" you inquired, not noticing that Jake guided your hands towards his shoulders, his own palms gliding down your hips and gradually tugging you close to his body.

"Me, I'm the father."

You were too engrossed at the melodrama-like scene that you're starring in, not having the ability to discern that your faces are inching towards each other every ticking second.

*ring ring*

Like a wake up call, thanks to your phone, the two of you jolted and immediately separated, breathing heavily and thinking 'What the hell just happened?'

You answered your phone, your mom is getting dramatic because it's late and she's hungry, telling you to go back home right at this instant.

"Let's go, I'll drive you back." Jake's voice was distant, seeing that he's already outside, waiting for you to exit the house.

The journey back to your residence was a complete 180 of the atmosphere from when you both left. It was taciturn and morose, so much that it made you want to walk back home instead.

When he parked right outside your gates and you were about to offer him goodnight and farewell, he promptly gripped your wrist, preventing you from escaping the auto, "I'm sorry, back there, I.. I didn't know what came over me."

"No, no, it's fine. It was an accident." you say, but then you heard him mutter something, but you couldn't quite hear it. So you asked him to repeat himself.

"I said," he took a deep breath, "I want our friendship to be just like before. If that's okay with you."

You smiled, flicking his forehead as a way of telling him that everything is okay, "I would love that, you doofus."

---------------------------------------------------

Jake watches you enter your home before going off on his own apartment but not before stopping in an vacant road and banging his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

That was so shitty and uncool of him.

Almost kissing his friend— his friend that has a boyfriend.

He sighs, shutting his eyes and repeating a mantra in his brain, 'Don't do that ever again.'

He barely managed to save the night, a poor attempt at that, thankfully, you're nice enough to let things pass and accept his proposition of rekindling what's supposed to stay in the past.

This is fine. It's foolish of him to think that he's something more to you. So he'll accept the fact that you'll always see him as your friend.

Even if he wants to love you, even if loving you is a complete necessity for him. He'll bury all of those, hidden in his box of filtered feelings and emotions, because once he lets go of his restraints, he'll lose you.

Dear lord no, the mere thought of losing you makes his stomach churn in a not so nice way, evoking the bile to rise in his throat.

Again, he convinces himself that he doesn't need anything else but to have you in his life.

"Jake, keep your shit together." he opens a compartment, looking intently at a bracelet made out of shells tucked safely in a clear glass box.

Wanting you was, is, and will always be more than enough. 

---------------------------------------------------

Undeniably, your parents nagged you for being late to the family dinner, but you paid no mind to them, opting to eat your food at the speed of light and locking yourself in the privacy of your room, throwing your body on the comforts of your bed.

Once inside, you felt like you could breathe again, all the substandard smoke inhaled from earlier finally out of your lungs. You were dizzy from everything that happened today, and you want nothing more but to combust at the mixed emotions that are brewing up.

You almost kissed Jake, for fucks sake. The thing was, you liked the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way h-

You gasped when your phone rang, guilt running through your whole system when the screen lit up with the words: 'Hoonie 🐧'

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself for a moment before grabbing your device and answering the video call with a giddy smile and shaky hands.

"There she is, my baby, the love of my life, my wife, m-"

"Hoonie!" you whined, cutting the voice off which made the person on the other line chuckle, his loving eyes glimmer when he saw you blush.

"What? Am I not allowed to shower my baby with love?"

You giggled, lying properly down the bed and lifting your arms up so your phone would be directly facing you, letting you admire the man that you proudly call yours.

"Of course you can. How's your practice over there?" you asked, wanting to know his life’s events.

"It's fun actually, I was really nervous at first but guess what, the coaches here in Canada are so nice and they taught me new techniques so I can improve further! And, the pancakes here are so fucking delicious." he's basically rapping, you think, but you still find yourself getting drowned by his voice, the way he excitedly tells you everything about his training camp in another country is endearing. Although, you frowned when he suddenly chips his rants off, a sad sigh escaping his lips.

"Why, what's wrong?" worry graced your expression, making him coo at how adorable you are.

"Nothing. I just wish you were here with me right now."

You watched him sit up from his own bed, leaning onto the wooden headboard and intently studying you, "I wish I could come home to you after practice, then we could cuddle and kiss.. and maybe eat some pancakes too."

You laughed at his unseriousness, really, he could say the most romantic words out there yet he'd still sprinkle it with his weird uncle humor. Well, that's one of the many reasons why you love him.

"You're crazy about those pancakes aren't you?" you watched him nod his head, his eyes crinkling as he probably feels pride swelling within him for making you laugh.

"I'm crazier about you though." he winked, a boyish grin on his lips and you couldn't help but kick your feet like a kindergarten student with a crush.

"Gosh! Now you're just making me miss you more!" you grumbled, lying sideways and hiding your maroon colored face in your pillows.

His melodic chuckles resound in your ears, and you peek at him when he softly, sweetly tells you that he misses you too, tons and lots.

"No but really, aside from dying on how much I want to hold you," you chuckle at his dramatic sentence, "one of the agendas here is because a little birdie told me that you don't want to go to your town fiesta."

You groaned, "I'm gonna tell mom that you called her a little birdie."

"Hey missy, no tattling allowed here." he clicked his tongue before continuing, "But no, it was Riki who told me. And, I think you should go because I heard that it's a special celebration in your town that only happens once a year. Besides, you can't let Riki run around there alone, what if he accidentally stabs himself with a spoon?"

This time, you groaned and whined, explaining to him the many reasons why you don't wanna go. It's hot, there's too many people, and Riki is old enough to handle himself. Really, like a child throwing a fit which made your boyfriend massage his temples, and as you were on your number five reason why you didn't wanna go, you halt when his voice dropped an octave on the other line.

"What if I give my princess a little something tonight if she decides to go?" he says, and something about his tone sends shivers down your spine, especially the way he called you 'princess.'

A pet name that he uses only for certain circumstances.

"What?" you asked dumbfounded, knowing the purpose behind his words but your brain is not fully processing the situation.

"You see, I can feel it when my princess is kind of frustrated.." something in his eyes darkened as he looked at you through the screen, one that shoots arrows down to your core, "because I am too, honestly haven't touched myself for days because it's never sufficient when it's not you."

You almost choked when he let out a deep moan, and you could see the muscles in his biceps moving and bulging. The sound of his sheets rustling is very much an obvious sign that he's starting to play with himself.

"Hoon- I.." you trailed off, rubbing your legs together to generate some relief, every second you hear a guttural groan from him the wetter you become.

Oh fuck, you two were just being lovey-dovey a while ago and now it's getting real nasty... and you're loving every single second of it.

"Yes princess?" he says huskily, looking at you with hooded eyes, waiting for you to speak up.

"Help me, please." you pathetically whimpered, snaking a hand down and inside your shorts and underwear, instantly feeling the sticky juices of your pussy.

"Sadly princess, I can only do that when you say yes to the proposal, yeah?" he replied, tone webbed with feigned sympathy as he smickered at your helplessness.

Your eyes slammed shut, legs twitching and your core in desperate need of release, "Fine!" you concede, taking a deep breath when you heard your boyfriend's triumphant chuckle over the line, "Can you please just-"

"Now, now," the man uttered, biting his lower lip to keep himself from tittering at your desperate demeanor, "listen to me well and do everything as I say, okay?"

You nodded your head as an affirmation, impatiently gathering your wetness that was pooling in your heat, lathering them all over your labia.

"That's my good princess, now can you touch your clit for me?" he instructs, his heavy breathing echoing in your brain as you do what he said. A light moan escaping your lips when your finger nudges your bundle of nerves.

"Circle them around, honey, write my name on that pussy." your lover on the other line shudders at the thought of spelling his name on your glistening part, he'll definitely do it himself the next time he sees you.

"Ah! H-hoonie, need more." you cried out, keeping your voice at minimum so the other occupants of the house won't hear what's going on inside your room. "Please, I need more." you continued whining, writing every syllable of his name on your clit, an unspoken proof of him owning you.

At this point, you're having a hard time maintaining the grip on your phone, forcing yourself to look into the camera, resigned pupils begging for your boyfriend to do something. And when he did say to plunge two fingers in, you immediately obeyed, curling it into your g-spot, imagining it was his deft digits that are pleasuring you, it had you writhing around your sheets, but it's not sufficient. Not adequate to send you to the edge. 

You fucking need him. You need Park Sunghoon himself.

"I-I can't Sunghoon, this is not enough I-"

"No baby, you can and you will." he rasped, and you can barely hear him stroking himself rather harshly, surely he's also imagining your soft, small hands on his cock as he works himself into his orgasm. "Let go princess, cum all over your fingers and I'll make sure that a grand prize awaits you."

You gasped, reaching euphoria with his encouragement, along with his insanely attractive groans while releasing his load into his hand. You moaned his name wantonly until you're panting and the only thing that you could think of is him, and the said award that you'll get when you see him after the summer break. 

Your phone slipped from your grasp, exhaustion seeping in and you don't wanna move anymore. You'll clean yourself up tomorrow, opting to listen to the praises that your boyfriend is giving you, finally sleeping with a satisfied smile when you hear the words that will forever make the zoo in your stomach crazy.

"I love you, my Y/N."

---------------------------------------------------

Giving in to your boyfriend made you lament, and as much as you want to hate him for compelling you agree to this stupid festival, you couldn't bring yourself to do it because apparently, your bouncy brat of a brother who entered your bedroom in the wee hours of the morning (10 am) and his joyful celebration of you coming to the stupid event was enough to make you think that yeah, accepting that proffer may be worth it.

Still, you weren't prepared for it. You only packed the essential clothes necessary for the entire summer break. And it did not include any extravagant, shiny dresses or outfits that are suitable for parties.

Thus, that is how you found yourself walking down the cemented pavement to go to the nearest clothing store after having your not so peaceful brunch. With your brother and his friends going off about how amazing the night party at the beach for the festival would be, you couldn't help but listen to them yap.

You yelped when a car stopped beside you, and you were so ready to dash off or scream if some masked man tried to kidnap you. The familiar black tint of the vehicle made you stop and rethink the overreaction that you're about to pull, then the window of the driver's seat rolled down, revealing none other than Jake himself.

"A pretty lady walking under the sun without an umbrella at like," he paused to look at the imaginary watch on his wrist, "one pm, that's uncanny."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, "The only uncanny thing here is that," you pointed at his face, squinting playfully "wearing sunglasses inside a car, what kind of idiot does that?"

"Hey! This is for fashion!" he yelled, offended at your snide remark, completely forgetting the character he's in. "Anyways, get in. Where are you even going?"

He gets out of his car, opening the passenger seat for you and signaling for you to enter. He stands there patiently, waiting for you to move even though he was clearly upset at your joke, evident by the pout on his lips. You couldn't help but smile, flowers blooming in your chest with how sweet he is.

You amicably walked in his direction, pinching in his cheeks, "You're spectacular in those sunglasses. Now let's go to some clothing store because I have to prepare shit."

While getting yourself comfortable inside his car, you saw him fight back a smile at your compliment, his pronounced cheekbones failing to hide his grin at the last moment.

The drive resumed without a hitch with you explaining the reason for your impromptu trip, and being extra, he just had to go to the mall because, and you quote, "The mall has more options, don't be such a grinch about it." end of quote.

Now, you're having regrets part two of today's adventure because how on earth are you supposed to act when two elderly couples have mistaken Jake as your boyfriend? And he was so casual about it! He could at least act a little flustered because you were always caught off guard!

What does that make you?!

"You don't have to be so shy about it." he pokes fun at you, dragging you around the mall after telling you that he knows a good store that sells really pretty clothes.

"I am by no means shy. I was just surprised that's all, and h-"

"Here we are!" he exclaims, cutting your sentence short when he pushes you inside the shop.

The bell rang, indicating your arrival and you could hear a faint 'Welcome' from the back, probably the only employee for the day, considering the small space of the clothing store.

The ambience inside is nice, the interior was giving Parisian vibes, but you couldn't admire the place for long when Jake shoved a bunch of clothes in your face.

"Here, try some of this on and let me see." he says with an eager smile, you just have to bring out the full potential of your neocortex and thalamus and you'll be able to see his wagging tail.

"You mean I have to model you these?" you raised an eyebrow, entering a dressing room and burrowing through the clothes, picking only the ones that caught your eye, shaking your head when you heard Jake shout about him being the fashion king of your town. 

The first outfit was a simple plaid red skirt and black long sleeve top, to which Jake said that it looks like you're going to a painting class.. it was a no.

Second outfit was a drag, he says, black sleeveless overall that you paired with a white crop top. Certainly, you'll have to remove the entire fabric if you want to pee, which is a good point.

You are now slightly fuming, wanting this shit to end, not until you saw an appealing, off shoulder white dress with golden linings on it. The subtle floral pattern embedded adds to its beauty and you think, yeah, maybe this is the one.

You threw it on without much thought, exiting the fitting room and showing it to your friend who was checking the prices of some of the clothes, "What do you think?"

Jake turned around from where he was standing, and it seems that time has been possessed by a turtle. His eyes widened, raking in your appearance and etching  it into his brain, never to consign into oblivion.

Now, Jake is a devoted Christian. He goes to church to pray, thanking God for all of the blessings he has received in his life. He heard the pastor describe heaven and angels, and as a child, he thought that he'll only see that in the afterlife. Never would he expect that he'll experience nirvana and see a spiritual being whilst alive, all in the shape of you.

He was so mesmerized by you that he didn't even realize you were talking, repeating your question from before. Then his small sphere broke when an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"I think you look great in it, ma'am."

"Oh! Uh-I, thank you..?" you trailed off, looking at the boy's name tag, "Yeonjun?"

"Yeps! That's me!" the black haired man chirps, "Well then, are you getting that? Which I think you should because it really suits you."

You put a hand over your chest, thanking the employee before excusing yourself so that you can return in your previous clothes and pay for the dress.

Meanwhile, Jake was stupefied. He didn't get a word in and he was about to shower you with compliments! He scowled at the tall boy standing in the corner, and when he felt the menacing glare of the aussie, he raised his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry man, had to speak to her because you were acting like a statue earlier." Yeonjun explains, but the smirk on his face didn't sit well with Jake.

"Where do I pay?" you appeared out of nowhere, the dress hanging on your arms, effectively breaking the tension between the two men.

"Right this way, ma'am." Yeonjun gladly guides you to the cashier area, giving you a flattering grin while he punches the price of the outfit. Before he could say another word, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards a sturdy body and a black card being dropped in front of the worker.

"I'll pay for it, no buts." Jake's authoritative behavior took you by surprise, thinking real hard on what made him act like this.

You discreetly looked at him, and my god were you blown away by how.. hot he looks when mad?

Wait a minute.. is he?

You heave when you're suddenly hauled out of the store, too busy in your own daydream to actually notice that he's done paying, gruffly grabbing the paper bag from the counter and storming out like an emotional old lady in a telenovela.

"Hold up, Jake!" you forcefully remove your hand on his own, sizing up his weird attitude before asking him what's up, and why the fuck is he upset out of the blue.

He faced the other direction, tuning in on him as he murmured under his breath, and you think you heard some curses like 'motherfucker' and 'cunt' and you had to compose yourself, or else you'll have no choice but to slap him silly for acting so tiresome in the middle of a jam-packed mall.

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips, a stance that mothers use when they're drained of their child's tantrum, "My fucking god, Jake, if you don't tell me what's wrong I'll leave you right here at this instant."

"That cashier sucks!" he bellowed, turning on his feet to face you with a frown, "He thinks he's a hotshot just because he's tall and he's muscular but argh!" he threw his hands up in the air, now sporting a petulant expression whilst crossing his arms over his chest.

"I get it." you giggled, raising an eyebrow at him that had him further frustrated, "You're jealous because he's handsome?"

"Yada yada," he rolls his eyes at your antics, not accepting such despicable reasons, "I'm a walking disney prince, he's no match for me."

"Alright, calm down Jakey." you laugh heartily, finding his baby girl stance absolutely precious, "Get that frown out of your face, you'll get wrinkles!" you went closer to him, brushing your hands all over his face to emphasize your point, not stopping until you saw a glimpse of a smile on his lips. And when you're content, you link arms with him, looking for the nearest ice cream shop, your treat, to cheer him up.

After ordering and settling down in Baskin Robbins, (the only ice cream shop in the mall), you excused yourself for a while. Going to a mini stall that you passed by a while ago to buy a certain necklace.

A silver necklace with the initials 'J' on it. You already made up your mind on purchasing it, a small gift for your friend. Staring at the jewelry now, you know that the adornment will shine on Jake the best.

You smile fondly, silver suits him, you think. Elegant and sophisticated, and the miniscule topaz stone in the letter that represents his name is the selling point for you, truly a necklace made for him.

After thanking the owner of the stall, you returned to the ice cream shop with a pep in your step, but your jolly attitude died down when you saw Jake with a girl at your table. And it appears that he’s enjoying the conversation with the pretty woman. 

'Well, fuck that, I ain't going back there when he's having so much fun without me.'

Your seething aura seemed to reach Jake, shivers running down his spine and his eyes were immediately drawn to the side, orbs widening in alarm when he saw you glowering.

Jake thought that the scariest moment of his life was when he was walking Layla early in the morning, and his dog choked on a piece of bone that was lying around in the neighbourhood, but as of now, he begs to differ.

His fear was audible in all ways, the girl in front of him noticed, making her follow what he was so riveting on and shit, that made you rage even more because it's fucking Kim Chaewon.

The girl who made your childhood a living hell. Your personal bully, the same girl who destroyed the sandcastle you built on the beach at the tender age of 6, the one who took everything away from you, the main cause of your departure in your hometown.

You felt so betrayed, the one person you thought she couldn't snatch from you, right in front of your eyes, was stolen.

You tried not to be affected by the scene, but you couldn't help the tears that pricked into the corner of your eyes when Chaewon smirked at you, and you'll be damned if you let yourself cry in her presence.

You turned on your heels, walking away and ready to commute back home but not before shooting Jake a disappointed look, ignoring his panicked expression.

Jake felt dread, guilt dropping down on his stomach when he saw hurt in your eyes, what's worse is that he's the cause of it.

He stood up right away, ready to follow you and explain the situation. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was about to take off, then he felt a hand grapple his wrist, a coy countenance can be seen on the culprit.

"You're seriously going after her?" Chaewon inquired, a mocking laugh escaped her lips, "What are you even gonna say?"

Jake retrieved his hand in a ruthless manner, sneering at the girl, "That nothing is happening here, she got it all wrong."

"Nothing?" she leered, batting her eyelashes like some bratz doll, "So fucking with me while she's gone and avoiding me when she’s here were nothing?"

"Listen here Chaewon," Jake aggressively leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth with a venom laced tone, "you do not say a word to Y/N, or else." then he left, running in the same direction that you took, making the blonde girl scoff.

Chaewon grimaced at the two cups of unfinished ice cream, setting her elbows on top of the wooden table and stagily resting her chin on her laced fingers, her attention stockpiling at a certain paper bag that's sitting on the left side of the comfy booth.

Scheme and trouble are her capital when it comes to instigations, "Game on, Sim Jaeyun."

---------------------------------------------------

"Y/N! Wait up, please, let me explain!"

You were well aware of Jake's pleads which made you walk faster, unfortunately, races like this meant that the one who has the longer limbs wins, and that wasn't you.

Jake caught up to you in no time, forcefully pulling you into his arms and enveloping you into a tight embrace, not letting you go even if you fight and hit him, accepting all of the profanities that you throw at him, he deserves that much.

It feels like you're in some k-drama. Getting back hugged by your childhood friend in a place where people are nowhere to be found, the skies turning into shades of gray and black, and frankly, you're getting tired of struggling knowing that you already lost the fight since he's so much stronger than you.

When he felt you go limp in his hold, he slowly turned you around so that he could examine you properly, a miscalculation on his part because seeing you in such a defeated state made him want to bury himself six feet under the ground until he's sure that he's paid the damages he had caused you.

"Y/N, please just one chance," he cupped your face, peering at you with such beseech, "please hear me out."

When you didn't speak, he took that as a chance to elaborate his case.

"I know it's wrong of me to interact with her, but she suddenly sat down in front of me. She caught me off guard and I was about to tell her off."

You let out a scornful laugh, pushing him away from you, "So you're saying that she's about to leave?"

He nodded, hope skirting his features but you wiped it all off with your next sentence, "Then why do you need to be so friendly with her, huh?!"

"I don’t want to make a scene there, Y/N. I have t-"

You raised a hand to stop him from saying more, having heard enough of his bullshit for the day, "Cut the crap, Jake, just- give me some time to think about.. t-this." your voice cracked in the middle and the sound reverberated through Jake's heart.

Watching you turn your back away was the hardest shit that Jake has to endure, especially since you're only a hair's breadth from his grasp.

Jake runs his hands over his face, attempting to rub the moisture away.

He has to fix this- No, he will fucking fix this even if it means that he has to go from heaven to hell.

---------------------------------------------------

You went home with a heavy feeling in your chest, ignoring the questions from your family and skipping dinner, (which is a big deal because your mother cooked your favorite food) since you don't have the appetite to join them for a delicious meal. You're tired, and all you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep in the comforts of your mattress.

You dropped your body in the cotton sheets after washing up, dressing yourself in a simple tee and shorts.

It was eerily quiet, then the horrid memories that you clobbered in the back of your head started to swim back into the surface, your hands automatically went to your hair, gripping it hard as you choked back a sob.

A stuck gum in your precious, long hair that had caused you to cut it short, which made your classmates call you a tomboy.

Your artwork that was destroyed because this jealous girl just had to spray some black paint on it, causing you to lose a painting competition.

That one time when you had a crush on this guy named Soobin, but then he rejected you when you confessed because a certain someone made rumors about you wanting to have sex with him wherein reality, you only wanted to have a date with him.

Being called to the principal's office because you were accused of cheating during finals, which you never did but for some reason, 'evidence' of your wrongdoings appeared, and you lost the chance to become the class valedictorian.

The root of all these shitty things that you experienced: Kim Chaewon.

All the pent up humiliation and anger were released. The thought of Jake, the person who was supposed to be your shield from the disarray being involved with the person that you disliked, no, hate the most is killing you inside and out.

You sniffed, shutting your eyes and letting the tears flow freely as you clutched your pillow close to your chest. How you wished for your boyfriend to save you from this dark hole that swallowed you once more.

"Sunghoon, I need you here please."

---------------------------------------------------

You were rudely awakened by the repeated taps on the glass, a suspicious silhouette moving around the see-through curtain. You observed the shadow for a while until you decided to take action. 

You sit up, quietly grabbing a lamp on the bedside table and cautiously tiptoeing towards the window, you slightly jumped when the intruder knocked again.

You took a deep breath, raising the lamp on your left hand and slowly pulling the curtains to the side. You yelped when you were met with Jake's face pressed onto the glass of the window, clad in an all black outfit and you had to physically stop yourself from laughing with how hysterical he looks.

"Jake?! What the fuck?!" you whisper-yelled, putting the lamp down on your dresser and quickly unlocking the window, ushering him to get in before someone sees him and calls the police.

"What are you doing here?! And in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea that people might see and talk about this?!"

"I have ice cream. You didn't get to eat yours today." he shoves a plastic bag in your face, not minding your words as he huffs and puffs, probably out of breath since he had to climb the tree behind your house and go over the roof so he could slink into your bedroom. 

Yes, because life is not that easy and clichéd that a tree would be conveniently placed right in front of your window on the second floor of your home. Jake has to work for it.

"I don't want it." you uttered, trudging towards your door and opening it, beckoning your head downstairs, "Please leave, I'll be nice enough to escort you out."

You weren't looking at him, you don't have it in you to take him in because you're weak. You're not strong enough to stay mad at him, you know that one gaze into his starry eyes and you're gone, and you couldn't afford to do that.

Still, you should've checked at least once because hearing the plastic being dropped on some furniture and his incoming footsteps made you assume that he's done, that he's leaving, which was not the case.

A surprised gasp left you when Jake's hand grasped yours that was holding the knob, closing the door with a slight thud and he easily towers over you. An uncharacteristic intensity in his usually warm sepia orbs made your knees buckle, your heart rate speeding up when you realized that his masculine body had you trapped. Most importantly, his musky perfume makes you dizzy, clouding your ability to make sound judgment.

"I came here to see you, so no, I'll politely decline the offer of me leaving so soon." he murmurs, his hot breath cascading down your cheeks, and you got even more flustered when his free hand gripped your chin, leniently guiding your vision towards him.

"Please, Y/N, baby. Will you listen to what happened earlier?" he rasps, earnestly peeking into your own eyes as he searches for an answer that he desperately needed.

You'll condemn his perfume, his minty breath, his insanely attractive voice, and the sudden romantic ambience of the room. You'll inculpate anything at this point except your fragile self, because is it supposed to be your fault if Jake has the ability to render you defenseless against his overwhelming power over you?

A shaky sigh escapes you, nodding your head absentmindedly. The pet name surely had an effect on you, to which you could only describe as a grand circus playing around your whole nervous system.

"Jake.."

"There is nothing going on between me and that bitch, okay? I only care about you," he pulls your interconnected hands from the knob, bringing it to his lips and gently pecks your knuckles, "I'll drop anything just to be by your side, you know that right?"

"Please baby, I'm so sorry. I will never get in touch with her ever again. I'm so fucking sorry, I don't- I hate it when you cry, I hate it when you're sad. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me show you how much you mean to me."

You're not an impulsive person, as you'd like to believe, you tend to think first before doing something that you might regret in the future, but as of now, none of that matters.

For once in your life, you took the initiative, connecting your lips with Jake's, pouring all of your feelings in one emotional kiss. He wasted no time in returning it, turning his face sideways to deepen the liplock.

So this is what it felt like to kiss your plush, glossy lips. This is what it felt like to hold you in a way that is more than just some fucking friends.

This is what it feels like to have you. Intoxicating, addicting, and astronomically out of his wildest dreams.

Jake was brought back to reality when he felt you suck on his lower lip, opening his eyes in a haste and pulling away from you.

"I don't think we should d-" he starts, but you hush him by placing your index finger above his lips.

This is.. wrong. You are in a relationship, right? You two shouldn't be doing this.

"Jake," you whisper his name with such mirth, "show me how much I mean to you.. please."

That was the last thing Jake needed, throwing out whatever rationality remained in his brain in exchange for the yearning that he desired for so many years.

He groaned when you willingly opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his tongue in, licking every corner of your cavern. You let his wet appendage graze your teeth before moving your own to clash with his. Both are battling for dominance in this erratic exchange of saliva which he inarguably won, and you couldn't keep your moans at bay when he sucked on your tongue.

Pressing his lips into yours once more, a heated make-out ensues with him leading the way, wrapping his arms around your waist and compressing you between his body and the door, wanting to lessen the distance. He wanted more, he needed more, and he sure as hell will make the most out of this.

He'll act as a clueless villain if it means that he'll be able to steal the most precious gemstone that's already owned by someone.

But who fucking cares?

How could one say that it's wrong when everything feels so right? No one is qualified to dictate shit when the pieces of the decimated past are starting to recoup themselves, turning into a masterpiece called a forbidden tryst.

"Keep it down baby, don't want your parents to barge in here don't we?" he muttered against your lips, head moving to your clavicle and you instinctively craned your neck to the side, giving him the permission to paint you with the most colorful hues of blue and purple.

Jake breathes through his nose, inhaling your rousing vanilla and strawberry fragrance. This is what he's ever dreamed of. You, in his arms, marking you as his and only his.

One rainy day, he woke up only to realize that he wanted to be the man to make you happy. He wanted to cook meals with you, travel around the world, take candid photos of you and set it as his wallpaper. He wanted to be the person that you'll meet at the end of the church aisle.

The recollection of when it started was totally blurry.

Was it when you cried over that dimpled man back during 8th grade? Or was it when he saw you in your ball gown for prom? He has no idea, but he does know that he's prepared to give and let go of everything just for you.

Jake clutches on your waist even tighter, nuzzling his nose in the nook of your neck and leaving lightweight kisses up to your mastoid. He smiled when he heard you giggle, biting your ear lobe teasingly, "Still ticklish I see."

You poked his side in retaliation, making him jump and shriek a bit, "So are you."

"Why you little-!" Jake carried you like a sack of potatoes, dropping you on the cushions haphazardly yet you felt his palm on the back of your head, acting as an insulation so the impact won't hurt you.

"You'll be sorry for that." he says with a smirk, wedging himself in between your legs, and before you could reply, he kissed you deeply, proceeding to attack your neck with pecks and bites, sucking in the spot that had you gripping his hair.

His hand started to explore your body, tracing your shape and going inside your shirt, stopping right under your boobs. Jake lifted himself off, his eyes speaking for himself, silently asking for consent if it's alright to remove your clothes.

You nodded and started peeling off the shirt, the fabric getting comically stuck on your forehead (that's what you get for wearing clothes from your junior high days). You both laughed at the witless situation, and despite all that, you felt him help you out of the predicament but not without leaving a kiss on the exposed lower half of your face.

When the shirt is finally out of the way, you hastily remove your shorts as well, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties because yes, you did not put on a bra, finding it ridiculous to wear one inside your own house.

You suddenly felt conscious when you noticed that Jake was unmoving and you found yourself covering your upper body, a movement that made the boy snap out of his daze.

"No, baby don't cover up," he grins sweetly at you, gulping down his nerves, "sorry, you're gorgeous, I can't help but admire."

You bit your lower lip, glancing at him and tugging at his own clothes, "Then be fair, give me something to admire too." you shyly said, avoiding eye contact when you saw him grin.

Jake instantly shrugged every piece of his attire, baring his all to you, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets because what the hell?

Of course you knew he was well built, his fitted outfits leave nothing to the imagination at times, but fuck you to the moon and back, you did not expect him to be this muscular. He has abs! For goodness sake, you weren't prepared, and it shows since Jake has to boop you in the nose to get you out of your daydream.

"I know the view is amazing," he gently laid you down, positioning himself on top of you, "but tonight is all about you, darling."

He pulled you in for another solid minute of make-out session, this time though, he touches you with more vehemence. Snaking his hand on your chest, gripping your left boob and lowering his head down to give the other the rightful attention it deserves.

You moaned his name when he suckled on your nipple, tongue circling around the areola and occasionally biting to add more to the sensation. He used his fingers to twitch and pull on the other nipple, his other hand trailing over your stomach, down to the navel until it reached your heat. He experimentally dipped a finger, gathering your juices and groaning at how wet you are for him.

"Baby, you're dripping and I've only done the bare minimum." he mutters, releasing your nipple with a pop and staring down at you with desire written all over his features, "You really want me that bad?"

"Yes Jake," you answered without any hint of doubt, "I want you, please, do something." you begged, and who was he to say no to his beautiful baby.

"Your wish is my command, princess." he grinned, going into full action as he slid down, coming face to face with your core.

Princess.

There was only one person who called you that. It should hit you by now that this is taboo... but it's just one night.

After this, you'll move on and act like nothing happened. Isn't it?

You weren't able to delve deeper into your thoughts when you felt a finger inside your pussy, a warm mouth lapping at your wetness and sucking on your clit harshly. Your back arches when another digit goes inside you, going at a moderate yet wonderful pace every time it curls and hits a spot that has you curling your toes.

"Right there!" you moaned, getting closer to your orgasm, Jake sensing this made adjustments to his ministrations, basically going into feral mode. His deft fingers pumped in and out of you vigorously, his sucking, add to that the small nips in your bundle of nerves are getting too much for you to handle.

"Cum for me." he uttered, and the mini encouragement and vibration from his voice had you undone within a few seconds. Gushing into his face which he happily guzzled on, not stopping until you told him to stop, sensitive from the overstimulation.

He went up to your face and you could see the shiny slick on his lips, "That felt good?"

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue, "Very much, but what about you?"

"Baby, didn't I tell you that tonight's all about you?" he shakes his head, using his own limbs to spread your thighs open, allowing him to slot himself in the middle, goosebumps rising on your skin when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunt, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing him closer to your soaking cunt. "Take me, Jake."

You really have a way with words or maybe you have this effect on him like magic, whenever you talk, all he could think about is making you his.

Inch by inch, he inserted his big, fat cock inside you and you know, because you feel it. The way he stretches you out just the right way, the vein on the side of his dick pulses every time you clenched on him, and when he finally bottomed in, you both let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

Jake grits his teeth, putting the tip in and he thinks he's crazy because it's just the head but your pussy is sucking him all in and it almost made him cum.

He calmed himself down, if he's intending to pleasure you as much as he could, he's sure as hell to make himself last longer than usual.

He lets you adjust to his length, taking in a slow pace when you whisper for him to move. Gently rocking his hips into yours, making sure that he wasn't hurting you in any sort.

Then you begged for him to move faster, harder, truly, you're making this more difficult than it's supposed to be. He could hardly contain himself, but the more you egged him on, the more he let loose.

"Ah!" you cried out when Jake did a rather ruthless thrust, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously and it was getting him drunk off of you. He got a taste of you, and it'll be difficult to stop. He rammed into you mercilessly, the creaking of the bed was the least of your concerns now as you're more focused on the delightful feeling he's giving you, unconsciously scratching his back.

Jake hisses at the pain, but it motivated him to no end, knowing that you love what he's doing to you right now. Knowing that the reason you're acting like this is because he's doing you, as of the moment.

Your warm, wet walls hugged his cock so nicely that it made him believe that your pussy is made for him. Truly, every time he pushes in, you get tighter and it feels like paradise.

Nothing matters but the hushed moans of his name on your lips, he doesn't care about anything other than how good you feel.

You weren't in a good condition either, you're losing grasp of what's real, drooling mindlessly at the delight you're receiving. The man on top of you gives it his all, fucking you with all his strength as his length hits all the perfect spots inside you, making your eyes roll and see stars at the back of your brain.

Jake really tried to hold on, but your sudden release made your walls squeeze his cock, a low groan coming out of him as he cursed and complimented you on how well you're doing for him.

"Baby, I'm close." he warned you, sweat forming on his forehead and dripping down to your cheeks, and he finds it so hot when you dart your tongue out to lick the salty substance away.

"Inside, Jake. Please come inside me."

"Are you sure?" he slowed down a bit, peering into your eyes for confirmation.

Then you cupped his face, smiling at him lovingly, "Yes, I trust you."

That was all it took for him to release his seed inside you, thrusting shallowly to ride out his high until he collapsed on top of you, rolling over and slipping out of your walls when you halfheartedly complained about how heavy he is.

He finally did it.

Jake felt like a champion, one chance was enough for him and he's thanking all of the deities out there internally for giving him the opportunity to show you the love he's been meaning to shower you with.

He felt his body stiffen when you laid your head on his chest, telling him to stay, but what terrified him the most was when he listened to your request and naturally wrapped his arms around you.

Jake focused on you, combing your hair using his fingers as he watches you drift into dreamland.

You look ethereal like this, glowing under the dim light of the street lamps outside and how he wishes for you to continue being with him like this until you're grey and old.

He'll slip out of bed later, (couldn't risk getting caught by your family in the morning), and write you a note to make sure that you won't feel like shit when you wake up. For now, he'll relish in the blanket of your warmth and even breathing.

The boy sighs, his hand moving to your back, fingers lightly tracing his name over your smooth skin, 'J A K E '

---------------------------------------------------

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but then Jake finds himself in your window again the next night, and you let him in every single time. The moment he steps inside your room, no more pretending, straight to kisses and you getting railed into your mattress.

It was like a routine you both fell into, but as much as the guilt gnaws on your conscience, it was too good to let go. A drug you couldn't get enough of, you both have fallen into this wild goose chase but it's very much late to back out.

That's what happens behind closed doors when the moon shines, the strenuous task begins during the day.

Seriously, how are you guys supposed to act in front of your family and friends when there is 'something' going on.

It was exhilarating though. Sneaking knowing glances across the room, sometimes with a matching wink, the subtle thigh touching, following each other into a room without any people just to steal smooches.

It was all fun and games until someone had to make the situation even more arduous, courtesy of your brother whining about going to the beach without your parents aka friendly bonding.

It should be easy, acting like normal best friends and playing around in the water but noo, of course even a simple hang-out would turn into a battle of 'the first one to gape like a fish loses.'

By all accounts, it never crossed Jake's mind that you'd be daring enough to wear a swimsuit that shows a lot of skin, because you're usually a conservative little girl. So he was astonished when you exited the changing room, sporting the sexiest red two-piece, shaking his head in disbelief when you discreetly threw a smirk on his way.

He knew you were playing a game, displaying your ass for him, swaying your hips while walking towards the chosen spot for today's hang-out.

Jungwon whistled, Sunoo made a surprised pikachu face, and Riki paid little to no attention to you when you sat down on the blanket with them, under a big umbrella that you rented out shielding you from the scorching sun.

"Is this what the city air does? I dig it." Jungwon says, giggling when Riki hollered in disgust, side-eyeing you before making a comment about how he'll smack Jungwon in the head if he remotely said anything like that again.

Jungwon raised his hands up in defense, looking over Sunoo's direction for assistance, "I was complimenting her! Help me out here, man."

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, doing his infamous googly eyes at his friend, "You did sound like a pervert there but yes, I'll agree that Y/N looks great." he turned to you and gave you a thumbs up, to which you returned with finger guns.

Jake quietly nursed his bottle of cold beer, not participating in the conversation until the three stooges pointed it out.

"Yoi, one beer is all it takes for you to go mute?" Jungwon mused, Riki followed up with the teasing, saying that maybe Jake hasn't been getting laid, thus, the cranky disposition.

"Wha-! No, lemme tell you that I've been getting it so well nowadays." he defended himself, but not without giving you an inconspicuous glance.

"I don't wanna hear your sexcapades," Sunoo stood up, pointing at the ocean excitedly, "I think it's time to play, no?"

The other boys agreed except for you, telling them that you want to take a look of the scenery first before joining them in the water.

"You sure?" Jake asked, and you gave him the positive signal and he shrugged, "Suit yourself."

It was his turn to make you flustered.

Now, you have seen the guy naked, but it was during lights out, not in broad daylight, so the gulping that you did was unplanned. Staring at him while he removed his plain tee, bearing his toned muscles and abs for you to ogle at.

You glared at him when he threw a smug look in your direction, thanking the gods that the other younger boys were oblivious as fuck, mainly, their priority was the race to the water because the loser will buy them milkshakes later.

"What are you playing at Jake?" you questioned, standing up from your seat and doing your very best to look at him square in the eye, forcing yourself not to look down.

"Baby," he says, walking closer to you, licking his lips when he focuses on your cleavage, "you started this didn't you? Make sure to finish it then."

You weren't able to utter another word when he walked away and joined the others in the sea like nothing even happened, like he didn't make your heart race with exhilaration.

You huffed, turning on your heels to ambulate around the area, unaware of Jake's predatory gaze on you.

You watched the soles of your feet sink into the sand, leaving footprints behind, your brain contemplating the whole scenario that is sure to bring a storm into the fragile house made of cards. Starting from when you and Jake began this.. affair. Then your thoughts drifted to Sunghoon, you mowed at the unearthly concept, your conscience punching you in the face.

Your boyfriend is probably out there, tiring himself out during practice, doing his best to improve his skating skills so he could show off and make you proud when he wins all the gold medals for his competitions. While you're here, doing the unimaginable with a man that is supposed to be just a friend.

You paused, hugging yourself as some kind of comfort. Maybe you missed Sunghoon so much that you unconsciously went and found some kind of intimacy, any kind of affection that will satisfy you while you're away from your lover.

Will you really put the blame on that? Yes, it's pathetic but you have already crossed an unforbidden threshold, a thorny one that bleeds you dry but the more you drown in it, the more you get hooked.

You shook your head, trying to get a clear vision of how this is supposed to end, too lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice a pair that was trudging towards you, that is until their voices startled you out of your reverie.

"Uh yes? How may I help you?" you inquired cautiously, looking around just in case, and you felt stupid for not covering up because you can definitely feel their stares on your exposed skin.

"Relax pretty, we won't hurt you." the guy with a mullet spoke, smirking at you, the taller boy beside him nodded before adding a statement in.

"We noticed that you're alone, it's kind of dangerous here you know?"

"I'm a local, I know my way around here." you replied in a monotonous tone, letting them know that you're not interested in whatever they want to do with you.

"If you're a local," the mullet boy came closer to you, invading your personal space which made you frown and back up, "then how come that your face is not familiar?"

You took a deep breath, getting ready to shut them down when a towel was draped around you, a protective arm slinging on your shoulder and pulling you into a cast-iron body.

"Because she's keen on keeping her privacy, to avoid harrowing guys like you."

You'd recognize that voice anywhere, but you were surprised to hear such menacing articulation from him, very different from the usual sugary one that he always uses.

"Well hello to you too, Jake." the taller guy with brown hair greeted the aussie, a friendly smile on his face yet his passive-aggressive tone threw his calm demeanor away.

"Hello, EJ and Nicholas, didn't expect to see you here." Jake responds, matching the taunting attitude of the duo.

You clung to Jake, not minding the droplets of water if it means that you'll feel protected.

"Oh, is this your new bitch?" the one called Nicholas laughed, giving an amused applause and a low whistle, "You really have great taste, Sim."

You heard a low growl erupting from Jake's chest, his muscles tensing and you saw how he clenched his fist, getting ready to throw a punch if the need arises, "Don't you fucking disrespect my girl."

"Ah!" the ponyo look-alike named EJ mused, like a lightbulb went off in his brain, "Your girl? She's your girlfriend?"

"No way!" Nicholas sniggers, a surprise etched on his face, not believing what he was hearing, "A fuck boy like you settling down with a girl like her? That's some fucking news man."

One moment Jake was beside you, then he was gone, launching a full blown strike into Nicholas's face, and putting your scouts honor on the line, you’re sure heard something crack.

"Jake!" you cried out, fear creeping into you as you tried to simmer Jake down.

"A girl like her? A girl like her?! Fucking asshole, take that back!" Jake yells, about to attack the other man again but a divine intervention transpired, namely your brother and friends who came to the rescue.

They noticed that you two were gone for a while now, and thank god they decided to hunt for you both or something very bad might have happened.

"Oh my! Hey! Hyung, calm down!" Jungwon and Sunoo held Jake back while Riki got in between, helping Nicholas up, asking for forgiveness to deescalate the fight.

"Don't apologize to that asshole, he fucking disrespected your sister!" Jake shouts, breathing heavily through his nose, struggling to contain his anger.

Nicholas scoffs and wipes the blood from his busted lower lip, "I was stating a fact, that she is your bitch."

Silence ensues when Riki harshly shoves Nicholas, his friend EJ catching him before his ass makes contact with the sand. You've never seen your younger brother display an act of dominance before, rage brewing in his glare as he spoke in a threatening tone, "EJ, you're the sensible one here, get this fucker out of my face before I do something that we'll regret."

"This runt-" Nicholas was about to retort but he was dragged away by EJ, effectively stopping the brawl.

Jungwon and Sunoo sighed in relief, finally releasing Jake from their grip. Riki then went to you, softly patting you on the head as if he's saying that he's got you, that no one is allowed to mess with you except for him. Then he turned to Jake, "Thank you for defending her, hyung."

You all decided to go home after that incident, the mood totally ruined and you can hear the boys plot revenge as payback while you're changing, and you had to stop them right there.

As a compensation though, you and Riki invited them to stay for dinner, to which they happily agreed, not wanting to miss the opportunity of having free food.

When all of you stepped foot inside the reassuring space of your home, the sullen spirit from before was lifted up by some video games and snacks that your parents provided, letting you guys have fun while they prepare dinner.

You watched as Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki yell at the top of their lungs, accusing one another of cheating until one of them actually does it and everyone loses their minds. You laugh, then suddenly you were hyper aware of Jake's presence beside you on the sofa when his knee accidentally touched yours.

Your eyes discreetly slide over to his hunched form, the dim lights of the living room somehow highlights his sharp features even more, yet it made him look softer. You always had a habit of being obvious it seems since Jake turned to you with a questioning look on his face, silently asking you what's wrong.

You have to make up an excuse asap, and the lacerations on his knuckles provided the best one.

"I think we should treat that." you pointed at his hands, crummy reason but you'd stick to that rather than admit that you have been admiring him like a creep.

"Oh this? It's fine, it doesn't hurt that much." he looks at his knuckles, waving off your offer but you insist, telling him that it's the least that you can do after acting as your knight in shining armor in your damsel in distress. Thus, you find yourself alone with him in the bathroom, Jake sitting on the cover of the toilet while you rummage through the cabinet for the first aid kit.

"Found it, here." you ushered him to show his hand to you, placately tending to his wound, cooing at him like a mother hen whenever he hisses at the sting, making him chortle at the way you're acting. When it's all done, he thanked you, ready to leave but for some reason, you tugged him back to his position and placed your lips on his in a flash.

Jake was suddenly rigid, not really knowing how to react at first but he is nothing but a weak man when it comes to you, so he did what he does best, show you how much power you have over him, kissing you back as hard as he could. Then your next words made his head spin, like he's drunk off of you.

"I haven't thank you enough, Jake." you murmur against his lips, lowering your head to have your mouth reach the skin on his neck, sucking and biting it until you have left a visible mark. Your hands slithered over his clothed body, feeling his abs as you got on your knees for him, "Let me take care of you this time, hm?"

How can he even say no to you, he's going crazy right now. Your doe eyes begging to him, to let you pleasure him. Your silky voice calling him baby like he's the only boy you've ever called with that name. Your small hand on his crotch, palming him over his jeans. He couldn't say no to you.

"Go on then, I'm all yours." he rasps, relaxing his whole body and enjoying the show that you'll gladly perform for him.

You smiled and bit your lips, excitement coursing through your veins as you began to unbuckle his belt, lifting himself up to help you remove his pants and boxers so you could get to work.

His length sprung up a bit, having been freed from its constraints, still a bit soft but your mouth still waters from its sheer size. Your adventures with Jake always end up with him pleasuring you, never really giving you the chance to appreciate him like how you've always wanted.

You gently grabbed his manhood, your finger tracing the prominent vein on the side down to his balls, causing a sharp inhale from the man above you. You licked your lips, gazing at him from under your lashes, "What do you want me to do, Jake?"

God fucking shit.

Jake could cum just from your innocent teasing but he has to hold himself back, he must enjoy this, because he’s aware that this will be the best blow that he'll ever receive. He hasn’t experienced it, but he’s about to and if it’s you, he knows damn well that it will be out of this world. 

He takes hold of your hair, gathering your strands and creating a ponytail, letting you kiss around his crotch and groin, then he stops you with a rather harsh tug on your scalp.

"Take me baby, use that pretty mouth of yours, and only your mouth." he instructs, giving emphasis to not using your hands which you immediately obligue, massaging his balls with your tongue until he tells you to stop.

Jake went and grabbed his dick, the tip leaking with precum and had half the mind to smear it all over your glossy lips, "Spit on it, then use your hands."

He doesn't need to elaborate more as you collect whatever moisture you can get inside your mouth, spitting on his member and lathering it all over his cock, moving your palm up and down, the slick making your movements smoother.

He can't wait anymore, not when you're allowing him to do things to you. No more restraints as he grabbed your chin, your mouth forming an 'o' shape and gave you this look, quietly informing you that he's done playing. You nodded, finally taking him in your mouth and you couldn't help the pride that swells within you when he suppresses his groans.

You coughed up a bit when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, some tears forming due to gag reflex, but Jake was unforgiving, whispering about how good you take him and that you should do more if you really wanted to thank him for everything that he's done for you.

You began to bob your head up and down, relaxing your jaw and hollowing your cheeks so you could take more of him, ignoring the pool of spit that formed on the corner of your mouth, letting it drip down your neck. 

You started off slow, gradually increasing the pace. You used the tip of your tongue to zone in on the smaller and more sensitive areas of his member, pausing the bobbing of your head so you could pay attention to his angry, red head. Wrapping your lips around it and sucking, like a child with a lollipop, slowly.. slowly, enjoying his grunts and praises about how good you make him feel.

Jake felt his dick twitch when you used your hand, wrapping it around the base of his cock, adding pleasure to the parts that couldn't reach your mouth (because he's big af), and he felt himself losing control, a small apology leaving his mouth before he sets the rhythm himself. Holding your head steady as he stood up, his manhood not leaving your mouth and he started thrusting mercilessly. His dominant side always gets to you, and he knows because he's hearing those gagged moans as he used you like his personal fuck toy.

"I'm close baby." he warns, and he looks down, and fucking hell, the image has been burned into his brain. Messy, you're basically crying and drooling around his cock, your hands helplessly holding onto his thighs for support while you struggle to breathe through your nose. 

Truly, the best view he's ever seen.

He staggers, not bothering to pull out of you, releasing his seed inside your mouth, not giving you a choice but to swallow all of it.

Jake exhales, satisfaction painted on his face while he slides out of your wet cavern, finally giving you the opportunity to catch your breath.

He knelt down in front of you, his forefinger smudged the strayed mixture of his cum and your saliva on your chin, swirling it around before inserting his digit inside your mouth, a smirk forming in his lips when you obediently sucked on it.

"That's my girl, now let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

---------------------------------------------------

"Bro, hey! Are you listening?"

Felix, one of Jake's friends from Australia snapped his fingers in front of the said man, breaking him out of his daze as he turned his attention from his phone to his friend.

"Pardon?" he asked, shiny eyes blinking while smiling innocently.

Felix rolled his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at the younger, "You've been fixated on your phone the whole day. Say, you're waiting for your girlfriend to text you, no?"

"I'm not!" he fights back, "And how many times do I have to say this, she's not my girlfriend!" he grumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Jake has always been a popular guy in this town, and obviously, after the incident at the beach, rumors fly through gossip faster than light.

"Jake and Y/N are together!"

That's what they all say, and as much as he loves the sound of you two dating, he's worried that the.. girls that he's been with might go crazy and attack you. He doesn't want you to get hurt, but all that he can do is deny everything. Heck, even Jungwon, Riki, and Sunoo helped in putting the baseless fire out.

"Doesn't look like it to me." Chan then interrupted the discussion, emerging from the kitchen with bottles of coke in his hand, setting it on the table and letting the other boys refresh themselves from the heat of the summer season.

"That's what I've been saying." the freckled boy agrees, finally having someone side with him.

Jake was about to retort again after gulping his sugary cola, but he stopped when he received a notification from you, saying that you need a ride and you're currently at the parking area behind the mall. He jumped from his seat, bamboozling his way out of his friends' apartment, bidding his friends a hasty goodbye.

Jake went back for a second, his head peeking from the door, "Oh and Felix." 

Said man was startled, pointing at himself with a confused look on why his name was called all of a sudden.

"Yeah you, to answer your question earlier. No, I won't be going to the club or party or whatsoever. Hooroo!" and he was gone.

The two boys who were left in the living room looked at each other and shrugged, "Not his girlfriend, he said."

---------------------------------------------------

You were near having a panic attack, who would've thought that going to the mall to buy a new dress (because your last one was sadly lost and never found), would cause such chaos?

Tons of girls are either asking you about how you got together with Jake and how lucky you are or just plainly wanting to pull your hair out for stealing their prince charming... and you had enough of their bullshit.

You stood there in the parking lot, waiting for the very main cause of your dilemma to come and pick you up. Just then, a familiar stygian Kia entered the empty lot, stopping right in front of you then Jake himself appeared right out of the vehicle.

You wanted to scream at him for causing you so much trouble but a lump was caught in your throat when you saw his disheveled appearance, clearly rushing here to get to you but still managed to look exceptionally good.

How can one look like a painting da Vinci himself made even when his hair is all over the place and the collar of his denim top was not fixed at all?

Fear not, only he, Sim Jaeyun, can pull it off.

"Y/N! Are you okay?!" he dashed to you, holding you by your shoulders and examining you thoroughly if you were hurt. He swears, if he sees one tiny scratch on you, he'll haunt whoever caused the damage.

You almost cried at how sweet he is, but you opted to bury your face on the crook of his neck instead, surprising him but he returned the embrace nonetheless, entwining his fingers on the strands of your hair and setting his chin atop of your head. Apologizing for whatever happened to you, knowing that he was the root of all of these.

"No," you detached yourself, staring down at your white sneakers and how it complements Jake's brown leather shoes, "I guess I was shocked because I was literally being mobbed in there. Felt like a celebrity for a second." you tried to joke about the situation but Jake remained sympathetic.

"What are you even doing out here?"

"Well, I still need a dress for the festival.. which is tomorrow."

Jake facepalmed, laughing at his stupidity because how could he forget?

He held your hand in his, tugging you with him and ushering you inside his vehicle. When asked where he was taking you, all he replied to you was giddy "Secret!"

Soon, you arrived at his flat, and you were awed because it's been too long since you visited in here. Certainly, it still looks the same and the memories came rushing in like a wave.

Running around the house, chasing Jake with a spatula because he thought it was a great idea to scare you while you were in the bathroom, planting an oak tree in his small backyard, making him promise to take care of it even if he’s hoary and hunched.

You followed him to the steps, a delicate smile on your lips when you saw the rust on his door, surely a sign of the aged building. Upon entering, a familiar border collie ran up to you, sniffing you before wagging its tail in pure joy, making you squeal because she remembered you.

"Layla!" you hugged the little bundle of joy, rubbing her fur zealously, "You've grown so much! I missed you!"

Hearing your voice must have set off something from the dog as she threw herself over you, basically begging to be babied like how you did before. And you are willing! Except that she’s hogging you, her whole weight pushed on you which made it hard to breathe. 

Jake, who was standing at the side, watching the wholesome interaction with glittering expression sensed your distress, "Layla! Come here!" he called the dog, using the treats that were stored as a way to entice the furry creature, which definitely worked.

"Sorry about that, she gets excited really easily." Jake went to you and helped you up when Layla was busy with her snacks, "Told you she really missed you." he adds, making you chuckle.

"I can see that. Well, what do you need to do that requires you to kidnap me here?" you asked, gazing at him curiously which made him nervous.

"Right." he scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish grin, "Would you mind if I go to my room for a bit?"

You puckered your lips in curiosity but didn't question him any further, telling him that it's fine and that you'll wait. When he got out of his room, he was holding a pink paper bag, shyly walking up to you and handing you the item.

"What is this?" you accepted the bag, fishing whatever it was residing in there, then your eyes shimmered in recognition, hastily pulling it out and an attire was presented to you.

An elegant, satin red dress. An outfit that looked exactly like the one that you were eyeing back when you were 15, the age where you wanted to act like a model or some actress, and the red dress in a catalogue made you feel like you could reach such dreams.

"Do you want to try it?" he asks and you nod your head, heading towards the bathroom, leaving Jake and his nerves for him to calm. But you wouldn't let him, how could he when you got out of the toilet wearing the shade of autumn that represents all of his thoughts and emotions for you.

You walked closer to him, merrily twirling around to show off, "What do you think?" you look at him expectantly, skittish for his reaction.

Jake gave you a once over, hands in his pockets as he raked in your appearance, from your head to toe, and he tried his best to come up with a coherent answer. "You are," he inhales, removing his hands from his pockets and throwing it up in the air and placing it on either of your shoulders, "ethereal."

His heart beats strangely fast, which is a natural occurrence whenever he's with you. It always happens whether he likes it or not, something that he has no control over. He fixes his gaze into your gorgeous eyes and he soaks in them. 

Everyday he swims to the thoughts of you, diving deep into the complexity of his feelings and hoping that when he ascends, you'll finally be able to see him in a different light.

"Say Y/N, would you like me to chaperone you during the fiesta?" he queries, and you couldn't help but laugh at his old method of asking you to be his date for the party.

You gathered his hands on your shoulders and held them into yours, transferring your warmth into his own skin as opposed to the cool air that starts to surround the house due to the darkening of the skies outside and the whirring of the air-conditioner, "I would love to."

Then your phone sets off, what a way to ruin the moment but you were pulled back into reality when you saw the caller.

"I'll be right back." you gave the man a tight smile, trudging down the hallways and out to the backyard to give yourself some privacy, unbeknownst of Jake's footsteps that followed you due to your anxiousness, but he made his presence hidden, and his blood boiled when he realized who it was that you're talking to.

He heard snippets of the conversation, and as much as he knows that he's in the wrong, the jealousy rises up to his stomach unprovoked, choking him until he's out of air.

"Yes, Hoonie, I'm having the best time here."

Best time because he's with you, making you feel like you're the only woman in the world.

"I do, I'll send you a photo of the dress soon."

The dress that he personally bought.

"Alright, take care. Uh-huh, love you too, my figure skating prince."

Well, that's fucking it.

The green eyed monster got the best of him, rage seeping through his bones and.. and he thinks he needs a glass of water to settle down. He runs to the kitchen, reaching for his favorite mug and filling it with ice cold water, letting it run down his throat and he wishes he could just dump it down on his brain to cool off the fiery envy that swiftly creeps up on his whole being.

He jumped a bit when you called his name, startling him when you were there, standing by the kitchen door with concern gracing your features, "Are you okay? Is something wrong? You don't look too good."

A barrage of questions and he answered it all in his brain in fear of saying something that might potentially hurt you.

Is he okay? No.

Is something wrong? A lot. You. Him. This. Whatever the fuck this is.

He doesn't look good? That’s where you're wrong. He always looks good.

His internal battle and fuming facade had you worried, taking steps closer to him in an attempt to console him. He was fine a few minutes ago, now he’s acting like this? 

The moment you stepped into his sanctuary, touching him on his biceps, all his walls broke down and he immediately pulled you closer to him, connecting your lips together in a hot, messy, searing kiss.

He held you by your waist and you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck, granting him the license to trap you between his sturdy body and the marbled counter.

On the other hand, when your boyfriend called you, taking in his soft voice, his longing words. Hearing him tell you how much he misses you and how everything will be easier only if he has you by his side.. and his never ending canadian pancake jokes, this time with maple syrup.

It reminds you that you are taken, but you let yourself fool around for too long and you're stricken with guilt. Sin written all over your heart and soul because Sunghoon's own heart was getting broken without him even knowing and Jake's will sooner or later be shattered as well.

You walked back inside the building, determined to put an end to this fallacy as soon as possible. You've let yourself fall into the rabbit hole, and you believe that you have been only missing your other half to the point where you willingly rekindled an old flame, thinking that this summer thing would be the answer to your loneliness.

But you proved yourself wrong yet again when you let yourself be submerged into Jake's honeyed touches and spicy kisses.

You couldn't simply say no to him, not when every crevice of your body has been explored by him, savored and shaped to perfection exactly to his liking.

You moaned his name when his hand massaged your boobs over the thin dress, his thumb adding slight pressure to where he's sure your nipples are located. His tongue never stopped invading your mouth, asserting dominance that you've never seen from him before.

He hoisted you up the counter, spreading your legs for him to slot his tiny waist in, and when the need for oxygen was needed, you both parted ways and the string of saliva between your lips made the tips of yours ears red.

Jake's heated gaze had you embarrassed, his left hand on your thigh started moving, deft fingers tracing faint lines on your skin and you barely made out the words.. 'M I N E.'

You were inclined to return his stare, and all you could do was to revive the long forgotten yearning that you had left a year ago, everything that has been existing inside his hazel orbs.

There were a lot of uncertainties. What if you didn't leave your small town to pursue a city life? What if you stayed here instead? Will the changes be different like how things were right now?

No lingering stares across the room, no skinships concealed by friendship, no more denying of what you two really are because.. fuck this all. Friends do not know the taste of each other, a simple platonic relationship doesn't give you a whole orchestra playing Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams like that one scene in Bridgerton.

No, friendship doesn't make you feel like you're in heaven but love does.

This was supposed to be a one time summer fling, when the leaves turn into the color of wine that you had been nursing late at night, a past time that you developed whenever you're troubled about what you're really going through with Jake; you shall leave it all behind.

You will, but for now, the necessity to bury yourself in Jake's iridescence is your utmost priority.

You pulled him in again for a kiss, this time with a plan.

"I don't think this will reach the bedroom." he murmurs, his hands all over your body as he tries to feel you more, palms finally back on your thighs to lift your dress up, revealing black laced panties that had him groaning and inevitably, harder down there.

You giggled, pecking his cheeks while you started to unbutton his denim shirt, tracing your fingers over his golden skin, "I don't mind, do whatever you want. Also, leave this on." you say, admiring his chiseled muscles under his top.

He curses under his breath, you really know how to rile him up. You know him too well, and he's down bad for that.

Jake has always been a good boy, and he doesn't need to be told twice. If you told him to do whatever, then he'll do just that. First, he plans to fuck you in that tiny little red dress.

His hand traveled to your panties, chuckling when he felt a wet spot in the middle, his middle and forefingers playing with it, "Damn baby, haven't done anything yet you're this wet?"

You whined at his teasing, moving your hips for more friction but Jake pulled away, causing you to protest which seemed to please him, given by his smug countenance. He clicked his tongue and raked in your appearance, in a complete disarray and he's glad that he can affect you this much.

"I need you to be patient, baby. Can you do it for me?" he mumbles, voice dropping a pitch lower and it makes you wetter because it's so damn hot, not like his predatory leering helps your condition. Although, as much as you wanted to test his leniency, you decided to listen to him this time around, sitting still and watching him do his thing. 

Your obedience greatly pleased the man, leaning down to give you a peck on your top lip, lightly nibbling on it before pulling away. 

His hands move on your arms for a second, moving up to your shoulders. His calloused palms, probably from doing sports and playing the violin, are clement against your smooth skin, goosebumps running along the path that was traced. 

Jake seems to be in a trance, hyper fixated on your body as he glides the straps down, guiding your arms so he could remove them through the straps, causing the upper portion of the dress to get loose in the process. 

The action reveals more of your supple chest for him to gawp and you let out a gasp when Jake buried his face on your cleavage, trailing smooches on your chest and when he can’t take it anymore, he straightens himself up and he completely removes the bodice of the dress. 

He takes the initiative to bring your bodies closer together, spreading your thighs wider and bunching the dress on your waist, until his hard on can be felt on your clothed womanhood. 

Jake then resumes his ministrations, hands going over your belly, outlining your rib cage and his fingers traces the shape of your breasts, the sensations are building up fast and the agitation is starting to get to you. You made that apparent when you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him closer to give him a silent signal of where you want him to touch you. 

He only chuckles, dipping his head near your jawline to trail kisses over it, reaching your ears and whispering sly statements, “We’ll get there, princess. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride, okay?” 

“But Jake..” you whined and he shuts you up with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss where his tongue dominates your mouth, he takes that as an opportunity to engulf your boobs into his large hands, tenderly kneading and squeezing, tracing your areola in the process to make you squirm. 

You moan into his mouth when his fingers rub your erect nipples slowly, increasing in speed and pressure as seconds go by. Your moans getting louder when he adds some twisting and pulling, pleasurable but not enough to cause pain. 

Jake can’t help the groan that escaped him due to your incessant grinding, directly stimulating both of your lower areas. Your damp panties have been clinging on your pussy, your juices soaking even his jeans, specifically the area of his raging boner. 

Jake disconnects from the liplock, observing your tousled appearance and despite his wobbly vision, he can confidently say that you’re insanely otherworldly. 

The vermillion tint on your cheeks, blown-out pupils and bruised lips. Truly, the epitome of the goddess of beauty, his one and only. 

“Jake?” you questioned, in a hazy stupor with your labored breathing, “What happened?” 

Jake shakes his head, leaning down to rub the tip of his nose on yours, giving you a butterfly in the stomach-inducing feelings, “Just that you’re gorgeous.” 

He chuckles when you squeaked at his compliment, removing his hands from your boobs in lieu of grabbing your ass, further pressing you on his hardness before leaning down on your chest, his warm breath hitting your mounds that had you shuddering. 

You clutched on his shoulders for support when he began sucking on your nipple and gyrating on your covered wetness. You felt him flatten his tongue on your boob, covering an ample surface, turning into the hardened edge of his wet appendage flicking the nub repeatedly. 

A brave lioness is what you are, primed for battles and victory yet you are nothing but a lady in desperate need of release in Jake’s presence and skillful tongue. 

Soon enough, when your clit has been prodded far too many times by the rough fabric of your undergarment and your erected buds have also reached their limit, your back arched in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you like waves. 

Jake continued his movements, ceasing only when you whine in overstimulation. 

“My baby did a good job.” Jake praises you, patting your head and smoothing the bird’s nest on top of it. A spent smile is painted on your face, slumping onto the tiled countertop to catch your breath, then your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets when you hear Jake say that you’re not done yet.

He merely raised an eyebrow, getting rid of his pants and personally manhandling you into a position of his liking but is also comfortable for you. He pushed your panties to the side, too impatient to remove it and lining the tip of his leaking cock in your entrance. 

“I still haven’t cum yet, princess.” he mutters, holding your thighs apart as he plunges into you, inch by inch, “You’ll help me, right?” 

You nod your head, hands going over to his chest and he immediately grapples it in his, groaning in pleasure when your gummy walls sucked him in, but he held the overwhelming urge to do it one go as he wanted to feel you in the most intimate way. 

“That’s my good girl.” he moans, bottoming out of you. He stays motionless for a few minutes, giving you adequate time to adjust. Then he started moving, freeing your hands to grip the sides of your hips, his pace was tamed at first but he went feral when you beseech him for more. 

His thrusts gradually escalate, fast-moving and solid, making you feel so full. Every drag of his member on your slick creates squelching sounds mixed with your mewls, it rings in your eardrums, and the result is you getting wetter. 

You’re basically lathering his counter and skin with your juices but Jake couldn’t care less, frowning in concentration as he does his best to pleasure both of you. 

“Don’t stop.” you mumble along with other incoherent sentences, his darkened eyes glimmered, ramming inside you with all his might, adjusting a bit so he’s able to hit your sweet spot, and when he finally hits it, his reward is your chants of his name. 

“Don’t worry, babe.” he grunts, tilting to match your face to grace you a saccharine kiss, his pace unrelenting and merciless, not wasting any minute as he bullies into your wetness without any care in the world, “I don’t plan on stopping.” he mumbles against your lips.

The knot in your belly gets tighter each time his cock grazes your g-spot and you purposefully clenched around him, causing him to unconsciously dig his nails into the flesh of your thighs. 

The euphoric feeling was too much for you to handle, closing your eyes and dumping your head on his shoulder. 

Jake’s gasps and low grunts are echoing in your head, slightly opening your eyes when you feel a rather pleasant yet burning sensation, realizing that he’s rubbing your clit. Adding onto the stockpiling gratification. 

You heard Jake curse, expressing how breath-taking and marvelous you are, in every aspect and facet. You tried peeking at him in spite of your incoming cloud nine, and in your drunken stupor of paradise, your enticement towards his sweaty neck invoked you to lean in and suck on his skin. 

Jake moans in delight, a specially harsh thrust was given to you in the process, taking you by surprise as it strikes the perfect site that had you tingling and creaming all over his member. 

You accidentally bite a bit too hard on his neck, marginally leaving teeth marks that’ll surely take at least a few days to heal. 

Jake’s hips stuttered, groaning rather gutturally at your dripping, warm cavern’s involuntary clenching, seizing his cock and as much as he wishes for the intercourse to carry on for a little longer, he has also reached his limit. 

He releases his seed inside, painting your walls white and warming your core. He keep his languid strokes to ride your highs, halting when the dopamine dies down.  

The smell of sex drifts in the kitchen. Sweaty, hot, satisfaction and fulfillment surrounds the place. Both of your strained breathing reiterates the events that have transpired. 

You made the first move, lifting your head from his shoulder and pushing his sweaty locks that got stuck on his forehead, smiling at him giddily, “That was amazing.” 

He wheezes at your pronouncement, “I know. You are amazing.” 

“Why is it always me?” you complain, not accepting his never ending praises towards you. Besides, it wasn’t you who’s doing all the work in your.. endeavors. 

“Because,” he engulfs your hand in his, kissing your knuckles and fingers one by one, “that’s what you are. Amazing.” 

You roll your eyes at his flattery, then the joy you’re feeling turns into sorrow when he pulls out of you, some of his cum oozing out of your hole. The emptiness nearly made you whine but you fight off the impulsive thoughts of doing so. 

After cleaning up and making sure that you’re presentable for other people to see, Jake offered to take you home and you accepted. Throughout the ride, you two are singing at the top of your lungs, ranging from love songs to rock songs, tittering when the other’s voice cracks. 

When you’re finally home, you are reluctant to separate with him, but he assured you that he’ll see you tomorrow. As he should because he is your date for the event. 

Bidding goodbyes was a herculean task, managing to do it when your parents themselves went out of the house due to their anxiety at the car parked in front of the house for 10 minutes. 

You steer away from your family’s curious questions, telling them that you are tired (the truth) and you crave some alone time to rejuvenate. 

 It is a very particular day, like you two have discovered something new that veered your social link to a blithe yet brooding one. The possible consequences of your poor decision-making was washed away by fatigue, thoughts of Jake and the excitement of tomorrow’s event lulling you to a dreamless yet deep sleep.

---------------------------------------------------

You watch the youngsters run and jump in thrill at the vibrant and bright atmosphere of the location for the town’s long awaited celebration, sighing through your nose but  still laughing at their energetic vibes. 

“Takoyaki!” Riki exclaims, nudging his friends and quite literally yowling at them when they disagree at his suggestion.

“I want some candied apples.” Jungwon points at a certain stall, Sunoo’s eyes following suit and the smile that he’s sporting is the biggest you have ever seen. (desserts do have that kind of effect, maybe that’s why they always have a room in the stomach.) 

“Really? So early in the evening and you want sweets?” the tallest among the guys deadpans, turning to you for help, “Knock some sense into these idiots.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, nonchalantly waving Riki off, “Put on your big boy pants and deal with it.” 

You ignore your brother’s bleating, facing Jake who is beside you the entire time and fretting over the fact that your mother and father left you to look after the boys to have their ‘alone time.’ 

“Jake?” you called for his attention when you noticed that he wasn’t responding to your hardcore yapping, only to find him immersed at you. 

“Jake? Is something wrong?” the thumping in your chest accelerates as he peers at you with dreamy eyes, permeating with fondness and yearning. You are not entirely sure on how to react, standing there like a statue until the man in front of you scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry.” he laughs bashfully, “You are simply glowing, a rare jewel. I can’t stop admiring you.” he admits and the blush on your cheeks darkened. 

Your appearance is not something to be confident at, you look decent at best if you say so. 

You wore the red dress that Jake gifted you, paired with rubber shoes of the same hue. Your hair is styled in a dutch braid, decorating your strands with various pins and ribbons for the aesthetic, and finally, a natural make-up for added radiance. 

You literally see no reason for him to goggle at you, but then again, you can’t and don’t perceive yourself in Jake’s point of view. You’d be shocked if you learned how angelic you are in his world. 

In Jake’s standpoint, the tinge of cerise complements your sublime beauty like no other. It brings out the tincture of your eyes, the carmine of your cheeks, the cherry of your lips and it greatly enhances your flushed complexion. A mermaid you resembled because of your hair, relatively constructing an illusion of enchantment.

That is why he cannot fully fathom why you’re denying his words, simply because Jake is confident about it. He frankly believes that there is no other like you— unparalleled and stellar. 

“Be serious for once.” you say, thwacking his shoulders with a snigger.

Jake frowns, facing you and catching your hand in his, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shrilling voice, one that had you reeling in consternation and abhorrence. 

“Well, well, well. The power couple has revealed themselves.” 

Great, the night is young and it’s already ruined by none other than..

“Chaewon.” Jake utters her name with such revolt, shielding you from her as he protectively shifts you behind him, “What do you want?”

“You wound me.” she places a hand on her chest, faking a sad expression before she wheezes and narrows her overly eye-shadowed eyes in your direction, “Hello again, Y/N. Won’t you come and greet me as well?” 

Your whole body trembles when you hear her call your name in a sweet, sickening manner with an underlying condescending tone. It wreaks havoc in your supposed to be zen state, the rain in your glossy orbs threatens to fall any minute the more the interaction is prolonged. 

Jake senses your dilemma, and he knows that he has to do something, anything to not let this get out of control. He needs to wrap this up asap. 

“Chaewon!” Jake roared, seething and perturbed, “Get out of here while I’m asking nicely.” 

The girl hoots in laughter, obnoxiously even, holding onto her tummy, “You’re hilarious, Jake. Why are you acting like nothing happened between us?” 

Time seemed to come to a pause at her revelation. Surely, that wasn’t what she said, right? 

You must be mistaken because Jake? The boy that you trust the most, the only person who is aware of your trauma towards Chaewon’s wrongdoings.. something transpired between them? 

Your head that is hanging low amidst the whole ordeal tilts to spare the girl a glance, which you shouldn’t have because you have now witnessed the most gut-wrenching sight: Chaewon wearing the white dress that was supposed to be yours. 

She peeks and notices your gaze on her, whirling around to show-off with a haughty smirk, “Pretty isn’t it? I’m really happy that Jake gave this to me.” 

“Jake gave that to you?” you whisper, and like a bat with supersonic hearing, she makes-out what you just said without any problem.

“Yeah!” Chaewon giggles, and she dropped the bomb that exploded all over your conviction and solidarity, “I mean.. From all the nights me and Jake have spent in his bed, I think it’s only natural for him to give me some gifts.” 

Your eyes widened in anguish, meeting Jake’s with resentment. You don’t even need to explain yourself, your betrayed expression articulates all the emotions that are fermenting in your being, spoiling the gaiety and leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

You bitterly tugged your hand, grimly retiring in this shithole wordlessly. Jake’s pleas were blocked out as the ringing in your ears is too noisy, currently focusing on how excruciating it is to wear your rose tinted glasses.

Seeing in a bird's eye view, the earthquake of indulging in your desires, the red flags; rejecting the clues and signals in place of shooting stars and red roses.

There is nothing wrong with harboring intense, burning feelings for someone. There is nothing wrong about it except…

You choked back a sob as you stood still in the middle of some empty street, covering your mouth with your palm while you used your free arm to hug yourself, a coping mechanism to the either the cold breeze or the icy realization of your own breach of trust.

To the person that you are tied to. The lover whose heart is reserved for you but here you are, cracking his entirety unbeknownst to him. 

Truth to be told, you are apprehensive about the entirety of your solstitial days. You are no doubt in the utopia of cloudy marshmallows and lustrous sequins, such vista is brought to you by your paramore, Jake. 

Your affairs are not accepted by society, deemed illegal by the law and an unforgivable misdeed by the gods. Yet you couldn’t, for the hell of it, deny the fact that you are over the moon, spending time with your revived ardor that you thought had passed away. 

Reflecting on your decisions brings you on a disparaging trip to guilt land, your sins are not reasonable, will never be decipherable but love has always been like that, isn’t it?

Working in mysterious ways, playing with fate and destiny, using cupid as its puppet and people’s heartstrings as marionettes until it cooks up its desired results. 

But must it be so ferocious? 

You are having a meltdown, drowning in these poisonous thoughts when a distant voice clears your smoggy psyche. 

“Y/N!”

---------------------------------------------------

Jake fumbled. He fucked up. So bad. 

He was motionless for a minute, wide eyed and panicking as the noise around the ongoing celebration helped him block the cringe-y voice of the girl, whose presence if he must say, is irking as hell. 

He watches as your lovely figure walks further away, getting smaller the more distance you put between you, and it’s nauseating. The agony was fucking too much, not foreseeing the events.

He was meant to be with you the entire night. Eating delicious foods from the stalls, winning you a giant teddy bear, watching the grand fireworks whilst he kisses you under the radiance of the natural and artificial stars. 

And whose fault is this? 

Jake turns to the culprit, her innocent facade pissing him off to no end.

“What the fuck, Chaewon? Have you finally lost your marbles? Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?!” he yells, his emotional intelligence gone because the mere thought of losing you is not worth the effort of suppressing his anger. 

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms in disdain, “I only came here to say hi and to show the dress.” 

The scene appears to catch the attention of the bystanders around them, and multiple pairs of eyes scrutinize the pair, which is not good for the sake of it all. 

Jake inhales, praying to anyone out there to give him the patience that he’s currently lacking, “How many times do I have to say that I’m not interested in you? We fucked once and I was drunk! That’s the end of the story!” 

“So fucking around with Y/N is better? Have you forgotten that she has a boyfriend? You really want to spend your precious summer with a whore?” she rebuts, and what she labeled you was the last straw. 

He ruthlessly gripped her arms, no caution nor forgiving, “Listen here, you do not call Y/N a whore ever again. She is so much better than you and,” Jake scoffs, eyeing her with disdain, “you do not even come close to her level. So, I would really fucking appreciate it if you zip your shitty mouth, or else I will make your life a living hell.” 

Jake lets her go, clenching his fists and hiding it inside his pockets, glaring at the teary-eyed woman but he certainly does not fucking care. She can bawl her eyes out and spread gossip about him, but he won’t let any disrespect towards you pass. 

He turns around, quickly changing plans as he thinks of ways on how to make things up with you, but before that, he took a shot of belittling the girl, “Now that I see it, that dress is ugly as hell. You can keep that, it's only beautiful if Y/N wears it.” 

Jake then runs off, in a mission to find you. 

---------------------------------------------------

“Y/N!”

It took you a minute to process what’s happening. One moment you are alone and the next second you’re engulfed in a warm hug. Must be a divine intervention or something, your knight in shining armor coming in at the right time to save you from the sorrows of your own faults. 

You pushed him away rather forcefully, vigorously wiping the remnants of your tears away but Jake has seen it either way. 

He cups your face, mellowly speaking, “Please don’t cry, baby-”

“Stop!” you cried out, placing your hands on his chest to put a tiny gap in the middle, a feeble attempt at refusing his support, “Stop calling me that if you don’t mean it. I-I.. Please, I want to be alone.”

You’re beginning to go into hysterics, sobbing uncontrollably now that you have been slapped by reality. 

“I don’t want you to be alone, and,” Jake steeled himself, not accepting your rejection, “I mean it. You are my baby so please Y/N, let’s talk this out.” 

You shake your head, struggling against his firm hold. The complexity of the whole situation embroiders dark threads in your snowy fabric, commencing the madness in you, and you’re so damn afraid if you’ll be able to surpass this test. 

“Jake, I don’t want to- Please, stop, I can't do this anymore.”

You are too busy wallowing in despair that you failed to notice Jake’s terror stricken guise. All of his brain cells are working overtime to think of something, anything to dissuade your incoming rash verdict about your.. circumstances with him.  

Jake slides his palms onto your shoulders, lowering his forehead down the crook of your neck, shutting his eyes and relaxing for a second. 

It’s now or never.

“You can’t do this anymore while I've been here, doing it ever since.” he mumbles, decibels reaching your ears and it makes you confused.

You stay rooted in your spot, listening to his shallow breaths, “Doing what?” 

“This Y/N.” he lifts his head up, meeting your weeping orbs as his lower lips tremble, wavering and hopeless mien, “I did not pursue Australia for the sole reason of staying here, because I thought that you’d continue college in this town.” 

Wait. You are the reason?

“I wanted to be with you, then I learned that you applied to a university in the city and I was too late. I wasn’t able to go with you because I hesitated. And that was the biggest mistake that I will forever regret.”

Jake didn’t give you the time to butt in, he prattled on and on, explaining and disclosing every bit of information that you have to know.

Chaewon and him did have a history, but he was drunk and was in need of some sort of intimacy because all he did was miss you while you were gone. Yes, shitty excuse but that was the truth. He apologizes hundreds of times for that, verbalizing that he avoids her like the plague after their one time encounter, and that she’s the one who kept on persisting in a relationship with him. 

He doesn’t want to do shit with her and he is willing to spend a lifetime making it up to you if it means that you’ll forgive him. 

You mutter his name in hopes of cutting his reverie to tell him that it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be unfair to himself and that you also have made an awful blunder yourself. So, you tried again but then he blurted out the words that rewired your verdict.

“Y/N, I love you. I am so fucking in love with you. You inhabit my day, possess my nights and I-”

You finally placed your lips on his, shutting him up for good. You can’t contain your selfishness anymore, and you’re going to hell for it.

“Jake, I understand.” you whisper against his lips, “No more talking. Just kiss me.” 

And he did. A passion filled kiss in the dimly lit middle of the road, and soon enough the two of you are giggling out of your wits, running towards his flat to savor each other beneath the raving moon and stars. 

Ablaze sheets and shushed confessions of affection, lustful chants of pet and nicknames, hot and ponderous breathing. Lips molding, tongues dancing, limbs intertwining — love was made multiple times that night. 

Jake felt his turbulent ambitions being nurtured into a calm sea. 

When he holds your sweaty body close to his after the last of the many rounds of ardent copulation, he pecks the crown of your head, thinking that he’s got you. 

Imagine the bewilderment and fretfulness that he undergoes when the next morning, he wakes up and you’re not by his side. The slot beside him is where you’re meant to be. 

So, why are you not here?

He is like a thundercloud, fixing himself up and taking a dangerous, speedy trip towards your house only to gain the certitude that you have left. 

“Yeah, she came back home during dawn, grabbing her suitcases and catching the earliest train back to the city. She didn’t say anything to us, just that she needs to go back as soon as possible.” Riki clarifies groggily, your brother rubbing his eyes sleepily, overlooking Jake’s fall from grace. 

He thanks the younger and when the door is shut, he’s out. 

He was in a sinking boat the whole fucking time, his white knuckle grip on the handles was useless as he’s the only one dying with it. 

You, his gospel, are once more absent to guide him, and he is left alone to fend for himself. 

Jake enters his car in a daze before laughing to himself, beyond miserable and breaking down. You can’t even be bothered to give him an acrid goodbye. Was he not worth the time? Was he not worth it? 

He slams his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes going over the hidden compartment where the bracelet with your initials sits. Looks like he won’t be able to give you that, no?

“What do we do now, Sim Jaeyun?” 

---------------------------------------------------

Your sudden disappearance deeply troubled Jake. His gut tells him not to contact you first, listening to his intuitions and twiddled on his thumbs. 

He waited for a call, message, anything to let him know that you have not abandoned him, but not once did he receive one. A complete dissonance and in a flash, the pigments in his face that you have sprayed were drained. 

He prayed for a sign to the deities because he’s tired of waiting, ‘Give me a reason to stop chasing after her.’

And what he asks, he gets. 

One day, when he was rolling around in his bed, stalking your social media, he saw that you updated on instagram. He immediately opened the app, but he was crushed like an insect at what he saw.

It was a photo of you and your boyfriend. Seems like your ‘ice skating prince’ won a tournament, no trophies at hand since his prize is already in his arms— you. 

Jake lies down on his back, his arms covering his eyes and he lets the salty tears that he’s been keeping at bay for the longest time freely stream down. He granted himself the license to cry this time, to have a moment of weakness as he grieves at the newly formed memorabilia of adulation and picturesque remembrance.

You should have at least given him some sort of magnanimity, a heads-up perhaps? 

Yes, it was necessary so he could’ve commenced the digging of the graves. One for his dying gray heart and one for his wilted, parched crimson roses. 

Jake is no stranger of the naked truth, that he was the other guy in the portrait. The snake and not the proprietor but even for a trifling moment, despite the bleak and slim chances, he believed that the silver lining exists. 

He was so sure that the inkling sentiments, skinship, companionship throughout the summer would mean something to you.. If not, then why would you be so cruel to give it to him? Why would you be so heartless to let him think that he could win against someone that is unrivaled when it comes to a space in your heart and life? 

He spilled his booked sentiments, you let him savor you, allowed him to follow you to the depths of nowhere only to pull back at the last minute, leaving him stranded at the end of the cliff. 

So he did what must be done. He jumped in the deep, dark ocean of precariousness. Hoping that at the end of his expedition, a treasure would be waiting for him. 

Jake did find fortune alright; rusted, grotesque, and counterfeit. 

He was a deep-dyed, utter fool. Pathetic at its finest for falling for a person he could never, ever have. 

Indeed, a complete defeat. What was the name of the victor again? Ah, right.

Park Sunghoon. 

taglist:

@deobitifull @dreamiestay @shiningnono @anormieee

[steddie-island]

Cuffing Season

Written for @steddie-week day 3, prompt 'long', and written for @stevieweek prompt 'sapphic' Rating: E | WC: 1,424 | Tags: Sapphic Steddie, handcuffs, squirting, PWP See ao3 for full list of tags | Divider credit

Eddie fucking hated Stevie Harrington. Hated her from the soles of her expensive running shoes to the top of that head of chestnut hair. Eddie couldn't fucking stand her.

She hated herself even more for falling into bed with Stevie again and again, for letting those perfectly manicured hands grab onto her wrists and her waist. Hated that she loved the way those hands felt against her bare skin.

"That all you got, Munson?"

Eddie hated the way Stevie worked the two fingers inside of her pussy like she had a map of Eddie's body telling her where and how to touch to make her feel good.

To make her beg .

"Jesus Christ—" Eddie gasped as Stevie's head lowered back down, as the other girl dragged her tongue from her opening up to her clit. There was a hint of teeth that had Eddie's back bowing up off of the mattress.

"One more, and then I'll fuck you." Stevie crooked her fingers again before speeding up the movement of her hand. That smart mouth was on her clit again and Eddie practically wailed.

"Stevie— oh my fucking god don't stop—" Her fingers flexed like she wanted to tangle her hands in Stevie's hair, to mess her up the same way she'd been messed up already, but the bitch had found the cuffs and had her hands attached to the headboard.

Stevie groaned, adding to the wet sound of her fingers fucking into Eddie's pussy again and again.

Eddie's thighs trembled on either side of Stevie's head. Her mouth dropped open, and with another flick of that skilled tongue and another stroke over her g-spot she was coming with a rush of liquid. " Fuck— fuck— "

When Stevie lifted her head her chin was wet. She slipped her fingers out of Eddie's body. For a moment it looked like she was going to pull her fingers into her own mouth, but at the last second she decided to reach up, to press them against Eddie's lower lip instead.

Eddie parted her lips and took them in easily, tasting the brininess of herself. She didn't let them go until her tongue had ran over the edge of Stevie's nails, over her knuckles, between her fingers, until she could only taste Stevie's skin again.

Stevie pulled her fingers back only to catch Eddie's lips in a hard kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, meant to bruise as much as to soothe.

It didn't last long. Stevie was off of the bed and digging into her duffel. She stripped out of her stupid skimpy shorts. They pooled around her feet along with her panties, which were joined by the sports bra she hadn't taken off yet.

For a long few moments Eddie could only watch as Stevie got the harness ready. She slipped it on over muscular thighs, had to adjust and thread the cock on the inside of the harness into her own body before she could tighten the straps the rest of the way. Eddie wanted to sink her teeth into the soft flesh where the straps dug in around her hips and her thighs both.

"Enjoying the show?" Stevie teased. The other cock bobbed in front of her as she came back to the bed and climbed between Eddie's thighs.

"Shut up," Eddie said even as she parted her legs to make room for Stevie again. "You know you're fucking hot."

"Yeah, but I like that you think so, too."

Eddie ignored the flush of warmth that sent through her chest. This was just sex. It couldn't be more than that. Girls like Stevie didn't get with girls like her for more than just sex. She pushed the thought down and focused instead on the golden goddess pushing her knees up towards her chest.

Stevie pressed the cock against Eddie's pussy but didn't slide inside yet. She just let it rest lightly between Eddie's folds as she rolled her hips.

Eddie writhed as it bumped over her clit before the tip was just barely pressed inside. "Thought you were going to fuck me."

"And you accuse me of being an impatient brat."

"You are! Always running your mo— fuck !"

Stevie drove into her with one fluid motion. She braced her hands on the bed, her arms holding Eddie's legs.

There was nothing gentle about it. Stevie fucked into Eddie hard and fast, which in turn worked the cock inside of her own body.

Back and forth they moved together— at least, as much as Eddie could with her hands still locked to the headboard and Stevie pinning her legs. Every deep thrust had them crying out. They shared breaths, drank down each other's moans. Eddie's teeth caught Stevie's lower lip, Stevie's nails scraped over Eddie's ass.

"Fuck— fuck— right there!" Eddie urged. She tugged at the handcuffs not to get away but because she needed to do something, to grab on to something if she couldn't grab on to Stevie's hair or her back.

"Yeah? Gonna come for me?" Stevie panted. "Gonna come on my cock?"

" Fuck— " Eddie stared up at Stevie's flushed face, her spit slick lips, those big brown eyes. She wanted to bite into the moles just under Stevie's jaw, too. "Almost—"

Stevie moved one hand, letting Eddie's leg fall to the bed. She worked Eddie's clit hard and fast as she kept driving in deep. "C'mon. Do it, Eddie. Come all over me again."

Eddie clenched down hard around the cock and came with a choked moan. If not for the way Stevie held on to her, keeping their bodies together, she was sure the cock would've been pushed out of her body as she came with another rush of fluid.

Stevie barely waited for her to stop twitching before she was moving again. Her thrusts weren't as deep, and it was clear she was trying to grind down on her own cock.

Her forehead came to rest against Eddie's shoulder as she worked her hips with movements that sped up and became more desperate. Eddie tried to kiss her, tried to rock up towards her, tried to listen as Stevie's sounds became breathier.

Eddie loved those sounds, loved the way Stevie's cheeks turned pink and her lashes painted shadows against her cheeks.

She loved the way Stevie bit down on her collar bone again, leaving more evidence of herself pressed into Eddie's skin as she finally came, too.

As soon as she was steady enough Stevie sat up to uncuff Eddie. She dropped the cuffs on the nightstand, then brought one and then the other of Eddie's wrists to her mouth to kiss over the pink marks left behind.

"Are you okay?"

Eddie snorted and rolled her eyes, ignored the way her traitor heart flipped in her chest. "I'm fine, Harrington."

"Harrington now, is it?" Stevie grinned as she rolled over to lay beside Eddie on the bed, out of the wet spot they had made.

Eddie didn't even try to hide the fact that she was ogling Stevie's tits until she went still again.

"It's always Harrington." Eddie shrugged one shoulder.

"Not true. It's 'Stevie' when I'm fucking you. Sometimes you just call me 'more' when I've got my tongue on your—"

"That is not a nickname!" Eddie laughed. "And it is not always!"

"Almost always!" Stevie cracked up and dodged another shove before Eddie straddled her legs.

"Sometimes I call you 'good girl." Eddie watched the way Stevie flushed all the way down her neck, between her breasts. "When you're the one tied down. I think I've heard you call me 'baby'…"

"Shut up, Munson," Stevie said. There was no heat behind her words. Her eyes were fixed on Eddie's lips as she leaned in to sink down around the dildo still proudly standing at attention between Stevie's thighs.

Those perfectly manicured hands threaded into Eddie's hair. Eddie melted into the fingernails scratching over her scalp and running down to rest against the back of her neck. Stevie just held on to her, not pulling and not pushing, just touching her to touch while Eddie took her time cleaning the toy off with her tongue.

The truth was, Eddie knew that maybe she should hate Steve Harrington just on principle.

But she didn't.

As her body sank down around Stevie's cock, and as Stevie pulled her in for a deep kiss, Eddie let herself think about the fact that something that might have started out as hate fucking had become something else for her a long time ago.

[arminsumi]

OUR LAST SUMMER.

五夏 ⋅ reader

PART OF THE 2k SPECIAL: ur fave duos!!

NOTE: yuh this hurt to write 🥹 was solely inspired by that one abba song i'm ngl i listened to it one night and related it to satosugu and cried like a bitch

SUMMARY — You, Suguru and Satoru shared one summer of bliss before everything fell apart

WARNINGS — fluff to angst 👍, love triangle, i think it's gn reader but lmk if there's something not gn thank u!!

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1k

PLAY ME ♪ Our Last Summer

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

It had been a blisteringly hot summer. Sweat beaded at Suguru’s forehead. The sun forced Satoru’s eyes into a perpetual squint. And you took shelter in the shade of a palm tree – the two boys met you there, when they too decided to take shelter in the shade. The chemistry between you three was explosive, truly chemical; that one of a kind, once in a lifetime kind of friendship that blooms instantly like a timelapse of a flower, that artists and poets try their hand at capturing but mostly fail.

Beach walks were impossible at midday – the sand was so hot that it burned the soles of your feet. If you were riskily treading barefoot, then the boys would take turns carrying you. Satoru carried you bridal style. Suguru carried you on his back. The prior liked to pretend that he was going to throw you into the ocean (and he did a few times…) and the latter liked to steal romantic glances at you.

Come night, you three crammed together in one hotel room. Conversations, debates, arguments, flirting… those all easily carried past the midnight hour. Satoru was the first to pass out, but Suguru being the insomniac of the group managed to stay awake even longer with you. Usually, you fell asleep in the middle of expressing a thought to Suguru, and then woke up the next morning to two bleary blue eyes blinking awake on your left and abyssal black eyes blinking awake on your right. Satoru rolled on top of you and refused to let you leave bed. Suguru smiled and told him to stop crushing you to death.

Breakfasts were met with late attendance – thanks to Satoru taking his sweet time in the bathroom getting ready. Plates piled and spilled with hotel buffet food; Satoru’s plate consisted solely of sweet pastries. The custard Danishes were his favourite. The three of you broke down laughing at your inside joke about him being the custard Danish robber; the three of you couldn’t catch your breaths from how hard you laughed at your own stupid jokes. “He’s at it again!” Suguru snorted, body falling into yours, eyes reduced to strips of pure joy.

Butterflies liked Suguru for some reason. It was awful for him – he was terrified of butterflies, they really creeped him out. During walks around Okinawa, you struggled to keep up with the two giants; Satoru never missed a beat when walking in sync with his best friend. And he also never missed the opportunity to pick on your slowness or size. Suguru would patch up your bruised ego with a well-timed compliment.

When your holiday in Okinawa was drawing to a close, you three decided to cram as much exploration as possible into those three last days. Pulling all-nighters, stargazing, joking around, sharing secrets, kissing as friends until those kisses became something more. The final day of your holiday was spent ascending a hill that overlooked the glittering beaches. Such a picturesque view. One you didn’t dare to capture in a photograph, because that felt disrespectful. It was a beautiful landscape that deserved to live only in the rich world of your memories.

On that grassy hill, in that briny wind, you three thought that the present moment would never end. You held hands. You kissed. Your hands felt warm. Your lips felt tingly. They both looked at you meaningfully.

“Come back to Jujutsu High with us.” You didn’t hesitate to agree, a sparkle in your eyes. No one in your life had ever accepted you as a sorcerer until they came along.

Summer ended…

And the school year began.

In the far future, when you and Satoru would reminisce together as old Jujutsu High teachers to your students, you two would summarize your high school days with very specific memories.

“Remember when we always got caught making out in the classroom, and Yaga chased us down the corridors?”

“ – and we’d loiter around the vending machines. You know, Yuji, Satoru had such a bad sweet tooth even back then. And! He! Stole! My! Lunches! He was a menace!! Don’t deny it, Satoru.”

“What I stole from you in food I repaid in saving your ass. Remember when you almost died? No joke, Megumi, Y/n almost died during that Alleyway Incident – you know that one we talked about? Yeah, that was Y/n. Suguru and I were stronger than Y/n so we always helped – heyyy! I’m just telling the truth!”

“Who was Suguru?”

The smiles dropped from yours and Satoru’s faces. The color drained out of them, too. Just one little name, six little letters, devastated the atmosphere. That’s when the reminiscing ceased abruptly, and Satoru stood up and excused himself to a quiet place. You and him never cried together, only separately – except for on that day.

That day was the first and only day you and Satoru broke down sobbing into each other. Snot dribbled out of your noses. Your eyes puffed up. Your faces felt tightened with the dried tears.

“Suguru, don’t leave. Come back with us to Jujutsu High, we can sort all of this out.”

But he turned and walked away from you and Satoru, disappearing into the crowd of people. You yelled so loudly that you hurt your lungs, “Did our last summer mean nothing to you! What about the memories we’ve made at school together?! Suguru, don’t you walk away from us! Don’t – leave us behind, S-Suguru did it all mean nothing to you?!”

Just like that, three reduced to two. Just you and Satoru. Sat on the steps in heavy, impenetrable silence. Faces planted into your palms. Back curved because you had no energy to sit up straight after such an exhausting cry. You never thought you’d look into Satoru’s eyes and see no light. Over the years, he lightened up – especially when he became a teacher. But you could tell he masked his true expression; a deadpan. The real emotions were forcefully forgotten.

[recklessfiction]

Keep an Eye Out As You Travel West

You see a church, you just keep on walking. Most are abandoned anyhow, nothing left in 'em but the hollowed out husks of their priests. The rest have been filled by now; old pretenders, zealots, and self proclaimed prophets snatching up any man fool enough to worship. And that's if you're lucky. There are older things, other things that have curled up amidst the altars of the Lord like worms in dirt. If you're wanting to do any worshiping, best do it out under the sky.

There're things that roam the dust, figures of men with eyes deader than any corpse and smiles as bright and pretty as a lady's. They come around sometimes, always trying to pawn off some bizarre thing; elaborate crowns made of rusted nails, gold lockets with strange portraits inside, letters that can't be read without getting a deep pounding in your head, and keys rusted with so much blood it'd be a wonder if they turned anything at all. Now, I've seen what comes for folks who trade with them and I'll tell you this. Wherever they got their goods, it sure as shit wasn't from here.

You'll be hearing now about the "Oil Baptisms," I'm sure. Black sea water dredged up from some abyss, thicker than any water I've ever seen and you can smell it long a mile away. They say it gives people "the sight" but of what I can't say. All I know is that once you start smelling that briny shit on the wind, the screaming don't start long after.

Be careful what deals you make out here. There're plenty of strange folk who would be more than glad to work you down to the bone and long after, too. Work is work, crops need harvesting, graves need digging, meat needs carving, and idols need worshiping. Watch your words and read your contracts, else you might just be stuck washing the feet of the righteous until doomsday.

Best stay indoors once night comes, that's when a lot of the "families" start movin' out. They take to the roads, long lines of them, a parade of the ugliest sons of bitches you've ever seen. In the daylight, their skin never fits quite right and stinks to high heaven but once the sun dips past the trees, they start taking it off. They move from place to place, sloughing off their decayed flesh and stealing new off any traveler they come across. Lock your doors and put out your lights before they coming knocking on your door, asking sweetly, "Do you have anything I could wear?"

I am of the opinion that the woods ought not be traversed by folk who ain't been called there. Keep to the roads and towns, there's enough foul mess there if it's strangeness you're looking for. But what's in the woods has always been in the woods and if you pass the treeline with no business being there, well. The woods will give you business.

While a useful tool, a gun won't save you from drowning in the bathtub of a family of fanatic prognosticators, or from having your skin torn clean off by the night sky. Keep your ears up for any kind of protection you can get and learn to speak well because a lot of smart talk can get you out of a whole mess of trouble.

Keep on moving, friend. If you're looking to survive this trek, don't stop for anything, not even to bury the dead or feed the starving. It ain't worth what'll catch you, cause there's always things waiting for a fella to slow down so's they can get their claws in faster, deeper. You wanna be stuck here, in the fields and the dirt, under the big sky while hymns are burned into your skull? No?

Then keep on moving.

[threepandas]

Sun Burnt: Yandere Reborn

Lot of stereotypes came with having certain Flame types I mused. As bullets rammed into my back, ricocheting around me like bouncy balls of death. My feet eating up the earth as fast as I could. It was all kinds of unfair.

Like? If you were a Sun? You were expected to be gregarious. Cheerful. Some happy go lucky healer type. To hell with your ambitions, I got a paper cut! And a storm? Well OBVIOUSLY watch out! We got a HOT HEAD over here! Look out for the HOT HEAD! A TEMPERAMENTAL ASSHOLE coming through!

I mean? Maybe they're pissed cause you keep POKING at them, huh? Wouldn't anybody?

I dodge down an alley. Jumping trash cans. Throwing them down behind me. Hearing curses and howls of outrage. Man, they are persistent. And! And like? Being a LIGHTNING?! God, being a LIGHTNING can SUCK sometimes! Sure, I get to be a Tank. And yeah. Human tazer. Pretty neat. But the ASSHOLES!

It's all "ooooh~! You're nothing but a DUMB MEAT SHEILD! Come be my DUMB MEAT SHEILD and lick my BOOTS, meat sheild! That's all you're good for! Because you're so DUMB! Impulsive! We wanna use you to solve our stupid ass turf disputes and lead you ooooon~!" Like? Fuckin REALLY?!

Is it MY fault your brains move so slow? That you're so SQUISHY? I'm not fucking IMPULSIVE! I think things through! I just do it FASTER then you jack asses! Granted... never said I do it BETTER. I may, in fact, be a dumbass. Probably am. All signs point to "maybe"...

......ARE THEY SERIOUSLY STILL CHASING ME!?

It was MY haul!!!

Steal your own SHIT!!!

And yeah, was it WISE to flip the table, punch the Don, and jump out a window with the fugly ass statue they planned to stiff me on? No. No it was not. But I REFUSE to not get paid! Try to steal from ME will you?! I'ma toss this fucker into the SEA!!! Swim for it BITCHES!

I skid onto the main road of Mafia Island. Knocking over somebody's fancy ass mistress. Probably gonna pay for THAT too. Fuck it! Yolo! I am pouring on the Lightning flames at this point. COATED. The metaphorical bull in this, the mafia land China shop. Pulling shooting. Amused and playing bets. Flames rising up to brush against me.

I am a fuckin circus act on display and I HATE it.

But by all that is holy! Those bastards ARE NOT getting their stupid statue back!

To the SEA with it! I shall cast it to the briny BLUE!

FUCK THOSE GUYS!

The crowd is parting like the red fucking sea. Except... except?! Oh shit! Pretty guy on a suit! Move pretty guy! MOVE!! Aaaaah!

I barely... BARELY!! Manage to stop myself from running into Pretty? Hiiitman? Hitman. Got a gun. Very calm. Yep, hitman. Barely! Dodge! By forward flipping OVER the guy and Superhero sticking the landing. Dropping the statue but... meh. Don't care. I still plan to...

Are. You. FUCKING SERIOUS!?

Drugs!?

That FUGLY STATUE WAS HOLLOW! No WONDER they were so desperate to get it! They were BREAKING Vongola's BAN!!! Ooooooh! I'm TELLING! You FUCKERS USED ME!!! Jail! Ten thousand years JAIL! Kill um, Mr. Hitman! They're dirty, non-thief paying, DRUG MAKERS!

Am I pointing accusingly? Yes. Hanging over the hitmans shoulder like the tattling tattle that I am? Absolutely. Jail for them! Get um! Boooooo! My flames still coat every part of me. Which is why I can FEEL when the hitman decides... "fuck it. Why not?"

I can TELL? Because it's like feeling the mountain you're standing on suddenly deciding to move. Like a giant, blinking their eyes open and beginning to stand. Rising up and up and UP. So great it feels impossible. The Sun flames infront of me? Go beyond the concept of "powerful".

It's like standing in front of a star up close.

So bright and burning fury, it consumes all other light.

I can't even FEEL the other Flames around us anymore. Almost can't HEAR what's going on. He... he has a low, purring voice. Like espresso. Smooth. The smell of gunpowder and decadent things... CLINGS to him like a lover. The suit under my carelessly grabbing hands... f... feels EXPENSIVE.

Bad. T... this is BAD. D..Don't panic. Just. Just let go! Yeah? Let go, be polite, and apologize. Y... you'll be okay. Oh god. What did I DO?! L... LET GO. Move! W.. why can't I MOVE?!

I feel more then hear the shots. The slight recoil. Utterly effortless, he ends their lives. An amused lilt to whatever he's saying. His head tilts so he can view me from the corner of his eye. A mean smirk on his beautiful face. I amuse him. My FEAR amuses him.

His Flames reach out like a crushing fist... I... I can not move...

The world seems to STOP.

As two notes of the same song find each other. Flitting and high to some great and terrible low. The two farthest ends of a Set, still empty, with no sky to hold it in balance. Yet? Resonance none the less.

"Oh~?"

The flat disinterest of those abyssal eyes changes. Like a damning light flickering on in the dark. Leading something terrifying straight towards me. No longer just background noise. I was interesting. I... I didn't WANT to be interesting! No, no, NO!

He turned towards me.

And my stomach plummets straight through the earth. Oh god. Please God, no.

Before me stand a terrifying legend. Living infamy itself. THE World's Greatest Hitman, it's greatest killer, Reborn. Who's eyes were locked on my face with a terrible interest. Who's Flames, vast and hungry, tugged and prowled at the edge of my own. His mean little smirk had turned into something that could pass for charming... if I didn't know who he was.

If I wasn't probably going to die.

He casually tucked his gun away. Pulled his other hand from his pocket. And then... oh god. Then two burning weights clamped down on my shoulders. No where to run. No chance of escape. He leaned forward, towering over me.

"You know, I didn't catch your name, bella. Who do you work for again? We have so much to LEARN about each other, don't you think? All the time in the world. Now... give me your phone."

I whimpered. His hands were almost burning with Sun flames. They washed over me in a greedy search for ties that bind and cracks in my defenses. Pushing and pushing. Trying to get IN. Covetous.

"After all~ It's not like you could possibly escape me."

[overthestars-and-offtoneverland]

So something I just realized is that I think Lemony Snicket helped me unmask some of the abusive narcissists in my life.

One specifically.

And it appears to be on accident.

Let me explain.

There are so many times in my childhood where my mother would get so damn offended by my intelligence or "otherness" to her and a weird amount of these memories are ASOUE related.

In chronological order:

I referred to Sunny as an infant. Like they do in the books. My mother, ever thinking she knows everything and I must be wrong. was insistent Sunny had to be a toddler because of the way I described how intelligent she was. (It's fiction, but okay Becky). I explained, no, they describe her as an infant. She can't even walk or talk. Unfortunately, my mother took this as an instance of me questioning her authority and intelligence (as she often did when I corrected her on factual information) and insisted I had to be wrong (even though I was reading the damn books and she wasn't) and that "infant" always meant "newborn." No, Becky. It's a synonym for "baby." It was being used as a synonym for "baby." I and Daniel Handler were both using it as a synonym for "baby." In fact, in some terms in psychology, you're an infant until you're freaking five. Why is this something you want to fight with your 8-year-old about you freaking child?

Got offended that I was reading a book where all the adults were stupid. (I'm gonna let that one speak for itself)

She made me put wrong information on school work because she refused to even look at physical evidence she was wrong. What was she so adamant about? The bitch thought there was a "T" in the word "Orphan." You know, the word I had been seeing every couple of sentences for months at the point. I pointed out that I definitely spelled the word "Orphan" right (I was doing a book fair project on The Bad Beginning) and she was getting pissed I wouldn't change the spelling to "Orphant." Why did she think this? "It's Little Orphant Annie!" Newsflash, no it isn't! It's also "Orphan" there. I even showed her the book and typed it into a spellchecker to show her the "this is misspelled" line that came up underneath. SHE PHYSICALLY REFUSED TO LOOK! So yeah, I looked stupid and spelled a word wrong on my homework so my mother would quit having a tantrum.

Got it in her head that I wanted her and my father to die because I mentioned the description on Briny Beach did actually sound pleasant. (I was literally only saying that an overcast beach where there aren't a lot of people crowding around was nice. Made the mistake of admitting I got the description from ASOUE and she went off the fucking handle screaming about how I wished my parents were dead. I do now, Becky, but it has nothing to do with fictional orphans. In fact, I think the fictional orphans kept me sane.)

And here's the thing that solidified that my mother did not care about me. I got The Puzzling Puzzles. I was so excited to share it with my parents (because I didn't realize they were abusive yet and did that kid thing where I wanted my parents to love me and thought they did) and my mother straight up turned around and said "Nobody cares about that but you" because I was annoying her and my father.

And they wonder why I never shared anything I loved with them. Now, my father in an abusive pos too. If I had to actually call anyone my personal Count Olaf, it's him.

The difference is, I would rather be stuck in a room with Count Olaf than be anywhere in driving distance of my father. At least Count Olaf sort of has a motive for his cruelty. My father is just a monster.

But my mother, she's the one I realized first. And a weird amount of the inciting indicants were ASOUE related. (And it irritates the hell out of me that they tried to bond with me in my adulthood when the Netflix series came out because now they didn't have to pick up a book. 20 years too late. And my father laughed at Klaus getting smacked which was way too familiar for me...)

Sorry, Carmelita, but from experience you don't want to be raised by Olaf and Esme. It's not a pleasant experience.

[satorulovebot]

cursed seas chapter two | help wanted!

pairing — gojou satoru x fem!reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

word count — 10k

warnings — 18+, stalking/harassment, alcohol use, suggestive content, weapon usage, murder, + please read at your own discretion

author's notes — tried out this new theme. lowkey looks like ass but i don’t want to fix it. anyway enough of my bitching and moaning here’s another chapter of cursed seas. she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed btw and again there is murder in this chapter. please tread carefully my pirates :)

prev. the rouge captain | next. long story short

general masterlist -> series masterlist

The sun was already high in the sky when you stepped out of your home and onto the bustling streets of the city. The marketplace was filled with vendors and people going about their daily activities. You planned to take a trip down to the docks to see if you could find anyone willing to help you. You weren’t the most optimistic about the idea, but it would have to do for now.

The memory of the man from the ball still lingered in your mind. You had expected that the news of pirates of all people—crashing the legendary Merchant's ball would be the talk of the town, but to your surprise, there had been nothing. It was clear that the events that had taken place, just two days ago, had been kept quiet. Somehow. But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your main concern. Finding someone who would be willing to help you.

You were hoping and praying to any god that you would not have to see that man with the white hair anytime soon and the docks seemed like a place a man like him would be. The more you think about him, the more you feel like you have seen his face somewhere, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

As you made your way through the crowded marketplace you could hear the vendors shouting out to anyone that would listen, the smell of fresh produce, and the occasional clink of coins. It was a typical day in Elysport, yet you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that you have had ever since that night at the ball.

Every step you took toward the docks was weighed down by the memory of that man. The image of his striking white hair and the utter insanity in his eyes refused to leave your mind. It was frustrating, trying to recall where you might have seen him before, but every time you came close to remembering, the thought slipped away like sand through your fingers. You shook your head, trying to focus on your current objective: finding a crew.

As you neared the docks, the air grew saltier, and the distinct scent of the sea mixed with the briny odor of fish was present. The sound of seagulls could be heard crying overhead mixed with the creaking of wooden ships and the shouts of sailors. You scanned the area, your eyes searching for anyone who might fit the bill—a capable sailor or perhaps in the worst-case scenario a seasoned pirate—someone with the skills and knowledge to help you.

Looking around, you saw all kinds of sailors young and old. But there was something strange about one of them. He was staring right at you and he had the same look in his eye that the man two nights ago did. He had black hair that was half up half down, a navy blue bandana, and a small hoop earring in his left ear. You paid no mind to it because being stared at by weird men is a normal occurrence for you.

Your gaze fell on a group of rugged-looking men huddled together near one of the larger ships. Approaching them felt risky, but your options were limited. You took a deep breath and began walking towards them. One of the men, a tall figure with a missing hand and a patch over one eye, noticed you approaching their group. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “What’s a lass like you doing around here?” he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

You hesitated for a moment before replying, “I’m looking for someone who can help me find a crew. I have… a job that needs doing.”

The man exchanged glances with his companions, who murmured among themselves. “A job, eh?” he repeated, “And what kind of job might that be?”

You bit your lip, debating how much to reveal. Finally, you decided to keep it vague. “It’s a task the requires experienced sailors who aren’t afraid to take risks. It could be dangerous.”

The man chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dangerous tasks are our specialty. But nothing comes for free, lass. What’s in it for us?”

“I have a map,” you replied, lowering your voice. “It leads to something valuable. Very valuable.”

The man’s interest was piqued, and the others leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “A map, you say? Well now, that does sound intriguing. But how do we know you’re not just spinning tales?”

You reached into your bag and carefully pulled out the map, keeping it partially concealed. “This is all the proof I can offer for now,” you said, “If you’re interested, we can discuss terms.”

The man eyed the map with keen interest before nodding. “Alright, you’ve got our attention. Meet us at the tavern tonight, and we’ll talk more. But be warned, lass—if you’re wasting our time, you won’t like the consequences.”

You nodded, feeling relieved. “I understand. I’ll be there.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The docks were busy, but there was something about the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up that made you uneasy. You cast a glance around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to you. Still, the sensation lingered and you were eager to put some distance between yourself and the docks.

Making your way back through the marketplace, you tried to push aside the worry that had taken root in your mind. The meeting tonight could be the first step toward finding a crew and setting sail. But even as you tried to focus on the task at hand, the memory of the man with white hair reappeared, more vivid than before.

As night fell, the city’s atmosphere shifted. The marketplace grew quieter, the vibrant energy of the day giving way to a calm environment. You decided that you needed to prepare for the meeting at the tavern, so you packed a small bag with the essentials: the map, a few coins, and a dagger—just in case. The dagger was a gift from your father, one you hadn’t had to use yet, but tonight might be different.

You wrapped yourself in a cloak and stepped out into the cool night air. The streets were less crowded now, with only a few stragglers making their way home or heading to the taverns for a late-night drink. You kept to the shadows, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by. This meeting could change everything, for better or worse.

When you reached the tavern its wooden sign was creaking in the breeze, and you hesitated at the door. You could hear the sound of raucous laughter and the sound of cheers from outside. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The tavern was dimly lit, with a haze of smoke hanging in the air. The scent of stale ale and sweat made you scrunch your nose, but you forced yourself to move forward, scanning the room for the men you had spoken to earlier. You eventually spotted them seated at a table near the back.

You made your way over to them, weaving through the patrons of the tavern. The tall man with the eye patch noticed you first, nodding in your direction. “You’re here,” was all he said.

“I’m here,” you confirmed, taking a seat across from him. The other men at the table were watching you closely, their expressions unreadable.

“Let’s get down to business then,” the man said, leaning forward. “Tell us more about this map of yours. Where does it lead?”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the map on the table. The men leaned in, their eyes scanning the intricate details of the map.“It leads to an island,” you began, pointing to the mark on the map. “An island that’s said to hold unimaginable riches.” 

That wasn’t the only thing the island held, but they didn’t need to know that information.

The men exchanged glances, their interest piqued. “And how did you come by this map?” one of them asked.

“It was passed down to me,” you lied, keeping your voice steady. “My father was a sailor who spent his life searching for this island. He never found it, but he believed it was real, and he passed the map on to me before he died.”

The men seemed to accept your story, at least for now. The tall man with the eye patch leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. “And what do you want from us?”

“I need a crew,” you replied. “Sailors who know the seas, who aren’t afraid of the risks involved. I’ll share the treasure with you if we find it, but I need your help to get there.”

The men murmured among themselves, weighing their options. Finally, the tall man nodded. “Alright, we’re in. But remember this, lass—if you’re leading us into a trap, you won’t live to see the treasure.”

“I understand. But I assure you, this treasure is real. And I intend to find it.”

With the deal struck you knew there was no turning back now. You had a crew, or at least the beginnings of one, and a map. But as you left the tavern, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched again, that someone was following your every move.

The streets were nearly empty as you made your way back home, the only sound being the soft echo of your footsteps against the cobblestones. You quickened your pace, your hand instinctively moving to the dagger at your side. The feeling of being watched was growing stronger and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Just as you turned a corner, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, a strong hand clamped down on your shoulder, spinning you around. You gasped, instinctively reaching for your dagger, but the sight of who stood before you made your blood run cold.

It was him—the man with the white hair.

He stood there, a dangerous smile playing on his lips, he had a wild almost predatory look in his eyes. You could see now that his face was more than just familiar—it was infamous.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you locked eyes with the man standing before you, the dim streetlight barely illuminating his face. A shiver ran down your spine as you instinctively took a step back, your hand gripping the dagger at your side.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was smooth. It was almost teasing, but there was an underlying threat that made your blood run cold.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible. "W-what do you want?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Oh, I think you know what I want," he replied, taking a step closer. "You’ve been quite the busy little bee, haven’t you? That map of yours has caused quite a stir."

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never showed them the map," you lied and you tried to sound convincing, but the way his smile only grew wider told you he wasn’t buying it.

He took another step forward, his hand still resting casually on the hilt of the sword at his side. "Come now, there’s no need for lies between us," he said, his voice almost soothing in its softness. "I know you have the map. And I know you’ve been talking to some rather unsavory people about it."

Your mind raced, trying to figure out your next move. Running seemed futile—he would catch you in an instant, and you doubted you would fare any better in a fight. The only thing you could do was stall for time, though you weren’t sure what good it would do. "You never answered my question the other night! What do you want with the map?" you asked, trying to keep him talking.

He let out a soft chuckle, amused by your question. "What does anyone want with a treasure map? I want what’s at the end of it, of course. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it."

There was no mistaking the threat in his tone now, and you realized that there was no talking your way out of this. "You’re not going to find the treasure," you said, hoping to provoke him, to get him to make a mistake.

But he only smiled, his expression turning cold and calculating. "Oh, I think I will," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But first, I need to tie up a few loose ends."

Before you could react, he moved with lightning speed, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you close. The dagger slipped from your grasp, clattering to the ground as you struggled to free yourself from his iron grip. "Let go of me!" you shouted, panic rising in your chest.

But he only tightened his hold, his smile fading as his eyes darkened. "You’re coming with me," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "There are some people I need to have a little chat with—and you’re going to watch."

With that, he began dragging you down the narrow streets, his grip unrelenting despite your attempts to break free. Your heart pounded in your ears as you were forced to follow him, the dagger you had so carefully packed now lying useless on the ground behind you.

You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with the men you had spoken to earlier.

The narrow alleyways twisted and turned, leading you both through the darkest corners of Elysport. Despite your fear, you took in your surroundings to try and remember a way out if the opportunity arose. But the way the white-haired man moved left you with little time to think, let alone plan an escape.

Before long, the two of you reached the outskirts of the docks, where the tavern from earlier came into view. It was quieter now, the late-night celebrations had died down, leaving only a few people loitering outside. The man with the white hair stopped suddenly, pulling you to a halt beside him.

His gaze shifted to the tavern, his expression darkening with a mix of disdain and anticipation. "Wait here," he commanded, releasing your wrist but positioning himself between you and the only exit.

Without another word, he strode toward the tavern entrance. Your heart hammered as you watched him disappear inside, your body frozen in place. What was he planning to do? The men inside had no idea what was coming, and you felt a pang of guilt for leading them into this mess.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. You had to do something—anything—to prevent what was about to happen. Yet, even as you went to follow him inside, the door swung open, and the man emerged, dragging one of the sailors behind him.

It was the tall man with the eye patch, the one who had seemed so confident and in control earlier. Now, he looked terrified, struggling weakly against the iron grip that held him.

The white-haired man cast a glance back at you. "Watch closely," he said, his voice low, "This is what happens to those who try to cheat me."

With a swift motion, he flung the sailor to the ground, drawing his sword in one fluid movement. The sailor scrambled to his feet, fear etched onto his face as he backed away, his hands raised in a futile attempt to protect himself.

"Please," the sailor begged, his voice trembling. "I don’t know what you want, but I swear, I’ll give you whatever you’re after. Just don’t kill me."

But the white-haired man was unmoved. "You made a mistake, thinking you could bargain with something that doesn’t belong to you," he said coldly, advancing on the sailor. "You should have known better than to cross me."

Before the sailor could respond, the man lunged forward, his sword flashing in the dim light. You gasped, turning away as the blade struck, but the sickening sound of steel cutting through flesh reached your ears, making you feel nauseous.

When you dared to look again, the sailor was crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The white-haired man stood over him, his expression unreadable as he wiped the blood from his sword with a piece of cloth. His movements were calm as if this were just another routine task for him.

He turned to face you, and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through you at the sight of him. His eyes, which had seemed almost playful before, now glowed with a dangerous intensity that made your blood run cold.

"Let that be a lesson to you," he said, "I don’t take kindly to betrayal. And if you think you can outsmart me, you’ll end up just like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body at his feet, and you swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. This man—whoever he was—was not to be messed with. He was unpredictable and utterly ruthless.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. The man at your feet had been your one hope of assembling a crew, and now he was dead. The others in the tavern might still be alive, but if this white-haired man had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t be for long.

You had to act fast, but you were trapped. Your mind screamed at you to run, to escape while you still could, but your legs refused to move. 

He sheathed his sword, taking a step closer to you. "Now," he said, his tone suddenly shifting to something almost lighthearted, "I think it’s time we had a proper introduction, don’t you?"

You stared at him, too shocked to respond. He smiled again, that same smile from the ball.

"The name’s Gojou Satoru," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "Captain Gojou, to be precise. And you, my dear, are in way over your little head."

Your breath hitched as the realization hit you. This was the infamous Captain Gojou, the man whose name struck fear into the hearts of sailors and pirates alike. The man who had haunted your thoughts since the ball, the one who had promised to find you no matter where you went—and now he had.

Even as the fear threatened to overwhelm you, there was another emotion bubbling beneath the surface—anger. Anger at everything that had happened, at this man who had turned your life upside down, and at yourself for being so helpless.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

Gojou’s smile widened, "I want what you want," he said simply. "The treasure. The map. Everything. But more than that," he added, his tone darkening, "I want you to understand that I’m the one in control now."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. "You think you can just take it all for yourself?"

Gojou tilted his head slightly as if considering your words. "Yes," he replied, his tone casual, as if the answer was obvious. "And you’re going to help me."

The audacity of this man!

"And why would I do that?" you shot back. "You think I’d just hand everything over to you after what you just did?"

"Because," he said, stepping closer until he was only inches away from you, "if you don’t, you’ll end up like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body of the sailor without even looking at it as if it were nothing more than a piece of trash. The sight of it—the blood, the stillness—made your stomach turn, but you refused to show any sign of weakness.

"You’re a monster," you spat.

Gojou’s smile faded slightly, “Perhaps," he said softly, "But I get what I want. And right now, what I want is for you to cooperate."

"And if I don’t?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Then I’ll find other ways to make you," he whispered.

You can’t just force me into this!” you shouted, "There are others who know about the map. If anything happens to me, they’ll—"

"They’ll what?" Gojou interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come after me? Try to stop me? They won’t get the chance."

He straightened up, looking down at you. "But you’re smart enough to know that, aren’t you? You know no one can help you now. No one but me."

The truth of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. He was right—there was no one else. The men you had spoken to earlier were either dead or too scared to cross him. You were alone, and he knew it.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet. You might not be able to fight him, but you could still try to outsmart him. "Fine," you said, your voice cold. "I’ll help you. But on one condition."

Gojou raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And what’s that?"

"You let me keep my share of the treasure," you said, the words coming out a little more confident. "I won’t be your lackey, and I won’t just hand everything over. If I’m going to help you, I want something in return."

For a moment, Gojou said nothing, simply staring at you with those unnerving blue eyes. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled. "You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that."

He seemed to consider your proposition for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said finally. "You can have your share—if you survive long enough to claim it."

"Deal," you said, extending your hand.

Gojou looked at your hand for a moment, then grasped it firmly. His grip was strong, almost crushing, but you didn’t flinch. "Welcome to the crew," he said with a smirk, releasing your hand.

As Gojou turned and walked away, you couldn’t help but glance down at the sailor’s lifeless body once more. You hadn’t wanted any of this, but now that you were in it, you had to survive. And if that meant working with Gojou, then so be it.

But you silently vowed that you would find a way out. You would find a way to get the treasure, escape Gojou’s grasp, and make sure that no one else had to die because of it. 

Gojou might think he had the upper hand, but you weren’t going to let him control you. Not forever.

The night was far from over, and as you walked through the darkened streets. With every step, you knew that you would never forget the sight of Gojou killing that man—the cold, calculated way he had taken his life without a second thought.

Whatever happened next, you were in it now. And there was no turning back.

The night air was thick with the smell of salt and fish from the harbor as Gojou led you back toward the docks. The streets had emptied, leaving only the occasional flicker of a lantern in a nearby window and the distant sound of waves crashing against the pier. 

As you approached the docks, Gojou slowed his pace, his gaze scanning the area. He seemed at ease as if the murder he had just committed was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It was clear that this was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, no matter the cost.

Finally, he stopped in front of a small building near the water’s edge. The structure was plain, with no sign or markings to indicate what it was, but the dim light seeping through the cracks in the shutters told you it was still open for business.

Gojou turned to you, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Wait here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have some business to attend to.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of “business” he was referring to. But before you could ask, he was already walking toward the building, his long coat billowing behind him in the wind.

You watched as he pushed open the door and disappeared inside, leaving you alone in the silence of the night. The door creaked shut behind him, and you were left standing in the darkness, leaving you with the distant sound of the ocean.

Inside the building, Gojou was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight and the soft murmur of voices. The interior was modest but well-kept, with rich, dark wood furnishings and plush cushions strewn across the floor. The scent of incense hung in the air, mingling with the subtle perfume of the women who lingered nearby.

The brothel’s madam, a woman in her late forties with sharp eyes and a knowing smile approached him. She was dressed in a silk robe that clung to her figure with her breasts spilling out and her hair piled high atop her head in an elaborate style that spoke of years spent mastering her craft.

“Captain Gojou,” she purred, “What a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long.”

Gojou offered her a charming smile, “Madam Iris,” he greeted, his tone polite but distant. “I’ve had a busy night, and I’m in need of a… distraction.”

The madam’s smile widened, and she gestured toward the stairs leading to the upper floors. “Of course, Captain. We have just the thing to help you unwind.”

As Gojou walked up the stairs, he took in the familiar sights and sounds of the brothel. The laughter of women and their companions, the low murmur of conversation, the soft moans of women, the soft rustle of silk and lace—it was all a part of the carefully curated atmosphere that Madam Iris had cultivated over the years. It was a place where men could forget their troubles, if only for a little while.

At the top of the stairs, a young woman awaited him. She was delicate and beautiful, with long, dark hair and wide, doe-like eyes. She curtsied as he approached, her movements graceful and practiced. “Captain,” she greeted him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Madam Iris said you might like some company.”

Gojou studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lila,” she replied, her gaze flickering up to meet his before quickly darting away.

“Lila,” he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue. He reached out, gently tilting her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “You’ll do.”

He released her and gestured for her to lead the way. Lila nodded and turned, guiding him down the hallway to a private room. The room was small but comfortable, with a large bed draped in silk sheets and a low table set with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Once inside, Gojou shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He moved the way a man who had done this countless times before would.

Lila poured them each a glass of wine, her hands steady despite the nervous energy that seemed to buzz around her. She handed him a glass, and he took it, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest of moments.

“You seem tense,” he observed, taking a sip of the wine.

Lila hesitated, then nodded. “It’s just… you’ve got a reputation, Captain.”

Gojou raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Do I, now?”

She nodded again, her gaze fixed on the floor. “People talk, you know. They say you’re dangerous.”

“Is that so?” Gojou set the glass down on the table and stepped closer to her. “And does that frighten you?”

Lila’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t back away. “Should it?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead taking a moment to study her, to take in the way she stood before him—nervous, yet curious. Finally, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only if you give me a reason,” he murmured.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them thick. Then, with a soft sigh, Lila reached up and placed her hand on his chest, her touch tentative. “I won’t,” she whispered.

Gojou smiled, though there was something predatory in the way his eyes darkened. “Good girl.”

With that, he pulled her closer, his grip firm. Lila responded instinctively, her body melting against his as if she had done this a thousand times before. It was all part of the game—one she had been trained to play from a young age. But there was something different about Gojou, something that made her heart race in a way she hadn’t expected.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You can relax, Lila. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The words were meant to be comforting, but there was an underlying edge to them that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew better than to let her guard down completely, but for now, she would play along.

Lila tilted her head up, offering him a tentative smile. “Then what are you here for, Captain?”

Gojou’s smile widened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a hungry kiss. As his hands roamed over her body, she found herself responding to his touch, her initial fear melting away under the heat of his gaze.

For a moment, the world outside the brothel disappeared. In that small, candlelit room, there was only the two of them, locked in a dance as old as time itself.

But even as Gojou lost himself in the moment, he knew what he was doing, and knew how to take what he wanted while keeping others at arm’s length. Lila might be beautiful and skilled, but she was just a temporary distraction—one he could enjoy before the real work began.

When their lips finally parted, Gojou looked down at her, “I’m here for a good time.”

Lila smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. She knew better than to expect anything more from a man like him. “Then I hope I can give you that,” she whispered.

Gojou didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her onto the bed with him as she began removing his shirt and breeches. As they lost themselves in the moment, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the soft sounds of their breathing and the flicker of candlelight against the walls.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, the thoughts of the treasure, the map, and the girl waiting outside the brothel lingered in the back of his mind. He had plans—big plans—and nothing, not even a night of pleasure, could make him forget that.

When morning came, Gojou left the brothel without a second glance. Lila watched him go from the window of the small room, a longing look in her eyes. She knew she would likely never see him again, but that was the way of things in her world.

As Gojou stepped out into the early morning light, the smell of the ocean and the sound of the docks greeted him like an old friend. He breathed it in, letting the cool air clear his mind. There was work to be done, and now that he was satisfied, he was ready to face whatever the day had in store.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of you waiting for him outside the brothel. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but that was what made the game so much fun.

Gojou adjusted his coat, the fabric settling around his shoulders like a second skin and began to walk toward the docks where you were waiting. And he couldn’t wait to see how it would all play out.

The morning sun rose higher in the sky, painting the harbor with a golden hue as you made your way back to the docks. That asshole had told you to, “stay there” and never came back out and so you decided to head home and come back the next day with a packed bag.

As you approached the gangplank, a figure stepped into your path. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with a stoic expression.

“State your business,” he demanded, his voice low.

“I’m here to join the crew, I believe Captain Gojou should have mentioned me.”

The man’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod. “Name’s Nanami,” he said, stepping aside to allow you to pass. “Welcome aboard.”

As you took in your surroundings, another figure approached, his demeanor more relaxed. Then it hit you, he was the man staring at you the other day! You should have known he worked for Captain Gojou with that creep behavior.

He was tall, with long, dark hair that was half up half down. “You must be the new recruit,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m Getou. The captain mentioned we’d be having a new addition.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you, Getou.”

Getou gestured for you to follow him as he led you further onto the deck. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

Getou led you to a group gathered near the ship’s wheel, their conversation halting as you approached. They turned to face you with guarded expressions.

“This is Shokou,” Getou said, nodding toward a woman with short, tousled hair and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her sharp eyes raked over you, seemingly assessing your worth.

“Welcome,” she said simply, her voice roughened by years of smoking and perhaps too many nights spent at sea.

Next, Getou pointed to a man standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was tall and muscular, with a scar running down the side of his mouth.

“That’s Toji,” Getou continued. “He’s the muscle around here.”

Toji’s gaze narrowed as he began to speak, “Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it yourself.

“And these two,” Getou said, gesturing toward a pair of younger men, “are Yuuji and Yuuta. Don’t let their age fool you—they’re damn good at what they do.”

Yuuji grinned at you, his boyish charm instantly putting you at ease. “Hey there! Glad to have you aboard.”

Yuuta, on the other hand, was more reserved. He nodded politely but remained silent, his gaze flickering between you and the others as if trying to gauge how you fit into this dynamic.

“And finally,” Getou said, his tone shifting slightly, “this is Ino. He’s our lookout.”

You glanced up to see a man perched high above the deck, sitting casually on one of the ship’s crossbeams. He gave you a cheeky grin and a two-fingered salute. “Nice to meet you!” he called down.

Before you could respond, a young boy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. His dark hair was tousled, and his blue eyes were sharp.

“Who’s this?” the boy asked, his tone direct.

Getou smiled down at him before speaking again, “This is our new crewmember, Megumi. She’ll be joining us on our next voyage.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked you over. Finally, he nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Fine,” he said, “Just don’t slow us down.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s bluntness. “I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t mind Megumi,” Getou said with a chuckle. “He’s a good kid, just a bit rough around the edges.”

Before you could reply, a familiar voice rang out from behind you, making your heart skip a beat. “What’s all this fuss about?”

You turned to see Gojou striding across the deck. His white hair caught the sunlight, making him look almost ethereal in the morning light. 

“Ah, Captain,” Getou said with a nod, his tone respectful. “Just introducing our new crewmember.”

Gojou’s gaze flicked to you, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little map-keeper,” he drawled, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks flushed at the nickname.

The crew exchanged glances, intrigued by the dynamic between you and their captain. It was clear that Gojou held the authority among them, but there was also something more—a bond that went beyond the usual captain-crew relationship.

Gojou sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I trust you’re ready for what’s to come?”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him see the doubt that gnawed at your insides. “I am.”

His smile widened, “Good. Then let’s not waste any more time.”

But as he turned to address the crew, you caught a glimpse of Getou watching you. Something was unsettling in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken. He didn’t threaten you outright, but his presence alone was enough to keep you on edge.

“We set sail at first light tomorrow,” Gojou announced. “Make sure everything is in order by then. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

The crew nodded in unison. When Gojou gave an order, it was clear that it would be followed without question.

As the crew began to disperse, Gojou lingered for a moment, his gaze once again settling on you. “Remember,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “you’re under my protection now. Don’t do anything to make me regret that.”

“Understood.”

Before you could say more, Getou stepped closer, “You know,” he began, “the captain isn’t the only one you should be careful around. We all have our own… quirks.”

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to his cryptic words. There was something about Getou that made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells—always one misstep away from falling into something dangerous. But you also sensed a strange camaraderie between him and Gojou, one that wasn’t easily understood by outsiders. It was as if they were two sides of the same coin.

Getou’s eyes bore into you though his smile never reached them. “You’ve got a lot to learn,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “But don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re... properly educated.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone on the deck. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

As you tried to gather your thoughts, Shokou approached, her cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. She leaned against the railing beside you, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “They like to play mind games, especially with new recruits. It’s how they test you.”

You glanced at her, surprised by her comment “Is it always like this?” your voice barely above a whisper.

Shokou took a drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke before answering. “Pretty much,” she replied with a shrug. “But you’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. Either way, you’ll figure out how to survive. Just keep your wits about you, and don’t show fear. They respect strength.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, forcing a small smile.

Shokou gave you a brief nod before pushing away from the railing. “Good. We’ll see how you fare when we’re out at sea.” With that, she turned and headed back to her duties, leaving you alone once again.

Despite his lighthearted nature, it was clear that Yuuji was highly skilled in his duties. He moved with the confidence of someone who had spent years at sea, and his knowledge of the ship was impressive. His easygoing demeanor helped to ease some of the tension that had been building within you, and you found yourself relaxing slightly in his presence.

“So, what made you decide to join up with us?” Yuuji asked as he showed you how to tie a particularly complex knot. “It’s not every day we get someone new on board, especially someone like you.”

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Let’s just say I’m looking for something,” you replied carefully. “And I believe this crew can help me find it.”

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your vague answer. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve got a good group to back you up,” he said with a grin. “Just be ready for anything. Life on this ship is never boring.”

You smiled, grateful for his friendliness. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the day progressed, you found yourself slowly beginning to acclimate to the ship’s rhythm. The crew was a motley assortment of individuals, each with their own quirks and personalities, but they all shared a common goal—to survive and thrive in a world that sought to destroy them.

Nanami, with his stoic demeanor, kept a watchful eye on the crew, ensuring that everything ran smoothly. Toji, though intimidating, seemed to have a grudging respect for those who prove

Eventually, you found yourself drawn to the stern of the ship, where the vast expanse of the sea stretched out before you. The waves lapped gently against the hull, their rhythmic motion almost soothing in its constancy. You leaned against the railing, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as you tried to calm your racing thoughts.

But the peace was short-lived.

“Lost in thought?”

You jumped at the sound of Getou’s voice, whipping around to find him standing just a few feet away. He was leaning casually against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, though the amusement in his eyes suggested otherwise.

You forced yourself to relax, though your heart was still pounding. “I was just… thinking,” you replied, hating how weak your voice sounded.

Getou’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “Thinking can be dangerous out here,” he said softly, his tone almost conspiratorial. “You never know what might come of it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a moment, there was a tense silence between you, the air thick with unspoken tension. Getou’s gaze was intense, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was searching for something—some crack in your armor, some sign of weakness.

Finally, he pushed away from the railing, his smile fading into something more serious. “We all have our reasons for being here,” he said quietly. “Some of us are running from something, others are searching for something. But whatever the case, we’re all bound by the same fate.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You could sense the darkness that lurked beneath his calm exterior, the madness that he kept carefully contained. And yet, there was also a strange sense of camaraderie, as if he was offering you a glimpse into the twisted reality that bound them all together.

Before you could respond, Getou straightened up, his usual carefree demeanor returning as he flashed you a grin. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he said with a wink. “Just remember—out here, nothing is as it seems.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. But this time, the weight of his words pressed down on you, making it harder to breathe. You had known from the start that joining this crew would be dangerous, but now, you were beginning to understand just how deep that danger ran.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck, you realized that this was only the beginning. The true test lay ahead, and you would need every ounce of strength and resolve to survive what was to come.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead. You had come this far, and there was no turning back now. No matter what challenges awaited you, you were determined to see this through to the end.

And as the ship’s crew prepared for the night, you couldn’t help but wonder what new horrors the darkness would bring.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the deck in a warm, golden glow. The crew moved with a sense of purpose, their faces hardened by years at sea. You had spent the day learning the ship's ropes, trying to familiarize yourself with the various tasks that would soon become part of your daily routine. But despite the activity around you, you couldn’t shake the tension that hung in the air, the unspoken understanding that this crew was different, that you were now part of something far more dangerous than you had imagined.

Gojou was nowhere to be seen, and while a part of you was relieved, another part of you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. His presence, or lack thereof, cast a shadow over the crew. Everyone was on edge, waiting for his next unpredictable move. It was clear that his control over the crew was absolute, his authority unquestioned, but it was also clear that this control was maintained through fear and the sheer force of his personality.

You spent the next few hours familiarizing yourself with the ship, trying to learn the ropes—both figuratively and literally. Yuuji, with his infectious enthusiasm, took it upon himself to show you around, explaining the various parts of the ship and introducing you to some of the other crew members.

As night fell, the crew gathered around a makeshift table on the deck, sharing stories and rations. You joined them, trying to blend in, but you could feel the tension in their ir at your presence. Getou sat across from you, his gaze never leaving your face. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a dark amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just trying to get used to everything,” you grimaced.

“You’ll get used to it, or you’ll go mad trying. Either way, it’ll be interesting to see how you fare.”

The crew’s laughter and banter faded into the background as you focused on Getou’s words. And you would find out just what kind of person Gojou Satoru really was, even if it meant facing the darkness within yourself.

By the time dawn broke the sky was painting the sky with streaks of pink and gold, you had barely slept at all. But there was no time to dwell on your fears. As you climbed out of your bunk and stepped onto the deck, you were greeted by the sight of the crew already hard at work. The air was cool and crisp, the scent of salt and seaweed filling your lungs as you took a deep breath and tried to steady your nerves.

You were determined to prove yourself, to show the crew—and yourself—that you had what it took to survive in this world. But as you made your way across the deck, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. Again. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you glanced around, searching for the source of the unease.

It didn’t take long to find it.

Standing near the bow of the ship, his tall figure silhouetted against the rising sun, was Gojou Satoru. He was watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. For a moment, you were frozen in place, caught in his gaze like a moth trapped in a spider’s web.

Then, with a casual wave of his hand, Gojou beckoned you over.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to move, your legs carrying you toward him as if they had a mind of their own. The deck seemed to stretch out endlessly before you, every step heavy with the weight of your fear and uncertainty.

When you finally reached him, Gojou smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, “Sleep well?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was that you hadn’t slept well at all, but something told you that admitting that would only amuse him. So instead, you simply nodded, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Good,” Gojou said, “Because we’ve got a lot to do today, and I need everyone at their best.”

He gestured to the horizon, where a small, rocky island was just beginning to come into view. It was shrouded in mist, its jagged cliffs rising up like the teeth of some ancient beast. “That’s our destination for today,” he explained. “We’ll be making landfall in a few hours. And I expect you to be ready.”

By mid-morning, the ship was closing in on the island, its rocky shores growing larger with each passing minute. The mist clung to the cliffs, giving the place an eerie, otherworldly quality, and the crew fell silent as they worked, their usual banter replaced by a tense, almost reverent quiet.

You found yourself standing at the rail, staring out at the island as it loomed closer and closer. But before you could dwell too much on the uncertainty of what lay ahead, a voice broke through the silence, low and steady.

“First time heading to an island like this?” You turned to find Nanami standing beside you. 

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Most haven’t,” he said. “These places... they’re different. Dangerous. But they’re also where the greatest treasures are found. That’s why we’re here.”

“Stick close to the crew,” Nanami advised, his tone more serious than you had ever heard it. “Trust your instincts, but also trust the people around you. We’ve been through this before, and we know what to expect. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”

The island was just ahead, its cliffs towering over the ship and the crew was already preparing to lower the anchor. As the ship drew closer, the mist began to lift, revealing more of the island’s rugged terrain. The cliffs were dotted with caves, their dark mouths gaping open like the jaws of some great beast. The water at the base of the cliffs was churning as if something below the surface was stirring, waiting for its next victim.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the crew moved with precision, each person knowing exactly what needed to be done. The anchor was dropped with a loud splash, and the ship came to a halt just off the shore, the waves crashing against the hull in a steady rhythm.

Gojou appeared at the bow, then, with a sharp nod, he turned to the crew. “We make landfall in ten minutes,” he announced, “Be ready for anything."

As the crew began to prepare the rowboats, you found yourself standing on the deck, staring out at the island. You knew that this was the moment of truth, the moment when you would find out if you truly had what it took to survive in this world.

But as you stood there, your thoughts racing, a hand suddenly clamped down on your shoulder, snapping you out of your reverie. You turned to find Getou standing beside you, his expression one of amusement.

“Shit! You scared me!” you gasped.

He chuckled lightly and asked, “Nervous?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “A little,” you admitted.

Getou chuckled, his hand squeezing your shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture. “Don’t worry,” he replied, “Stick with me, and you’ll be fine. Just remember—no one makes it through this life unscathed. But that’s what makes it interesting, don’t you think?”

You nodded, though his words did little to ease the knot of anxiety that had formed in your stomach. But before you could say anything else, Gojou’s voice rang out across the deck, signaling that it was time to go.

The crew began lowering the rowboats into the water and preparing to make the journey to land. You followed their lead, as you climbed into one of the boats, trying to steady yourself as the small vessel rocked beneath you.

Getou was right behind you, his presence was slightly comforting. As the crew began to row, the island seemed to get larger and larger, its cliffs rising like the walls of an impenetrable fortress. 

The rowboats eventually made landfall as the crew pushed them onto the shore and began walking inland.

As you ventured further inland, the mist began to dissipate, revealing more of the island's rugged terrain. The path ahead was narrow, bordered by cliffs on one side and dense, twisted foliage on the other.

Gojou led the way as if he had been here before, though you knew that couldn’t be true. The island was uncharted, its secrets known only to those who had dared to venture here in search of its hidden treasures—and those who had survived to tell the tale were few and far between.

Despite the intensity of the situation, you couldn't help but notice how the crew operated. They moved as one, each member knowing their role, their place in the hierarchy clear. You were an outsider here, but their union was a testament to the strength of their bond. It was a bond that had kept them alive through dangers that would have broken lesser men.

As the group moved deeper into the island, the path began to climb, the terrain growing more difficult with each step. The cliffs loomed high above you, casting long shadows that stretched across the ground like grasping fingers. The vegetation grew denser, the trees twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms.

The atmosphere became thinner and it made it harder to breathe. The island felt alive in an almost unnatural way as if it were aware of your presence. It was as if the island itself was a living entity, watching, waiting.

Gojou paused at the top of a particularly steep hill, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. The rest of the crew stopped as well, their attention shifting to whatever had caught Gojou’s eye. You followed their gaze, squinting against the harsh light of the rising sun.

At first, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just more rocks, more trees, more shadows. But then, as the mist began to clear further, you saw it—an ancient, crumbling structure, half-hidden by the overgrowth. It was a ruin, its walls covered in moss and ivy.

“This is it,” Gojou said, his voice filled with an almost childlike excitement. “This is what we came for.”

It didn’t look like much—a forgotten relic of an era that was long gone, abandoned, and left to decay in the middle of this god forsaken island. But the way Gojou spoke, and the way the crew reacted, made it clear that this place was important. 

“Everyone, stay sharp,” Gojou continued, “We don’t know what’s inside, and we don’t know who—or what—might be guarding it.”

The crew nodded in silent agreement, their hands instinctively moving to their weapons. The air was thick with tension, the kind that precedes a storm. You could feel it in your bones, a deep, primal fear that made your skin prickle and your stomach churn.

But there was no turning back now. The closer you got, the more you could see the details—intricate carvings in the stone, eroded by time.

The entrance to the ruin was a gaping maw, its stone archway cracked and crumbling. The darkness was the kind that seemed to swallow any light that dared to enter. You hesitated at the threshold, your instincts screaming at you to turn back, to flee from this place, and never look back.

But before you could act on those instincts, Gojou stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around him. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We go in together, and we come out together.”

With that, he led the way into the darkness. The crew followed without hesitation, their trust in Gojou was evident in the way they moved as one, their footsteps echoing through the silent ruin.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, the darkness swallowing you whole. The air was cool and damp, the scent of earth and decay filling your nostrils. The walls were close, the space narrow and claustrophobic, the only light coming from the torches carried by the crew.

The further you went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The darkness seemed to press in on you, the weight of the earth above bearing down on your shoulders. You could hear the sound of your own breathing, the rapid thud of your heart in your chest. Every step felt like a descent into the unknown, into a place where the rules of the world no longer applied.

The crew moved with caution, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. Gojou led the way, his torch held high, casting flickering light on the walls around you. The carvings continued, more detailed and complex the deeper you went, telling a story that you couldn’t quite decipher.

But then, the path began to widen, the walls falling away to reveal a large, open chamber. The ceiling was high, disappearing into the darkness above, the floor uneven and littered with ground roots amongst other things. In the center of the chamber was a large stone altar, its surface covered in ancient symbols that glowed faintly in the torchlight.

Gojou approached the altar, his expression one of awe and reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the surface of the stone, and as he did, the symbols came to life, glowing with an intense, otherworldly light.

But before anyone could react, the ground beneath your feet began to shake. The walls trembled, dust and debris falling from the ceiling as the very earth seemed to come alive. The altar pulsed with energy, the light growing brighter, and more intense until it was blinding.

You threw up your hands, shielding your eyes from the searing light. The hum grew louder, the ground shaking violently, and you felt a surge of panic rise in your chest. And then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped.

The light faded, the ground stilled, and the chamber was plunged back into darkness. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the crew.

Gojou was the first to move, lowering his hands and turning to face the crew, there was a glint in his eyes, a hint of something that made your blood run cold.

“Well,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “It looks like we’ve found what we were looking for.”

cursed seas taglist: @jaegersity @moonlightlexie @sorcerersseestars

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[heresathreebee]

Kinktober Day 21 Candle Wax

Selina Kyle X Reader

Tags: 16+ | 1.7k words | jealousy, swearing, almost black widowing, theft, candle wax obvi, and well no sex? I don't know, girls just hit different sometimes and I feel soft about them. 

AN: Zoe Kravitz as catwoman has me in my feelings and I'm burned out on Rick Flag for the time being. 

You knew Selina in her pre-cat burglary days. Before she was robbing bankers and museums blind, she stole cars from parking lots and took them out for joy rides. 

You've met every single one of her boyfriends– from the kindergarten crushes to her first homerun to her "long standing" back and forth with a foreign exchange student. You always thought she had a type– rich, usually white, and stupid. 

Damn it if you weren't basically obsessed with her. That's how your parents described it anyways, but they didn't understand you growing up and they don't understand you now. Yes, you would jump off a bridge if she asked you to. Because she would be right there with you, holding your hand and screaming the lyrics to a cheesy song as you took a deep drink in the briny water. 

She's your ride or die and that's why the boyfriends never really bothered you. They could never have what you two have, never achieve that level of devotion and commitment that the two of you had forged naturally through thick and thin. 

But you had started rolling your eyes whenever she said the name of her latest sucker and Selina was starting to notice. "What? What's so bad about this one?" 

"He's such a douchebag!" He's truly awful, a spoiled brat that made Veruca Salt look tame by comparison. "He's not even in the will, Seline, they took him out of it when his baby brother was born." 

Selina nodded. "And his brother will inherit the family fortune if Mr and Mrs. Whalen bite it but Charlemagne is going to inherit the key to his grandmother's jewelry box." 

"That the fuck are you going to do with one jewelry box??" 

Selina did not rise to your attitude, she simply replied, "you'll see. I have a plan, sugar, and it's working perfectly." 

~

You acquiesced and let Selina work. It's just what she does, you reason, she tricks people into getting her close to their riches and robs them. She's not stupid, she's scheming. 

And she's hardly in love with this American Psycho Yuppie. 

She found you sitting in your little rooftop nest with fairy lights and blankets for walls playing animal crossing. 

"Girl you were right." 

"Oh?" Selina hated admitting she was wrong. "Do tell in great detail, please." 

The woman rolled her eyes and sat down taking the handheld game from your hand and starting the save function. "Soooo… Grandmother Whalens passed away this weekend." 

"Damn," you say, "bad for him but good for you…?" 

Selina sighed. "Well it would have been if not for some fine print in her will which stated that even though Charlemagne is supposed to inherit all of her jewelry, there is one person who can veto that decision." 

You nod. "His mother." 

"His cousin," she said. is great-great aunt Marlene Arnold. A person he has literally never even heard of until yesterday." 

You whistle in awe. "That has to sting." 

"Do you wanna know why she vetoed such a seemingly harmless inheritance?" 

You raise an eyebrow. "Come on Selene you're killing me, we don't have all night." 

She was smiling that toothy smile that either meant she was truly amused or deeply enraged. "A fucking pissing match." 

"Marlene has beef with is dad's brother and just to piss him off, she vetoed Charlemagne's inheritance and plans to bury his grandmother with every piece of jewelry except for a pair of cuff links." 

Your jaw drops. "That is un-fucking-believable. No seriously that is petty as shit, girl, I mean– I do not like that brat by any means but holy shit he does not deserve that." 

Selene laughs until she falls against the stack of pillow, breathless. "I know! What a fucking bitch…" 

You lay against the pillows beside her, looking up at the tent display of gathering sheet fabric and gold lights. Selene is quiet for a while and all you can hear is the idle music from your game and the city streets and sirens. 

"You know I was doing it for you…" she said. "Grandma Whalen she uh… she had this necklace that I thought would look amazing on you." 

You roll your eyes. "All that for a necklace? Bullshit." 

Selene chuckled but her heart wasn't in it. "You're right, you know? Not about that but… I don't like them. These guys I mean...

"Not like I like you." 

You almost don't want to acknowledge it. How long had you pined for her, seemingly unnoticed? How many times have you watched her start relations with ulterior motives and leave them heartbroken in dust? What was her endgame here? 

You feel… a sort of anger rise in you. It feels like teasing but she's hit a truly sore, infected spot in your psyche. You're contemplating getting up to just leave and never come back when the entire city of Gotham turns black in the blink of an eye. 

You're afraid for a moment you've gone deaf and blind until you hear the squealing of tires,  breaking glass, and Selina whispering "what the fuck?" 

You sit up and blink a hundred times. Nothing. "Are you OK, Seline?" 

"I'm fine, are you…" 

You reach over her and grab your danish cookie can of emergency supplies. "I have candles and matches. Here–" 

There's a flicker of light in the pitch black that almost blinds you. When your vision clears, it's just Selina with a lighter. She looks at you like she wants to say something but she changes her mind. 

You trade her the lighter for some tea lights and candle holders. You light each of them one at a time and take the tent walls down until the two of you are surrounded by warm candle light on the rooftop. 

Selina checks the radio and finds an emergency broadcast warning of a massive power outage. 

"Probably another supervillain." You roll your eyes like you're bored and it makes her laugh. 

Seline's quiet for a second before she asks hesitantly– " are, uh, you gonna say anything about–" 

You shake your head. "I'm… I'm not ready to have this conversation right now." 

You look away because you can't stand to see the disappointment she can't hide. Your winter jacket becomes a little too warm and you take it off, leaning back on your hands and looking up at the stars. 

"Holy shit, Seline," you whisper, "I bet Gotham sky hasn't looked like this since the fucking dinosaurs." 

The sky is streaked in gold and purple and white. Stars big and small dot the sky horizon to horizon, innumerable and unknowable. A photograph could never truly capture the depth of its beauty. 

Selina has no interest in a rare starry night because she only has eyes for you. 

"That's a new shirt, you go somewhere nice?" 

You look at her incredulously. "I went to that new nightclub on 5th. It's a mile high, pervy Pete let me in VIP for a couple of homemade beignets." 

Selina hums. "The ones with the powdered sugar and honey?" 

You scoff. "You ever know me to make 'em any different?" 

She chuckles longingly. "You right, you right. Why mess with a perfect formula and all that." 

When the laughter dies down you assume its the end of it and go back to stargazing. Selina isn't finished though. 

"It looks good on you. That shirt." 

It's hardly a shirt. More like a bandeau with mesh sleeves. It's making you cold even. You lay back on your jacket and feel the tickle of the fur lining the hood. You wish you could stay here forever, with Selina and pretend like all that other shit doesn't bother you more than you let on. 

Speaking of the devil, she leans over you with a mischievous look. You glare at her but can't decipher right away what's so funny. 

"Can I help you?" 

Selina holds up a white candle with wax melting down the sides. "$2000 says you won't let me draw a rose on your skin with this." 

You open your mouth in shock. "You're nuts. You're an insane person and I know for a fact you do not have $2000." 

"Pussy," Selina teases. "I'm good for it. Have a stash at my old man's place, brick in the wall. Come on…" 

Fuck it. What do you have to lose? You'll hardly get third degree burns from candle wax. "You better be good for it. Good at it." 

Selina chuckles evilly and tips the candle over the holder to get rid of the excess before using it. Now that you're in it you're not sure– 

"Hsssss!" You bite your lip to hold in the HOLYFUCKINGMOTHEROFJOSEPHTHATSFUCKINGHOT that wants to burst forth from your chest like a xenomorph. 

She knows it too and smiles like the cat that got the cream. "You tapping out?" 

"Better be a rose, you bitch," you grunt and brace your hands against the seam of your jeans. 

Selina continues to drip candle wax on your chest, just between your collarbone and along the top of your breast. It fucking burns, you can feel her trying to spiral it in an outward pattern growing larger and large. She sits on your lap for a better position and you unconsciously settle your hands on her hips. 

"You're doing so well," she praises, "almost there… feel free to choke at any point." 

"Fuck you." 

You win. You know you've won when she gives up and admires her handy work. "Got a mirror?" 

Selina takes out her phone and takes a picture instead. It is immediately made her lockscreen, which replaces her previous lockscreen of you drunk dancing on a minigolf court in a tutu and leather jacket. You take a look at the wax art and… "Nice fucking job, Michaelangelo, it's a blob." 

"Hey! It's a rose!," she pouts. 

"It's a shit rose!" 

"Fuck you–" 

"No fuck you– " you were laughing and tickling her sides when she leaned down and kissed you. 

Selina sits back up slowly and gives you a calculated look to see if she just fucked up but you can't bring yourself to mind anymore. 

"No more rich idiot boyfriends," you tell her. "Let's just steal cars and paintings, ok?" 

Selina nods. "Deal. Hey you know I have some safe candle wax in my room... it burns at a lower temperature and we can out it anywhere..."

[ofmermaidstories]

when my mom was young she often used men's perfume, and Something's mc gives me that vibe too! Some perfumes today are marketed as unisex (as it should because honestly giving smells a Gender is dumb) but she gives me the feel that she will just go for it if she likes it regardless of who's the target demographic.

your mum sounds so cool. 😩 like she knows what she likes. 🥺 gendering scents is such a marketing scam LOL, but i guess it’s one that brings in the dollars, because it’s still going strong. 😔🔫 I tend to be REALLY picky with my fragrances — when i was younger (like, a teenager) i made the mistake of buying into the Flowerbomb hype and guh. Never again — I still get war flashbacks whenever someone walks past with it on. It’s so bad that I entered my friend’s bathroom, stopped dead and was like, “you’ve bought Flowerbomb haven’t you?” and she HAD. Ultimate betrayal. But all that to say that I’ve def. been a shopper that’s like, “oh, this is classified as girly so of course I’ll like it!” and then… just haven’t, LOL. I think, the only heavily marketed “feminine” perfumes I’ve had, that I liked, were… Ralph Lauren’s Romance and Miss Dior Cherie. Oh God, the ads for Miss Dior Cherie? Chef’s kiss, peak early Tumblr. I was OBSESSED with the one of the model holding all the balloons.

Kudos to the marketing team behind that one because they really had dumb little Francophile bitches like me frothing at the mouth for the chance to smell like what was basically just really sweet caramel, LOL.

So much about perfume is like, dependant on how your skin reacts to it; how it’ll settle down and change. it’s so silly to divide perfumes by male/female — at that stage, you’re just selling a fantasy. which, hey, capitalism I guess. and i am very guilty of buying something for the the idea of a fantasy — but this is all the more reason to explore scents and pick ones you like, regardless of who it’s bottled for!! Scent is so evocative: if I smell anything that even slightly resembles Miss Dior Cherie it takes me back to those days when I’d wear it, to specific memories. Like — I’m on a dark beach and the sand is cold and I’m wearing the jacket of the boy I love, watching the back of his shirt ripple with the wind — and when I breathe in, the sweetness of my perfume cuts through the briny rot of the shore.

I think Something’s Reader would be a little less stupid with how they pick their perfumes (lmao), and more effortless — like your mum. Reader is Christmas shopping and ends up uncapping bottles in the men’s section — the bottles come in cool blues, or dark, heavy glass and smell minty; or warm, like ground spices. There’s an ad looming at the end of the shelves, that’s also all over the city’s bus stops — some serious-looking model in a wet button-up, with a jawline that could cut steel. Reader sprays the perfume it’s for and in the dry down finds they like how it sits on their skin; it smells good. Reader smells good, and when they buy a bottle, the sales clerk smiles. “Whatever you’re wearing today smells amazing,” He says, useless in that he can’t even recognise the product he’s selling.

Enyo comments on it, the next time he and Reader meet up, going over the latest Swan-Hime chapters. “Your perfume’s really nice, Bub.”

And Deku —

Your perfume is as much of a uniform, now, as your attitude is: you barely notice it. But Deku has — that first time, in the bookshop, curled over you like the shelves might come down. The second time outside, under the sunshine as you shared your convenience store lunch of curry buns and beer. And then lingering together over your “meetings” in cafes, pizzerias, early-morning breakfasts. Deku leans forward, laughing along with you at one of his stories — just stutter to a stop as he recognises the headiness of what you’re wearing, indadvertedly breathing it in.

You notice he’s stopped laughing, and nudge his foot with your own, under the table.

“What’s up, big guy?” You ask.

The two of you are hidden, in this corner — a tiny table, sticky under your hands, the menus discarded. It’s one of Deku’s favourite places to be fed, the Katsudon only second to his mother’s, to Kacchan’s —

You’re watching him curiously, waiting for him. Deku parts his lips to say something — anything — and instead shakes his head.

“I’m fine!” He says. “I’m fine.”

You lean forward across the table — your perfume between you like a momentary ghost. Deku wants to reach out, catch it; hold it. Instead you drum your nails by his hands the rhythm thrumming through his blood, on beat.

“You liar,” You accuse, playful, helping yourself to his straw.

Deku thinks about how he’ll go to bed later — to his own sheets, which will smell like his detergent and his sweat — and be able to only think of one thing, this one moment: you glancing up at him, waiting, your smile curved like a challenge —

Deku’s fingers curling into his palm, like he could reach out and catch your perfume like a small, lost creature. Hold it. Keep it with him, for as long as it would stay.

[wonder-womans-ex]

One Word Answer

Luke won’t even try to deny it—he’s fighting back tears as he pushes the screen door open. The house is so silent he thinks it might be empty, and, quite honestly, that’s probably for the best. If he tries to talk to anyone right now, he actually is going to start crying. 

All he wants is to curl up on the Lupins’ sofa and think about whatever the fuck it was he did wrong; whatever he did to deserve this. 

But he has no such luck. 

The instant he enters the living room, he’s met by an onslaught of noise. There are streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the smiling faces of his friends—James, Remus, Sirius, Logan, Leo, Finn; he even thinks he might see Lily in the corner—are there to greet him. Remus approaches first, and presses a glass of champagne into his hands. 

He passes it right back, and the noise stills, and Remus’s face falls slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Obviously something’s wrong.” 

Luke sighs. “Just forget it.”

“What?”

“Forget it. Forget this.” He gestures around them, at the people, the decorations, the alcohol. “There’s no point.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Isn’t Remus supposed to be the smart one? Is he really going to make Luke say it? “He said no, Remus.”

If the room was quiet before, now it’s unbelievably so; painfully so. “He said no,” he says again, this time more to himself. 

He barely feels himself slump against the doorframe, sliding down to the floor with a slight thump. His head falls to the side, and he squeezes his eyes closed in one final attempt to stop the tears. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, though it feels, in a way, like he’s dreaming; he hears Remus’s voice, determined and far, far too loud: “Okay, everyone out. He needs… he needs.”

There follows the all-encompassing silence of a party ended too soon. Footsteps pass by him, going out into the hall, but Luke doesn’t have the energy to try to put gaits to faces and faces to names. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything but sit there and feel the uncomfortable warmth of his tears spill from his eyes and trail down his cheeks. 

“I’ll go,” he hears Sirius say, once there’s no one left but the three of them, “and talk to…” he trails off, perhaps not saying the name for fear of it killing Luke just a little more inside, but it does nothing to help. All he can think of is hazel eyes and blond curls and gold, gold, gold. 

And then it’s just them there: Luke, who needs to be comforted, and Remus, who hasn’t had to comfort him in so long that he’s forgotten how to—or maybe he never knew at all. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. 

“Don’t be.”

For the first time since it happened, Luke opens his fist. He opens his eyes, too, and he stares at the glint of metal. He bought the ring so long ago; he spent hours deliberating, trying to find the perfect one, and now it seems it doesn’t matter after all. 

“He said no,” he whispers again, and this time it feels, even to him, like he’s just trying to convince himself of that. He looks up, meeting Remus’s gaze, and he brings his knees up to his chest, curling himself into a ball, into a defense mechanism, and buries his face in his hands. “I love him.”

“I know.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t know!” This—this anger isn’t like him. Or, well, it is like him—it’s how he was before the treasure, when they were just Gods and Hollows. It’s how he was before Saint. 

He feels one of Remus’s hands grasp his, and he thinks of all the times they tried so hard to be in love. For years, they thought that it had to be each other; that they would never have anyone else. But it never worked out, because Remus needed Sirius—brave, easy Sirius—and Luke needed Saint. 

Saint who was harsh like ice and warm like sunlight. Saint who loved like he fought. 

Saint who said no. 

Gently, Remus pries the ring out of his hand. He hears the click as it’s set down on the floor beside them, and he lets himself be enveloped in the arms of the boy who was his only friend in the world for so very long. 

*

The apartment is empty when Luke gets back. The lights are off; the door is locked; Saint’s wallet is still on the counter here he left it. He wonders where Saint is. He wonders if Saint is going to come back. 

He wonders whether he wants him to. 

Well, that’s not quite right. Of course he wants Saint to come back. What he’s not so sure about is whether he wants Saint to acknowledge any of this. 

He’s been hurt in a way he didn’t know he could be hurt. He has his defenses—he always has—and he took them down for the boy who was somehow both wild dreams and harsh reality all at once. For the first time in his life, he saw he was falling in love, and he let himself. He had no idea that that love would ever—could ever—destroy him in the way it is now. 

Saint loves him. Luke knows this. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have pretended to, because while Saint is a good liar, he is not a happy one. He’s lived far too much of his life surrounded by half-truths, and he would never willingly do something that would hurt himself. 

Hurting other people, yes. But Saint is not self-destructive. He’s just reckless. 

Luke sets his keys down on the coffee table. He stares at the sofa—the sofa he and Saint bought together—and he clenches his jaw. His fist flies, practically of its own accord, into one of the couch cushions, and he feels his anger hit boiling point. 

Just as quickly, it cools. 

He’s not so much mad at Saint as he is mad at himself for wanting to be mad at Saint. He’s always known himself to be a paradox, and now, here, in the semi-darkness of the place he calls home, he finally understands that now is no exception. 

When he enters the bedroom, he reaches out blindly with one hand for the light switch. To an outsider, it would seem like nothing has changed at all, but in reality, Luke’s entire world has been flipped on its head. It feels like it, anyway. 

He goes through the motions. He brushes his teeth; he changes into his pajamas; but all the while he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice. 

Climbing into bed and smelling the briny tang of salt water that Saint always carries with him is what finally tips him off the edge. He becomes lost in the memory of this afternoon, and it’s like Crucio all over again; he’s drowning in the past and the present and the future—

“Do you recognize this place?” Luke asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Of course.” 

The sun shines off Saint’s hair, bright and beautiful, and Luke tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It’s natural—they’ve said it a hundred thousand times by now, and, as Luke squeezes the ring he’s holding, he hopes beyond hope they’ll be able to say it a hundred thousand more. 

“Saint?” 

When Saint turns around, his eyes go wide. Luke tries to keep his balance—his jeans are already damp at the knee from the still-dewy grass, and the faint warmth of the noonday sun does nothing to calm his nerves. His breath shakes; he almost drops the ring as he holds it out. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to smile. Inhale, exhale, he tells himself, and starts over again. 

“I think you know why I’ve brought you here, but I’m going to say it anyway. 

“This place, right here, is where we were when I finally fell in love with you. Sure, I’d been falling for a long time, but it was here that I hit rock bottom and realized I wanted to stay there.” 

Saint must know where this is going. There’s no way he doesn’t. But his expression is unreadable, and Luke has to force himself to look away in order to keep going. 

“I love you, Saint. I have for so long it scares me to think about and I will for the rest of time. You mean the world to me—I hope you know that. You are, without a doubt, my everything, and I want more than anything for you to remain my everything forever. 

“You’ve spent years without a last name that truly feels like home. What I’m offering now, what I’m laying my heart bear in the hopes of, is that you can take mine. Will you—” he swallows, finally focusing his gaze; finally meeting Saint’s eyes, “—will you marry me?”

It’s like time has forgotten where it was going before—or perhaps even that it was ever going anywhere at all. Luke waits, biting his lip and trying not to smile, for an answer.

Saint turns his head away; he’s looking at something in the distance. His fingers are twitching ever so slightly at his side, and Luke’s heart falters. 

“I’m sorry,” whispers Saint, still looking away, and Luke doesn’t need to hear any more. It’s as if someone has taken an axe to the very fibre of his being; his dreams of the future are being chipped away at in front of his very eyes. 

Luke clears his throat. “Right.” He stands up, and his leg hurts like a bitch from kneeling, but he won’t say anything. The last thing he can do right now is show weakness. The last thing he can do is prove to Saint that he, Luke Deveaux, isn’t worth it. 

“Wait,” Saint calls after him when he turns to go, but Luke isn’t listening. Of course Saint has his excuses, and, knowing Saint, they’re probably damn good ones, too, but he doesn’t want to hear them. Not now, when the chasm down the centre of his heart is still fresh and bleeding. Not now, when it hurts to take even a single step away from the man he loves, but he has to anyway. 

Maybe not ever. 

Luke isn’t asleep. He’s caught in the half-place—the place you go when you’re not there, not yet, but you aren’t quite here, either. So he feels the mattress dip beside him, and he feels the breath on the back of his neck, and he feels the hand curl protectively over his waist. He hears Saint say “I’m sorry,” in that quiet, desperately painful voice he has. 

“You’re not,” he says into the silence, and he waits. 

“I am,” Saint tells him. “I really am. I’m sorry I can’t want that. I’m sorry I can’t be that. I’m sorry I’m not enough.”

The last part is raw and full of emotion, and it would kill Luke completely if he was to say anything but “You are enough.”

“Not for you, I’m not.”

He still doesn’t turn over to face Saint—he’s not ready for that—but he lets himself relax slightly into his arms. “You are. You’re enough. You’re more than enough. Sometimes—sometimes I think you might be a little too much, actually.”

Saint’s other hand slots quietly over his. It makes his breath catch in his throat, but he can feel, in the thrum, the ever-constant ebb and flow of Saint’s very being, that it makes all of this so much easier. 

“What I wanted to say,” Saint starts—tentatively, as if he’s scared that at any moment Luke is going to decide he doesn’t want to hear it—“earlier today, is that I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted that. I’ve never wanted a wedding and a certificate and a house and a family and honey, I’m home. That’s… that’s not for me. 

“The way I see it, marriage is an anchor. It’s there to make sure you never stray. It’s a choice you make once, and it’s a choice that stays with you forever.”

Exactly, Luke thinks, but he says nothing. 

“What I want—what I’ve always wanted, I just never thought it was within any realm of possibility until I fell in love with you—is a hundred choices. I want freedom in the fact that there isn’t really freedom at all. I want two boats, floating freely, that always find their way back to each other. I want to wake up next to you every morning knowing that I could leave if I wanted to but make the choice not to. 

“And I know that’s not what you want. But I can’t make myself play happy families because the truth of it is that that isn’t me. I’m a wanderer. I want a reason to stay in one place, not a rule to keep me there. I’m sorry.” 

He can feel Saint’s mouth moving against the place where his spine meets the cords of his neck. He can feel Saint’s tears, but it’s okay, because he’s crying, too. 

“No.” His voice is far too loud for the weighted silence of the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried to make you choose between yourself and me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that I don’t want marriage; I want you. I want you in your entirety; I want you in your all-encompassing happiness. That’s all I want. I want what you can give me—nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, Luke turns over onto his back. Saint immediately tucks his face into the space between Luke’s shoulder and neck, and this, this feels right. 

“I love you,” Saint whispers. “I’ll always love you.”

“And I you.”

Saint laughs, a quiet noise that sounds like it’s half sob, as well. “And I tried to want that. I really did. At the wedding, I looked at you in that suit and I tried so hard to imagine if that was, well, us.”

“But you couldn’t.” As he says it, Luke presses a kiss to the crown of Saint’s head—the curls tickle his nose, and he closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself just be. 

“I couldn’t. And I thought that was okay, because I never even considered that you could love me enough to… to want that with me.”

Luke pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow and creating enough space between them for him to look Saint in the eyes. They haven’t properly looked at each other since this afternoon, but that particular shade of hazel is all Luke has been able to think about. “It has nothing to do with how much I want you,” he says, and then he realizes how that sounds. “Or, rather, it is no indicator of how much I want you. It’s like you said—marriage is like an anchor. Sure, I haven’t always wanted that anchor, but that doesn’t change the fact that, anchor or no, I’ve always known, somewhere, that I’ll never let us drift apart.”

There are a few moments where they simply stare at each other. Luke runs his tongue along the edges of his teeth, pressing it into the sharpness of his canines just to feel something. Then Saint smiles that half-smile of his—the one he only ever wears when he and Luke are alone—and reaches up to cup Luke’s cheek in his palm. 

“Fucking hell, Tweedle,” he says, in a soft, gentle voice that doesn’t at all match the words coming out of his mouth, “that might be the sappiest shit I’ve ever heard you say.” 

Luke rolls his eyes and grins. He leans down, brushing his mouth against Saint’s. Their lips are barely touching, but, even so, Luke feels himself smile into the kiss. He’s at home here. 

“You know,” Saint says later, when they’re simply lying in the dark, Luke’s head resting on Saint’s chest and one of Saint’s fingers tracing circles in Luke’s back, “there is one downside to the whole ‘not getting married’ plan.”

Luke wonders if he’s walking into a trap. “What’s that?”

“The last name thing.” 

“Mm hmm.” Luke yawns. “Saint Deveaux does have a nice ring to it.”

“That it does.”

There’s another minute or two of comfortable silence, before Luke speaks up again. “And the second thing?”

“The second—oh.” Saint waits half a second before, “No divorce jokes.”

Luke laughs despite himself, relishing in the way Saint’s chest moves as he laughs, too. Saint, he knows now, is his choice. Saint is everything. Saint is home.

Saint is forever. 

characters are by the incredible @lumosinlove

thanks to @im-oknutzy-trash for betaing

[wherevermyway]

you taste flamin’ hot | hyunsung | smut

pairing: han jisung x hwang hyunjin rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: explicit sexual content, awkward sexual situations, alcohol, public sex, food kink, deradation, watersports, dacryphilia. word count: 6,346 also on AO3!

originally published: 12 october 2020

Hyunjin and Jisung have no idea why they're roommates, or even friends. They're the polar opposite of each other: Hyunjin was well-pampered and high class, his platinum blond hair always well maintained, he was always draped in nice, bright, tasteful designer clothing; Jisung, however, was the exact opposite. Jisung would buy the cheapest, darkest shade of boxed black hair dye and hastily slather his hair in it, missing big patches and splattering viscous ink everywhere. He only wore black, sometimes with red accents, and would cake on eyeliner like there was no tomorrow.

Hyunjin was neat, well kept and groomed, and was a picky eater. Jisung was a sloppy mess, and practically lived off of iced americanos and spicy Cheetos. Hyunjin was a quiet, reserved drunk. Jisung was a sloppy, flirty drunk.

When they get drunk at a party one night, they finally realize that they were friends for one glaringly obvious reason: they were both incredibly sexually compatible, and Hyunjin finally had a good excuse to get messy.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

Crunching. That was the only thing that Hyunjin could hear as the younger man in his lap snacked on those toxic waste-like Cheetos that Jisung loved so much. They smelled briny and, not surprisingly, like they were laden with salt. Hyunjin could never understand why Jisung liked those stupid, messy, disgusting snacks so much. There was no nutritional value to them, they were overpowering, and they got absolutely fucking everywhere.

The residual red flakes from the spicy Cheetos bag stood out like a bright red highlighter on Jisung’s fingers. It didn’t bother the younger man, but it bothered Hyunjin. “Would you please go clean your disgusting fingers? Stop getting all of that shit on me.” He stared down at the bright, neon red dust and scowled.

Jisung cocked his head to the side, looking up to his senior in confusion, before he looked down to his own fingertips. “Ah, whoops,” he muttered before sticking his fingers in his mouth, rolling them around before grating the residual coating off of them with his teeth. “My bad, dude.” He immediately went back to scrolling and swiping around inanely on his phone, leaving oily, smudgy streaks on the screen.

Hyunjin groans, rolling his head into the back of the couch. “No,” he mutters, reaching down to Jisung’s phone, plucking it from his fingers and taking it away from him. “I mean, go actually wash your nasty fingers.”

“No,” Jisung mumbles, reaching up to grab his phone from Hyunjin, rolling his head in the lap of his senior. “I’ll do it later. It’s just not important now. I’m in the middle of my manga.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and groans. “You’re disgusting,” he says a bit louder than he intended.

“So what?” Jisung mockingly groans back, pressing the back of his head into the thigh of his senior.

“You’re disgusting,” Hyunjin repeated with emphasis, rolling his head back. “I don’t know how someone like you, so outwardly concerned about your cool guy aesthetic, is fine with being so gross.”

Jisung rolls his head back a bit, looking up to his senior. “It’s not hurting anyone, is it? Then what does it matter? Besides, I’m not that gross.”

Hyunjin sighs, sticking his hand underneath Jisung’s back and lifting him off of his lap. “Fuck you,” he grumbles as he stands up, brushing neon red crumbs off of his nice clothing. “I’m gonna have to get this shit dry-cleaned. I should make you pay for it.”

“Make me.” Jisung flopped back down on the couch, right back to the warm spot was from where Hyunjin was sitting. Without skipping a beat, he went right back to scrolling through his phone. “You wouldn’t have signed the lease with me if you were really that disgusted by me, and you know that.”

A frustrated groan erupts from the blond as he spins on his heel and storms off into his room, slamming the door behind him. He knew that Jisung was right, but he would rather walk on hot coals than admit that.

“Are you ready yet?” Jisung shouts into Hyunjin’s door. “You prissy bitch, I know you look fine. Stop fussing over your stupid hair and let’s go. I don’t wanna be late for the party.”

Hyunjin’s door flies open, and he scowls down at the black-haired man in front of him. “Like you’ve never spent hours in front of the mirror, trying to perfect your stupid eyeliner and get your bad boy look down. Sue me for wanting to look good.” He unironically flips his shoulder-length blond hair, almost as if he was punctuating his statement with sass. “Everyone’s going to be looking at me, anyways.”

The pair was an interesting duality. Jisung only wore black, would wear thick layers of eyeliner, and dyed his dark brunette hair deliberately darker: the cheapest, darkest box of black dye he could find. Hyunjin was the exact opposite: he wore only designer brands in bright colours alongside shades of cream and off-white. His hair was platinum blonde, well maintained with his monthly appointments, and had weekly manicures and facial appointments.

How the two of them got along as friends was beyond them. They shared virtually no similar interests, they butted heads all the time, and they were constantly yelling insults at each other. The thought of their sexual compatibility did cross Hyunjin’s mind several times, though. Especially on the nights when they would go out and party together. Jisung was a touchy-feely drunk, loud and experimental, and Hyunjin was quiet, loving all of the attention he got from him for it. They would recklessly flirt when they got drunk, but nothing ever came from it, because they still managed to be awkward cowards, even while hammered.

“Shall we?” Hyunjin sarcastically coos as he lightly shoves Jisung’s shoulder, pushing him out of the way.

//

The party, not surprisingly, was uneventful. Jisung forgot to eat something between the Cheetos incident and the start of the party, so he got drunk really quickly. About two hours in, he started doing body shots off of a couple of decent-looking guys, Felix and Chan. Hyunjin sipped on his vodka soda in the corner, enjoying his light buzz as he watched his friend be the sloppy drunk he always was.

“Jinnie!” The black-haired man called out to him, waving him over to the kitchen table he was sitting on. “C’mere, c’mere!”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and slowly made his way over to Jisung. “What?”

Jisung hastily grabs the empty shot glass from earlier and the bottle of vodka next to him. He lays on his back, balancing it on his sternum as he tries to open the bottle without knocking it off of him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to take a shot off of me,” Jisung frowns up at the man as the glass falls and he attempts to stand it up one more time.

“You’re an idiot.” Hyunjin snaps at him, grabbing the bottle from Jisung. The younger man pouts, until Hyunjin grabs the glass off of him, placing it down on the table. He pulls up Jisung’s skin-tight black shirt enough to reveal his abdomen, causing the black-haired man to gasp and flush. “You take a real body shot off of skin.” Hyunjin unscrews the cap off of the bottle of vodka, then pours some of the liquid into Jisung’s belly button.

“That’s cold!” Jisung cries out, his abdomen flexing in response.

“Suck it up.” Hyunjin doesn’t say anything else as he leans down, feeling the warm heat radiating off of Jisung’s skin as he’s maybe a couple of centimetres away from his flesh. He flits his eyes up, making eye contact with a very confused Jisung. Hyunjin bites back a smirk, deliberately not breaking eye contact as he brings his lips to the rapidly warming liquid on the soft skin beneath him. He sucks up the liquid, wincing as the cheap vodka burns his throat as it goes down.

The look on Jisung’s face is priceless, but it’s made better as Hyunjin sticks out his tongue, rolling the tip of it around the bottom of Jisung’s navel, then around all of where the vodka touched his abdomen. “Oh my god,” Jisung drawls out the last syllable as he rolls his head back, letting it collide on the table with a soft thud. Hyunjin smirks to himself, knowing that was a good reaction he just got out of the younger man.

“That’s how you do a body shot.” The smirk on Hyunjin’s face causes a confused look to pass across Jisung’s face. Hyunjin knew he was finally going to fuck the life out of him tonight, and he was beside himself with excitement, thinking of making the man cry as he choked on his dick.

“We should go home,” Jisung breathes out, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

“Party’s just started.” Hyunjin smirks and takes a long swig of vodka directly from the bottle. Looks like his plan was paying off. “You sure you wanna abandon all of your friends so early in the night?”

Jisung sits up, wobbling a bit. He takes a second to reorient himself, then looks up at Hyunjin with a serious look in his eyes. “They’ll be fine. That’s not what I care about.”

“What do you want?”

“After that body shot?” Jisung bites his lip back and looks away for a moment, before looking back up to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. “You.”

//

“I like the way those chains slap against your ass, Sungie.” Hyunjin says, eyes trained on the back of the smaller man in front of him, entranced by the way the flimsy metal danced around his waist.

Jisung spun around and pouted at Hyunjin. “Stop looking at me like a piece of meat, Jin.” He attempts to walk backwards, but isn’t quite coordinated to pull it off drunkenly in knee-high platform boots. Jisung’s foot catches the sidewalk awkwardly, and he throws his hands in the air, waving them around to balance himself.

Hyunjin takes a long step forward, moving in to catch Jisung before he was able to tumble to the ground. The two of them make uncomfortable eye contact, and stare at each other for a beat too long. Hyunjin, without any tact, slips his hand down from the small of Jisung’s back, sliding his hand down under the chains draped from his hips, and grabs a fistful of the younger man’s ass.

Jisung lets out a whiny gasp as the firm hand makes contact with him. “Hyunjin,” he whispers in a panic, “we’re in public, what are you doing?”

“Letting people know what’s gonna be mine tonight.” The blond smirks, helping the younger man stand up. “C’mon, let’s go to GS25. I have an idea.”

Jisung’s face is a deep shade of crimson as his senior lets go of his waist and walks off without him.

//

The two men walk through GS25, and Jisung is about to dart off to grab a bottled americano from the cooler, but Hyunjin grabs his hand and yanks him towards the back. “What are you doing?”

“My parents own this one. It’s fine.” Hyunjin quips, still not answering Jisung’s question. He pauses in front of the staff washroom door for just a moment. “Wait here.”

“What? Why?” Jisung pleads, but Hyunjin darts off into a back room for just a moment. Jisung fiddles with his hands while he waits, clearly looking nervous as he waits for Hyunjin to come back.

Hyunjin comes back out of the door, holding a key between his fingers. He says nothing, just slides the key in the lock, opening the door and pulling Jisung in by the wrist. “Be quiet. My parents may own this place,” he locks the door behind him, then pins Jisung up against the wall, “but I don’t wanna get in legal trouble. Because I’m gonna wreck your fucking night and make a mess out of you, embarrass you so badly as we walk home. You cool with that?”

Jisung sputters incoherently, then nods his head nervously.

“No,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, “use your words. I need to know you’re fine with the shit I’m about to do to you. I know you’re not into vanilla shit after that stint you had with Seungmin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung grips at Hyunjin’s hips and he pleads with wide eyes.

“Good. Colours?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I wanna make you fucking cry.” Hyunjin presses his lips against his junior’s, jamming his tongue in between his parted lips. Jisung ruts his hips against Hyunjin’s, aimlessly letting his hands wander up against his cream coloured, silken shirt. The blond reaches down to his belt, undoing it and unzipping his pants. “Get on your knees.”

Jisung does as he’s told, bringing his face up close to Hyunjin’s crotch.

“I’m not gonna hold back unless you tell me to stop. Slap my wrist or my hips if it’s too much.”

Again, Jisung nods, which earns a glare from his senior. “Yeah, sure, I will.”

“Good boy.” Hyunjin coos, then pulls his cock out of his pants. He takes Jisung’s jaw into one of his hands. “Open.” Once Jisung’s opened his mouth, Hyunjin aims his cock into the younger man’s mouth, allowing him to run is tongue over him, warming up to the taste and the sensation of him.

It only lasts for a minute. Hyunjin roughly positions Jisung’s jaw right where he wants him, then takes his hand and slides it to the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly between his fingers. He slowly pushes his hips in, until he’s completely inside of Jisung’s mouth, rubbing up against the back of his throat.

Jisung’s eyes widen in panic for a moment, but then his eyelids flutter in excitement. Hyunjin takes this as an invitation to continue, pulling back and preparing himself to fuck his junior’s face like nothing more than a sex toy. “I’m not gonna stop until you cry.” Hyunjin says, then thrusts harshly into Jisung’s throat.

The younger man lets out a stifled moan, surprised as to how much Hyunjin filled his mouth. He reaches his hands up to Hyunjin’s hips and saliva comes sputtering up from his mouth as Hyunjin relentlessly continues to aggressively pound the back of his throat. It felt so good, but it hurt and he felt the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Gonna ruin that pretty face of yours,” Hyunjin pants, tugging on Jisung’s black hair a bit harder, with purpose. “Look at you, getting your face fucked in a disgusting public bathroom. I bet you love this kind of shit with how nasty you are, don’t you?”

Jisung lets out a choked affirmation, and starts to feel the tears spill from his eyes. He was secretly thankful they both had a little too much to drink, because his gag reflex had completely disappeared. He looked up at Hyunjin, meeting his eyes for just a moment before he closes them. Hyunjin grips his hair even tighter and thrusts more aggressively.

The tears start pouring, now. They weren’t tears of sadness or pain, they were tears of pure enjoyment. Jisung loved to be used like this, to be rendered as nothing more than a way to please someone. The way that Hyunjin’s cock felt in his mouth was enough to make him uncomfortably hard.

Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, relinquishing Jisung’s hair from his hands. “Don’t touch your face,” he pants out, then slips his dick back into his pants.

Jisung blinks rapidly, his moment ruined. “What? You’re not gonna come?”

“That’s for later.” Hyunjin pulls out his phone and aims it at Jisung. “Gimme a slutty face, I want a photo so I can show you how pathetic you look, and just for personal reference later.”

“Okay,” Jisung bats his eyelashes and offers a peace sign with his fingers, opening his mouth wide and sticking his tongue out.

“Beautiful, I love it.” Hyunjin stares longingly at his phone for a moment, before turning it to face Jisung. He captures a glimpse of the photo, his perfectly applied eyeliner now ruined, streaking down his face haphazardly and completely fucked up. Jisung subconsciously goes to wipe his face, but Hyunjin swats his hands away.

“Stay like that until we get home.” His voice is cold, calculated. “Don’t rub it off or try to make yourself pretty, my disgusting little Sungie. I want the strangers we walk by to know how much of a dirty slut you are for me.”

They take a moment to compose themselves, then walk through the GS25. Hyunjin doesn’t bother with returning the key, just leaving it in the door. He grabbed Jisung’s hand, interlacing his fingers together. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

“I’ve done worse,” Jisung quips. “This might be the most obvious ‘my-throat-just-got-fucked’ look I’ve ever had, though.”

Hyunjin laughs, leading him to the cooler. “Grab your stupid americano. I’m gonna grab something for us while we’re here.”

Jisung cocks his head as Hyunjin walks over towards the bagged snacks, but doesn’t question it. He doesn’t question it until he’s got his americano in hand and they are at the counter together, and Hyunjin tosses a bag of spicy Cheetos onto the counter. Jisung looks wildly at Hyunjin as the clerk gives them both a horrified look.

“What?” Hyunjin says to both of them. “Boyfriend had a rough day, just making it better.”

//

They get home maybe ten minutes later, earning some choice looks from passersby on the street as they walked down the sidewalk, Hyunjin’s hand down Jisung’s tight back pocket. He was wearing women’s pants, he figured, with the way they hugged his hips and his ass, and he loved it.

Hyunjin unlocks the door, letting Jisung walk through first. Jisung spins on his heel in confusion, but Hyunjin just tosses the bag of Cheetos to the younger man, then bends down to untie the intricate weaving of Jisung’s knee-high boots. “Shut up and eat them. Get that stupid red shit all over your fingers.”

Jisung’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, and he makes some sort of unintelligible noise.

“Shut up and eat your toxic waste-looking shit.” Hyunjin doesn’t bother looking up as he undoes the lacing in the first platform shoe, then moves to the next one. Jisung opens the bag, shaking his head in disbelief. He wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity for a post-drink snack, especially if it was his favourite thing and if it wasn’t going to bother Hyunjin.

Hyunjin holds the boots down, and looks up at Jisung. “Get out of these.” Jisung steps out, as requested, and Hyunjin tosses the shoes carelessly to the side before undoing his shoes. “I can’t believe you actually walked around in public with makeup streaked down your face.” He scoffs, sliding his shoes off and neatly tucking them onto the rack by the entrance. He stands fully upright and gets directly in front of Jisung, centimetres away from his face, pushing him up against the wall next to the kitchen. “You really liked it, didn’t you?”

Jisung nods twice, a single Cheeto halfway in his mouth as he stares up in confusion at Hyunjin. “I didn’t tell you to stop eating.” Hyunjin gently pushes the snack into his mouth, as daintily as possible, with a single finger. He scowls at the residual dust on his finger, then grabs a fistful of the briny, neon red sticks from the bag. “Open.” He commands, and Jisung obeys.

Hyunjin takes his free hand and tilts Jisung’s chin up, then firmly grips his jaw and holds his mouth open. He drops a few of the snacks into his mouth, letting the younger man chew them and swallow, looking up at Hyunjin with big, pleading eyes. Jisung opens his mouth again, and Hyunjin deposits the last of the snacks into Jisung’s mouth.

Hyunjin snatches the bag from Jisung, putting it down on the kitchen counter, then grabs the bottle of coffee. “Don’t clean your fingers off yet. I want you to get that shit everywhere in a minute.” He says, passing the drink to his junior, who accepts it, opening it and taking a few hasty swallows. Jisung is barely able to take his lips off of the bottle before Hyunjin is pressing his lips up against him.

Jisung practically chokes on the americano, some of the drink leaking from his lips, sputtering on to Hyunjin’s face as he barely swallows most of the cold liquid. More spills as Hyunjin assertively jams his tongue into Jisung’s mouth, spilling down his chin, spilling down Hyunjin’s chin. They were making an absolute mess out of each other and it was so wrong, but it strangely felt incredible to ruin each other.

The two of them continue to kiss for a few moments, then Hyunjin pulls away, looking down at his hand. “You know,” he says, “you’re awfully messy, huh?”

Jisung bites his lip, nodding his head in excitement. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna make it worse.” Hyunjin quips, leaning into Jisung’s face. He takes his tongue and drags it up the side of his junior’s cheek, repeating this a couple of times, then he takes his reddened, crusty hand and pushes it into Jisung’s cheek. He leaves a red, greasy mess tangled up in the streaks of black eyeliner on Jisung’s face.

“You look so filthy.” Hyunjin’s voice is breathy and layered with excitement as he stares down at Jisung with wide eyes. “I’m gonna take a photo of this, too.” He reaches back into his pocket, hastily snapping a couple of photos without even bothering to show Jisung. “Come on,” he pushes his phone into his back pocket “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Hyunjin steps back, letting Jisung peel himself off of the wall. Jisung takes a couple of steps forward, before he’s stopped by Hyunjin taking a fistful of his hair and pulling him along as they walk towards the washroom. “Ow!” Jisung sharply whines. “Why are you dragging me?”

“You want me to stop?” Hyunjin asks insincerely, continuing to lead the two of them along. “Didn’t hear you tell me a colour.”

Jisung whimpers. “No, I don’t want you to stop, it just surprised me.”

Hyunjin chuckles once as they approach the washroom. He flips the light on, then shoves Jisung in, pushing him into the wall with force. He crashes his lips against his junior, the nauseating taste of coffee, spicy Cheetos, and a little bit of vodka overwhelming his senses. It should distract him, make him not want to kiss Jisung at all, but it strangely drew him in, like a moth to flame.

They continue to roll their tongues around each others’ mouths, as Hyunjin works on getting them undressed. He unbuttons his nice, silky shirt, then tosses it to the side. Jisung unbuttons his pants, chains clattering as his pants and briefs collide to the ground. Hyunjin grabs the hem of the bottom of Jisung’s shirt, hastily pulling it up over his head and discarding it somewhere past his shoulder.

“Get me off,” Hyunjin demands, grabbing Jisung’s hands and bringing them to the button of his pants. “I’m gonna come all over that pretty face of yours. You’ll look so pretty with white, black, and red all over you.”

Jisung fumbles a bit with the button of Hyunjin’s pants, too distracted by the promise his senior made. He eventually undoes the button, pulling the zipper down, then helping Hyunjin shimmy out of his pants. Once they were both fully disrobed, Hyunjin grabbed Jisung by the hair and pushed him down.

“On your knees, where you belong.” His voice is stern, but also dripping in anticipation. “It’s probably not gonna take long with that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around me.” Jisung opened his mouth, presenting his tongue to Hyunjin before he takes his cock into his mouth, unprompted, but Hyunjin doesn’t complain. “Oh, that’s good,” he groans, tilting his head back.

In this moment, Jisung is like the antithesis to Hyunjin. While his senior is rough and direct, he’s more gentle and calm, enjoying taking his time with things that have a good payoff. The two of them together worked a little too well, Jisung managing to tame the wild side of Hyunjin, while Hyunjin brought out the freak in Jisung.

Hyunjin wrapped his fingers in Jisung’s hair, looking down and making eye contact with Jisung as he offered a few tiny licks at the head of his dick. It was cute, he had to admit, but he didn’t want cute, not right now. “Come on,” Hyunjin whined, “don’t be a brat and tease me. You know I’m impatient.”

A devious smirk curled up Jisung’s lips as he pulled back. “Shut up.” He barked back at Hyunjin, dropping his cutesy, quiet demeanour. “Learn how to let go for once in your life. Not everything is about instant gratification, you uptight bitch.” His lips pulled up into a wide grin as he could barely contain his excitement when Hyunjin chewed over the words he spat at him.

“'Uptight bitch'?” Hyunjin tugs Jisung’s hair, pulling his head back. “That’s awfully brash of you. Did you forget that you’re the one that’s covered in filth?”

“Bite me.”

Jisung’s attitude snaps something in Hyunjin. “Fuck you,” he growls as he tugs at Jisung’s stupidly dyed black hair harder, enough to make him squeal, to open his mouth just enough to push his cock in, all the way to the back of his throat. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

The younger man starts to drool uncontrollably as Hyunjin repeatedly, aggressively thrusts his hips back and forth. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to speak that way to me. Gonna fuck your throat so hard, you’re not gonna be able to talk back to me for a week. Change that attitude of yours right quick.”

It felt good, probably the best oral he’d ever received. The people Hyunjin had been with before were usually never this experimental. He’d never felt comfortable enough to ask someone if he could ruin them in such a way. He loved taking beautiful things and destroying them; it was something he was never able to do, being forced to be such a pristine example of high-class lifestyle for his entire life.

Jisung looked up at Hyunjin with wet, teary eyes, more black streaks being painted on his face. To anyone else, it may have looked like he was truly unhappy, but the way that his pupils were blown wide open, his eyes were half closed, and the way that his dick twitched with every thrust was enough to drive Hyunjin mad.

The blond pulled his cock out of the black-haired man’s mouth, letting go of his hair, moving his hand down to his chin as he firmly held it upright. He stroked his cock feverishly as the two of them made eye contact. Jisung closed his eyes, knowing what was coming, and he opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out to catch any stray cum that would stream down his face.

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin pants as he removes his hand from Jisung’s chin, slamming his hand on the wall, his cum splashing onto his junior’s face. “Fuck your stupid face. Fuck your attitude.” He gasps in between statements, stroking the last bits of cum onto Jisung’s tongue.

Hyunjin took in the way that Jisung looked, and it took his breath away. Jisung was an absolute mess. Jisung blinked one of his eyes open a couple of times, looking up at Hyunjin. His face was covered in sloppy, patchy streaks of eyeliner, there was still some oily red flakes on his face, and now, there was cum dripping down from his forehead, rolling down his nose and eyebrows, down to his cheeks, some hanging from his lips.

That’s when Hyunjin gets an idea. He reaches down to grab his phone out of his pants, taking a couple photos. “You look so wonderful like this, a masterpiece with the last strokes of paint on you.” He tosses his phone back down to the floor and walks over to the medicine cabinet. “I’m almost done with you. Get in the shower and wait on your knees, and I’ll clean you off before we shower.”

Jisung swipes some cum off of his eyes so he can see, he slips his socks off, then shuffles over to the shower, where he obediently waits on his knees.

Hyunjin makes his way back to the shower and tosses a bottle of lube in between Jisung’s legs. “I’m gonna let you fuck me in a minute when we finally get all of this shit off of us. But I’m gonna make one last mess out of you yet, get some of that cum off of you.”

Jisung’s eyes flutter open and widen as Hyunjin towers above him, cock in hand. He suddenly realized exactly what he means. “Dude, are you seriously about to piss on my face?”

“And in your hair. Do you not want me to?”

The younger man takes in a sharp breath and closes his eyes. “I love this. Clean me off, stuck-up pretty boy.” He presents his face and opens his mouth, and the sight is almost enough to get Hyunjin hard again.

It takes a minute, but the stream weakly starts, splashing up against Jisung’s face. The sudden warmth and shock causes the younger man to flinch, but he gets into it immediately, rolling his head all around the stream and making sure that it gets all over his face and in his hair. Hyunjin lets out a strained groan as he empties his bladder on Jisung’s face, enjoying the view far more than he should’ve.

Hyunjin shakes out the last few dribbles, then drops to his knees in front of Jisung, gripping his face tightly as he pulls the younger man in for a hasty kiss. He didn’t care about the acrid taste that danced on their tongues, he just couldn’t believe that someone actually indulged him in all of his strange fetishes, all in one night, so he had to show his appreciation in some way.

“Okay,” he says as he pulls back, “let’s actually get you cleaned up, then I’ll let you fuck me.”

Jisung rubs his eyes and nods his head. “You know,” he scoffs, “you’re probably the freakiest, messiest person I know. Messier than me, just so you know.”

“Shut up.” Hyunjin stands and grabs Jisung’s hands, pulling him up to his feet. He reaches behind the younger man, turning on the shower. The water is cold, shocking both of them a bit, but then quickly warms up. “You went along with all of that,” he scoffs as he wipes off all of the mess of various substances off of Jisung, “so that says something about you, too.”

“Yeah, it means that we’re both pretty freaky and should do this more often.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and turns to grab a dry hand towel from off of the wall, passing it off to Jisung. “Wipe off your face so you can finally fuck me.”

Jisung takes the cloth, making sure to dry his eyelids off well enough so he didn’t have any leftover irritants on his face. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” He reaches down to grab the lube and tosses the hand towel behind him. “Now I get to have my fun with you. Face the wall and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.”

Hyunjin lets out a scoff, but chooses not to say anything in response as he slaps his hands on the wall dramatically, slightly bending over and presenting himself.

“Don’t you look pretty like that?” Jisung flips the lid of the lube open, squirting some on his fingers. He takes another step closer, putting his free hand on Hyunjin’s hip as he takes his lubricated fingers to the older man’s rim. “You want my fingers inside you, pretty baby?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin whines, “do your worst.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.”

“Fuck you.” Hyunjin’s arrogance earns him the loss of Jisung’s touch.

“I’ll leave you here by yourself and just go jerk off or something.”

Hyunjin turns his head to face Jisung, a look of bewilderment on his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Be that way,” Jisung steps back, making his way towards the shower door.

“Wait, please!” Hyunjin whines, surprised he was actually begging for this. “Please come back and fuck me, okay?”

Jisung smiles and turns back to Hyunjin, grabbing his hips and hastily slipping his index finger inside, causing the older man to whine. “Pretty bitches like you are always so impatient. You need to be taught a lesson.” He twirls his finger around a bit, circling the digit in a calculated motion to find the older man’s prostate. before Hyunjin arches his back and lets out a strangled cry. Jisung bends down next to Hyunjin’s ear and whispers, “I wanna fuck you so hard that you can’t walk straight in the morning.”

Hyunjin curls his toes a bit at the comment. “Please,” he whines, “that sounds so good, Sungie.”

“It’s nice seeing you not being such a spoiled, impatient brat,” Jisung laughs and slips his middle finger inside. “You should let loose like this more often. You might think that, just because I let you make a mess out of me, even in public,” he continues circling his fingers around the sensitive spot inside of the older man, causing him to let out pathetic mewls, “you think that I’m not going to devastate you? Nah. I’m gonna wipe that stupid, ‘holier-than-thou’ grin off your face.”

Hyunjin was honestly surprised that Jisung had such an attitude in him. He knew that Jisung was a bit of a brat, but to be so commanding was the inverse of his personality. This kind of night/day difference in Jisung was causing Hyunjin to go mad.

A third finger slips in, causing Hyunjin to throw his head back and let out a drawn out moan. It was almost too much, too soon, but there was something about the way that the discomfort of the stress made him feel so good. Jisung waited a moment for Hyunjin to adjust, to relax a bit, before he started circling his fingers again.

“I can’t believe it took you so long to admit how much you wanted me.” Jisung condescendingly coos, slowly moving his fingers around. “Can’t believe you actually begged me to fuck you. You really want my cock inside of you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin whispers, and Jisung isn’t very pleased with that.

“Speak up and speak nicely, otherwise my pretty little prissy bitch won’t get what he wants.“

This new side of Jisung was shocking, but also a turn-on to Hyunjin. He’d never been talked down to like this by anyone; he was always the one that took control and talked down to his partners, but it felt good to just let go for once. He had his cocky, arrogant moment, now it was time for him to be put in his place.

“Yes, please,” Hyunjin whines, resting his face against the cool tile. “Fuck your pretty little slut, please. Show me where I belong.”

Jisung lets out a laugh as he grabs the lube again, squeezing a generous amount onto his cock. “The slut gets what the slut wants, hmm?” He teases, before he slides his fingers out slowly, then replaces the empty space with his cock. He does so in such a painstakingly slow manner, that Hyunjin lets out a frustrated groan, but knows better than to say anything.

“Impatient, hmm?” Jisung grabs both of Hyunjin’s hips and bends down to be right up next to his ear. “I don’t care. I’ll take as long as I want with you.” He sinks his teeth into Hyunjin’s exposed shoulder, causing the older man to shudder. Without warning, he pushes himself all the way inside of Hyunjin and it causes both of them to make guttural, sinful noises.

“I’m getting you back for this, just so you know,” Hyunjin spits out in between pants.

“I didn’t ask you for your opinion.” Jisung bites another mark into Hyunjin’s shoulder as he slowly rocks back and forth at an even pace. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Are you always this much of a fucking tease?”

A sharp huff of air is exhaled through Jisung’s nose as he scoffs. “Alright, fine. You wanna play that game, I’ll play along.” He stands fully upright and takes a fistful of Hyunjin’s hair and pushes his face firmly up into the wall, using his head and his hip as anchorage as he moved at a relentless, unforgiving pace.

Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as his face gets repeatedly slammed into the tile wall with Jisung’s thrusts. He doesn’t intend to, but he lets out pathetic moans each time Jisung’s hips slap against his thighs.

“This is the only noise I want to hear you make.” Jisung says, pants punctuating each thrust he makes. “You talk too much.”

“Payback for how disgusting you are.”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Jisung lets out a moan at the end of his sentence. “Okay, fuck, I’m really close. Where do you want it?”

“Don’t care. Come inside, outside, on my face, it doesn’t—“ Hyunjin is about to tell Jisung that it doesn’t matter, but, before he can finish his sentence, the younger man bottoms out behind him, and he feels cum filling up his insides.

Jisung pants and collapses onto Hyunjin’s back, loosening his grip on his blond hair. “That was so much. How are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty sure you broke my cheekbone, but we’re fine.”

“Oh, shit,” Jisung panics for a second. “I didn’t even think about trying to get you off again.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. It would take a while anyways, I’m not lucky enough to have a freakishly short refractory period. You’ll just have to make up for it later. Anyways, can we please shower? We’re wasting the hot water and I feel disgusting and I’m pretty sure I have your nasty Cheetos flakes in my hair.”

//

After their shower, the men towel off and awkwardly stand in the washroom. “Now what?” Jisung questions, staring up at Hyunjin. “Are we supposed to, like, cuddle or something?”

Hyunjin looks down to Jisung, then spins on his heel before he’s able to see the inevitable blush creeps up on his face. “I don’t care. It’s pretty cold in here, so I won’t say no.”

Jisung shrugs his shoulders and follows Hyunjin towards his room. “Alright, cool, I guess.”

“That was fun and all,” Hyunjin says as he opens the door to his bedroom, “I just hope you know that you’re paying for my dry cleaning, you filthy brat.” Hyunjin says as he flops down onto the bed.

“Worth it.” Jisung quips, laying down next to Hyunjin and curling up into his chest. “I’ll pay to ruin your clothes any time you want, you prissy bitch.”

[crispyjenkins]

I’m resending it now! ok so what if for some reason Obi’s lightsaber either gets destroyed or the crystal stops resonating with him & He’s with Jango who goes with him to wherever the force guides him to find his new crystal at & like Obi goes through some wack vision/trial from the force and when he gets through it his new crystal reveals itself and it’s the same type of crystal like in the dark saber? And Jango is just losing it when he sees it bc he thinks “HOW?! but also, That’s HOT” hehe

(my DUDE i’m so flippin glad you re-sent this, i’ve had to force myself not to write this one so i could get other people’s prompts out, and i was at first unsure of how to spin this, but holy FECK is it all i can think about now. i just. i just want to write so much of this obi. i’m sorry i didn’t get to jango much, but you bet your butters he and obi are connected every which way in this, in ways beyond force bonds because i’m a dramatic bitch.

i hope y’all enjoy this one as much as i did!!)

edit 6/26/20: this is now part of a full fix-it! you can read it as it updates here on my Ao3! updates on fridays.

  Illum is colder than he remembered, though the last time Obi-Wan had been here, he had not feared wrapping himself up in the Force. It’s been... Force, he hasn’t been back since after Melida/Daan, and something in him breaks again at the thought that he’d lost the ‘saber that had been with him for more than a decade. But, no, a lightsaber is a small price to pay to have saved his master.

  His former master. He isn't Qui-Gon’s apprentice anymore, Anakin had made sure of that.  

  Obi-Wan had been sent to Illum alone, no younglings in need of making their first ‘saber, and no one else needing to replace theirs; Anakin has a few more months in the crèche before he can build his, and Obi-Wan can’t thank the council enough that he doesn’t have to walk the caves knowing his replacement is somewhere doing the same. With Qui-Gon still in the Halls, Master Plo had stepped forward in offer to knight him, and had almost had to fight Master Depa for the honor, which was... strange. He’s used to quite the opposite of masters fighting over him, but an amused Yoda had almost used his lineage status to refuse them both for himself instead, until Mace, as Master of the Order, had given the right to Plo Koon. And Jedi do not gloat, but the Kel Dor had certainly been smiling behind his mask.

  The doors to the caves open easily despite the ice, so maybe his great-grandmaster had been right about Obi-Wan rebuilding his lightsaber before his knighting ceremony. This thought doesn’t settle the feeling of intruding when he steps over the threshold, the marrow-deep feeling of being an imposter in one of the most holy places in the galaxy. 

  The kyber hums around him, as if he wasn’t at this exact moment considering walking away from the Order.

  He’s hardly a proper Jedi, is he? Killing a Sith with a sai tok, falling in love with Satine, holding a grudge against a nine year-old freed slave for taking his master away from him. Hadn’t he drawn on the dark side to defeat the Zabrak? Killed him not out of duty to his vow but in revenge for the fallen Qui-Gon? His lightsaber might have cauterised the wounds, but he has blood on his hands all the same.

  So he keeps walking, refusing to touch a single crystal he passes. The Force tugs him deeper into the caves anyways, and he has half a thought to ignoring it (does he even deserve to listen to it anymore?) but for all his tumultuous thoughts, Obi-Wan is beholden to the Force, beholden to the grip it has in his viscera. 

  He follows it as his breath forms clouds before his lips, frost on his skin that he cannot even feel. Where would he go, if he left? Stewjon is insular, they would not want him back, but he cannot stay at the Temple. Naboo, perhaps? Padmé would surely welcome him, but could he really settle down on such a peaceful planet after spending over half his life running around the stars with his master?

  Closing his eyes at the memory of Satine, he allows himself to... consider it. Would she still want him? They haven’t spoken since, but sometimes he can feel her in his mind still, a little warm bud that could bloom, if he let it. And even if she threw him out, Mandalore isn’t a bad place to restart.

  “Could I really?” he muses out loud, stepping over a great crack in the stone floor and setting his feet to follow a barely-there path towards the lake, only for the Force to have him veer away from it. Could he really give up being a Jedi? After every trial the Force had put him through to even become an apprentice? Oh, but he had tried so. kriffing. hard. to get this far, could he really do anything else?

  He swallows thickly and almost desperately pulls the Force back around himself, as if in apology, as if in repentance, as if anguish—

  Peace, it whispers, brushing over his mind even as it sinks claws into his ribs and pulls him up short.

  Obi-Wan is twelve again, wind whipping around him as the Jedi transport takes off from Bandomeer, Qui-Gon Jinn staring down at him. Force, but he hasn’t ever felt worse than when he feels their raw bond stretching with distance, yanking deep in him until he’s breathless, doesn’t Master Jinn feel it—?

  And Obi-Wan is sitting in the living room of their Temple apartment, kneeling on his cloth meditation mat across from Qui-Gon’s bamboo one. His master’s warmth surrounds him in a glittering cloud of comfort and ease, and they’ve been at this for five years now, and still Obi-Wan holds this as his most treasured memory, something to cling to when things seem desolate or he’s been arguing with Qui-Gon, or—

  He’s in the glass city of Sundari, brushing a hand over Satine’s cheek as she laughs, and Force, she’s even more beautiful than he remembers— She’s dying in his arms, bruises violent red around her throat, a sizzling ‘saber wound through her middle, and she’s beautiful even now, oh Force not like this—

  Obi-Wan is older, his joints a little creakier, his hair grey at the temples, and he has a beskad sticking out of his chest. Above him is a boy that looks suspiciously like him, red hair and green eyes but with Satine’s lips and eyebrows. Korkie, the Force tells him, as the boy leans over Obi-Wan and why is he angry? Ah, so this blade had not been meant for him—

  Anakin, little Anakin with a padawan braid beams up at him in a training salle with a practice saber in his fists. Obi-Wan moves to correct his kata, and though he’s... sure he had never learned this from Qui-Gon, he knows it’s Form III, he knows it’s Soresu like he knows his own name, like he knows the padawan bond in his mind and the warm nova glow of Anakin attached to his core—

  Obi-Wan is an old man, seated on a perfectly smooth grey stone above a green, green cliff battered by ocean waves and briny air. He meditates with the knowledge he had come from here, the Force here as close to home as he could ever hope to achieve. He had not searched for the family that left him on the Temple steps, and that’s just fine by him, he could not have asked for a better place to begin his seclusion studies than Stewjon—

  Obi-Wan is an old man, seated on a perfectly smooth red stone, the desert cliffs around him worn smooth from the sand that batters around him, ripping through his robes but never touching his skin. The Force is feral here, claws and bone and teeth teeth teeth, but somewhere out in the dunes, there shines Luke, pearlescent and good and proof that Obi-Wan has not failed just yet. 

  Satine is screaming at him as she shoves Korkie behind her back and raises a beskad that seems wrong, wrong in her hands, but he doesn’t have time to think about his heart wielding a blade, when he’s wielding the darksaber, whistling as it cuts through the air against Tor Vizsla, why had they trusted him, he knew he could not be trusted, and now his family is going to pay the price— His ‘saber, black as space, connects with Vizsla's, black as night, and Obi-Wan is not wielding the darksaber, but something else entirely, with a beskad’s edge, with a hum that’s almost a scream, that moves towards the darksaber with the intent to shatter—

  A Mando in blue and silver beskar’gam hands him a hilt, hammered durasteel wrapped in black leather, so unlike any Jedi ‘saber hilt he’s ever seen, but Obi-Wan knows it’s his from the way it sings, the way the Force insists it’s his his his—

  The blue and silver Mando with his helmet off, a man so unspeakably gorgeous that Obi-Wan wonders how he even copes— The Mando’s gloved hand grips Obi-Wan’s wrist, the face he knows so well twisted into dread and anger. Don’t go, they beg, but Obi-Wan must, he cannot abandon Mandalore, he cannot—, Don’t you realize that Zabrak’s fucking crazy? Obi-Wan, he’s going to kill you—

  Obi-Wan is older, but not much, pinned underneath blue and silver armour as Sundari glass and blasterfire rains around them—

  Obi-Wan watches the Beautiful Mando sleeping with his head pillowed on Obi-Wan’s arm, a new scar curling through his eyebrow that he hasn’t asked about yet—

  A mini Beautiful Mando eyes him suspiciously, hands on his hips while his buir stands behind him and tries not to laugh—

  Obi-Wan is on Illum, but he is not, he weaves his way through dusty streets he has never seen before and yet knows the way by heart, following that heart towards the hangar where his aliit waits. He has beads braided messily in his hair, twisted by pudgy fingers insisting Obi-Wan deserves to look just as pretty as his buir; that durasteel and leather hilt bounces against his hip, and he has a single blue and silver gauntlet on his right arm. He is a Jedi, the Force assures him, in the way light bends through him, but he is also Mando’ad, he knows that without needing to ask. He belongs to a planet and to a people that he did not start with, in a strange Force-willed way that he can’t explain, and he’s a Jedi, but he knows he has a family waiting for him in an old police craft. A black-bladed ‘saber hums at his side.

  Obi-Wan opens his eyes in front of a rock wall, glittering kyber in every colour rising up the sheer face until their little lights disappear into the darkness far above him. Just above eye-level, there is a small crater in the wall, as if the rest of the kyber cannot grow around the single crystal at the crater’s center. 

  It is opalescent and space-black, and looks as if it had been cut for a piece of opulent jewellery. The Force whispers heart heart heart, and he supposes it does look the size and shape of a beskar’ta, and isn’t that fitting?

  When he reaches out to take it, the white glow at its edges seems to suck in the light from around it, and it sings higher than any crystal he’s ever touched, whistling trials and heartbreak and pain and blood, but also love and laughter and family, if he lets it form the notes just right. It sings in Mando’a, in war gods and clans and beskar, and it sings for Obi-Wan alone.

-   Across the galaxy, Jango wakes on Jaster’s Legacy in a cold sweat.

Translations/Other: sai tok — the ‘saber move of cutting an opponent in half, frowned upon by the Jedi for its roots in the dark side. beskad — traditional Mandalorian curved saber made of beskar. allit — Mando’a for “clan” or “family”. buir — Mando’a for “parent”, gender neutral. beskar’ta — Mando’a for “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called ka’rta beskar or “heart of the iron”. Jaster’s Legacy — Jaster’s old ship that Jango found and used post Galidraan, and pre Slave I.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

@polarcell I have been INSPIRED by your mermaid!Nicky AU. Here’s the beginning of your oneshot ❤️💕 this is Joe’s POV. Next is Nicky’s.

TW: graphic depictions of “drowning”

“Joe—“ Andy’s voice crackled through to his earpiece, “Okay, that’s enough. You’ve had your time to look for that thing— if it’s not there right now, that’s all the better. We need to get a look at the starboard side of the wreck.”

She was trying to come off as her usual self. She wanted to sound as if it was a relief that whatever that thing was, it was gone, like getting more time with the barnacled and briny Roman ship was all she cared about. Joe could hear the sharpness in her voice, though. She was scared, and she wanted him out of the water.

It was unlike Joe to be uneasy in a divers suit, especially in the waters he’d grown up in— even if it was the opposite shore from home in Tunis— but the hammering of his heart was starting to take hold. It took more effort than usual to keep his breathing even. He mentally grasped at his training, his years of experience, his degrees.

After how many years studying the Mediterranean— its creatures, currents, conservation— and they’d stumbled on something that Joe had never seen before.

Was it a shark? A squid? It was big. The size of a creature you’d find on the open ocean. But, it was here? In a sea like this?

Whatever it was, it was living in the shipwreck, and it did not want them coming any closer.

This was a problem.

Joe liked Andy. He liked the whole archaeological team, really— Quynh and Andy and Nile, even Booker was a fun drinking buddy. The archaeologists themselves weren’t the issue.

It was the money bags that wanted to get this creature out of his site. It was all Merrick and his grand museum plan— Andy hated the posh, British bastard. Anytime she had more than two shots in her, she was bitching about how he didn’t even want to study the context of the wreck. It was for some stupid art exhibit.

They all had the distinct impression that Merrick wanted this creature out permanently.

As the resident marine biologist on site, Joe wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Joe, get up here right fucking now.” Andy’s voice cut in again, “We don’t know what it’s capable of— and the weather’s starting to really turn up here.”

He could feel it, too. The water had been warmer than usual the moment he started his dive. Even before that, he could feel the coming storm on the wind.

He thought they had more time.

But the waves were getting stronger now, and he felt the tug of the water as he swam on. If he could spare a glance upward, he knew there’d be a swirl of gray and white, shadowed with wave breaks, the sun clouded overhead.

He knew he should head back. He knew it.

Joe checked his oxygen levels as he swam around the perimeter of the ship, past the hull and into the shadowy cavern of the wreck itself. He had time. He had to see this creature for himself— if they could figure out what it was, Joe could maybe figure out how to get it to leave. He could maybe figure out a way to protect it from Merrick and his money.

He didn’t make any signals back to Andy— not a word. He couldn’t spare the brain power, not when any nook or cranny could hold that unidentified creature. Possibly dangerous creature.

He resisted the urge to bolt for the surface, breathing slow and steady as he scanned the water for anything strange.

The water at the surface was starting to get more tumultuous, and the effort it took to keep swimming on course was starting to drain his oxygen tank and zap his muscles.

He should’ve known things were about to get bad.

There was a flash of a dark shape from the other side of the wreck— a long, glimmering shape, the same color as the storm-tossed sea above and around them. It was only there for a moment, then gone. Joe raised his underwater camera, poised for another sighting.

He waited.

And waited.

It seemed like it might have been some benign little shadow, and Joe was about to write it off, when it suddenly drifted by him again.

It was closer now. It was big. It was as big as a man, easily, maybe longer. Its tail whipped around, and he could’ve sworn he saw… arms? They were pale— it’s tail was long and dark, up over its back, too, but the fins and the belly and the face of it were different. It was pale and luminous, and a halo of darkness hovered around its face. Joe lifted his camera, and paused.

It looked almost human.

There was a sweeping current just then— a huge wave on the surface must’ve built up and crashed above— and Joe was lifted by the force of it. His hand jerked and the camera went off, even as it dropped from his grip. The oxygen tanks on his back slammed up into the roof of the ancient ship, something sharp stabbing into his thigh. He wanted to scream— whatever it was, it was deep. It was deep and it burned, and he was bleeding. A cloud of red swirled up and around his body, all the way up to his goggles where he could still see this strange, shark-like, mysterious creature in the near distance.

Joe was trapped. He tried to reach down, to inspect whatever was impaling his leg, to get out, but something had caught on his tanks and pinned him to the ceiling.

The panic set in. He jerked and twisted, his training flying out the window into a haze of blood-tinged terror as he tried to kick out. His leg— his entire body — burned. For oxygen, from the agony, with the sudden clench of adrenaline flushing through his veins as he struggled to keep his mouth around his oxygen and not waste the precious little he had left.

He was going to die here. He was going to drown. Yusuf al-Kaysani— Champion distance swimmer with 20 years of diving experience all over the world, ocean conversation activist, marine biologist at the forefront of his field— was about to be buried in the sea he’d fought his entire life to protect.

There was poetry in that that Joe would’ve maybe appreciated if this was a story. If this wasn’t the end of his own damned life, if it didn’t hurt so damned badly, if there weren’t a hundred things he still wanted to do and say—

Andy was yelling in his ears, blurred to a desperate fever pitch with his hammering heart. He couldn’t make out the words, but he was sure he was out of oxygen by now. If he could see it all from the outside in, he would’ve been shocked that he was even able to keep the useless tube in his mouth, able to keep from screaming outright and inhaling the salty water right into his lungs—

He couldn’t remember what his last thought was about as the world started to go into a dark tunnel. Maybe it was about his family, maybe it was about work, maybe it was cursing taking this stupid job in the first place— he definitely sent out some desperate prayer. He definitely felt the Arabic in the depths of his soul, begging Allah for something that he didn’t know what…

The last thing he saw, though, he would always remember. There was a flash of dark scales and glowing pale skin, the feeling of someone gripping his shoulders, and the sight of huge, bright eyes staring up at him.

They were the color of the sea after the clouds cleared, and Joe wondered if this was Allah’s way of calling him home. If this was an angel, telling him the storm was finally over.

[the-nfe-channel]

‘Run A-FOWL On Eukarymora: SftE Writing Exercise #4’ by Eddie White

"Bruh………WHAT THE FUCK!?" Shantrice rages, running erratically through a field of rank grass. "I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS!"

It's been three hours since she, Sinead and Dexter landed on the planet Eukarymora, a world once inhabited by many extraterrestrial, humanoid species of animals, like the Haliaxdae which Professor Corsair is a part of.

Previously, it was assumed that the planet had been completely destroyed in the aftermath of the war between the Haliaxdae and the T'Karians, an assumption that is now proved false. It turns out that it was just left abandoned save for the primitive, alien wildlife, of which a feral member is currently pursuing the three.

"Well, hey! We didn't sign up for it either!" Dexter declares as he scrambles through the field, dashing past Shantrice and Sinead. They've been running from the wild creature for a quarter of an hour and Dexter's legs feel like jelly. Probably can say the same for the other two, despite them being more athletic.

"Yeah! Dexter's right!" Sinead chimes in, her breath fogging up the glass in the helmet of her SafeSuit. "We did not sign up to be chased by whatever that………THING is! Actually, we didn't sign up at all!"

"UGH! Who cares if you 'signed up' or not!?" barks Shantrice, feeling like she's close to collapsing. "I was talking about me!"

"You're not the only one out here risking your fuckin' neck on some godforsaken planet!" Sinead retaliates.

"And? You're both here of your own accord, so quit the fuckin' bellyachin' and just run!"

"Look at you, being your usual dismissive, inconsiderate self!" Sinead rails. "It won't hurt you to have some principles, ya' know!"

Shantrice is puzzled now, but not particularly surprised. Every time they go on a mission, Sinead voices her displeasure. However, she only seems to complain once the two get in over their head. While being saddled with regret in the heat of the moment is expected, Shantrice is sick of her playing that same old song. Any other time, she would have nipped it in the bud, but the situation is compounded with Dexter being around.

"How the fuck did this turn into some shit about me being inconsiderate!?"

"Because you are!" Sinead squeals.

She's hot, tired, almost out of breath and tasting the briny streams of sweat that have rolled into her mouth. If she has to run one more mile, she may very well combust or, on the other end of the spectrum, evaporate. An over-exaggeration, sure, but it's how she feels at the moment.

"You never think about anybody else when it comes to this adventure shit! It's always all about you!"

"Bitch please!" Shantrice spurns, halting her running to confront Sinead. "You act like I twisted y'all arm or put a glock to ya' head or some shit. Calm the fuck down."

"It was like you did!" Sinead inveighs, bringing herself to a stop as well.

"How, Sinead!? Exactly how!?"

Sinead furiously marches over to Shantrice and glares into her eyes. Because of her height, she has to lean over a bit to accomplish this. "You guilt-tripped us."

"Did you just say guilt-tripped?" Shantrice queries, her pulse pounding with rage.

"Yes, guilt-tripped."

"GUILT-TRIPPED!?" Shantrice roars, craning her neck as she maneuvers her helmeted head upwards. This action inadvertently—but probably somewhat intentionally—makes her slightly headbutt Sinead, who brushes it off.

"Did I stutter, Shan?"

"Have you lost your fuckin' mind, boo-boo!? Didn't nobody guilt-trip you!" Shantrice retorts, her booming voice frightening a murder of alien crows in a tree nearby. "I offered you a choice—learn the difference!"

"Tuh! Whatever, wench!" Sinead reacts, folding her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes. "I said what I said!"

"I don't give a fuck what you said, I didn't do that shit!" Shantrice counters. She shoves Sinead, which causes her to stumble backwards and fall hard on her posterior. "You have a mind of your own, you know how to say no—start using it!"

While that clash of personalities was occurring, Dexter had been high-tailing it. He was running so that he didn't even realize Shantrice and Sinead weren't running behind him. Despite the hubbub they had going on, he hadn't heard a thing. He was in his own little world where his fear of being killed was fueling his dogged determination to escape.

However, just as soon as he felt he was home free, a scream from the girls cut through his oblivious state, forcing him to turn around.

"Oh shit! Shantrice! Sinead!"

There, at least a foot or two away from him, the girls were running zig-zag through the grass to dodge the massive blasts of fire exiting the creature's mouth. With every fiery, spiraling discharge expelled, the girls come closer and closer to being hit. In a panic and not looking at all where they are going, the two collide.

"OW! FUCK!" the girls scream in unison, hitting the ground in a crumble of disorientation. Now that they are a bit too dizzy and exhausted to move, they just lay there, awaiting their fate.

"Well, Nady………I guess this is it," groans Shantrice with a strained chuckle. She has found herself stuck, laying in a supine position, while Sinead is prone and slumped on top of her.

"Eh………I guess it is………," Sinead winces, dragging out a weak laugh of her own as blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth, marking the lens of her helmet with scarlet splatter. When they collided, she bit her tongue in a nasty way, and now, not only is the taste of salty sweat a discomfort, but also the ferrous flavor of the ruddy fluid pooling around her gums. "I think I'm gonna be sick………"

Shit! I gotta do something, Dexter thinks to himself as the creature—which is a gigantic alien cockerel resembling the Red junglefowl—ceases its chase, letting loose a monstrous and almost deafening crowing noise. Dexter nor the girls had really given the massive bird a thorough look, mostly because they were too busy running for their lives. However, Dexter is examining every single aspect of the feral beast.

From its pearlescent plumage, to the membranous sac—filled with a glowing, gold fluid—bulging from its breast area (which is also connected to the pewter-colored wattles under its fulvous beak), to its wings so generously armored with iron gray osteodermal plates and finally at its mulberry-colored cockscomb, which appears to be fused to the cranial orbit containing its singular crimson eyeball, completely lacking a defined iris and pupil.

Keenly obsessing over every detail, he's hoping that some part of it can be a weakness.

"C'mon! Think, Dexter, think!" he screams while pacing back and forth, vacillating in his head on which of his powers to call forth. As he does, Shantrice manages to roll Sinead off of her chest and sit up, her eyes fixated on him and his excited muttering.

"Boy, whatever you gon' do, do that shit now before we're fried to a fricassee over here!"

"Alright, alright! Just gimme a minute, I need to concentrate," he says, waving his left hand in a dismissive motion towards her.

"Ooooooh………YOU SLOW-ASS BOY! We don't have a fuckin' minute!" grouses Shantrice. "You lucky I'm hurting right now, or I'd get off this ground and kick your ass!"

"Hold your horses!" Dexter protests, keeping a firm eye on the creature. "That bird is at rest right now, probably charging up."

"Ummm………and that's supposed to be a good thing!?"

"For me it is!" Dexter exults. "It means there's a window open to strike hard and fast!"

"Dexter………," Shantrice starts, gritting her teeth.

"Hold up," Dexter motions again.

"Bartholomew………," Shantrice continues.

"Hold on!" he pleads.

"James………"

"Just a minute!"

"SEAGRAVE!"

"EUREKA!" Dexter rejoices, finally hitting what he feels is the jackpot of ideas. "I know exactly how to stop it!"

"This shit better work!" Shantrice growls.

"Oh, it will, Shan!" Dexter proclaims. "I'm sure of it!"

Removing the gloves on his SafeSuit, he closes his eyes and prepares himself to utter his oft-repeated mantra.

"I claim it, therefore it will be so: the powers of Absolute Strength and Fuego-Fists— COMBINE!"

Every muscle in his body tightens and bulks up, expanding the nanofibers of his suit, while his hands glow red-hot and began emitting golden sparks along with dazzling orange flames. Speaking into the mic in his helmet, he activates the vented thrusters on the SafeSuit's back and legs then takes flight towards the effulgent sac on the direful bird.

"Time to fry up some chicken!" he cackles loudly, not yet out of Shantrice's earshot.

"SHITTY STEREOTYPE!" Shantrice screams from below. "CUT THAT BULLSHIT OUT, BRUH!"

"What? I was just making a joke!" Dexter yells back.

"Horrible joke! Was never gonna land well!"

"Meh, whatever!" Dexter grunts, cocking his right arm back to throw a powerful punch at the formidable bird's chest. "Let's get this over with!"

His blazing fist collides with a mighty impact into the sac, but barely makes a scratch. Almost immediately, the reverberating contact sends Dexter hurtling back towards the lush terrain.

"AHHHHH!"

"COOOKARAAAAW! COOOOOKARAAAAW!" the junglefowl thunders, enraged by Dexter's botched attack.

"I thought you said this would work, Dexter!" Shantrice fumes. "What the fuck happened!?"

"I DON'T KNOW, SHANTRICE!" Dexter frets. His misguided endeavor has left him a frustrated wreck and rendered temporarily impuissant. "I thought it would, that's honest. There's obviously something I didn't account for when I planned that attack. Fuck!"

"Ugh! Get right, boy, get right!"

With Sinead out of commission while both Shantrice and Dexter are in excruciating states of pain, all seems to be lost. The irate cockerel horrendously crows again, charging itself up to exhale another scorching assault and finish off the ragtag trio.

🐓🐓🐓

[pumpkinofthedale]

Here is a lil snippet of chapter 2 of my cronus fic... it’s like 19k words right now and I’m only just now hitting the real meat of it so jus... a lil morsel....

“Would you show me? If… you want to I mean.” He looked a little sheepish. “I ain’t ever seen one ‘fore and so maybe it could be fun and stuff… not that I’m super into sappy shit but it’s crispmass. And you like them, right?”

“Sure why not.” At least it would give you something to do while you sobered up. And hell, maybe he was right, maybe it would be fun.

He positively beamed. “Awesome! – I mean uh… cool. Very cool. Just a couple of cool cats watching stupid movies.”

You snorted.

“See... the awesome was perfectly fine. You trying to make yourself sound cool was absolutely ridiculous and unnecessary and made it weird.”

“You’re ridiculous and unnecessary.” Cronus stuck his tongue out as he stood up, holding out a hand to you to help you up.

You took it, “What are you, twelve?”

“Yes.”

Ah yes, how could you have forgotten.

You went to give him a playful shove but he was like a rock. A dense, six and a half foot rock, and it had the opposite effect of you swaying a bit.

That shuckboy had the gall to just laugh at your expense like some sort of jerk, and you were about to respond but he just tugged you along out of his little sound studio and into another room along the same hallway. It was a fair size, well furnished with a large couch, a tv, some poofy bean bag chairs, a record player and several shelves filled with what looked like dozens if not more records, and a wall covered in pictures of John Travolta.

“This is my dude cavern.” Cronus said without a hint of shame.

And you fucking lost it, drunkenly giggling.

Dude Cavern.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You mumbled, flopping onto the couch.

Ooo very plush. A+ couch.

He sat down next to you and when you didn’t move away he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Cronus, you reek of cologne. It’s offending my delicate human sensibilities.” You shoved him off.

“Yeah, I smell sexy as hell. But you? You smell like dairy products.”

Gross.

You looked down at your damp sweater… eugh he was right you did smell like dairy (with a hint of cinnamon). God it was only gonna get grosser the longer you kept it on.

He looked at you quizzically. “Jeegus, kitten, you okay?”

“No. My sweater smells like milk.”

“Do….” He fidgeted again, “Do you want one of mine? I think I have a spare in here somewhere.”

The troll hopped off the couch and opened a door you hadn’t noticed before, rummaging around. He pulled something out, looking over at you before shaking his head and pulling out a different wad of cloth, tossing it over to you. “Try that one out.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, you’re literally standing right there. I’m not giving in to your shameless ploy to see me topless.”

He clicked his tongue, a static-y sort of soft buzz coming from him. That was a new one. “Fine. Don’t change then.”

Cronus sat down next to you again, still reeking of cologne. You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t mean to be a rude house guest but your cologne’s gonna give me a headache if I’m in prolonged proximity to it… I know it sounds silly, but I really do get headaches from aerosol scents….” God this was awkward…. Maybe you should just go. You were being rude. But you were drunk, and you kind of wanted to watch Hallmark movies…. The Mailman was right about at least one thing: sad endings sucked, and you wanted to watch some mindless holiday movies and see shit work out in the end. “Go make yourself smell less like a perfume department.”

“Fiiine I’ll go wash it off.” He got up again with a huff. “Unless you want to wash it off for me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively but you just nudged (shoved) him with your foot. He went back to that same door, rummaging around and pulling some things out and heading over to yet another door you hadn’t noticed before.

(You really needed to brush up on your observation skills… though it was probably because you were drunk.)

Pausing to look at you one more time he asked, “Could you put on a movie? We have literally all of the cable. Human cable. Troll Cable. Streaming services ‘n shit too.”

He disappeared into what looked like a little bathroom from the glimpse you caught before he shut the door leaving you alone.

Bougie ass bitch. Rich people and their ‘cable’ services. You hadn’t paid for anything in years and you intended to keep it that way.

You flipped through about a thousand and one channels, self conscious about the milk smell that refused to be put out of your mind. Frustrated you tossed the remote on the couch, gave a hasty look at the door Cronus had gone into. You could still hear the sound of water running, so as quickly as you could, you shimmied out of your gross dairy clothes and into the hoodie he’d tossed you. It was massive, a deep plum color with that squiggly symbol the Amporas wore in lilac bordered by violet and gold. You practically felt like you were swimming in it. But it was dry, and warm, and smelled like detergent with only a hint of the body spray he usually wore and a faint briny scent that reminded you a little of nori. Altogether not unpleasant. (Actually you found you didn’t mind it at all).

You piled your eggnog drenched shirt and sweater next to the door so you would remember them later (kind of dreading putting them back on for your drive home), and switched the tv over to one of the streaming services. Finding a hallmark movie from there was no problem at all.

It still sounded like the water was going so you got up to check out one of the posters on the wall of John Travolta. Well at least you knew for a fact who Cronus was trying so hard to emulate. Although come to think of it, you rarely saw him in a leather jacket.

He'd been in there kind of a while... but you supposed that that was probably normal for someone with gills. You had begun to flip through a few of his records before the door opened.

Cronus looked…. Different.

Hair in a messy, damp, slightly curly mop instead of neatly slicked back with who knows how many products, wide circular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, clad in a hoodie and sweat pants. The hot toddy mug still clutched in his hand. (Had he brought that into the bathroom with him?)

There was something about him that felt eerily familiar though. You couldn’t quite place it until you saw the two scars on his forehead.

Two little twin lightning bolts.

You failed to stifle your giggle.

“Yeah, I get it. I just figured why not be comfortable since you’ve made it pretty fuckin’ clear we ain’t gonna fuck tonight….” He trailed off, looking at you intently, violet blush spreading from his cheeks to his fins.

“You look like troll Harry Potter,” You finally managed to wheeze out.